Justtin

Chapter two

The Dog’s Testis


It was early evening when the van pulled into the drive at the front of Barry’s flat. As Barry looked at the windows, he realised all the lights were off and thought it a bit strange, but Aunt B had been on a money saving crusade, so naturally, Barry assumed she was sitting in the dark. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last for that matter.
Zed got out of the van and went to let Justtin out of the back, while Barry went to open his front door. The door opened to complete darkness, but Barry knew his way around, so he didn’t bother switching the light on. The others came in behind him and edged him toward the living room door, without him noticing. He pushed the door open and switched on the light.
“ SURPRISE,” said a small crowd loudly.
Barry clutched his chest, but only as a cautionary measure, and also because he didn’t know what else to do.
“ What?” he said eventually.
“ Happy Birthday darling,” said mum, as she gave him a huge hug.
He’d completely forgotten. Barry looked at Zed and Penny, but they just stared at him with big grins on their faces.
“ You knew all along?” he asked.
Neither of them answered. There wasn’t any point. Barry already knew the answer to that.
Having slightly recovered from the shock, Barry took a look around the room at the faces staring back at him, and suddenly noticed the decorations and balloons hanging from the ceiling. He started to pay more attention to the amount of work that must have gone into it, and felt a bit choked. Aunt B had gone to extraordinary lengths to get everything just right, and he was going to enjoy the moment.
The decorations in the corner of the room moved very suddenly, and Barry noticed dad hanging upside down, with a sausage roll in his paws. I wonder where he’s been, thought Barry, but not for very long, as he was swamped by well-wishers.
Barry shook hands with friends, old and new, and people he’d never met before. They turned out to be friends of B’s, who had come along for the free booze.
Harold, his brother, was sitting in the same corner as dad, with a can of lager, and crumbs all over his shoulders and head. As Barry saw him, Harold raised his can and called above the noise.
“ Happy Birthday, bro.”
Barry waved a thank you, and continued to mingle.
He spoke to Jacob’s and Stevens, telling them he couldn’t remember the last time he saw them. But before either of them could reply, his mum dragged him off to the kitchen.
“ That’s a lovely award,” she was saying. “ You can put it with the others.”
“ What others?” Barry asked, slightly confused. He’d never won anything before.
“ The ones in the bedroom,” said mum.
“ But I…”
Mum stopped him by putting her finger to his lips.
“ Go and see,” she said.
Still confused, Barry went into his bedroom and switched the light on. On his bed was a pile of boxes, all wrapped in birthday paper.
“ Cool,” he said, and was about to start ripping the wrapping paper off, when mum came in behind him, followed by Zed, Penny, Justtin, Aunt B and Harold.
“ Before you start with the pressies,” said mum, “ please be careful with the box that has no paper on it.”
Barry stared at the box in question, and was convinced he saw it move.
“ Shall I open that one first?” he asked his mum.
“ That’s up to you,” said mum. “ But personally I would leave it till last.”
“ Why?” Barry asked.
“ You’ll see,” said mum.
He gave the box another quick glance, and still wasn’t sure if he’d seen it move or not. He was sorely tempted to open it first, but decided to ignore it for a while.
As Barry opened his presents, he came across a vibrator from Justtin. The tin man thought this was funny, especially as he’d asked Aunt B to buy it for him. Barry also opened his present from Zed and Penny. It was the latest in mobile phone technology, which allowed you to take pictures, and with the aid of the internet, forward the images to computers, or just simply send the images to another phone.
Aunt B had wrapped up a hammer in tin foil, and Barry thought this might be seen as some kind of threat toward Justtin. But then it might have been perfectly innocent. You could never tell with Aunt B.
Barry had opened most of his presents and had been given books, C D’s and a mini disc recorder, which he was particularly pleased with. Then it was time for the unwrapped box.
He picked the box up and was about to give it a shake, when mum stopped him.
“ No!” she said quickly.
“ Eh?” mumbled Barry.
Mum made Barry put the box down carefully, and picked the edge of the sellotape to get things started. Barry pulled the rest of the tape off, and the lid on the top sprang back. Barry fell backwards and held his breath. He looked at the box lid moving and wondered what the hell was going on. He leaned closer to the box and jumped again, as a small furry head poked its nose out.
“ What the fu…” exclaimed Barry, as he came face to face with a small, ugly puppy.
“ Awright?” asked the dog, but of course nobody heard him. Not even Justtin.
“ Ain’t it ugly,” said B. Justtin wanted to say something to wind B up, but he saw Barry glaring at him, so decided to leave it for another time. There’s plenty of time for that, he thought.
“ I think it’s brilliant,” said Barry. “ I’m gonna have to think of a name.”
“ What about pig ugly git,” offered B.
“ Don’t be nasty,” said Penny. “ I think it’s cute.”
“ Women,” said Zed. Penny gave him a gentle nudge in the ribs, just to let him know she was still there.
“ I’ve got a funny feeling about that dog,” said Justtin.
“ What do you mean?” asked mum.
“ I have a feeling he is going to be special in some way, but I’m not sure how. Yet.”
“ Well I don’t care,” said Barry. “ I think he’s great. I still need a name for him, and B is right. He is ugly, so I’ve decided to go on B’s advice.”
“ What? Pig ugly git?” asked Harold. “ Superb.”
“ Not quite,” said Barry, “ but if I use the initials, we have PUG. So Pug it is.”
“ Charming,” said Pug.
“ Welcome, Pug,” said Justtin.
“ Naff off,” said the dog. This is great, thought Pug. These twats can’t hear me.
“ Let’s leave Barry and Pug alone for a while,” suggested mum. “ It will give them a chance to bond. I could do with a drink.”
“ Me too,” said everyone, except Justtin, who was still trying to work the dog out.
“ I fancy cooking something special,” said B.
“ Not in my fucking kitchen,” said Barry.

***

The evening was still young when most people had left, so Barry asked Zed if he still fancied the idea of going to the pub for some karaoke, and after hours drinking.
“ Yeah, why not,” said Zed. “ You can take Pug and let him stretch his legs.”
“ Good idea,” said Barry. “ We can leave Penny and mum here to tidy up the mess.”
“ Don’t let Penny hear you say that,” laughed Zed.
“ Dad will probably eat the leftovers anyway,” said Barry.
“ I’m coming too,” said Justtin. “ It’s pub o’clock.”

***

Barry, Zed and Justtin sat in the Shakes, and wondered where Bert was.
“ He’s late,” said Barry, but nobody was listening.
“ 3, 2, 1,” said Justtin.
CRASH!!
The pub door came crashing in, and a body, all of a sudden like, lay slumped on the carpet, with a traffic cone on it’s head.
“ Too mush t’ drink pleashe barman,” said the cone.
“ Hello Bert,” said the pub regulars.
“ Wanker,” said somebody at the back.
Another Saturday night at the Golden Lamb had begun.
An hour after Bert’s usual entrance, the karaoke was in full swing, and Bert was performing his instantly forgettable version of Mac the Knife.
The only person taking any notice, was the guy who changed the discs, and he was getting impatient. He wanted to remove his earplugs.
When Bert had finally finished singing, if that is the term you use for what sounded like a car being dragged over gravel, on it’s roof, everybody returned to the pub from wherever it was that they’d been hiding.
Jeff the landlord, not wanting to leave the bar, mainly because of the thieving bastards on the other side, got up from his hiding place, and removed the soggy, chewed up beer mat from his ears.
The Essex Ambulance crew were sent away, happy in the knowledge that nobody had been run over, or more likely, strangled, and the Fire crew took the car cutting equipment back to the station.
Justtin came out from behind some dustbins, adjusting his waist.
“ Is it safe yet?” he asked.
“ I think so,” said Zed.
“ What were you doing behind there,” said Barry nodding at the bins.
“ Don’t ask,” said Justtin. “ But I think I’ve just had a dump.”
Barry looked astonished. He knew that Justtin was developing into a highly complex being, but at the end of the day, he was still a robot, and robots didn’t dump. Barry decided not to mention anything, until he had time to think about it.
“ Let’s go back and finish our beers, before Bert turns them sour,” said Zed.
“ Good idea,” said Justtin, as he headed back to the corner seat, where he’d left his three-in-one cocktail.
“ I don’t understand,” said Barry.
“ You don’t?” said Zed. “ I don’t understand robots, full stop. If you don’t understand what’s going on with Justtin, what chance do I stand?”
Barry went back to thinking about his new problem, while the karaoke got back to normal.

***

In it’s heyday, The Golden Lamb was known for its variety of up and coming talent. The Beatles and The Stone’s had both turned their collective backs on Romford, mainly because of the local talent.
Bert Hunter and the Hunted were the band in those days. They had done World tours. Well, W tours, anyway. Wembley, Wimbledon, Willesden and Walthamstow, were as good as it had got. Not exactly your Shea Stadium, but the Hunted were big, World famous even, in Romford. They told everyone they had seen the World, but if it didn’t start with W, they probably didn’t even know it existed.
Because of its brush with stardom, The Golden Lamb had a function room, built in the early 60’s. The room was a large rectangle shape, with a good size stage spreading from one side to the other, at one of the thin ends.
The function room had seen better days, but now, sadly, it was in desperate need of a coat of paint. A revival would help, but where would the funds come from?
Jeff, the pub landlord had a cunning plan, and Blackadders sidekick, Baldrick, hadn’t even been notified. He could use it as a rehearsal room. The room could be rented out to local bands, and with the income, the function room could be functional once more.
Within time.
The days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months, and the months, inevitably, turned into years. Then, some of the years added another day and became even longer. Don’t you just hate that?
Jeff was beginning to give up hope, and had thought about taking the vacant function room sign out of the window, when, would you believe it, the phone rang.
“ Hello, Shakes,” said Jeff to the answered phone.
There was a short pause, but before Jeff could speak again, he heard,
“ Hoo ya.”
“ Anyone there?” asked Jeff.
“ Is dat de Jeff?” asked an Irish voice.
“ Yes, I’m Jeff. Can I help you?”
“ No, Oi’m far beyond dat dere help. But Oi understand you have a room for rehearsal,” the Irish voice enquired.
“ We do?” said Jeff. Then he backtracked and said, “ Yes, yes we do.”
“ Oi would loike to use it, if you don’t moind?” the Irish voice asked.
“ You would? Oh, you would. Oh yes, er good. I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. So what have we got? A band or something?” asked Jeff rubbing his hands.
“ Oi’d rarder not say,” said the Irishman. “ It’s all koinda hush hush.”
“ No problem,” said Jeff. “ So when would you like to take the room?”
“ A.S.A.P. moy friend. Oi’ll be dere tomorrow wid a deposit.”
The phone went dead, and Jeff had his first booking.
“ New paint, new carpet, sound proofing,” Jeff was saying, as he went back to work with his happy little thoughts.
You get like that when you’re promised the earth.

***

There was little activity over the next few days, apart from the trucks coming and going at the Golden Lamb. But nobody seemed to notice, which was a little surprising, because the Romford community did like to keep their noses, firmly in each other’s business.
For Pat, the Irishman, this was perfect. The band had found somewhere that they would go largely unnoticed, at least for the time being.

***

Barry was sitting in the pub, when he realised that Pug had wandered off. It wasn’t the first time, so Barry wasn’t too alarmed. As he looked around for the dog, he noticed that all the doors were shut, except the one that led to the function room.
Barry naturally assumed that Pug had gone in that direction, so he got up to take a look.
The band had been quietly practising their new song, and Pug, being curious, went to investigate.
The closer Barry got to the room, the more curious he became. So he went to investigate as well.
He walked into the low, but large room, and spotted Pug sitting in the corner. Barry made his way around the various band equipment and cases, and without disturbing anyone, sat in the corner, and listened. He was moved.
“ You ain’t supposed to be in here. Clear off,” said Jeff the landlord.
“ Who are they?” asked Barry. “ They’re good.”
“ They’re called ‘ The Dog’s Testis’,” said Jeff.
“ Bit odd,” said Barry.
“ Yeah. They wanted to call themselves ‘ The Dogs Bollocks’, but they didn’t think they’d get away with it. But you’re right, they are good.”
“ Do you mind if I stay?” asked Barry.
“ Don’t ask me. See him,” said Jeff, pointing to the guitarist. A tall, lanky lad with a pony tail, answering to the name of Ade.
Barry sidled up to an unsuspecting musician and tapped him on the shoulder.
“ Alright?” said Barry.
“ Nah, but he is,” replied Ade, trying to be funny while pointing at the drummer.
“ Hahaha. Cracks me up every time,” said Mick the drummer man.
“ Yeah, hilarious,” said Barry without flinching. “ Look, do you mind if I sit in and listen?”
“ If you can,” said Ade. “ Yeah. I ain’t got a problem. Help yourself.”
Barry made himself comfortable, with Pug at his feet.
The band played, and Barry listened. They played some more, and Barry listened some more. Pug fell asleep, and Barry followed.
He hadn’t been asleep for long, but when Barry awoke, he noticed the band had gone. He hadn’t heard a thing. The music had been so numbing.
He hadn’t even noticed that somebody had sat down beside him until he looked up.
“ Hoo ya,” said the somebody.
“ Eh?” mumbled Barry, still half-asleep.
“ How’s it goin’?” said a thick Irish accent.
If wariness came in portions, Barry had a small piece.
“ I’m ok. Who are you?” he replied.
“ Pat’s de name, so it is. But you can call me what you loike. Oi’m harmless.”
“ Thank Christ for that. Barry’s the name. Pleased to meet you. Are you with the band?”
“ You’re not one of dem dere groupies, are you?” asked Pat.
“ Don’t be daft,” said Barry. “ This is my local. I just came in to listen to the band.”
“ And fell asleep,” said Pat.
“ Sorry about that. I couldn’t help it,” said Barry. “ It just sorta happened.”
“ Ah. Don’t get me wrong dere Barry. Personally, Oi don’t have de problem wid it. You see, dis is de band’s problem, so it is. It happens all de time. Whenever dey play to a loive audience, de loive audience becomes a dead audience. Dey just fall asleep. Dat’s why we’re here, so it is. De band are rehoising a new set, to see if dey can change de outcome. Obviously, it’s not woiking, so it isn’t.”
“ So, is it a problem?” asked Barry, incredibly naively.
“ You having a laugh,” said Pat. “ Only de biggest, so it is. We’ve put on showcases, inviting de top management, de best agencies, all de record companies and all de top brass you could imagine. But of course, as soon as de band starts playin’, people start yawnin’ and fallin’ asleep. At dis rate, dey’ll never get record deal.”
Barry thought for minute, and the name Justtin popped into his head.
“ This may seem a bit odd,” said Barry, “ but I might be able to help you.”
“ How’s dat?” asked Pat.
“ I have some specialist equipment in my possession. Do you mind if we give it a try?”
“ Oi tink de band will try anytin’,” said Pat. “ What do you have in moind?”
“ You leave that to me,” said Barry. “ I’ll be back soon. Before I go though, how come you’re not affected?”
“ Oi turn de hearing aid off,” said Pat.

***

Barry crossed the market, fighting his way through the crowd, with Pug just behind him. The market was its usual noisy Saturday afternoon, full of young and old alike, all bustling and jostling for that bargain they could never find.
As Barry entered the flat, he found Justtin sitting in the window and watching with interest. He was calculating.
“ Twelve over twenty-one, times three squared. Add that to there, mmm, mmm, and do that, and… FUCKING HELL.”
“ What’s the matter with you?” said Barry, walking into the living room.
“ Do you realise there are 15 people over the retirement age to every person under it?” claimed the robot. “ The buggers are taking over.”
“ That can’t be right,” said Pug, but nobody heard him, again.
“ That can’t be right,” said Barry.
Pug looked at Barry. He couldn’t have, could he? Pug thought to himself.
“ Why can’t it be right?” said Justtin, a little annoyed. “ My calculations are always right. 15-1.”
Pug was still looking at Barry. Maybe not, he thought.
Justtin showed Barry the calculations on his screen.
“ You must be slipping,” said Barry. “ You missed a decimal point.”
Justtin didn’t believe him, so he quickly recalculated.
“ It’s an easy mistake to make,” Barry was saying. “ On my reckoning, it shouldn’t be 15-1. More like 1/5.”
Barry looked at Justtin’s screen again, and blinked a couple of times, and there, flashing in front of him was 20.015%# X 4/$= Humphrey.
“ Maybe I’ve contracted a virus,” said Justtin.
“ Why now?” said Barry. “ I had a job for you.”
“ Like what?” Justtin asked.
“ That’s not important at the moment. I told you this might happen. You spend far too much time on the Internet. Run your anti-virus programme and see what it says.”
Justtin did as he was told, and they both waited.
Barry watched the screen on Justtin’s chest, as the programme did its thing.
“ Is it bad, doctor?” Justtin asked.
“ It could be a whole lot worse,” said Barry as he spied the telltale sign that told him Justtin had a virus.
“ What, you mean a worm?” asked Justtin.
“ That’s right. This time you’re in luck,” said Barry. “ It’s only a virus, and I can sort that out in minutes. Worms are different. They’re far more difficult to deal with.”
“ So what now?” asked the robot.
“ I’m going to shut you down for a few minutes, then when you reboot, we’ll have you back to normal.”
“ Can we hurry up then,” asked Justtin impatiently.
“ Why? What’s the hurry?”
“ I need to go back on the net and find out if I said anything I shouldn’t have to the nice little microwave I met in a chat room.”
“ You are impossible,” said Barry. “ Say night night Justtin.”
“ Night nigh…”