Tell me where will you be mine…
Published: June 27, 2024
Tell me quantum, quantum, quantum.
That’s the new flavour in tv themes: quantum shit. Dark Matter, The Multiverse, Quantumania and all that. It’s not news to us, though. For months now we’ve been kicking quantum fundamentals out of the way at home to try to find our old Higgs-Boson particles.
And my cousin Nev is a quantum mechanic.
Nev …. Neville Schrödinger (Dad’s cousin married a champion Austrian yodeller) … did an online course in quantum mechanics and he’s now a qualified quantum mechanic. It’s brilliant — you send him a text about your car’s problem, he gets the shop manual up on the internet and fixes your car from his couch. He’s got little car models and whatever he does to the model happens on your car too.
To be honest, he’s not the best quantum mechanic; he did some quantum work on the diff on my Torana and it shit itself on Goodwood Road. And Main North Road at the same time. But you’ve got to love the whole quantum thing idea. Even if it’s bit freaky and doesn’t work real good… yet. Anyway, story…
Nev’s dad, Orville Schrödinger, lets me bunk down in an outer part of their house — known as the ‘sleep-out’ — because sometimes I get a bit smelly in my job is a statue stand in. While I’m not a quantum genius like Nev it’s a really good job and it’s quantum-ish: I take the place of a statue that has been taken in for polishing or repairs and, as a consequence, pigeons and other feathered fukkers crap on me. Especially on my cap.
I wear the cap to keep the bird shit out of my hair and it is in this cap that Schrödinger’s cat – a sort of ginger marmalade-looking thing – it is in my fkn cap this fkn cat done a crap. I complained to Nev.
“What’s the problem?” Nev countered, “… yer cap is covered in crap!”
“Only on the outside!” I sed. “I don’t want crap getting in me hair; I just washed it last Easter.”
“Hey… it’s a cat! Who knows where it wants to crap and who can stop it…???”
Well… I sez to myselluf …I can put a stop to it. I set a trap for the bastard. When the cat sat in my hat to do a crap, its weight tripped a rigged-up bucket which dropped down over it.
Middle of the night… clang! Got ‘im! I reached in and grabbed the little ginger shitter, shoved it in a box, taped it up and posted it to a place I know in Sydney.
The next night I slept peacefully knowing the cap crapping cat had gone. I woke up to go to work, put on my hat and… Splughtchthcght! … there was another crap in it.
How could that be…? I thought. I checked the parcel receipt… I had definitely sent the thing away. Checked the tracking… it was also definitely on the way to the cosmetic testing laboratory in Steak’n’kidney… probably being nicely vivisected as I stood and pondered. But there was a fresh crap in my hat. It was a bit of a puzzle – I’d sent the cat away and yet it still craps in my hat….! Something fkn weird was going on.
So I set another trap. That night I slept. Not well, but well enough, considering I had one ear open for the bucket drop – which didn’t happen. So, the next morning I figured, no cat in the trap – no crap in the hat. I put on my hat and…. Splughtchthcght!
What the f#@#!!!!!! The cat is gone….! I know that because I sent it away and it is not here … yet it still shits in my hat!!! Am I going fkn crazy? How can it be getting vivisected and shitting in my hat at the same time?? What the fuk is going on with Schrödinger’s fkn cat!!!!!
Meanwhile, down behind the garden shed, a marmalade cat was sitting, thinking: “Ok… that numpty got my twin brother Jeff. But Jeff was dim; he was bound to end up in the creek with a brick for a floatie. The numpty won’t get me with that stupid trap, though; I just done me poo in a soup ladle and tipped it in the big galoot’s cap. And I’ll do it again tonight — too easy.”
And that’s quantum shit for you!