The Day that Time stopped for me! (or - High Noon at the OCD bar)

Just another ordinary day - probably not!

The Day that Time stopped for me!

(or - High Noon at the OCD bar)

I stand at my upstairs window and pull my 1910 silver omega pocket watch from the fob pocket of my silk waistcoat. I know it’s an affectation in these days of digital wizardry but I venerate the opulence and craftsmanship. Opening the back, I wonder at the perpetual motion of the gears and escapement mechanism orchestrating the events of my day. I can see the seconds themselves ticking away the present into the future. They say that the basis of the universe is uncertainty but I put my faith into this perfect mechanism designed and built by master craftsmen.

I look from the window. It is 8.05am and I watch George, opposite, loading his van for his day’s work.  Between 8.10  and 8.15  the secondary school kids amble past on their way to the bus stop. The double decker arrives at 8.17. At 8.24  Derek passes with his two red setters. We wave and then the dogs take turns at watering my fence. At 8.35 a red haired girl in school uniform runs past and waits at the opposite bus stop. She is texting. Interesting!  At 8.40 Frank and Maggie jog past the house. They look up. I hold up my Omega, which they know is a light-hearted dig at their pace. Frank waves and Maggie gives me the two fingers. Between 8.50 and 8.57 gaggles of high spirited primary kids with parents and child minders wander past to the nearby school.

My turn now to join this daily parade! I check that my backpack has all the bits and pieces I need for my morning out, walkman and headphones, puzzle book and phone.  I listen to the BBC Scotland news at 9.00. At 9.02 I switch off the radio, put on my jacket, lock the door and wander round to catch the 9.09 bus.

I invariably meet old John at the bus stop and I try hard not to ask him what he is up to. Our conversation is not a conversation because that would involve two people speaking! On the days that Bert and Wilma turn up I breathe a sigh of relief knowing that we will have a real conversation.

From the bus station, a short walk takes me to our local Worryspoon’s. Their selling point is cheap booze and fast food but in the morning I go for the bargain coffee and free refills. It gets me out of the house and they don’t ask me to do housework!  I settle into my usual seat where I can watch the other patrons surreptitiously. After getting my first coffee from the self-service coffee machine I put on my headphones, select Miles Davis, Kind of Blue, and start another of my puzzles. I glance around and see the usual people in their usual seats doing their usual things.

‘OMG, OCD, every last one of them,’ I think.

‘You can stop right there, reader - I can just hear you tittering. You think I’m as obsessively compulsed as them. The difference is that I choose to listen to ‘Kind of Blue’, do a codeword puzzle and sit at the third table from the door (window seat). I can choose to do something else - but I choose not to!'

Glancing to my right I see Bert engrossed in his Racing Post, studying form for the 3.30 at York. Every few minutes he takes alternate sips from the two pints of lager placed on either side of his paper. When each glass is half empty he will put on his coat and go out for a smoke. When both are empty he will go to the bar. I see him going to the bar.

‘The usual Bert?’

‘You know me, Betty.’  Betty is the boss behind the bar, a brassy and busty blond from Sydney.

‘Let me guess Bert, two pints of lager?’ She has them ready on the bar!

At the table immediately in front, Lenny, the Liberace (sans sequins) of the Worryspoons bar sits facing me. He is engrossed, as always, in playing his paper, piano keyboard. Handy when you don’t have the real thing! Lenny sways from side to side as he tinkles the ivories (well - the paper!) with a blissful look.  Lenny has the annoying habit of humming loudly as he plays from his extensive repertoire of ‘Fly me to the moon’ and ‘Hit the road Jack.’ Never mind, with my headphones on I’m listening to ‘Kind of Blue.’

I finish my codeword puzzle and consult my Omega - 16 min 27s, my fastest of the month. I record the date and time in my notebook. Time for another coffee. On the way to the machine I stop to watch Lenny. I can hear ‘Hit the road Jack’ but the notes being played are random drivel. As I pass I say ‘fake’ just louder than his humming. He turns and shouts - ‘WHAT DID YOU SAY - MILES?’ I think - how the f*** does he know I listen to Miles? I replied with a condescending (grade 5 at piano!) smile.

‘I said ‘take’ Lenny - that’s a classy take on ‘Hit the road.’ Lenny fumed - I felt doomed!

On my left, Pablo sits alone in the alcove. For some reason he always wears his black beret and striped black and white polo neck. Beside him sit his two large plastic bags crammed full of his collected art works. Although, I think, at the feverish pace he works there must be  warehouses bulging with his outsider art somewhere. On my way to the loo I stop and say hello. ‘Hello Pablo.’ I ask him what he is up to. ‘What are you up to Pablo?’

‘Hello Wyatt, I’m doing these drawings.’ Pablo showed me a geometrical pattern covering the page with some of the shapes coloured in. It looks vaguely like a modernist sculpture. He leafs through about another two hundred, almost identical others.’ 

'What’s that little squiggle at the bottom Pablo?’ ‘That’s me under a lamp post, it’s my signature!’ I struggle to contain my mirth and fail. Pablo doesn’t look too happy. He asks me pointedly, ‘what was your time for the codeword today Wyatt?’ I am struck dumb.

‘I think about 16.25,' Pablo says with a knowing grin. I stomp off to the loo knowing he is only 2s out. Has Pablo, the fake Picasso, looked at my notebook or has he been timing me?

By the time I return from the loo Mildred and Peter have arrived at the next table. Mildred has already got her large packet of disinfectant wipes out and is busy decontaminating every surface within reach. Peter has to wipe his hands. If they aren’t done properly she smacks his hand. The table surface, menu and cutlery are all disinfected. I surmise that they don’t have a dog!

I ask Mildred what kind of dog they have. ‘What kind of dog did I see you with yesterday Mildred?’ ‘Disgusting dirty animal!’ She replies, but I feel she is referring to me.

I sit back at my table but my mind is far from Miles Davis. I had thought that the ‘OCD’ café was a haven of peace and tranquillity but today there is a definite sense of the pot coming to the boil. It’s time for a visit to the toilet. As I pass Lenny’s table I see he’s at the bar. I don’t know what I’m thinking about but I deftly tear his paper keyboard in two at E sharp. Walking past Pablo’s table I see he is also away on other business. Glancing around guiltily I take a crayon and scribble ‘Dick Asso’ over his latest creation.

I go on to the loo with a smug smile on my face to find Pablo in full flow. I say 'nice painting Dick!' and Pablo looks puzzled. Two minutes later I have only just sat down when I hear a yell of anguish from Lenny’s table. He is standing with the two halves of his precious paper keyboard in either hand.

Now the s**t really hits the fan! Or rather the contents of Lenny’s glass somehow miss me and hit Mildred’s hairdo. She screams, but following my comments of a few minutes before his glare settles on me and I feel like a mouse under the glare of a weasel. Lenny shouts at me, ‘you did this!’ and Mildred steps across and slaps me hard on the face.

There is a scream of rage from Pablo’s table. He has seen his vandalised picture and now he can only see red. Suddenly he pulls a handgun out of one of his bags and waves it about. This was you Wyatt, he yells. I look up and see Betty behind the bar. She is going to sort this out and her Aussie twang rings out ‘Drinks on the house, cobbers.’ That takes everyone by surprise and there is a pause. Then, an ear splitting shot thunders.

And that’s the last I can remember!

Two weeks later my thirst for coffee returns and I return to Worryspoons or, as I call it, the ‘OCD bar’. I am still sporting a bandage round my head and a fading bruise on my chest.

‘Hi Betty’.

‘Good to see you Wyatt, how are you? That was a close call!’

‘You know Betty, I can’t remember a thing!’

‘Don’t you remember Pablo pulling out a handgun.’

‘Oh - yes I do remember and then it all went black.’

‘I didn’t know what to do, Wyatt, so I shouted, ‘drinks on the house!’ Everyone just stopped and looked. I grabbed that boomerang hanging above the bar that you all tease me about. Pablo let off a shot that hit you in the chest but somehow you stayed up. I threw the boomerang at Pablo but he ducked and it hit you square on the head. You went down like a pint of Fosters! Then Pablo threw the gun away and ran.

‘Wow!’  Was all I could say.

‘By the way, I've got something for you Wyatt.’ Betty handed me the remains of my 1910 Omega pocket watch with a bullet firmly lodged in it. I looked at it and then understood.  I laughed with Betty. ‘Yes, time did stop for me!’

Reviews

[sette]

this story is really funny, it made me think of something and i realize that maybe maybe there is really a bar for the OCD people just like when I observed my neighbor who has this ocd, i don't keep track of the time but of her behavior and the way she matches her outfits in just three colors. I try to understand,really understand .

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Sette, I based this on some people that I have seen in the bar and had great fun writing this. Yes OCD is hard to understand and we shouldn't really laugh.
Best wishes with your own writing.
Alan

[sette]

yes we should never laugh about them but to respect and understand them the best way we can. thanks for the best wishes with my writing, it tends to be a little emotional right?

[alanwgraham]

Yes. You are right sette. Part of the story was that the writer (me) also realises he has some ocd traits.
Thanks again, Alan

[sette]

most of us has that my friend, i arrange my clothes in accordance to length and color. when i buy utensils it has to be with the same design, same color and same shape.

[Ian Chris]

To alanwgraham,
The Day That Time stopped for me !
I loved the funny surreal nature of this OCD story and the use Miles Davis's Kind Of Blue.
Ian Chris.

[Ian Chris]

to alanwgraham
I loved the funny surreal nature of this story as well using the music by Miles Davis.
Best wishes,
Ian Chris

[Ian Chris]

I loved the funny surreal nature of the story as well as the use of Miles Davis music.
Best wishes,
Ian Chris

[Abraham Kureshi]

Beautiful concept, beautifully presented..really enjoyed. :)
-GS

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for taking the time to read this GS. I had the idea ages ago but when i started writing it morphed into something quite different but i think better.
All the best,
Alan

[drcornelius]

This was fun to read Alan. Its pace makes it compelling. There is a lot going on and you spool it out at just the right pace. So many fascinating characters. I want to know so much more about each of them. There is probably enough here for a novella. Thanks for sharing this with us.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks again drcornelius. It was fun writing and I guess these people are all round us. A little bit of me that n there too!
Cheers,
Alan

[Samuel Dickens]

I have to make a confession. Perhaps it's just a statement about how I think things are. While we may act out our own OCD behaviors and not notice, others doing so can be a bit maddening. I feel I'm just being thorough when I double and triple check the tuning of a guitar but when another person does it, I say "Sheesh! Do ya think you've got it now?" I love the story, but am sad about the watch. It served a noble purpose, I know, but a Gideon's bible would've stopped the bullet, too, and you can get a new one from any hotel room.
All blabbering aside, I especially enjoyed going with the narrator on his morning routine, riding the bus, hanging out a Worryspoons, meeting the odd people, etc.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Samuel. I'm afraid Barley girl sussed me out on this one - it isn't too far off the truth! She also said it might only appeal to hard core ocd types - so maybe she's caught you'll in her snare. Whole she doesn't read this haha!
Cheers,
Alan

[Samuel Dickens]

We'll be vewy, vewy quiet....

[Glen's not so clean sla..]

I love the concept and premise of this and really thought you executed it well and genuinely humorously. I don’t have a whole lot of construction insight to add, I just wanted to say I read it and I liked it.

[alanwgraham]

Thanks Glen! Sorry, but I'm trying hard not to look at your photo! It was mainly fun but perhaps a bit too close to the truth!
Cheers,
Alan

[Ken Simm.]

Excellent building and I enjoy the surreal overtones. OCD culture comes to Scotland and WS pubs. Good characterization and flow. I could see the people and could understand their various conditions of the day. I really enjoyed this Alan .Now I'm off to read it again in case I missed something. I usually do. From another Miles Davies fan

[alanwgraham]

I'll invite you for a coffee and you can meet my OCD pals. Seriously now, I was chatting to Pablo this morning and he showed me another series of abstracts. He's done another 7 since yesterday and they go back to the 70's. No sign of a handgun though! Outsider art on steroids.
Cheers,
Alan

[barleygirl]

Your imagination is off the charts . . . except that I fear this might be only slightly fictionalized! *wink! wink!* This is fun & hilarious & only a teensy bit tedious around paragraph 2 (which I think could be remedied by ticking off the sequential time slots in "list" format, instead of flowing prose). The name & nickname of the café is brilliant. Shortly after the opening café interlude is described in slightly tedious terms, that's when your story comes alive. The exaggerated scenes gradually intensify, giving the sensation of a bunch of OCD's too tightly wound & about to burst out in every direction with reactive outrageousness. Your details sing with originality & slapstick fun. Nice wrap-around to the opening diatribe about the watch -- which is another brilliant aspect, using this watch as a symbol, & also as a point of superiority in this tale of dueling OCD's! You've outdone yourself again. But this may be one of those that only a deeply indoctrinated OCD can fully appreciate (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[alanwgraham]

Thanks for taking so much time on this review margie - I certainly appreciate your comments. I have been thinking about this one for a while but not too sure where to go. I do go for coffee regularly and I became aware of quite a few with ocd traits. It seemed ripe for a story. I just thought, what might they think of me. When I did start on this I didn't where it was heading. My intention was to develop the narrator's obsession with time and intended to work back to the pocket watch. I did worry about the first bit being too long and I might pare it back a bit. I'll see if I get any other suggestions before I change it too much although I am fairly happy with the outcome. In some ways I am a bit OCD but i like to think i am quite flexible. Thanks again.
Alan