6
“That was Bob Funk with: ‘My Baby’s left me for a custard pie’” The psychedelic jangles faded away across the airwaves.
“I’m joined by my guest, a Mr Curio Enchantment. That’s a ‘curious’ name” said DJ Space Hoppa, bursting into laughter. Curio just smiled out of sympathy, wearing his headphones, across the desk from Hoppa, a microphone before his mouth.
Hoppa was ten years younger than Curio, but he acted even ten years younger. His radio persona was of a ‘wacky guy’, who was down with the street kids, rather like some of the children’s TV programme presenters whose ego swells to massive proportions and think they’re the funniest thing on the planet, who talk down to the viewers, and are subconsciously saying: ‘Look at me, I’m on TV, and you’re not. I’m just so crazy’. That was Hoppa. He thought he was a big personality because he was on the radio. Yet Hoppa had settled for now on one of the steps to fame, and Curio had not reached that height yet, but he was close.
“Later on we’ll be having a phone-in, so you can put your questions to him, but he might know already what you’re gonna ask.” said Hoppa. He looked across at his guest. “So, Curio. Mr Enchantingment. You’re a psychic detective, you hunt down dead people with your mind”. He said it as a statement.
“You could put it like that. I’m out to prove the existence of paranormal phenomena. No longer is it speculative and unprovable. I focus not just on finding missing persons, but on all things that science cannot prove”.
“Phernominaaaa! Maybe you are a ghost, Curio. How am I to know?” There was a pause. Curio didn’t answer.
“I saw a ghost once” Hoppa continued. “At the time I was eating an ice screeeeeeem!” Hoppa yelled the last word, and suddenly Curio got the urge to punch Hoppa hard in the face. He’s not taking this seriously, he finally realised.
“So can you speak with ghosts, like?”
“I do believe I can commune with the spirits of the deceased. I can feel their concerns and emotions”.
“What do they say? I ain’t got nobody?”. Hoppa laughed again, and waved up to the webcam.
“Smile, you’re live worldwide”.
“What? I didn’t know that”, Ah, a bigger audience, thought Curio.
“I also believe there’s...”
“I’ll stop you there Curio lad. Time for a choon”. A hard-house track came on, and all Curio heard was the warblings of a woman, who, he found, actually had a nice voice. The music she sang to however, was undoubtedly made on a cheap keyboard in some wannabe DJ’s bedroom.
Hoppa never looked at Curio during the track. Instead, he busied himself by staring at a monitor and clicking a mouse. Curio guessed he was rifling through tracks to play later.
When the song finished, Hoppa became more animated and went back to the microphone. “That was DJ Stevie with Heartbreakin’ lover. My guest this morning is a Mr Curio Enchantment. Psychic detective and ghost hunter extraordinaire. He can read minds and tell you your future. He’s an all round mystic”. Curio smiled without humour.
“Tell me Curio, what’s my future hold?”
“What’s your date of birth?”
“I ain’t tellin’ ‘cos you should tell me. What’s my date of birth?”
“Well…”
“OK, I’ll help you out. My star sign is Sagaquarius. Ha ha ha. Fooled ya”.
“Astrology is fast becoming more and more recognised as a genuine phenomenon.
What’s the point of the stars being there, if they’re not for our benefit?”
“Phernominaaaa! Tell me Enchantingment, you claim to read minds, what am I thinking now?” He closed his eyes and put his hands over his headphones.
Curio then had an idea. It would raise his profile, create some controversy, and embarrass Hoppa.
“OK,” said Curio. “You’re thinking these exact words: I’m a pathetic, talentless little cunt”. It felt good to say that, Curio found. Hoppa’s eyes opened and he looked shocked.
Curio stood up and took his headphones off. He pointed at the buttons beside Hoppa, who was speechless.
“Is that what you’re looking for? The delay switch. Uh oh! too late. It’s gone out. Ha, it’s into the bosses office for you. You’re sacked”. Hoppa’s face reddened and he stood up angrily.
“Get out!” he shouted, pointing to the door. Curio duly obliged.
The sun was threatening to come out from behind the clouds, and the wind had lessened to a slight breeze. Curio had decided to walk home, as it was only three miles away. As he did, he found himself passing by his old university, where his academic aspirations nearly came to fruition.
He had wanted to be a doctor, and had managed four years until he realised that he did not have the audacity to see it through. From there he had found himself in various jobs that were not exactly brain taxing. At that time he had had many friends, mostly from university with medical ambitions, and his social circle could have been seemed to be normal.
When he found that he had ‘the gift’, that he could commune with spirits, could hear voices in his head, he found that the telephone had rang less and less. They’re far too busy, was Curio’s delusion, and to this day he believed that.
Further towards his home, he passed by a library, and decided to do some further reading up on the paranormal. It wasn’t long before he was sat reading about ancient astronauts.