THE WASHROOM OBSESSION
Wilberforce was powerless to do anything about the strong feelings he had for Clodagh Cladding, and cursed himself for being such a tongue-tied wimp.
He stared at the mirror above the sink in the washroom and became even more downcast. Being confronted by an especially horrific display of his features - made worse by the bright fluorescent lighting, was hardly a fillip. As he shook his hands dry, Wilberforce resigned himself to being forever seen as an incompetent disaster by the opposite sex. He drew no consolation from his elder sister being in the same loveless boat; at least she had some excitement getting there.
Wilberforce could’ve done with Tommy Trite being on hand to dish out some of his wise and calming advice, but as personal guru’s didn’t tend to grow on trees, resigned himself to facing the world alone. Within his place of employment there were a few people he got along quite well with, but no one qualified to fill the old man’s shoes.
Oh well, there was still the uplifting experience of a compulsive rolling back of the years in his head to look forward to.
Wilberforce adjusted his tie and took a deep breath. Three...two...one...
He slammed his palm on top of the cold water tap in front of him as quickly and powerfully as possible, and he was off and running.
July 1988, August 1987, September 1986, October 1985, November 1984, December 1983, January 1982, February 1981, March 1980, April 1979, May 1978, June 1977, July 1976, August 1975, September 1974, October 1973, November 1972, December 1971, January 1970, February 1969, March 1968, April 1967, May 1966, June 1965, July...
The sudden severance of the jet of water decreed Wilberforce could transport himself as far back as June 1965. July 1964 was unfinished and void. He was cheered enormously by being able to dig Granny Windcheater and Tommy Trite out of their graves, and revelled in them still being around. Wilberforce was also pleased at returning to being a pre-acne scarred seven year old. He bathed himself in nostalgia to forget about his present day status of being a dreadfully unsuccessful nonentity, and momentarily felt pretty good. He smiled as he recalled the episode from June 1965 where his nineteen-year-old sister gave him a sore head from a game of Spoons.
Wilberforce decided to go for a bonus compulsion, and formed the shape of an o with the thumb and index finger of each hand. He hovered his hands above the hot and cold taps, and began the ten second routine.
Barry Duct, the eldest of Mr and Mrs Donald Duct’s three sons, held the washroom door open as Wilberforce hurriedly aborted his hand hovering.
“I trust you’ll be taking dinner at the usual time, Windcheater, because there’s something I must say to you.”
The Head of Wilberforce’s department disappeared, leaving the thirty year old wondering and fearing what he’d be confronted with in the staff canteen. Before leaving the washroom, Wilberforce flapped his elbows twice to void his interrupted compulsion.