On The Roof

“Ooooof! I don’t think much of the landing.” Greador picked himself up off the ground.

“Yeah, it was a bit solid,” agreed Hobal, shaking his head and dusting himself down.

“Where are we?” asked Greador looking around. “Looks a bit high up.”

“We’re on the roof of a book repository,” said Hobal.

“Ah, smart. I see what you did there,” said Greador.

“You said you had a book to hide. I thought this would be the ideal place. Satan would never think to look in a pile of books for his present. Which book did you get him?”

“Organic Gardening for Beginners,” said Greador.

“Nice,” said Hobal, nodding appreciatively.

“I thought so, he’s always saying that he wants to do
something restful,” said Greador.

“And, it’ll be a way of getting rid of all that manure in the backyard.”

Greador cocked his head to one side. “Can I hear something?”

“Yeah. There’s a parade on today,” said Hobal.

“Parade? Really? Where is this place?” asked Greador.

“I told you,” said Hobal. “It’s a book repository.”

Greador crossed his arms, looking serious. “Where exactly?”

“Dallas, Texas,” said Hobal, looking puzzled.

Greador frowned. “When?”

Hobal thought for a moment, “I think I set the machine for November 1963. That nice Mr Einstein said that it should be correct to within a half a percent.”

“Wait a minute,” said Greador, one finger in the air.

“You don’t want to be saying that near Mr Einstein,” said Hobal. “He could probably do that with his new machine.”

“Do you realise what’s going on down there?” Greador pointed over the precipice.

“It’s a parade, the President is supposed to drive past,” said Hobal.

“Yes he is,” agreed Greador. “And in about three minutes it’s going to be a disaster and in about ten minutes, this place is going to be crawling with Secret Service agents because this is where the bad guy is shooting from.”

“It is?” asked Hobal. “I guess you’ll have to find somewhere else to stash the book then.”

“You idiot,” said Greador. “Have you ever stopped to wonder why JFK doesn’t like playing in the Texas Hold’Em Poker Tournaments?”

Hobal shrugged, “I just thought he wasn’t into playing cards.”

Greador shook his head, “It’s a lot more serious than that.”

“Really?” asked Hobal. “How serious?”

“Deadly. Serious.” said Greador.

Hobal looked around. “Maybe we could warn him. His car’s just coming down the street now.”

Greador shook his head. “You’re too late, and I think Mr Einstein would be very upset if you started messing about with causality theory, you know he doesn’t understand it.”

“Shame that,” said Hobal. “He always struck me as quite smart. Hey, look someone’s opened a window down here.”Hobal pointed down and to his right. Greador just shook his head.

“You’re too late,” he said as Mrs Kennedy screamed.

“Who would have imagined…!? Can you believe that? No one is going to believe it when we tell them what we saw.” Hobal was breathless.

“We can’t tell them,” said Greador, a serious look on his face.

“Why not?” Hobal looked at him, incredulous.

“Well, as you said, no one will believe us, it’s too ridiculous.”

“We could go on talk shows and things. Write a book. Get that nice Cecil B DeMille to make a film. Tell everyone the truth,” said Hobal.

Greador shook his head. “Hobal, don’t be ridiculous.”

“What?” said Hobal. “I’m not being ridiculous. I happen to like Mr DeMille’s films.”

“I’m not talking about the film,” said Greador. “I’m talking about the truth. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Why not?” Hobal stamped his hoof.

“Because there’s too much money in conspiracy theories, films, books, academic research and documentaries. No one’s interested in the truth,” said Greador.

“I suppose we’d better get back and hide your present somewhere else then, how about that nice library I saw a picture of the other day?” Asked Hobal.

Greador nodded. “Sounds good. Where was that?”

“I think it was called Atlantis.”

On The Roof