The Universe of What?

By: David Sands (aka Sheri Catron)

An entry in The Sands of Time Writing Competition

Right, we live in an infinite universe or, more accurately, a multiverse in which ANYTHING is possible. But, come on ….. The Jetsons in a flying saucer? My Favorite Martian sitting in a pub? Tribbles in a shop window? All in a quaint English village in the Cotswolds? I must be losing my mind. Really, this is beyond the pale.

How did I end up here? I don’t know! I went to bed last night after a few glasses of vino. You know the stuff, Costco bargain bin. Slept like the proverbial log. Woke up needing to shave the fuzz off of my tongue. I opened the curtains to check the weather like you do. And lo and behold I do not see my neighbor’s backyard. What I do see are rolling green hills behind honey-colored stone, ancient buildings with thatched roofs looking suspiciously like the English Cotswolds. WTF?

I should clarify. I live in Encinitas, Ca., a small coastal town north of San Diego. We do not have green rolling hills nor do we have ancient stone houses. Nope, not here. We have a lot of stucco and terracotta tiled roofs that were probably built in the 90’s. That’s what we call ancient.

I am into metaphysics. I don’t have a problem with the concept of an infinite universe with infinite possibilities. But to wake up in another place entirely is somewhat disconcerting.

So let’s take stock. Inside this room everything is familiar. My clothes are in the closet. The furniture is mine. The books on the shelf are the same. I decide I’d better get dressed because who knows what the hell is outside the door.

Whew! The bathroom is where it belongs. Thank goodness for small miracles. So far so good.

I guess… Inside the house is all mine. Familiar. But what is outside of those windows is freaking me out. There’s nothing to do but go outside and face the brave new world. The backyard looks to be the safest option. It appears to be enclosed and private.

Out I step into a decidedly British summer day. Brrrr. Gray skies and nippy to my So. Cal. skin but the garden has lush borders filled with summer flowers. Yes, I am a devoted viewer of Gardner’s World so I know an English summer border when I see one. What is not so typical on view in a Cotswold village garden is a flying saucer hovering overhead. Again, WTF? And it’s not just (?) a flying saucer, it’s a cartoon flying saucer.

Seriously, I can see George Jetson, his boy Elroy, daughter Judy, and Jane his wife (cue theme song) all peering out at me. Just to make a complete set, where’s Astro? I was a child in the 1960’s and The Jetsons was a favorite cartoon. The soundtrack is playing in my head and I can still sing the words to the theme song. Which is why I know who those faces belong to. (Google The Jetsons’ theme song and you’ll have a persistent earworm.)

I am a sci-fi lover with an expansive consciousness but this is crazy. Right? I may as well dive deep into what must be a hallucination because cartoon spacecraft don’t fly through the air. Though I’ve never been to the Cotswold so maybe they do here? No, because on Escape To The Country they do not. Otherwise, I’m sure they would be a selling point. “ Two up two down, with cartoon spacecraft over the back garden, all in a beautiful Cotswold village.” effuses Jules.

It appears to be a decent-sized village with some shops and a pub further down. Off I go to explore. The people out and about seem normal. They’re doing their shopping, stopping for a chat with a neighbor, and walking their dogs. Oh no. Dog walkers always find dead bodies in quaint English villages. Thank God I’m not in Midsomer.

There’s a visitor’s center on the corner with signs and adverts describing footpaths and hill walking tours of the Cotswolds. My supposition is confirmed. I am in the Cotswolds. Maybe.

Next door is the village shop and post office. In a basket in the window are what look like tribbles. It’s been a while since I've seen that Star Trek episode, but I do believe those are tribbles. Ok…. onward. This can’t possibly get any weirder, can it? Well, of course it can.

Down the street is the pub and I am feeling the distinct need for a medicinal beverage about now. Either that or I need Scotty to beam me up. It looks just like I would expect a village pub to look. Horse brasses hanging, inglenook fireplace with aged labrador softly snoring, friendly publican behind the bar, and a guy in a green flight suit with antenna protruding from his head sipping on a pint of stout. Wait, what? Here we go again. It’s Martin the Martian from the 60’s tv show, My Favorite Martian. Well of course it is.

So far I’ve woken up, not in Encinitas, Ca., but in a Cotswold village in the UK. I have been buzzed by the Jetsons in a cartoon flying saucer. The Jetsons were also cartoon by the way. I have seen massively over-reproductive, incredibly cute, fictional, space aliens in a shop window. And now I’ve seen yet another 1960’s fictional E.T. sitting in a pub having a pint and chatting with the barkeeper.

I am kind of getting into this. If this is the universe of 1960’s sci-fi characters then I know who has got to be around somewhere. I pass on the pub and turn up a cobbled alley for a quiet moment to clear my head. And there it is. The blue police box. The Doctor is here! And I am going to be his new companion.

David Sands: “Knock, knock.” “Who’s there?” “The 1960’s.” “The 1960’s Who?” “Yes!”

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Sheri Canton

I am a dedicated Jodi reader. I started writing as child but haven’t written for a long while. I read several books a week across many genres. I live by the ocean in Southern California and beach walk most days. I went to culinary school and would be happy to give Jodi some cooking lessons 😆.

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