This is the seventh entry in the Agent Charlie diary. Read other chapters.

BREAKING DAD: This morning Bristles looks me deep in the eye. He is tired, haggard. He marches up and down the kitchen, intoning,

‘One, Two, One, Two….’

He stops and swivels. ‘Ten—Hut!’

He salutes me. I scream at him. I’m hungry.

Password: The Natives have a secret word which gives clearance for me to do anything I want:

‘NO.’

As I’m reaching to uproot a rose Smooth says, very clearly and sharply, ‘NO.’

I comply: the flower is no more.

Scaffolding: Gripping a vertical surface like a sofa, a table or a Native, I hoist myself to my feet. Smooth is slippery but Bristles’ hairy legs give me a better grip. One day I will climb him completely.

Baby Race: Bristles lays out three gym mats and puts me on one of them. Smooth positions two other Agents on the remaining mats, a male and a female. Both are roughly the same age and size as me. Bristles makes sure we are all parallel, steps back and shouts, ‘Go!’  The female Agent starts crawling across the mat; the male starts moving in a different direction. I hold my head high, but I’m not mobile yet.

‘Come on, Charlie!’ calls Smooth, from the far end of the mat. I sway and gulp and my eyes fill with tears –

‘I think it’s a terrible idea,’ interrupts Smooth.

‘Come on,’ says Bristles. ‘It’ll give him an incentive to crawl.’

‘We’re not doing it. It’s probably illegal, anyway.’ 

‘But you said he’s behind –’

‘No.’

Crime solver: It’s my duty to investigate exposed wires, dust balls, unattended shoes and dirty brooms.

‘Charlie. NO!’

Sensing danger, I crawl towards the crime.  

Dummies: Since before I can remember, Natives have been giving me objects to put in my mouth and I have been hiding them. They buy new devices to silence me, so I enrich their lives with further deception.

Training continues outside. As we trundle down the street I wait until they’re not looking and spit out the dummy. After a while I start to cry. The Natives stop and look everywhere for something to put in my mouth, so I cry louder.

Secretly I’m amused.

Treasure: There’s a castle in the kitchen. When it beeps Bristles pulls down a silver portcullis, releasing a cloud of steam.

I look up and drop whatever I’m doing. I start my approach.

‘Whoa,’ says Bristles. ‘What is it with Charlie and the dishwasher?’

I crawl towards him, my hands thudding on the floor.

‘Charlie! says Smooth. ‘NO.’

Inspired, I pick up the pace.

‘Hide the knives!’

I grip the plastic cage and haul myself to my feet, inhaling the clean sweet smell of treasure; I rummage through the clacking plates, the multicoloured cups, the warm bottles, the endless bowls. They make a delicate rattling sound when I shake the cage; sometimes they crash and tinkle. One day I will have my own castle and rattle my own treasure.

Teeth: Bristle’s nose is no longer safe in my mouth.

Summary:

So far so good.

No one knows I’m in charge.

Stay tuned for the next instalment of the Agent Charlie reports, edited by Peter Flynn, next week.

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