FanFiction, Part 1
I wrote this story for my guest appearance during FanFiction Comedy’s first Wellington show, back in May 2012.
It appears that perhaps I got the wrong end of the stick. OR DID I?
Fan Fiction
It was a hot summer’s day, and George was hard at work. Not everyone could have handled the tireless back and forth of George’s job, but he liked it - and according to independent tests undertaken on behalf of Consumer magazine, he was pretty good at it, from a price versus performance perspective.
George was a Goldair 30cm Oscillating Desk Fan - not the largest or most powerful in Goldair’s extensive range, but reasonably priced, and ideal for creating airflow in a small to medium sized room with adequate ventilation.
Normally, George found himself in his owner’s office or bedroom - the ideal workplace for a fan of his make and model. Both rooms were well within his normal operating specifications, as confirmed by a comprehensive battery of tests undertaken by Goldair’s dedicated fan engineering facility.
More recently, however, George found himself pressed into service cooling larger and larger rooms. Once, his owner even expected him to somehow provide cooling to the entire open-plan kitchen-slash-dining area, a scenario so obviously far beyond George’s modest capabilities that Goldair’s engineers hadn’t even bothered to test for it. After straining ineffectually for nearly 45 minutes, George was unceremoniously switched off, and angrily shoved in a corner, facing the wall. He had never before felt so small and inadequate.
Today, however, George was at work in the TV lounge - a space much more suited to his modest talents. As he gently oscillated back and forth, his owner sat in front of the television, idly flicking through channels.
Suddenly, their quiet revery was interrupted by the distinctive sound of the doorbell - followed by an insistent knock, as if their visitor was unsure if the doorbell was working. George’s owner quickly bounded up off the couch and ran to the door. George could only catch glimpses of the visitor - he only oscillated in the correct direction every now and then - but it appeared that he and George’s owner were engaged in a transaction of some kind.
The next time George’s head oscillated back towards the doorway, the mysterious visitor had gone, and George’s owner was lugging a large cardboard box inside the house. He dragged it slowly over the polished wooden floors - being careful not to let any of the staples from the box scratch the lovingly restored native timber - into the TV lounge, and began unpacking the contents.
Whatever was inside was in several parts, and it took George’s owner quite some time to assemble it - although this may have been partly due to unclear instructions having been provided by the manufacturer. Finally, however, the last piece was securely fastened into place, and the new arrival was hoisted into an upright position.
If George could have gasped, he would have - it was beautiful. 5 and a half feet of chrome-plated, 5-speed perfection. George’s owner had just taken delivery of a new fan - and not just any fan. This was a Russell Industries 5000 - a modern reimagining of a vintage East German design, with all new electronics under its meticulously polished exterior. George knew from reading Fan Fan Magazine - the magazine for fan enthusiasts - that the Russell 5000 was capable of cooling a room the size of their open plan kitchen slash dining room when set to as little as 2, or 3 on an unusually warm day - with settings 4 or 5 only necessary for much larger rooms or for wind effects during music video shoots.
George had been replaced by a fan that was his superior in every way. His feelings of inadequacy began to bubble to the surface once again. “Hello, Mr Russell,” he shouted, somewhat desperately. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. I hope we can be friends.” But the Russell 5000 did not respond - in fact showing no signs of hearing him at all.
George’s owner cleaned up the Russell 5000’s packaging, then came back and picked up the Russell 5000’s plug. Looking around for a suitable outlet, his eyes settled on the one George was currently plugged into. Without fanfare, George suddenly found himself powerless. Meanwhile, the Russell 5000 roared into life, and before long, the TV lounge was icily cool. George’s owner returned to watching television, while George, unplugged was left staring fixedly into space. Forgotten.
George started imagining how he would be disposed of - hoping fervently that he would be sold on TradeMe, but knowing that was unlikely for an appliance worth only thirty dollars brand new. He resigned himself to the inevitable trip to the rubbish dump - where his only hope was being rescued for sale in the recycling centre. George began to feel like a condemned prisoner, waiting for execution. When would his moment come? Every time his owner stirred from the couch, George became tense. Was it now?
Finally, George’s owner strode towards him decisively. This was clearly it. George was lifted up and carried down the hall. “Goodbye, everyone,” George called out to the other domestic appliances in the household. “Remember me!” Then he shut his eyes tightly, and waited for the inevitable.
Finding himself being gently put down and plugged back into power, George opened his eyes again. He was in his owner’s bedroom - in a prime spot right next to the bed! Of course, he realised - the Russell 5000 was far too powerful for a medium-sized room such as this one! He wasn’t being thrown out - he had the most important job of all. If George could have smiled, he would have.
Soon, George’s owner was ready for bed. Putting on his pajamas, he slid gently under the covers, reaching over to turn George to a lower setting. “Goodnight, George” he said, as he closed his eyes.
“Goodnight, Dr Chris Warner,” said George.