Free Casper Candlewacks in the Time Travelling Toaster by Ivan Brett Page A

years ago now.”
    “And sort of five seconds ago as well, I suppose,” said Young Casper.
    Old Casper nodded. “Oh, that too. I hope you’re remembering all this.”
    “Why? Should I be?” Young Casper considered getting a pen.

    “Of course you should. In a hundred years you’ll have to say it all back to myself. I mean yourself. I mean… you get what I mean?”
    “Not sure I do…” Young Casper scratched his head.
    “Can we start again, please?” asked Lamp. “I’ve forgotten who I am.”
    “No, no, we can’t start again. This only happened once, Lamp. I remember it as if it was yesterday. But I suppose it’s today…” Old Casper shifted in his chair. His face was wrinkled and so very pale, but his eyes still held that glint that Casper’s mum loved so much. “Now, what did I say next? Ah yes, bloogle gargle Viking dromedary, please pass the pepper, Mildred, or I’ll put you back in the fridge.”
    Young Casper was rapidly wishing he hadn’t met himself. “Why did you say that?”
    “Because I told me to.”
    “When?”
    “Well, I’m just about to.” Old Casper pointed to his wrinkled mouth. “You’d better say that all back to me, Casper.”
    “What, now?”

    “No, no; give it a hundred years. Don’t want to rush things.”
    Young Casper had already forgotten the bit about the dromedary. “You didn’t happen to write this conversation down, did you?”
    “Oh yes, I gave me a transcript a hundred years ago.” Old Casper tapped the pocket of his dressing gown. “I’ve got the whole conversation right here, in case I forget the words.”
    “Could I see it?”
    “Not until afterwards. Wouldn’t want you reading ahead. And anyway, I didn’t give it to me until right after Lamp fell off his chair.”
    “But Lamp hasn’t fallen off his chair.”
    “Not yet, no.”
    “I plan to,” said Lamp.
    “But if it’s written down, then that means what I say is already set. What if I say something wrong?”
    “You won’t,” assured Old Casper.
    “How do you know I won’t?” asked Young Casper.
    “Because I didn’t.”
    “Ah…” Young Casper didn’t like that. “But I have free will. I choose to say what I want to say. Look… erm… SOCK PUPPETS. GILGAMESH. FOTHERINGSWORTH PLEMM-PLAMM. You can’t have got all that written down.”
    Old Casper pulled out a dog-eared piece of paper and unfolded it. “Was that ‘plemm-plamm’ with two double ems?”
    “Suppose so, yeah.”
    Old Casper replaced the paper in his pocket. “Thought so. Next, you’ll say ‘No, I won’t.’”
    “No, I won’t.” Young Casper clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, my goodness.”
    “Listen, Casper,” said Old Casper, “we could do this all day, but there’re only two pages left of the script. I’ve got to tell you about your mission.”
    Young Casper kept his mouth shut. No piece of paper was going to tell him what to say.
    “Corne-on-the-Kobb is in peril,” continued Old Casper in a wise, sage-like tone. “Over the past hundred years the power of the Blight family has exploded. It started with a bright young girl’s business venture, and a few plucky kids pitching in to help. But she found success. Too much success, some say. She employed more of the village, and turned her house into a factory. Demand grew, and soon she was shipping her drink worldwide. Within twenty years, pretty much the whole village had enrolled at Blight Manor. Working hours were increased and pay was reduced.” He paused.
    “What are you waiting for?” asked Young Casper.
    “Just for you to ask ‘What are you waiting for?’, and now you’ve done that, so I’ll continue.” Old Casper closed his eyes and continued to speak, more slowly now. “I’d had a taste of the future from, well, just now, actually. The people who listened to my story stayed unemployed. We’re the lucky ones. But life has been tough and our numbers have dwindled. Power passed down through the Blight family, and now that