Indiana Jones and the Theme Park of the Fibreglass Cycle Helmet

“Dad! Dad!”

“Yes, son?”

“Can we go to the Fibreglass Cycle Helmet Theme Park? Oh, pleeeeease!”

“Well, I don’t know, son. Dad’s only just got back from his trip to the desert with his English pal Mac. We went swinging with some crazy Russian chick and her “friends”. Mac was swinging from my side to hers, I was swinging all over the place. It was great!”

“Swinging, dad?”

“Yes, son, and I’m all tired out. It isn’t always a good idea to do so much swinging at my age. Not that I wasn’t up to it, mind you. That crazy Russian chick got exactly what she went there for, let me tell you.”

“What was that, dad?”

“Er, well, wait until you’re a bit older – let’s just say I went off like a rocket and there was just a huge explosion and – erm – kind of, sand squirrels, everywhere. I’m not totally sure why, but it might be because Ewoks would have stretched things beyond breaking point.”

“D’you mean like how Richard Gere reputedly did with the hamste–”

“Let’s just go to the park, son, okay?”

“Yaaaaaaay!”

*

Later, at the Theme Park of the Fibreglass Cycle Helmet:

“Dad, dad – I want to go on the bike ride, and the plane ride, and the desert ride, and then the plane ride again, and the boat ride, and the jungle ride, and then the boat ride again, and then the new Big Adventure Ride that’s just opened! It’s going to be the best!

“Hold on, son, slow down! Is your mother around here somewhere?”

“She’s holding a place for us on the jungle ride, I think. Come on, c’mon, c’mon-c’mon-c’mon!”

“Okay, son, okay. But let’s start with the train ride, shall we? I think that’s more my speed.”

“But da-aa-ad, the train ride is bor-ring! I want the motorbike ride, I wannit, I wannit, I wannnnit!”

“Okay, okay – jump on behind me.”

“But I wanna drive, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna!”

Okay, okay. Oh, er, some of that Russian chick’s “friends” are on this ride too.”

“Let’s say hi!”

“Er, no son, I’d rather not – take the left track onto Memory Lane would you?”

“Sure thing dad – hey, look: there’s a couple of people who aren’t on this ride any more. Let’s wave!”

*

Later, on the desert ride:

“Aw jeez, dad. The bike ride was great, but the plane ride was too short and this desert ride is just a crummy old ghost house and it doesn’t even have any ghosts in it – just some street dancers.”

“It’s not that bad, son. Look: skellingtons!”

“Aw, dad! They aren’t scary – hey! Look at this! Someone’s left a fibreglass cycle helmet in here!”

“You should put that back, son. It’s not yours.”

“But I wannit, I wannit I wann-”

Okay, but let’s go – oh.”

“Ah, Dvoktor Jonves. So gudt to zvee you agvain.”

“Ah. Hi. Yes.”

“I jvust vwant you to knovw, I had a vlot ovf fvun svwinkink vwizz you yevsterday-”

YES, yes.”

“Aren’vt you govink to vintrodrvuce me to your leeetle frviend?”

“Oh, er. Yes. This is… my son. Son, this is… erm… Cate Blanchett.”

“Chvarmed.”

“Hey, you crazy Russian skank, my mom is around here somewhere!”

“I knovw, I zvaw her just up ze vway, at ze jvungvle vride.”

“Oh. Neat!”

“I zvee you hav’vvve my fvibregvlass cvycle hvelmet. Thzvank you, I’vvve bveen vlookink fvor it ev’v’veryvwhere. Giv’vvve it tvo me now!”

“What do you think, dad, should I hand it over? …dad? Dad? Don’t you have anything striking or helpful to say?”

“No, not really, son. Not for about twenty years. And maybe not for more like thirty…”

“Oh. Okay then, here you go.”

“Thzvank you. Come, let us evscvort you to ze jvungvle vride, v’vvvia ze pvlane and bvoat vrides agvain. I thvink you vwill hav’vvve a big svurprvize vwaitink fvor you thvere.”

“Neato! Let’s go dad!”

“Uhhh, damnit, what the hell am I doing here…”

*

Later, on the jvungvle vride:

“Hey – dad, look, look dad, look, dad, dad, look: it’s mom!”

“Oh my god. Marion. It really is her. I must be crazy or something, but I suddenly feel more like myself. I feel the ghost of youthful vigour surging through my veins, and through my dialogue. If she feels the same way, if the same fire burns in her and lights up her character, maybe this won’t be a totally wasted trip!”

“A-hee-hee! You were my boyfriend! So cutie!”

“Oh. Damn.”

“Venouvgh ovf thvese, pvleavsent vreminiscences. Vlook, Dvoktor Jonves, hvere iz Mac, your fvormer svwinkink pvartner.”

“Don’t worry, old boy, I swear I never loved anyone but you, what what, apples and pears.”

“And here, leeetle bvoy, is your fvav’vvvourite tveacher, wvho is now mad. Vvv.”

“BlurbleblurbleblurbleAztecs,
blurbleblurbleblurblecyclehelmet,
blurbleblurbleblurblepaycheck.”

“Damn it, this is so awkward. My ex-girlfriend, the chick I was swinging with – I need to ditch one of them. HEY, LOOK OVER THERE!”

“Vwhat? Vwhere?”

“C’mon gang, let’s lose them on the boat ride, they won’t think to look for us there. And watch out for the ants.”

“Ew, ii-cky! Ants! Ewww!”

“…what did I ever see in you?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m just a girl – a-hee-hee!”

“I dvon’t zee anythvink – oh. Did I jvust get dvumped?”

*

Later, in the queue for the new Big Adventure Ride:

“Damn, but this is one long, boring queue. I can’t even see the end of it yet. At least there’s lots of Azteckie pictures on the wall screens to look at while we wait.”

“There certainly are, old bean, plus lots of fahkin’ mahnkeys for me to pinch along the way, chin chin.”

“Blurbleblurbleblurbleparadiselost.”

“I broke a nail! Do you want to give me a kissy?”

“Hey, dad, that Russian chick and her “friends” are in the queue behind us! Hi!”

“Hvello. Vwait fvor uz?”

“Aw, nuts.”

“Hey dad, can I ask you something? Have you noticed that, even with all the thrills and spills that have been going on ever since we got here, it kind of seems to be nothing but a load of talking?”

“Yes, son, I have. I have noticed that. I have noticed that all it seems to be is talking. But that’s okay, son, because the real treasure in life is knowledge, and you need talking to gain knowledge. Let’s just watch the show on those wall screens while we wait for the Big Adventure Ride to start. Oh look, one of the screens just fell on the Russian chick and her “friends”. She probably shouldn’t have kept tapping the fibreglass cycle helmet against it.”

“Tally ho, I’m just going to steal the screws out of this wall bracket, guv’nor.”

“Oh, and another one just fell on Mac.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“What is the Big Adventure Ride at the end of this long ass queue, dad?”

“Oh, it’s the biggest adventure of all, son: Marriage.”

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