February Flash tale #1 - "Lost Bet"

Brighton, England

1998

I look down at the costume lying on my bed.

“It’s just for the afternoon,” says Mum. “Just a couple of hours, really. Charlie will be over the moon.” She pats my shoulder and says gently, “Best big brother ever.” As if I care about that. She knows full well how I feel about Charlie.

I shake my head at the fuzzy bluish-purple outfit. I might as well be dressed as a baby. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’re wearing it,” says Mum, her tone firmer now. “Downstairs in five minutes. “Dad will be back with Charlie in ten minutes, and the guests are due in twenty.” She walks away and pauses at my bedroom door. “You made a choice, Peter. Part of learning how to be a big, bad teenager is keeping your word.” An then she’s gone, leaving me alone in my room. Alone with a Teletubbies costume.

Blue for Tinky Winky. The biggest Teletubby, and the oldest. The one with the stupid red handbag. The one people on the news say is gay or something, which is stupid because he’s just a character on a TV show for babies, but still…

I asked Dad to promise he wouldn’t take any photos of me. Ever since Charlie was born, Dad takes pictures almost every day, he got a fancy digital camera for it. (And it cost loads more than a Nintendo Game Boy Colour, which now I’m not even going to get.)

You’re right. I shouldn’t have agreed to the bet, obviously. That was a mistake.

“You made a choice,” Mum said last night. “And you can’t just wear the costume, you have to play the part. It’s like acting.”

“Mum. It’s so embarrassing. If my mates find out, I’m toast.”

“Nobody forced you into this.”

Which is true. But my parents are sneaky sometimes. When Mum sets her mind on something, especially something about my little brother, then she finds a way to twist things.

“You think you’re getting top marks for History; I don’t think you’ve done the work. So, here’s the deal. If you get an A, Dad will buy you that Game Toy from Hanningtons.”

“Game Boy. Nintendo Game Boy Colour.”

“Dad will buy it for you. But if you don’t, then you’ll do the thing I want for Charlie’s birthday party.”

I look down at the Tinky Winky costume. Mum is forcing me to dress up like a baby for my little brother’s third birthday, because he’s Teletubby mad. Because he loves stupid Tinky Winky the most.

Because I got a stupid B in stupid History.

I get undressed to my pants and pull on the one-piece costume. I zip up the front and look at myself in the mirror. I won’t pull on the hood just yet, because even without that, I look ridiculous. I look like the real Tinky Winky.

I don’t see a red handbag. Mum’s probably got that downstairs waiting for me.

You have to play the part.

I can’t pretend I don’t know what Tinky Winky’s like. I’ve seen the show about a million times this year, with Charlie all goggle eyed in front of the TV before bedtime. Mum got it on DVD and Charlie would watch it all day if we let him. But yeah, Tinky Winky is his favourite, and Tinky Winky is weird.

He loves marching, he loves dancing, and he loves falling over.

That’s bad enough.

But Tinky Winky also has a stupid special song that he sings.

PInkle winkle, Tinky Winky, pinkle winkle, Tinky Winky, Woo woo woo woo…

And even though he’s supposed to be the oldest, he’s also the giggliest. He sounds like he’s simple. Even at the end of each episode, he can’t even say bye-bye properly.

Buh-bye! Buh-bye!

So that’s what Charlie says when we drop him off at nursery. Waving his little hands. Shouting his little head off.

Buh-bye!

“What does Tinky Winky love the most?” Mum had asked when I handed over my report card, before I knew what she wanted me to do, before I learned I would have to make a total prat of myself in front of Charlie and his stupid friends from nursery.

I groaned. “He loves big hugs.”

Mum clapped her hands together, in the same way she does when Charlie actually asks to use the potty chair.

I should have tried harder in History. If I’d don that, I’d be showing off down at the beach, I’d be on the West Pier with my mates, and I’d be the only one cool enough to have a Game Boy Colour, and we’d be having a right laugh.

Instead, I look like a giant toddler.

Mum’s right. Charlie will be over the moon.

He loves you. You’re like a superhero in his eyes.

Mum thinks she’s so sneaky, but I know what this is. She thinks I’ll have this big learning moment, being Charlie’s hero, and that I’ll actually like it. I’ll actually decide that being a big brother is the best thing ever.

It’s been three years. I’m ten years older than my brother. I’m not interested.

Hey, maybe I tease him too much. Maybe I got carried away, calling him a stupid baby for not being potty trained yet. Maybe I shouldn’t make fun of the babyish way he talks.

“Are you ready yet?” Mum calls from downstairs.

“Nearly.”

“They’ll be here in a minute.”

“I know.”

“You need me to help you zipped up?”

“No!”

I stare at my reflection. There’s a bulge at my waist. It looks like I’m wearing a great big nappy. Oh God, Charlie’s going to think I’m just like him.

I take a breath. Little kids’ birthday parties don’t last that long. Two, three hours tops. I wear the costume, swing the red handbag, sing the stupid song, do a dance, fall over, let the brats crawl over me, giggle and endure a million hugs, eventually they’ll get bored and get busy making themselves sick on cake and crisps and Panda cola.

And then the party’s over, right?

Buh-bye.

I reach for the hood. Tinky Winky has a triangle-shaped antenna on his head. He’s basically like a bluish-purple TV or something, it’s so mad. It’s like my dad says sometimes when he doesn’t like what’s on telly; Can you believe people actually get paid to make this rubbish?

“Peter. Come downstairs right now or I’m coming up to get you.”

“I’m coming! God!”

What did Mum say last night? Darling, you never know. You must just have fun. You might just forget you’re a big bad, teenager for a little while. You might just like big hugs.

Fat chance.

But a bet’s a bet.

I take a deep breath. And then I pull on the hood.

THE END

After a lost bet a young man has to dress up for his younger brothers birthday party - Dean

Writing Note: 1998 was twenty-five years ago. I'm feeling especially ancient, but fun to dwell on old-timey tech like DVDs and digital cameras. And however it goes for Peter, at least he won't end up haunted on social media. This flash tale could have gone a few different ways - I went the 'costume' route, and I think it turned out fun. I remember well the hypnotic, obsessive power Teletubbies had on small children. Now, there's a reboot, and I see even an upcoming movie. Eh-oh! ☀ - Sebtomato