If Akbar was aware of his recent possession from a poltergeist, he certainly did not show it. When he came around he was a completely changed man, right down to the very detail of his gait, and yet he appeared not to have noticed, nor be uncomfortable with, the change in him. That was probably because one of the most powerful poltergeist in modern history was currently using Akbar’s body as a vessel with which to return to the mortal world. What did trouble the poltergeist was the piece of grubby paper taped to the portapotty door reading ‘Required: 2 Cups of tea, containing 2 lumps of sugar and a splash of milk each’.
“What on earth is tea?” he wondered, looking around for the word somewhere else in the room.
On the sofa he saw a rectangular shaped box that unfolded at its centre and glowed a bright light on its unfurling. He sat down and set it upon the top of his lap, and therefore named it a ‘laptop’. He nodded with satisfaction at the name and looked at the keys, then at the screen.
“Google?” he asked himself before hitting a series of keys in front of him. “Am I feeling lucky?” he asked himself, and decided that he was.
A tutorial on how to make a cup of tea popped up on the screen and Akbar read through it from beginning to end before setting the laptop down on the floor.
As he wondered through the flat looking for a kettle he thought to himself how ridiculous the name ‘floortop’ would have been, and what an excellent choice he had made naming it ‘laptop’ until soon enough he found the kitchen, clicked on the kettle, and made his first ever cups of tea.
Akbar quickly took a large swig on the tea, swallowing it immediately and regretting it a brief moment later as the liquid, which he presumed had been pumped directly from a volcano into his mouth, burned his tongue, cheeks, and throat instantaneously. He ran to the sink, filled with dirty cups and cold, previously soapy water, and dunked his head in, sucking water up before choking on the horrible taste of stale tea and soap suds.
He decided to have a nice sit down with his tea and discovered on the kitchen table a rectangular, flat object that to his pleasing softened a little when dipped into the cups of tea and tasted delicious. This object was the colour of Wild Boar, but was as sweet as a bon-bon.
“Boar Bon.” He decided out loud, and he smiled as he bit one in half.
Once he had finished his cups of tea, and polished off half a pack of bourbon’s in accompaniment, he wondered leisurely back to the living room, opened the door to the portapotty and wondered into the desert, looking up at the hot sun as the portapotty door closed behind him.
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