Milo Moon: It Never Happened Read Online Free Page B

socks.
    ‘Who in their right mind would iron socks?’ Milo mumbled to himself in shock.
    He immediately checked under his mattress. Nothing. This was a sure sign that someone had been in his flat while he was materialising, de-materialising, re-materialising and feinting this morning. He went then to the bathroom. What he caught sight of in the mirror gave him quite a fright. He stared at what was supposed to be Milo in the mirror, but it wasn’t the Milo that Milo remembered seeing in Milo’s mirror this morning.
    ‘You can’t be me, can you?’ Milo asked his reflection. Noticing instantly that the reflection’s mouth moved in unison with his own, so this was probably not an optical illusion. His hair was darker. A bit on the grey side, but definitely darker. He was sure he had less hair this morning. Then the sudden realisation came to him. What was most disturbing about his reflection? His glasses. They were now fashionably rimless in an extremely fine titanium frame. They were so rimless, that had missed them altogether at first. There was something else different, but after the initial shocks it was hard for Milo to put his finger on it. Then it dawned on him. His face was new. It was younger, more handsome and far less boring. His eyes were blue. It was just then that he realised he was in a totally new and younger body. He checked his watch. He didn’t know why, but he did. Three-fifteen pm. His watch hadn’t changed.
    He ran his hand through his darker and thicker hair. When his hand ran down the back of his head, he felt a very small lump. Not really a lump, just a tiny little bump, the size of an overgrown pimple. When he did it again, he realised what it was, because he couldn’t see behind himself anymore. He took his hand away and he could see a towel hanging on the door behind him. He also felt taller.
    He went back to his bedroom and studied his calendar again. ‘Why would anyone want to change my calendar,’ he thought to himself. Although his day had been a little bit weird, most of it seemed to have been reasonably explained by George. But the calendar was a mystery. He looked closely. Today was Wednesday. The fifth of the third, two thousand and four. His birthday.
    Milo sat down slowly on the side of his bed. His face long and sad. It was late afternoon already, and no one at all had wished him happy birthday. He thought about the prospect of being wiped, as George had explained. It couldn’t be worse than this he thought. Maybe the change from a chimeryon to a formyon would be a good move. Maybe he could get out more, socialise more and maybe make some friends.
    The thought vanished in a puff of depression as he realised that he must already be a formyon. The hair, the glasses, the clothes, the calendar and the extra eye. He laid his head down on the pillow and gazed up at the ceiling, and his pillow at the same time. All in all, this had not been a great day, or a great birthday. A sudden wave of depressive loneliness enveloped him, and his spirits began to nosedive. He wished he could pull some brown clothes out from under his mattress. He wished he had his ‘Joe Your Friendly Neighbourhood Butcher’ calendar back. He was already missing Joe’s smile and blue and white apron.
    Milo woke up. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but had. He looked at his watch. Five forty-five pm. Hungry, was the only thought in his mind. Apart from his one and only mouthful of coffee soaked bread, he’d had nothing to eat all day. As he got up and headed to the kitchen, he wondered if he could be as lucky with the refrigerator as he had been with his new wardrobe. Almost. Six plastic tubes of high protein paste, a packet of dehydrated liver, two sachets of ‘Carbs in an Instant’ and a tube of milk paste. He closed the door with a complete lack of excitement. It was then that he noticed the pizza sitting on his kitchen table. It was hot.
    Milo thought about thinking about how the pizza may have made its