Short Story: Control

Control
By Steve Ince

My attempt to control the outcome of the game with my mind worked, much to my complete amazement.  It’s not every day you discover you have amazing powers of mental control.  Of course, I wasn’t going to tell anyone around me what was happening or they might think what I was doing was unfair, but the way I look at it is that I’m just a fan urging the rugby team he supports to do well. 

What actually happened was that I willed the other team’s kicker to miss the penalty goal kick, which he did.  That kept the scores level and my team in with a chance of salvaging a point in the dying seconds of the match. 

They were reduced to only eleven men early in the second half, their huge first half lead had quickly slipped to where it was now – exactly even – and only the intervention of my fabulous new mind powers prevented them from turning certain victory to sure defeat.  As the final whistle blew I heaved a sigh of relief, along with ten thousand fellow supporters, and made my way towards the exit.

While I drove home, I tried out my new mental powers some more – testing them to get a proper feel for how they worked – and managed to ensure that every traffic light I approached turned green.  I reached home in record time and my evening meal was still actually hot for the first time this season.  I couldn’t believe my luck and it almost made up for the team not winning.  Even the kids smiled at me – not something they did on a regular basis and it generally only happened when they were trying to cadge a fiver.

In the pub that night – celebration and commiseration in equal measure – I tried my powers on my mate Tom as he walked through the door ten minutes after I arrived.  It was a true miracle; he put his hand into his pocket and gave me the ten pounds he’d borrowed last week without me even having to ask.  If ever there was proof that my powers existed this was it – everyone knew Tom was tighter than a camel’s.  My powers must have had a knock-on effect because he even bought the next two rounds.  I was so astonished that I wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying.  Something about a horse race, I think.

I was hoping the fit barmaid would be working so I could use my powers on her but she’d taken the night off.  I’d been trying to get off with her for months, but it was probably for the best.  Carol, my wife, had threatened to kill me if she ever caught me cheating on her again.  Mind you, I don’t see how a kiss and a grope in the bus shelter can be classed as cheating when I didn’t even get my hand in the woman’s knickers before her bus came.  I wondered if my mental powers could be used to adjust the wife’s memory.  A spot of experimentation was called for in this area.

I tried to win some money from Tom by betting that old Stan would lose his darts match by three sets to nil, but Tom wouldn’t take the bet.  He reckoned Stan had lost his edge since his wife died and hadn’t won a match in months.  Which I guess was fair enough with him not getting proper meals any more, but when Stan won one set Tom wished he’d taken up the bet.  I grinned, but didn’t let on how I’d controlled the outcome.  Tom, in his strange, naïve way, figured that old Stan’s new woman had put a spring in his step again, but I didn’t like to let on and spoil my edge.

We rolled out of the pub at closing time a little the worse for drink, but that’s exactly the point.  What a waste of money it would be if we were as sober at the end as we were at the beginning.  Besides, I only go out for a drink once a week and I like to make the most of it. 

As we walked down the street I told Tom I fancied a bag of chips and started to cross the road.  He yelled to warn me of the oncoming car, but I didn’t worry, not with my mind control powers.

I stared at the car and willed it to stop, holding out my hand like some kind of super-hero, which I guess is what this power makes me, now.

You can imagine my surprise when I woke up in hospital.  The car simply hadn’t stopped and the doctors didn’t know if I’d ever walk again.  I was furious with myself for being so stupid about my mind powers.

It never entered my head that drinking beer would be my Kryptonite, that it would affect my powers so completely.  I should have tested their limits before using them in a life or death situation.

Still, you’ve got to look on the bright side – I’m in a hospital ward surrounded by young nurses.  Mind you, I must still be under the effects of the drink.  None of the nurses have gone along with any of my mental suggestions yet.