Goldblum Jeff - The Goldblum variations: adventures of Jeff Goldblum across the known (and unknown) universe

A PENGUIN BOOK

THE GOLDBLUM VARIATIONS

Helen McClory lives in Edinburgh and grew up between there and the Isle of Skye. Her debut novel, Flesh of the Peach, was published by Freight in spring 2017. Her first collection, On the Edges of Vision, won the Saltire First Book of the Year 2015 and was republished by 404 Ink in spring 2018. 404 Ink also published her newest collection, Mayhem & Death, in March 2018. There is a moor and a cold sea in her heart.

PENGUIN BOOKS

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

penguinrandomhouse.com

First published in Great Britain by 404 Ink, 2018

This updated edition published in Penguin Books 2019

Copyright 2018, 2019 by Helen McClory

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Names: McClory, Helen, author.

Title: The Goldblum variations / Helen McClory.

Description: New York : Penguin Books, [2019] |

Identifiers: LCCN 2019027122 (print) | LCCN 2019027123 (ebook) | ISBN 9780143135227 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780525506898 (epub)

Subjects: LCSH: Goldblum, Jeff, 1952Humor.

Classification: LCC PN2287.G5785 M33 2019 (print) | LCC PN2287.G5785 (ebook) | DDC 791.4302/8092dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019027122

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019027123

This work of fiction is unofficial and unauthorized. It is not affiliated with or endorsed by Jeff Goldblum in any way.

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover design: Colin Webber

Cover illustration: Lorenzo Gritti

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A Variety of Jeff Goldblums

The Jeff Goldblum that lathes and sands down a pine table, brushing the grain with the heel of his hand, bends down and takes a spirit level to it, saying gently to the wood, well done, you.

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The Jeff Goldblum that wakes up in the morning, opens the curtains and says, softly, Oh!

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The Jeff Goldblum that, in an excitable mood, makes his maid an origami peacock and leaves it on the top of the fridge (where she, being short, cannot reach it without his helpful boost).

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The Jeff Goldblum that has never forgotten your birthday, having chanced upon it in the Wikipedia article about you, which he has started to contribute to, although he doesnt really know anything about you at all, and, while his contributions are always peevishly removed by moderators, he is only writing kind and harmless things, like saying your favorite color is pink, when, citation needed, it might not be so, though it might be, because he, Jeff Goldblum, has surmised a favorability toward pinkness in you, stranger.

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The Jeff Goldblum that lets tears flow when he deadheads his roses in winter.

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The Jeff Goldblum that is reading these stories with his chin in his hands.

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The Jeff Goldblum that is reading these stories with his head in his hands.

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The Jeff Goldblum that stands in mirth in a frosty walled garden with an armful of ranunculus he has just set alight.

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The Jeff Goldblum that lies awake at night contemplating the creator/the existence of the creator, debating out loud on top of his blankets in a lengthy diatribe, or coming to conclusions rapidly, and without a frisson of despair in the least.

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The Jeff Goldblum that is a sometimes murderous, sometimes mundane figment in the dream of a woman with aching ankles in Kirkintilloch.

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The Jeff Goldblum that rages at the impossibility of opening hard plastic packaging, and, growing increasingly frantic, throws the offender in question (a sealed-shut package of scissors) across the room, frightening a visiting dog, and leaving him (Jeff Goldblum that is) with a momentary feeling of vertigo at his own emptiness.

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The Jeff Goldblum that cannot find his glasses (I think you know where they are).

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The Jeff Goldblum that is being the best version of himself.

Jobs for Jeff Goldblum

Firefighter in a ghost town in the desert of Arizona, Jeff Goldblum sits in his bunkroom (one bed, neatly against the wall, a calendar with monthly pictures of Jeff Goldblum in sexy poses, which he did for charity, and also for himself) listening for the alarm to sound, which it has never yet. A brusque wind is lifting the sand outside in thin laces, and at the same time shoving one tumbleweed (that he can see) inexorably around the chain link fence that marks the perimeter of his station.

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