Alfie, Barry and Marmaduke Stories

It was the Early May Bank Holiday.

Which, in most households, meant a slow morning, perhaps a nice breakfast, maybe even a relaxing cup of tea.

In the Brand household, it meant chaos had simply started earlier.

“It’s May the Fourth!” Dad announced loudly at 7:02am, as if he had personally invented the date.

Nobody responded.

Mum was already half-awake, half-working, and fully regretting opening her emails.

Alfie was sitting at the table, eating cereal in a calm, responsible way that suggested he had been awake since 6:30 and had already thought about the day ahead.

Barry burst into the kitchen wearing a dressing gown, a tea towel tied around his neck, and what appeared to be a mixing bowl on his head.

“I am ready,” he declared.

“For what?” Mum asked, not looking up.

“For Star Wars Day.”

Dad beamed. “Yes! May the Fourth be with you!”

Barry pointed dramatically at the toaster.

“And also with toast.”

Alfie closed his eyes briefly.

“That’s not how it works.”

Barry ignored him. “I am a Jedi.”

“You are wearing a colander,” Alfie said.

“It’s a helmet.”

“It’s for pasta.”

“It’s for space pasta,” Barry corrected.

Dad laughed. Mum did not.

At precisely 7:18am, the doorbell rang.

“Who is that?” Mum asked.

Barry gasped. “Reinforcements.”

It was Marmaduke.

Of course it was Marmaduke.

Marmaduke, who had clearly sensed that something exciting (and possibly unsafe) was happening, stood at the door grinning, already holding a toy lightsaber.

“I came early,” he said proudly.

“Yes,” said Mum. “Very early.”

“I felt it in my heart,” Marmaduke added.

“You felt chaos,” Alfie muttered.

Within minutes, the house had transformed.

Chairs became spaceships.

Cushions became asteroids.

The sofa became, for reasons no one fully understood, “The Galactic Command Centre.”

Barry stood on it, pointing a wooden spoon like a weapon.

“Marmaduke,” he said, “we must save the galaxy.”

“Yes,” Marmaduke agreed instantly.

“From what?” Alfie asked.

Barry thought for a moment.

“…The Dark Side.”

“What is the Dark Side?” Marmaduke asked.

Barry looked around.

His eyes landed on Alfie.

Alfie stared back.

“No,” Alfie said immediately.

Barry grinned. “You are the Dark Side.”

“I am doing my homework,” Alfie said.

“Exactly,” Barry replied.

Dad was loving this.

“This is brilliant,” he said, sipping coffee. “Creative play! Imagination!”

Barry leapt off the sofa.

“We need costumes,” he announced.

“No,” said Mum.

“Yes,” said Barry.

“No,” said Mum again.

Too late.

Ten minutes later, the costumes had begun.

Barry: tea towel cape, colander helmet, swimming goggles (for “space vision”).

Marmaduke: dressing gown, two different socks, and approximately six stickers on his face (“battle markings”).

Alfie: unchanged, except now deeply annoyed.

“I am not participating,” Alfie said.

“You are the villain,” Barry replied.

“I am not the villain.”

“You said no to fun.”

“That is not a crime.”

“It is on Star Wars Day.”

Dad laughed again.

Mum looked up. “Why is there tape on the dog?”

“We don’t have a dog,” Alfie said.

Mum blinked. “Then what is—”

“Oh,” said Barry. “That’s the hoover.”

By mid-morning, the battle for the galaxy was in full swing.

“PEW PEW PEW!” Barry shouted.

“You can’t just say ‘pew pew’!” Alfie snapped.

“That’s literally what they do,” Barry argued.

Marmaduke ran past. “I have captured a biscuit!”

“That’s not part of the story,” Alfie said.

“It is now,” Marmaduke replied.

Then came the twist.

The big twist.

Dad, in a moment of enthusiasm (and possibly poor judgement), joined in.

“I will be… the wise mentor,” he declared.

Barry nodded seriously. “You are Old Man Space.”

“I feel like that’s not respectful,” Dad said.

“It’s accurate,” Mum muttered.

Everything escalated.

There were missions.

There were betrayals.

At one point, Marmaduke accidentally switched sides because Barry offered him a biscuit.

“I am now the Dark Side,” Marmaduke announced.

“You can’t just switch!” Alfie protested.

“He gave me a biscuit,” Marmaduke explained.

Alfie paused.

“…That is a strong argument.”

Lunch was… chaotic.

“Jedis need fuel,” Barry said, eating crisps dramatically.

“Jedis do not eat crisps,” Alfie replied.

“They would if they had them,” Barry said.

Marmaduke nodded. “I would.”

After lunch, things got quieter.

Too quiet.

Mum narrowed her eyes. “Why is it quiet?”

Dad froze. “I don’t know.”

Alfie looked up slowly. “That’s not good.”

They found the boys in the garden.

Building something.

Again.

“What are you doing?” Mum asked carefully.

“We are making a spaceship,” Barry said.

“With what?” Dad asked.

Barry gestured proudly.

Garden chairs.

A washing basket.

Several sticks.

And, concerningly, Mum’s best mixing bowl.

“That is not for space,” Mum said.

“It is now,” Barry replied.

And then—

Disaster.

Minor disaster.

But still disaster.

Marmaduke tripped.

The spaceship wobbled.

The mixing bowl rolled.

The entire structure collapsed.

There was a long pause.

Barry looked at the wreckage.

Marmaduke looked at Barry.

“…We can fix it,” Marmaduke said.

Alfie arrived, took one look, and said, “No, you cannot.”

At that exact moment, the doorbell rang again.

Marmaduke’s mum.

She stepped in, cheerful and relaxed.

“Hello! How’s it going?”

There was a silence.

Dad smiled. “Fun.”

Mum handed her a glass of wine immediately.

“You’ll need this,” Mum said.

From the garden came a shout.

“I NEED MORE TAPE!” Barry yelled.

Marmaduke’s mum raised an eyebrow.

“What are they doing?”

Dad took a sip of his drink. “Saving the galaxy.”

“Of course they are,” she said. “May the Fourth be with you too.”

She wandered out to the garden.

And saw it all.

The wrecked spaceship.

The costumes.

Barry, still determined.

Marmaduke, still loyal.

Alfie, still disapproving.

“…What happened?” she asked.

Barry stood tall.

“There was a battle.”

“We lost,” Marmaduke added.

“But we will rebuild,” Barry said.

Marmaduke nodded. “Stronger.”

Alfie folded his arms. “Or not at all.”

Marmaduke’s mum laughed.

A proper laugh.

“You know what?” she said. “I think you’re winning.”

Barry blinked. “We are?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re having fun.”

Barry considered this.

Marmaduke grinned.

Alfie hesitated.

“…It is not entirely terrible,” Alfie admitted.

And just like that, something unexpected happened.

They rebuilt.

Not perfectly.

Not neatly.

But together.

Alfie helped (reluctantly).

Marmaduke fetched things (enthusiastically).

Barry led (questionably).

And somehow—

The spaceship stood.

Wobbly.

Tape-covered.

Slightly ridiculous.

But standing.

That evening, as Marmaduke’s mum finally took him home, she smiled.

“Same time tomorrow?” she joked.

Mum laughed tiredly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Dad stretched out. “Best bank holiday ever.”

Mum looked at the garden.

At the tape.

At the “spaceship.”

At her children.

“…It wasn’t the worst,” she admitted.

Alfie nodded. “It was acceptable.”

Barry grinned. “We saved the galaxy.”

Marmaduke waved from the door. “And ate biscuits!”

And as the sun set over a slightly messier-than-before London garden, one thing was clear:

The galaxy was safe.

The house was not.

But honestly—

That was about right.