Vinny Vicks And The Rhododendron

By

Barry J. Watson

All events of this story are true, or based on the true facts, anyone to claim differently is an idiot, or a liar, or someone that’s too intelligent to read this novel.

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Chapter One

“We’ve only just begun, to live.” – Karen Carpenter

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.

My father’s family name being Vicks, and my christian name being Vinny, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Vinny Vicks. So, I called myself Vinny Vicks, and came to be called Vinny Vicks.

I give Vicks as my father’s family name, on the authority of his tombstone; because he’s dead, see? And my brother Ted Vicks, who spends a lot of his time faffing about doing such things that I just don’t know what they are. My mother, Mrs. Vicks is what most would call a housewife, apart from she’s a modern housewife that insists she can have a proper job and get paid for it, and not just look after the children, so she became a cleaner. My mother was often a fan of irony, which was just as well, the Vicks household tended to use a lot of irony, and my mother always used to do our shirts.

So that was the family, Mrs. Vicks, Ted Vicks; my mentally estranged brother and myself. We lived like that until I was 20, at which point I got bored. Oh, by the way, I lived in New South Wales in Australia for those 20 years, and what a wonderful 20 years they weren’t. So, on a certain date, when I became 20 years old, I ran away from beneath the Vicks family household and flew off to Wales, the real un-fake one with all the sheep.

“Vinny Vicks, why you off to Wales!?” Asked Ted Vicks, who at that point remained my brother for extensive word count, only.

“Wales, the land of hope and opportunity missed.” I replied, in a sodden manner.

“Oh.” Replied Ted Vicks.

After going through the wonderful airport that was whatever one you call the airport in Australia was, it shocked me to see Cardiff Airport, mainly because, until that point I had been blind in one eye, and my other eye had always had problems with it, however I can only assume that the air pressure gave me perfect eyesight, and suddenly life was already better in Wales.

“Croeso i Cymru!” welcomed one of the people, of which I hit and then had to later apologise to, on realisation that he didn’t have plans to steal all the money I was worth, and was instead just suffering from a disease that made him speak Welsh.

Wales was a nice looking country, not physically of course, but inside. The mountains form from horrid holes of lacking road, and the whole appearance of Wales stroke me as odd, and bizarre, and perhaps entirely un-needed. It was at this point that I remembered seeing someone state how useless Wales is, which made me consider how bad New South Wales must be to be named after such a place. But there were sheep, lots of, and this was a good thing. However, it didn’t take me long to realise that New Zealand has far more sheep, and so, I assumed that would be the best place to go, as it was how Wales dreamt and aspired to be.

New Zealand was nicer, there was a ratio of 11.25 sheep to each person so although I enjoyed it there, I realised the earthquakes were unbearable, and so, moved back to New South Wales with Mrs. Vicks and Ted Vicks.

By now, I’m assuming that you’re questioning the money involved in these flights, and how I, a young Australian, should manage to have so much money, and it all happened when, I was writing a novel and could make whatever claims I wished, so SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW ME! THIS COULD ALL BE TRUE! STOP MAKING CRAZY ACCUSATIONS THAT I COULDN’T AFFORDS TRIPS TO WALES AND NEW ZEALAND, MAYBE I COULD! STOP STARING AT ME!

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Chapter Two

“Let's all get up and dance to a song that was a hit before your Mother was born though she was born a long long time ago” – John Lennon / Paul McCartney

So yes, my bleak childhood. It all started on a bleak day that one would classify my “birth”, however, this happened on the strike of mid-night on the starting day of February 29^th in 1983. It may strike you that 1983 was not a leap year, and hence I was born on March 1^st and everything turned out swimmingly. My father had died 10 months before, in a fatal car accident, well, the accident was that he didn’t have a car but assumed he did. It took my Mother a week to find his incarcerated soul on the bottom of the truck that my father had been racing with at the time. Mother would have found him earlier, had she been bothered to step outside the house, however, a random generic Australian soap odyssey was on at the time.

10 months later, and my birth took place, firstly I was told these stories of my father, that were only to be re-told to me at the age of five, so that I would actually remember them for any future referencing that I may so want. Secondly, I was cleaned and cut away from the grasp of my mother, who most likely looked quite deflated at the time, but I failed to notice.

I grew up being bullied, due to being right-handed, this was a horrid thing to be in New South Wales, however, after 16 years I realised that I brushed my teeth with my left hand, and suddenly everything was perfect, and we all drew pictures of little rabbits on tyre-swings, and small baby giraffes playing tag, and little dingoes frequently mauling Mrs. Smith from across the yard. Childhood was like that, perfect and violent, so the fact that I ever did leave home never really made sense to me, but neither did The Matrix, until I watched it a second time 4 years later, that was when it hit me that the story kinda made sense and I assume the same happens with the story of my life.

Ted Vicks used to play with bulldozers, since then, he has matured and become some kind of businessman, maybe, living at the ripe old age of 35, it’s perhaps understandable that he feels the need to stop destructing things that should be destructed, and instead to destruct companies from the inside, with a warm gloppy goo of doom (metaphorically speaking).

“Holy crap! You’re back!” Exclaimed my mother.

“Holy crap! I’m back!” Exclaimed myself, in a far too sarcastic manner, one that deserved a clip around the ear, FOR HER! AHAHHAAHha, but seriously, my sarcasm never warranted confusion from anyone, apart from Jesus, and possibly Hitler.

I always saw Hitler as a confused boy, basically he was a failed artist, and it only seemed logical to him that the next step up from a failed artist was to become the World’s Most Ruthless Dictator to Ever Live. Meanwhile, Jesus was struck with confusion, most kids that were given birth to by someone who claims to be a virgin would tend to gain sympathy with regards to his confusion. However, in return, Jesus confused many when he slept for 3 days and claimed to be dead, and thus screwing up the Bible, as we know it. I wasn’t a fan of Jesus’ work, I believe they were hoaxes, and that, were he to perform any of those stunts in London, people would throw eggs at him and the world would be a better place. I did find it lovely though, the thought that the Bible is believed by many, but the stunts performed by those guys that perform stunts are always thought of as fake. Something someone read that happened over 2000 years ago is “true” and something someone has seen 2000 seconds ago is “false”, I find that curious.

Something else I found curious were the images one would find on the ceiling, which would appear to appear like some kind of celebrity, or a dog, or sometimes both.

I was sitting on my chair, at which point I realised that one of the far away lights were on, despite it being 9am in the summer. Hence, I went to switch the light off, to my mother’s proclamation “Don’t turn the light off!” at which point I cried and went to bed curled up. I then remembered that it was 9am, and hence stopped crying, woke up, and went to play ball with a friend, or whatever it is that 20 year olds do.

“Gee whiz, telling life stories sure is fun, Mr. Wilson, I don’t know why I didn’t do this earlier!”

“Well, whatever makes you happy.” Replied Mr. Wilson. I was shocked to see Mr. Wilson actually existed, but he appeared to, so let’s appear happy about that.

“Wizard!” I exclaimed, feeling that it would wrap Chapter Two up nicely.

“Wizard!”

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Interlude One

It may strike you that Vinny Vicks is somewhat quite a character, though these rumours are mostly true, it is through no fault of his own. Little does Vinny Vicks know, or will ever know that his father is not his father. It seems that his father died 10 months before his birth, while common fact states that babies normally take nine month to produce from graphic pain and horrid images of birth. And hence, Vinny Vicks must have a father that is not the father he may feel it is. Perhaps Vinny Vicks was given birth to by magic, much like the highly rumoured “Virgin Mary” which is just a stupid thing that makes no logical sense, and makes Mary come across as a devious liar, and not a sweet and innocent little anti-christ. Actually, anti-christ would be the wrong word, as Christ did not exist at that exact time, but the “Virgin” Mary was still somewhat a stupid self-accusation. But anyway, here’s a warning Vinny Vicks “father” is not his real father, so who is? Perhaps, depending on word length needed, we’ll delve into such matters later, but hopefully won’t, because estranged fathers may bring some kind of emotion to this story that we plain don’t want to see.

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Chapter Three

“So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair.” – Karen Carpenter

Where was I? Oh yes, I was right here. And Tanzania was right in that district over there somewhere. Remember how I said that I needed a haircut? No, neither did I, but I did need a haircut, and after going 20 years of being virtually completely blind, I became more self-conscious, and could understand why Mother felt that my 6 foot long hairstyle may be “out” of fashion, as far as New South Wales is concerned. I was afraid of losing my hair, I’ll admit that, and that will be my explanation as to why I have it sealed in a jar by my bedside, and while I cuddle up to it in great needs of comfort. And that was my day yesterday, but I was still always reflecting in things from the past.

Like the time I shot an Eskimo in the face.

I didn’t mean to shoot the Eskimo, but I fell, and whilst carrying the gun, and aiming it at the Eskimo, my finger accidentally tripped the trigger and shot the Eskimo in the face. What followed was 20 minutes of us continuing this playful water games, with water bombs and such. The Eskimo was drenched with water, and also incredibly confused as to why he was in New South Wales. The Eskimo was a fun character, and it was a tragic shame to hear of his death 2 weeks later, it appeared that the New South Welsh climate was too strong for him, and that he could no longer live in such conditions, and so hanged himself. He can still been seen in the centre of the town, (what some people call the town centre) hanging, surprisingly the Eskimo managed to hang himself from quite a height, and no-one in New South Wales could afford a ladder at the time, and when someone could, it was decided that he looked better up there anyway. The children made their own stories about how he can be used to predict the weather, and other such tales that bore me just to think about them.

So yes, the Eskimo died, get over it.

With my brand new haircut, I felt re-born; wet and slimy. After making that joke, I proceeded to think about the future, and whether I should actually have one at all. After deciding against suicide, I felt that having some GREAT FUTURE IDEA would move things along nicely. And it would, everything was planned, I would think of a future, and something would generate from it, the plan was solid, and this much I knew. I loved this plan like I loved my own child, were I to ever have a child, which I probably wouldn’t, because, well, that would stink.

“Hi, Vinny Vicks.” Said Ted Vicks.

“Hi, Ted Vicks.” Replied I, to my brother, who in return left the room. This hit me as an odd kind of act, to welcome someone and then proceed to leave. I stood up, this felt weird for some reason, I then walked in the general area of where I felt Ted Vicks would be, he was in the kitchen, eating.

“Ah.” I said, noticing that he was in the kitchen, and left and returned to whatever room it was that I was in. Ted Vicks was confused and stood up, and approached the room that I was in.

“Oh?” he questioned.

“Eh?” I questioned in reply to why he had made such an effort to welcome me.

“Eh.” He replied.

“Oh.” I responded, and it all made sense.

“Hi, Vinny Vicks” said my mother, who had arrived; I refused to reply on account that it would only produce more monosyllabic gestures of boredom.

Suddenly, THERE WAS A KNOCK AT THE DOOR! HOLY CRAP! MY DOOR WAS BEING KNOCKED UPON, BUT WHO COULD IT HAVE BEEN!?!?!?

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Chapter Four

“Tie your mother down, tie your mother down.” – Freddie Mercury

I opened the door, to see a small, short guy carrying a box of stickers, or something, and he was all:

“Wanna buy some stickers?”

And I was all:

“Nah, man.”

And he was like:

“K. Thx. Bi.”

And with that, he had exited my life. I felt it almost depressing, that such a guy, who probably has a great story to tell (of which I could take and claim to be my own) just came and went with little more than a hope to sell stickers. I felt something I couldn’t describe, an emotion feeling sympathy for all the little jerks that make nothing more than cameos in one’s life, never to be seen again. And then it was breakfast time, and nobody cared anymore, apart from the pop-tarts I planned on eating. Pop-tarts have feelings too.

“Dude, it’s like, 11:38.” Ted Vicks enjoyed telling me the time, especially when it was 11:38, of which was now.

“Dude.” I replied, noticing what a cool achievement this was for all the pathetic life forms out there, bringing down society slowly, but oh so surely.

“Dude, now, it’s like, 11:39”

“Spooky.” Sarcasm had got the better of me once again.

“Now boys, I want you back home from before 18:00” that was my mother speaking, in case you didn’t get that. At the time, I didn’t know what she meant, I didn’t have plans on going anyway, on reflection, I assumed she meant that I should go outside, and do something. Either way, it was 11:40 and I didn’t feel like going outside to play with my friends, on account of the fact that I’m 20, and also, I don’t have any friends in New South Wales, because no-one lives there, or something, I’ll be honest, I know very little about the area I’m situated in.

Decisively, I stroked the hair I had, not the hair on my head, but the hair in the jar, this gave me the feeling of being a real man, and so I went outside the house, sat on the rocking chair, to stroke my hair. I done this for several hours, and then considered going inside. 50 minutes then passed, and then I felt I would go inside.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?” shouted my mother “IT’S 18:07, I’VE BEEN SICK AND WORRIED ABOUT YOU!”

“You’ve been sick?” Asked I.

“Yes, the vomit’s in the fridge if you wanna go look.” Suddenly I felt my mother was just wrong. “YOU’RE SEVEN MINUTES LATE! You’re lucky that dinner is going to be late, or it’d be STONE COLD, and you’d go HUNGRY, or just eat the cold food whichever took your fancy.”

My mother sure was weird, but anyway, 13 minutes later, I sat down to eat the meal she had prepared for us, though I still can’t decide what it actually was. Mother still seemed unhappy about me being late.

“So what were you doing for all that time then?”

“Stroking my hair.” I replied.

“You’ll go blind.” Warned my mother, before realising that this was no longer the case.

“You’re weird.”

“Weird like…Hitler?” Mother’s obsession with some film seen over the Internet surprised me, and her referencing it made me laugh.

“Hhahahaha.” Laughed I.

“What’s so funny?” She questioned.

“YOUR FACE!” I snorted back.

After several random insults with no real back-story, we decided to collect eggs from the farm. We collected eggs from the farm. We had carried out our dreams of collecting eggs from the farm, and were relieved that we had done such, we felt like God: tall, sexy, Australian Gods. We threw the eggs against the wall of the house. None of the Vicks liked eggs, we only raised the eggs in order to murder them, and get the sense that we had got one over the chickens, by slaughtering their youth. It was cruel, but so was Hitler, and he had become a well-recognised character. And so, after killing all the chicken’s youth, we laughed, and cried, and rolled about in the grass like the good old days when we used to be on fire. Our neighbours also hated eggs, and would frequently video record us murdering, slaughtering and killing the young chicks before they were given a chance to do. A while ago, we watched the greatest hits of the video, and it was extremely funny watching the good old days of us bringing the eggs to their final doom.

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Interlude Two

The origins of Vinny Vicks being named thusly are great origins that are worthy of a whole paragraphs. When asked his name, Vinny Vicks gave the answer “Vinny Vicks” and so everyone called him “Vinny Vicks”, this disrupted his childhood, and led him erupting and asking:

“Why don’t you call me just Vinny?”

And, the kids being the bastard clever shits they thought they were, called him Just Vinny for a week, before the kids realised they never actually understood the origins of calling him Just Vinny, and so returned to the ever-popular Vinny Vicks. Vinny Vicks did once feel that he might actually be called “Vinny” though realised, that for whatever reason, “Vinny Vicks” just sounded better, and sexier. His brother, Ted Vicks went through a similar stage 15 years earlier, and for a while was referred to as “Just Ted” and later “No, Really, Just Call Me Ted”, however, after two months No, Really, Just Call Me Ted had been forgotten by the clever little shites, and they returned to Ted Vicks. Naturally, Mrs. Vicks didn’t have these problems as a youngster, her maiden name being Susie Kwahgpandpangski, led to her only being known as “Susie” or, if some of the kids were daring, they would call her “Susie K”. When Susie Kwahgpandpangski married to Mr. Vicks (the one that’s dead.) she was at times called Susie Vicks, but still remained to be known as “Susie” and later “Mother”. Either way, in the grand scope of things, it’s considered that not many people really care about the origins of the Vicks name, but I do, and I think it’s a nice little story, and I feel better after telling it.

Also, it may interest you that the first ever “Vicks” was named Thomas Vicks and has invented such great things in his past such as Lettuce Buns, which are, well, bun breads, filled with lettuce, but Thomas Vicks was the first guy to ever make one. However, they are not named after him, after Thomas Vicks forgot to patent the idea, and Thomas Edison claimed the idea of putting lettuce in a bun was his idea, and hence, Thomas Vicks led a life full of poverty.

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Chapter Five

“It’s a dirty story, of a dirty man, and his clinging wife doesn’t understand.” – John Lennon / Paul McCartney

I came to the decision that my hair was art, and that the best way to make money (and thusly get my mother to stop nagging about me being late home) would be to enter my “Hair In A Jar” to an art exhibition, and to try my luck there. Consider my sheer belief that at that exact point, there was an advertisement for an upcoming modern art exhibition situated only across the street from me. I filled in the forms, giving information such as my name (Vinny Vicks), my sex (yes please, HAAHAH! Did you see what I did there? Sex: Yes Please. I must be the first guy to EVER make that joke, patent pending.), and my location and such vague things to allow them to stalk me in arousing ways that I can only imagine.

November 18^th! That was the date of the competition. $1,500! That was the grand prize, and in Australian dollars, as well, I dare assume. Assumptions do provide a lot of mistakes, Hitler assumed that taking over the world would be easy, how was he to know that people would retaliate? I assumed the prize is in the country’s currency, but it might not be, but that only adds to the excitement.

Today was February 16^th, though, so I had a long, tedious wait until then, and would have to think of great things to do. One of which was to make sure that I was truly satisfied with the jar’s qualities, and the quantity of the hair, and to shape the hair in whatever which ways. After doing such things, it was not 14:20, and I felt that November 18^th could be a very long way away. But, I realised, that other’s needed time to create, and patience would be my artistic emotion shown through the completely irrelevant jar of hair.

I should have gone to specsavers, but instead, I went to the bakery and bought some bread, I assume that, having bought the bread, it would be a good idea to eat the aforementioned bread. I ate the aforementioned bread, as did Ted Vicks.

“I’m eating bread.” Said Ted Vicks.

“That’s correct, Ted Vicks.” I tried so hard to just say, “Ted”, but the word “Vicks” escaped along with it. I think this saddened the both of us. We both curled up in our own beds and cried.

“Stop crying, boys.” That was mother; she didn’t like it when we cried for the mere reason that we had called one another using their last names as well. I suppose my mother felt it was merely a pathetic reason to cry, so she twatted us around the head with a rolling pin, so that our crying was justified. But our crying later become right aligned, and then centre aligned, before Mother twatted us with the rolling pin again, so our tears were justified, as were the bandages around our head, attempting to prevent the bleeding.

In a way, I loved my mother, however in a more accurate way, I hated her at the times when she would use violence upon her 20 year old, and 35 year old son. I think that Ted was thinking about marriage at this point, but he became upset when I told him it was against the law to marry a plank of wood, unless he would move to Canberra.

Ted Vicks was heartbroken when he realised that I was joking about Canberra and that moving there wouldn’t entitle him to carry through the marriage to his darling Loretta (the plank of wood). However, he realised that he would have to move on, and after a painful split from Loretta, which involved her being very angry at Ted Vicks for leaving just to further his own career, and after Loretta attacked Ted Vicks, my brother received many splinters, which involved a trip to a doctor’s and him being saved by the great use of tweezers, which were invented by our ancestor, Thomas.

I think that, in the end, Loretta accepted the end of their relationship, and I heard a rumour that she had made it with some guy who invented hardware for those machines with the dancing flashing lights, and the guy married Loretta in Las Vegas, while he was there for inspiration. Whether this rumour is true, I cannot confirm, but it’s what I heard.

I decided that the answer to filling the time to November, would be to criticise anyone Ted Vicks succeeded in bringing home, and comment on his chance at love. However, after two weeks, and only meeting some girl called “Jude”, he had given up on his hopes of finding love, to get married, to leave the house, to get away from Mother. Maybe he felt that I should be the one to live a great life as an artist, and that he should look after Mother. Or maybe it was the fact that he was so distraught about finding out that Jude was really a man. I can’t say which one of these is the truth, but I like to think, that it was so that I could escape from the eternal grasp of my Mother, maybe.

So, Ted was in bed, crying about how he’d slept with a man, and I was sat there waiting for November 18^th. The next logical step appears to be to waste the following time, and get to November 18^th, and so:

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Chapter Six

“Like a bridge over troubled water.” – Art Garfunkel / Paul Simon

Ted had stopped crying by this point of time, this was good for many reasons, one of which was that 35 year old men crying isn’t very attractive, perhaps he’ll be able to achieve a female this time round.

November 17^th bought fear and excitement, firstly, I nearly dropped the jar of hair, but as I was doing it jokingly to amuse and humour myself, I wasn’t too frightened at the time. To say that I got no sleep that night would be a complete lie; I slept better than I knew was physically possible. And when the clock stroke whatever hour it needed to, I got up with the jar of hair, and walked to the art place thingy.

After confirming to the many people that I was who I claimed to be, I entered to find that there was not a single artist there for the competition, they were all married. I wasn’t sure about my chances of winning, though I wouldn’t say I was any less sure than the person who decided to enter a tin box full of matchsticks to depict his anger at the world.

We sat there and ate cakes, and stuff, while some guys in hats wandered about looking at our wondrous works of art, or should that be woundrous? After many seconds/minutes/hours of boredom, the guys in hats were all:

“The winner of the 19NX Art Competition of New South Wales is…”

There was a long pause, of which we would have all been anticipating our names, and hoping for success, if only we weren’t all so very, very drunk.

“Vinny Vicks.”

Men clapped, women applauded, pigs oinked, and I metaphorically wet myself with happiness. After taking the $1,500 and thinking about how my jar of hair must be the best thing ever, I went home, and slept with my money, and my jar. It was the most perfect day, and I’ve not been that happy since the nachos were half-priced at Denny’s or wherever it is that I purchased them from. I then remembered at how I had avoided being a failing artist, and that my dreams of becoming the World’s Most Ruthless Dictator to Ever Live were most probably over. This made me upset for quite a while, until boredom reproached, and my $1,500 was put in the bank for a later use of hope and fun.

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Interlude Three

It is worth mentioning that the rhododendron mentioned within the title does still assure to feature somewhere within this novel o’ fun. However, one would question what use a rhododendron would have in the life of Vinny Vicks? Some other unanswered questions include the situation on Vinny Vicks’ father and whether Vinny Vicks’ mother will hurry up and die or not. This interlude is to assure you that the questions around Vinny Vicks’ father are unlikely to be answered, but who knows, perhaps the new character about to be introduced will contain a story pointing Vinny Vicks towards his father, I wouldn’t hold your breath, though.

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Chapter Seven

“Schnapps, crackle and pop.” – Mr. Kellogg

So, I had made it as an artist, and with some of the $1,500 I went on a bus trip to LAND-OF-POTENTIAL-ARTISTS, which was situated in Melbourne. It was here that I met someone of some mild interest, he claimed to be called “Mr. Schnapps” and so I decided to call him Mr. Schnapps.

“I make ice cubes, only the ice is frozen vomit.” I think it’s fair to say I liked Mr. Schnapps from the start, he was odd, and seemed full of a dream not too different from mine. After a three-hour conversation about how we both felt Wales and New Zealand were horrible countries, and that digital watches should have the ability to speak the time, and speak the time in a voice reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe. I suppose I should have questioned Mr. Schnapps’ first name right there and right then. It was these suspicions that led me to ask him what his first name was:

“I cannot let out such information about myself.”

“Why not?”

“Well, besides the obvious novelistic twists possibly, I just don’t feel like conjuring up my first name right now, ok?”

“Ok” but I clearly was unsure of what Mr. Schnapps and his orange-skinned gigantic forehead were up to at the time.

Once we had arrived at LAND-OF-POTENTIAL-ARTISTS we all got off the bus and stretched our legs, this was a nice feeling, somehow legs become painful after being stationary for 3 hours and then some. Mr. Schnapps and myself talked about Eskimos that we had killed or lead to the death of, while others went to get refreshments, or some forms of food.

Then we went to the room that we were supposed to be in, it was a vast room, with hundreds and hundreds of chairs, it seemed like a waste, as there were only 20 of us there. We all sat in our chairs, and waited for the talking guy, but HERE’S THE TWIST, it was Mr. Schnapps, and I was all:

“Woah!”

And Mr. Schnapps was all:

“I’m Mr. Schnapps, and I’m going to talk to you about art, and how great art is, and how great art is for you, and how great you are at art, and then we’ll get some refreshments, and then we’ll discuss how great art is some more.”

It sounded like a terrible plan so this other guy, let’s call him Robert Rico, because that’s his name decided to leave with me.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” Asked Mr. Schnapps who looked confused and aroused at the time.

“We’re going home.” Replied Robert Rico.

“Oh…can I come with?” And so, Mr. Schnapps and Robert Rico drove home with me in my car. Oh, I’m assuming that I mentioned that I could drive, and that my car has magical powers and followed the bus to LAND-OF-POTENTIAL-ARTISTS and was there waiting for me when I walked out? I’m pretty sure I did mention that.

Mr. Schnapps seemed surprised by my ability to afford and own a magical car, and he wasn’t the only one, I was quite shocked that the story had lead to such bizarre things.

As the car was not magical in speed, it took us three hours to return home, but it rained on the way, so we saw a rainbow, and that was just splendid. Mr. Schnapps and Robert Rico were discussing forming an art gang. The idea of an art gang seemed tedious, and difficult to write about, so I made a WACKY proposal:

“Let’s form a gang that gets in trouble of sorts.” At first, this proposal received warm replies, and it continued, and so “The Gang That Gets In Trouble Of Sorts” had been established and was ready for their first act, once the magical car returned to New South Wales.

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Chapter Eight

“Raindrops keep falling on my head.” – Burt Bacharach

The Gang That Gets In Trouble Of Sorts (TGTGITOS) were to have their first meeting tomorrow, however, Mr. Schnapps was looking after his neighbour’s cats that day, so we bought it forward to today. Robert Rico agreed to this term, just so long that I bought enough pop-tarts to make us all happy.

“Oh.”

“Hi.” Welcomed Mr. Schnapps.

“Wasssssssssssssssssssssssssssssup!?” asked Robert Rico whilst we threatened to kick him out of the gang. Though we decided that if we did kick him out, then myself and Mr. Schnapps would be little more than the modern Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and hence felt we had to keep Robert Rico within the group. I’m still not exactly sure with men’s obsession to burst out crying irrelevantly, despite normally appearing to be quite sturdy. But recent events had me seeing many men break down over sweet nothings, very sweet nothings, so sweet that your mouth goes inside itself, because it’s sour nothings as well. Sweet and sour nothings, now with rice! But seriously:

We had a gang, but we need a girl of some kind, some girl that we could blame any mistakes on easily, so we would need to start recruiting a floozy.

“So, why do you wanna join the gang?” Asked I.

“Because mummy says that I should concentrate on my work harder, so I want to be able to have work that it easy, because, essentially, it will just be receiving abuse, I’m good at that.

“You appear to be 8 years old.” Robert Rico came to me as the one with brains, who had an eye for noticing things. I remembered this for future referencing, probably. The young 8 year old wandered off, Mr. Schnapps head butted her with his gigantic orange-skinned head. I didn’t really see a need for this act of violence, but condoned it, and kicked the girl out the door.

“Next!”

“Why do you want to be a TGTGITOSian?”

“Because I’m not sure I trust what you’re doing, and I want to look after you and check you’re not planning anything bad.”

“But mother! I’ll be fine, I don’t need you.”

“Well at least let Ted Vicks join in your reindeer games!”

“Ok Mother, my brother can be in the gang, but YOU cannot be.” And that was how the Gang managed to be 4 members big, but still massively needed a floozy to blame it on, perhaps even more so.

“Complete this sentence: I want to be in The Gang That Gets In Trouble Of Sorts because…”

“I like being treated worthlessly, and have been taking the blame for other people’s mistakes for years, so I have a good experience. Also, as a child, I was voted ‘Most Likely To Join A Gang Of Some Sort’”

“Guys, we’ve found our floozy.” We had found our floozy, and I wasn’t afraid of announcing it.

“OH SUPER! I’m in a real gang! Oh wizard! My friends will be so happy. Hi guys, I’m Kelly Darca!”

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Chapter Nine

“Looking back on the track for a little green bag.” – George Baker

We had arranged another meeting, this time; the five of us would meet on a Thursday. It was to be set on Friday, however it appears that Kelly Darca is superstitious, and apparently the world is ending on Friday, but she’s free on Thursday, and that’s what’s important. You’ll be glad to hear that the world didn’t end on the Friday, so now that you’re not expecting that, I can discuss what happened on Thursday without interruptions.

I was satisfied with the gang, most gangs that formed trouble of sorts that I remember reading about contained at least two failed artists, and I felt that three failed artists were enough for our part-time chaos group. Ted Vicks had great knowledge on, well, myself, and the food I like to eat, so that’s good. And Kelly Darca appears to be easy to blame, and doesn’t look as if she’s going to bankrupt the gang through her choice of make-up accessories, her constant fear of the world coming to an end could cause problems later on, though. The meeting would allow us to learn much about each other and our plans of destruction.

“Righto, chaps, I’d like to thank you all for coming.” And so I decided that I would “Thank you for coming.”

“You made me.” Replied Ted Vicks

“Your mother made me.” Was my simplistic response.

“Your mother is fat!” Ted Vicks abused.

“So is yours!” I felt that in return, I had to drop to such lows as to insulting his mother.

“You take that back, man!”

At this point, Mr. Schnapps head butted us with that head that he has.

“Ow!” Said I

“Ow!” Said Ted Vicks

“Ow!” Said Robert Rico “You hurt me emotionally.”

“So…are we like bank robbers, or something?” In a way, I admired Kelly’s pathetically set question in a more accurate way I despised it.

“Kelly, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not entirely sure. However, we ARE a gang of under-achievers in art, with you and Ted Vicks added for sexy, arousing reasons.”

“That’s just Vinny Vicks being ironically funny, we’re really here for factors of amusement, also, to be given more character development.”

“Shut up, Ted.”

“Shut up Vinny.”

“Shut up, Moon.” Robert Rico was weird, and he continued to add for the case.

“But seriously, our objective is to attack the New South Wales banks.”

“So we ARE bank robbers?”

“Sure, why not.”

Kelly stared at me, I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but I later assumed it meant that she was confused by my fickle ways. It would be fair to say we were all attracted to Kelly, but only in the “putting blame on her” way that we had created, Kelly happened to actually be as ugly as a dingo.

“So, how do we go about attacking the New South Wales banks and such?”

“Well, Mr. Schnapps, here’s the perfect answer, it’s all down to you, I’m depending on you to figure out the whole plan step by step, without any of us helping you in any way redeemed helpful.”

“So why do I have to do everything?”

“I assume the gigantic orange-skinned forehead it only to state that you have, in some way, a larger inferior brain of sorts.”

I could tell that Mr. Schnapps hated me right then, but I felt that over our 6 hour long conversation in the bus and the magical car, that we bonded in ways that talking in his boring art lecture were not possible, and he would be useful to the gang, using his head butt that he likes so much.

“My thoughts on this matter are highly undecided, much like my character.” Stated Robert Rico.

My thoughts on Robert Rico were undecided; he appeared to be a simple man, one without much ‘Zing’ about him. I sensed that something may appear that will change my opinion, but for now, I’ll be kicking him in the shin and making him do all the tedious work.

Ted questioned when we were to next meet up in a meeting of collected heads.

“Whenever Mr. Schnapps comes up with the plan.”

“Oh.”

And with that, I gave out the cool looking black and whites suits, now we would look like the Reservoir Dogs, and I would get a feeling that I had won one over the group. We looked cool and suave in the suits, and I was ripping off Reservoir Dogs, and I liked it, and there was nothing Quentin Tarantino could sue about it, we lived in New South Wales, and his suits weren’t copyrighted, and so, we were awesome, and we didn’t have to worry about getting sued, just about robbing banks, and for artists, that’s easy, really.

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Interlude Four

When Vinny Vicks was fortunate enough to own such products as a television, and a video player (1993-Whenever) Vinny Vicks purchased the movie “Reservoir Dogs” on VCR, and preceded with his plans to watch it. After striking a slight obsession with the film, it felt right for him to induce his feelings onto everyone else. Forcing them to answer the question “What’s your favourite colour?” with the word “Mister” first. Ted Vicks at first grew tired of listening to the same scenes, and watching the torture scene three times a day. But later Ted Vicks realised that it was easier to just destroy the VCR with an iron magnet, after Ted Vicks blamed it on a useless floozy (See: Mother), Vinny Vicks went briefly insane, acting the movie out for himself, however, a tragic ear accident led Vinny Vicks to accept that his devotion had to stop. But when The Gang That Gets In Trouble Of Sorts idea arose, Vinny Vicks instantly saw this as his chance to redeem Reservoir Dogs upon people. Vinny Vicks has only done the apparent act of giving out the suits, but one thing will lead to another, as Vinny Vicks hopes to construct a story so eventful that he won’t die.

Meanwhile, Mr. Schnapps and his gigantic orange-skinned forehead appear to not receive too many suspicions that Mr. Schnapps could well be from a faraway planet, it is assumed that Mr. Schnapps is from another planet, however, he hides it well from his research of planet Earth and it’s obsessions with cinematic movies, terrible singers, and of course, digital watches.

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Chapter Ten

“But she let another guy come between us, and it ruined our plan” – Beach Boys

“So here’s the plan, we get the penguins, and the piranhas, and then we eat them up like badgers, this will completely confuse everyone that’s ever existed, including the likes of Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein and Mrs. Smith from across the road. And then the iguanas jump, and they’ll be all ‘Ahahah! We are so evil!’ and the badgers are like ‘Oh my god, death is coming, and he looks pretty pissed.’ It is at THIS VERY POINT that we jump out from behind the rhododendrons and yell ‘BOO!’ very, very loudly. We will probably find this ironically funny and roll about laughing as if we were to have a month of Sundays to do such a thing. Finally, with help provided my Harrison Ford and Julie Andrews, we sing a song about song notes, before using our Indiana-esque skills to save the pie from the evil attackers that are the iguanas.”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.” Was the overall reply.

“Oh, it all makes sense if you translate the words ‘penguins’ and ‘piranhas’ to ‘money’ and translate ‘iguanas’ to ‘police’ and the ‘badgers’ to ‘The Gang’ and the ignore the second half of the plan, and the plan works. It’s just, it was late, and my massive brain was over-seizing because of everything Mort was telling me at the time, through his conscious. But I’ll have a more realistic plan this time tomorrow.”

I knew that Mr. Schnapps was the wrong guy for the plan, but in the end, it didn’t matter, love would find a way for this to work, and so, we sat there for a day, waiting for Mr. Schnapps to conjure a more realistic approach for us to make to the New South Wales bank. At this point in time, I realised that the Gang’s overall plan was already working; I hadn’t seen my Mother for well over a week.

“Right, right, right, right.”

“You don’t have a plan yet, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Right, um, right, ok, here, it, is.” Mr. Schnapps appeared dazed; it appeared likely that he had been talking to ‘Mort’ again, or something.

“Ok, so, we go, as a gang, to the bank. Right…right, we go to the bank, and we’re all ‘FREEZE! All your money are belong to us!’ and all the bank guys are like ‘Oh no, but we were going to make our time first.’ And while they’re doing this, we basically steal their money.”

“That, THAT is your great plan that took you many nights to conjure up?”

“Well, there was another plan, but it involved dancing, and choreographing, and so this seemed the better choice.”

Mr. Schnapps was a different character, I wasn’t sure if I would ever understand him, but I was not planning on complaining much, on the fear that he may head butt me. And although I was concerned, the plan would work, it was simple, and the Gang would start off swimmingly, and all would be happy.

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Chapter Eleven

“He got hair down to his knee.” – John Lennon / Paul McCartney

When I was eight years old, I grazed my knee. My knee hurt that day more than it has ever hurt through the rest of it’s 20 long years of existence as a knee. I remember how much it hurt me, and the graze was there for weeks. I would poke it constantly with a stick, that didn’t help the scab that was growing on it at the time, my mother used to say to me:

“Don’t poke scabs with a stick.”

It was at this point in time that I realised what she said made sense, but in a way, poking my knee with a stick was addictive, in a more accurate way it hurt like hell, so instead I would poke Ted Vicks in the knee with the stick. Sure, Ted was 23 then, and you wouldn’t expect him to accept it, but he did, and I think it was because he felt it was making me better which is all Ted ever seemed to want.

Eight was also the age that I became infuriated with the ways of young children, they would have a habit of pinching and punching me on the first of any given month, which resorted to them stating:

“And no returns.”

Apparently these words gave the other children the ability to not be pinched or punched back. I myself didn’t quite understand what was stopping me from pinching and punching them other than the words “and no returns” but I didn’t want to risk finding out the true ultimate power of these words. I assumed that it was also possible to break into someone’s house say “and no returns” and that would prevent any worries or concerns that they may break into your house as a retort. I then figured that this was all nonsense and started my “Kicking Other Children For Being Utterly Stupid” phase.

After my “Kicking Other Children For Being Utterly Stupid” phase, I was left with little else to do, other than poking Ted’s knee with a stick, at this point, he had a scab, and I felt great about it. For me, the stick symbolised a greatness that only I could own, and only when I wanted to, I made all the decisions of who to poke, and where to poke, and nobody stopped me. It eventually got to the point where the stick gave way and snapped, naturally I cried all night.

In reflection, I think getting the knee graze made me a better person, I looked at life differently, I saw the world as one big red scab trying to over-take the world, and this started my obsession with researching about Scabs of the Earth, and is thusly where I first learnt about Hitler, the little scab that could. Overall, I sympathise with Hitler, sure he made some mistakes, but that’s why they put rubbers on the ends of pencils and that’s why tip-ex exists. And were all of Hitler’s ideas wrong? Not really. At the current time, over-population is a horrid disease that will come and get us sooner rather than later, and so, what’s wrong with ending millions of people’s well-earned lives as a means of saving the odd buck.

I then started thinking about Jesus, and all the bad things he had caused through his tricks. Firstly, Jesus was a Jew, yet he felt the need to build a runaway religion that would devote their lives to him as well as God, this naturally pissed God right off, and resulted in God executing Jesus for three days so that he could think about what he’s done. The world wasn’t ready for Jesus’ happy-go-lucky view on life at that time, and I never understood why Jesus didn’t just move away from his troubles and move to Sydney, or something, basically Jesus was a loon. But Hitler, he was fundamentally a good man, he had hopes and dreams of being an artist, he was a vegetarian, meanwhile Jesus sat there eating bread, and last time I heard, bread comes from animals.

You may be wondering what my knee, and my opinions of Jesus/Hitler have to do with the story of the Gang, and if you want me to be realistic, it has nothing to do with the story, directly. But indirectly, it’s character development, and that’s a good thing, unless you happen to be a child.

At the age of 15, I re-watched Disney films that I hadn’t seen for like, ever, and it struck me how little plot and character development there is, sure, I’ll admit what happened to Bambi’s mother was a tragedy, but I believe that this bought death to be accepted by kids, and is indirectly the sole cause as to why children tend to use the word ‘fuck’ so often. Dumbo suffered from being highly illogical, Dumbo learnt he could fly as if it was nothing, and the rat or mouse just jumped straight to conclusion that the only reason a massive elephant could wake up halfway up a very tall tree would be because he flew, which sounds silly at points like these. To me, Walt Disney was a dirty rotten money-grabber that fundamentally taught kids his wrong beliefs were right. And anyone that’s seen his short cartoon on his view of Hitler would agree that Walt Disney is basically a racist, and also a man that overall, tends to dislike rabbits. Song of the South showed his view on black people, however, I felt that Uncle Remus was a cheerful character, and that Walt Disney personally didn’t have anything against the storyteller, the problem arose with Mrs. Robinson being awful unkind to him and telling him that he couldn’t converse with Johnny about the great things that Brer animals would get up to during their own free time. And then, the bull hit Johnny, so really, Uncle Remus was being assumed to have the role of God, in that Johnny couldn’t live without him, and also that the bull hates Johnny. This brings questions up about the bull, and how sweet and innocent the bull was, and the answer is ‘not very’ but, being a bull you wouldn’t expect him to not charge a stupid little child attempting to run after a van, that’s idiocy for you.

At a young age, I grew a fear of bulls, and I blamed Walt Disney for this. However, living in New South Wales as I did, it was virtually useless to be afraid of the critters, as I never saw one. I did see two though, once, but they were dead, so I poked their eternal scabs with my stick and felt like a man.

Bananas. I always found it a struggle to eat such things, maybe it was because they were yellow, and maybe it was because they tasted like crap, but for some reason, I could never eat bananas without feeling the need to die. But I suppose everyone feels like that about something? I bet God hated bananas, and sees it as his torture to us, to make us eat such fruit.

And that’s the story of how I grazed my knee, but now, the plan, and the Gang were ready to carry out the simplistic bank robbery.

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Chapter Twelve

“One man, one goal, one mission.” – Freddie Mercury

Kelly Darca was in the car, prepared to take us all away when needed. Robert Rico would lead the gang, as he looked the most threatening without looking too silly and orange. Mr. Schnapps was standing by the door, prepared to take over any situation involving women, Mr. Schnapps insisted this himself, for some reason. Meanwhile, Ted Vicks and myself would loon about and act silly to keep Gang morale up.

“Oh, by the way, I’m robbing your bank, ok?” Asked Robert Rico.

“Oh, that’s fine, but first I’m going to have to object to your motives.” Replied the bank clerk like guy.

“Well, me and my friends here are a bit short of cash, and hence, want to take every penny this bank is worth.”

“Do you have any account savings here?” Questioned the bank clerk guy

“Hmmm, I don’t, but Schnappsy might. Oi, Schnapps!”

“Yeah Rob?”

“Do you have a savings account with this bank?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Well, you could just take your money now, Sir.” Interrupted the bank clerk guy.

“Well, y’see, I don’t really have all the paperwork and stuff on me right now, so is it okay if I just steal my money, along with everyone else’s’?”

“Sure, that’ll work, we’re running a scheme right now which entitles you to steal your money, as well as others while performing a bank robbery.”

“Gee whiz, that’s great, I think we’ll take that option.” Replied Mr. Schnapps.

“Well, here’s your required sum, I hope this is a suitable amount, it’s all we have, and thanks for robbing this bank ahead of the maximum security choices.”

“Oh, you’re quite welcome Sir.” Said Robert Rico gratefully, before running out the bank with Mr. Schnapps, Ted Vicks and myself were waiting in the car for them already. Robert Rico sat in the back with us, and Mr. Schnapps sat at the front whilst Kelly drove off.

“Oh boy, that sure was easy Mr. Schnapps!”

“It sure was, Robby.”

And then we arrived at the Gang’s base, wherever that was and divided the $100,000 among the five people, irrelevant to how much work had been put in by each member, and just split it so that there was $20,000 each. I realised that this was a step up from the $1,500 cash prize I had earned for my jar of hair, and that made everything feel worthwhile.

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Chapter Thirteen

“Because it’s thriller.” – Michael Jackson

AHHHHHHH! Talk about spooky! The thirteenth chapter! Woooooooo! I don’t know about you, but I sure am scared right now, about what might happen in this chapter. I lived a superstitious life as a child, which forced me to not walk on the cracks on the pavement, and when you live in New South Wales, cracks are a hard thing to avoid. I avoided many things as a child, due to my superstitious feelings, this included Glen Miller and walking under ladders. I was so superstitious against walking under ladders, that, not only would I marginally step around the ladder, I would make sure I didn’t come with a 5 metre radius of a ladder, in case someone accidentally pushed me under it. This made shopping in supermarkets a living hell for me, as I had to avoid any stepladders that the shelf stackers were using.

Also, whilst I was young, I avoided Satan. My superstitious mind told me that hanging around with Satan would not be a good idea, so I tended to remain at least 5 metres away from him at any given time. I also had fears that he would steal my much beloved bike, and that couldn’t happen. Of course, my infant mind found this a confusing factor near the end of the December months. Upon hearing that “Santa was coming” I would tend to hide under the bed, which, for some reason, is where I felt most safe. It was under this bed that I felt I grew as a child, mainly because, as I slept, my spine retracted and purveyed the image of me growing since last night, and that was a good thing.

The morning after, I was to discover that Satan had left me a calculator over-night, and that bought the end to my superstitions of Satan, why would the demon of the Earth leave someone a calculator if there wasn’t any good in him? The calculator was great for many reasons; firstly it improved my education at school, assuming that I indeed went to a school as a child. Secondly, I got the enjoyment of writing “rude” words on the calculator, I would do this by writing “boobies” with a marker pen on the back case. It was only a week later when Ted taught me that by typing “5318008” onto the calculator, and by turning the calculator around by 180° that it would almost appear as if the numbers had transformed into letters reminiscent of the word “BOOBIES” and to me, this was mildly amusing for quite a while, until my calculator disappeared in what my mother claimed to be “my daily clean-up” which upset me, as I felt she was aware of the amusement that this shoddy adding machine bought to me.

I was also superstitious with regards to singing fish; I felt their existence amusing, although somewhat unnecessary. Now that I found myself $20,000 richer, there was a slight temptation to purchase one singing fish, if only to put in the Gang’s base, wherever that may be. I was confused at the time, but what man isn’t confused when he’s just found himself to have $20,000 and to be considering the pros and cons of purchasing a singing fish? There were the obvious pros, it would result in an increase of the Gang’s morale and then there’s the normal things you expect to gain from a rubber singing fish, the con was, that it would cost $20, and the thought of being reduced to $19,980 was mildly painful, then there was the other con, the fact that it would rule my very own soul (or should that be sole?) and would reduce my life to nothing more than worshipping a small rubber singing fish and that I might question my own life before the singing fish. I bought the fish.

_________________________

Interlude Five

Fish. Some would say that fish were not entitled the rights to sing, regardless of whether they were rubber. Vinny Vicks on the other hand felt that there was little wrong with fish singing, just so long as the aforementioned fish didn’t control his very soul (or should that be sole?). Mr. Schnapps’ opinion on fish was more interesting than Vinny Vicks’, however perhaps I’m just stalling, but no one could tell. Fish on the planet Twatooine bought up Mr. Schnapps, this was normal for the Twatooine residents, as fish had taken over the planet in 867, when Viacron – The Natural Ruler of Twatooine lost his control to a Neon Tetra Fish over a twelve day long game of checkers. On the eleventh day, Viacron decided that there was no way that the Neon Tetra fish’s 2 kings would overcome his 2 pieces and decided that risking his whole planet for the Neon Tetra fish’s food collection was a fair bet, and hence risked the land. Boy was it a kick in the face for Viacron a day later, when he lost his planet, he was so upset, that he head butted a cabinet until he knocked himself out and died.

With Viacron dead, and the Neon Tetra fish owning the planet of Twatooine, the Neon Tetra decided to make it compulsory for all fish living on the planet to bring up the natural species of Twatooine, so when, in 874, Mr. Schnapps was born, he was raised by a pike and a tuna, until, when he reached the age of 10 and naturally became old enough to fend for himself on Twatooine. And so, in 884, and after the planet suffering a 17-year reign by the Neon Tetra and then his spawn of which followed, Mr. Schnapps decided to complain about the structure of the way the planet was run. In a tragic accident on behalf of the Neon Tetra, it forgot what it was actually discussing with Mr. Schnapps and shortly forgot why it even existed, and automatically, the reign was given back to Viacron. With Viacron still suffering from the horrid effect of being dead, the reign of power of Twatooine was given to… that guy, and everything went swimmingly.

Meanwhile Mr. Schnapps learnt many a great thing about the universe around him, and decided to visit the planet Earth in 1973. Oh, in the 1000+ years between Mr. Schnapps went through many adventures that we may return to later, but for now, let’s pretend that nothing really happened, and that coming to Earth was a good decision. In Earth, Mr. Schnapps drew images of art, most were drawing of his parent-figures the pike and the tuna, after making it successfully as an ancient modern artist, he became a guy that gave lectures on the subject, and that’s how he met Vinny Vicks, as we secretly know.

The introduction of the singing fish is bound to change Mr. Schnapps feelings towards the Gang, seeing a trout mounted on the wall signing classic ‘70s hits to him whenever he passes could cause an emotional break down, should he see it as a reference to his parents. But more likely, he won’t notice a thing, as that was over a millennium ago, and Mr. Schnapps has far more exciting things to remember than his first ten years of existence.

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Chapter Fourteen

“One heart, one soul (or should that be sole?), just one solution.” – Freddie Mercury

“HAHAAH AHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HA AHA HHA AHAHHAH AHAHAHAH AHAH AHAHA!” laughed Mr. Schnapps “It’s like a fish, but it sings! What genius! What style! I love it! I’m in love with that signing fish, and nothing can stop it being great!”

“You appear to love this fish.” It felt like a good time to point out the bleeding obvious in front of someone that appeared to be a different species, however I believed his claims that he was from Canberra at the time.

“HAHAHAH HAHAHAHA HAHAHA! It’s singing those songs that I love oh so much. And in such a way, that I feel I can relate to the upbringing of this rubber trout, and the life it could have lived, had it been real.”

I ignored Mr. Schnapps devotion to MY rubber singing fish.

“So, how much did it cost you?” Asked Kelly, as most girls concerned about money would.

“Twenty bucks, oh, and my very soul (or should that be sole?)” answered I.

“You loser.”

This was a harsh statement, and I failed to see how I had actually “lost” by purchasing a rubber, singing fish. But overall, perhaps she was right, maybe what I had done warranted me to be a loser. But who was I to judge myself? Vinny Vicks, that’s who. But I still didn’t judge myself anyway, because I was bored, and Home and Away was on. It turned out, that in Kelly’s eyes, watching Home and Away did not prevent me from being a loser, and I hadn’t “won” anything by watching this either.

We sat at a table, $100,000 richer as a group, minus $20 and a soul (or should that be sole?) for a singing fish that bought the classic hits of the ‘70s back to us. We also had a jar of hair, worth an estimated $1,500; things couldn’t have been much better right now, OR COULD THEY? No, they couldn’t but things were good as they were, and everyone saw this an arousing enough prospect to buy some summer fashions. Robert Rico liked the idea, however, I thought it best to tell him that it was still November, or December, either way it wasn’t summer. Then Ted Vicks used his businessman like skills to remind me that we were situated in Australia and that it was in fact the summertime, and I must have somehow gotten confused and convinced myself that we lived in the Northern Hemisphere, which we simply didn’t.

So we went to go get some summer fashions, but being unfashionable men Ted Vicks, Mr. Schnapps and myself were, we went to get nachos. Robert Rico and Kelly Darca went to get some summer fashions, but I don’t know and/or care much about summer fashions, and so the nachos were good. We had 3 nachos each, and afterwards commented on how bad our stomach linings felt, and they were all not very good, but neither was George W. Bush, and he managed to conjure up a quite rewarding job title, that also came with some money, also. After eating nachos, none of us were certain to the crazy paths that life would lead us to, when SUDDENLY we saw Robert Rico and Kelly Darca and they were all:

“Hi guys.”

And we were like:

“Oh my god, hi guys.”

And then we left together to go to wherever it was that we had a severe obsession with going to all the time, but that place wasn’t a toilet, so it was a hut maybe. Jabba the Hut, as I called it. HAHAHA, because, y’know, Star Wars and all that stuff. It’s all rock ‘n’ roll to me, anyway, so let’s stop here for the night, okay boss, that’d work, yes. I’M NOT APPEARING TO BE INSANE, AM I? BECAUSE I’M QUITE ALL RIGHT, Dave.

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Chapter Fifteen

“And then I’d go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid like ATM Machine” – Frank and Nancy Sinatra

“Hey guys, new plan.” Stated Mr. Schnapps, arousingly.

“We’re already rich, we don’t need to perform a new job, and we have enough singing fish to keep us going.” Replied I.

“Oh I know, but this plan is great, trust me.” Mr. Schnapps said in a manner that made me want to hear what it was that he planned to say.

“Tell me more, tell me more, was love at first twilight?”

“Firstly, you’re weird, secondly, the plan. Right, we go up, and we go up to the ATM Machine.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” I interrupted “What do you mean ATM Machine? That’s nonsensical. Basically, what you’ve just said is ‘we go up to the automatic teller machine machine’ do you realise how stupid that sounds?” he didn’t. “I suppose you remember your PIN Number as well? Or should I say ‘Personal Identification Number Number’ does that make SENSE FOR YOU?! Oh, I’m going to the hospital now, to check to see whether I have a HIV Virus or not!?”

It occurred to me that I may have gone insane, and my thoughts felt more secure when I actually went to the hospital to prove my point.

“Excuse me nurse, I’d like to make an appointment.”

“Oh, that’s ok, what is it for?”

“I want to check about whether I have a HIV Virus.”

“Oh…I see.”

“What?”

“Well, the ‘V’ in ‘HIV’ stands for Virus, so really, you said Virus twice.”

“THANK YOU! Y’see guys, this girl gets it! IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE! STOP BEING STUPID!”

I thanked the nurse and left the hospital, and that’s how I won the ATM Machine argument with Mr. Schnapps.

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Chapter Sixteen

“Like a bang, a boom-a-boomerang” - ABBA

Despite the fact that I trusted Mr. Schnapps’ new plan, I assumed that his stupidity to identify an ATM meant that the plan was useless, and so we all just sat there, with money. We still had most of our newfound wealth, apart from the $20 spent on the singing trout and the odd part of money spent on nachos and summer fashions.

BANG!!!

There was a loud bang.

On reflection it was probably very loud.

We never worked out what the exceptionally loud bang was, but it sprung up conversation, so was most acceptable.

“What was that!?” Questioned Kelly in a somewhat disturbed fashion.

“A loud band, I think.” I answered her as honestly as I possibly could, so imagine my surprise when all I received was a blank stare that didn’t appear the kind of stare that was attempting to entice me, but more of a stare that was attempting to BURN ME ALIVE AMONG MANY FLAMES AND WATCH MY FIERY CORPSE AFTERWARDS AND CONVERSE ON HOW CHARRED I APPEARED TO THE OTHERS.

“I think it was some kind of explosion.” Robert Rico appeared to answer as honestly as he possibly could, but somehow, this met Kelly’s standards more than my answer did, she only gave him a look as if she was attempting to stab him in the leg, once. I almost felt that Kelly might have had some emotional feelings based towards Robert, however, these feelings tended to be based towards death.

“It appears to be a very loud bang that has resulted in nothing at all, and is barely worth any consideration.” Ted Vicks calmed the situation, whilst Kelly stared at him with the apparent intention to threaten to stab him in the eye, and no further.

I whistled, like old-lovers do, old-lovers that are bored with their relationship and attempting to annoy the other member of the relationship with their incessant whistling. Kelly gave me a blank stare, before I created a universal paradox that kept everyone occupied for a finite amount of time.

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Chapter Seventeen

“And all at once I lost my breath, and all at once was scared to death” – Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and many others.

The explosion changed the way people thought about life. I can only assume that we all lied awake that night gathering our thoughts about life, and our opinions towards each other, because that’s what I did, until I fell asleep five minutes later. I was mostly concerned about Ted Vicks, he hadn’t said much of late, and being the aging rock star that he aspired to be, his life was drifting from beneath him. I sensed that his age reduced him from feeling alive, and that he was suffering a mid-life crisis, which would be bad news, as it would mean he wouldn’t live past 70 years of age.

I frequently worry about death, it seems like a tedious act to suffer through. Somehow the thought of dying alone is worse than dying with someone, I suppose I’d like to make someone suffer whilst I did. I wouldn’t claim I was fascinated with death, as much as I was fascinated with life and wanted to avoid death in as many possible ways as possible. Death has always been the low point of someone’s life, so it should be considered that life improves after this point, I looked forward to my hair growing, and my nails growing while I lay as a corpse, until recently when someone thwarted my hopes by telling my that this was a myth and that my skin merely shrank and gave the appearance that my hair and nails had grown. But death still had the positive of passing gas and being able to blame it on someone who was still alive, however there seemed the slight problem that I actually wouldn’t get any enjoyment from blaming my excreted fumes on someone else.

My mind automatically went from death to Mr. Schnapps, of course I assume that he is from Canberra, and that he hasn’t been raised by aqua-marine creatures, but his orange-skinned gigantic forehead does make me question whether this will allow his lifespan to increase, or perhaps decrease. I didn’t wish death upon him, due to being unaware of who was on his will, had he even made one, So the sensible thing at that point seemed to be to fall asleep, so I followed my instincts.

Later, I awoke in a daze. I forgot where I was, thanks to a rather mind-ruling dream that made me forget where I was. I later remembered where I was, and waited to settle the previous two seconds of confusion as to where I had been. I decided to think about things, like being asleep, and how cute I must have looked whilst being asleep, and then challenging myself as to why the only time anyone would claim I looked cute was when I was snoring and drool would be seeping from my mouth at that time. However, whilst I’m awake and keeping my nasal noises to a minimum, and keeping all forms of saliva within my mouth should be a time that no one comments on whether I look cute.

I assumed that my cutest state would be after I had died, where I would not emit any nasal disruptions, and also contain all drool within my mouth, while appearing to be as cute as when I’m asleep. Though whether the flies and the rotting fumes would increase my cuteness, I cannot comment.

“Oh boy.” Said I. I expected this to receive a better reception than complete silence, however, everyone else must have been sleeping, so my attempts to gain attention had failed, and death lingered on in my mind, OR DID IT? Yes, I believe it did. I was cold. Quite cold. Maybe very cold, although I hadn’t decided at that point, and was still quite undecided on how cold I was. I finally concluded that, by Australia’s natural standard, I was cold, but by the standards of a country such as Norway, I was warm, but compared to a country like France, I was probably feeling indifferent with regards to my body temperature.

In the following morning, the five of us sat around the table, consuming such food like food such as cereal, or toast, Ted Vicks had the toast, I remember vividly mostly because he always had toast for the previous 20 years and that it would have been weird for him not to. I questioned the others on whether they were cold.

“I was asleep.” Answered Robert Rico, Ted Vicks, and Kelly Darca.

“Hmmmm, Hmmmmmmm I was quite cold, it was not as warm as my time on…” Mr. Schnapps paused, people considered what it was that he might say, however, I was too interested in the cereal/toast that I was eating. However, Mr. Schnapps continued for some reason, but by ‘continued’ I mean ‘explain what he would have said’.

“What would you guys say if I told you I wasn’t from Canberra after all?”

“I’d congratulate you.” Answered Robert in a way that suggested he hated people from Canberra.

“What if I were to tell you that I was really from the planet Twatooine?”

“I’d say that ‘this was sounding too much like The Hitch-hikers Guide To The Galaxy for my liking.’”

“Oh, well, as it happens, I am from a planet named Twatooine, and am over 1000 of your Earth’s years old. Also, I was raised by a pike, and a tuna.”

I assume that Mr. Schnapps regretted announcing this at the time he did, we were all too interested in our cereal/toast to react wildly to Mr. Schnapps unexpected confession. He was also too interested in his cereal/toast to dig up a reaction, he felt he had told us and explained himself, and in a way was relieved that we didn’t make a fuss about the fact that he was an alien from some faraway planet that could be found offensive on such a planet as Earth. I eventually felt that I had to ask a question, so I did:

“So, you found it cold too?”

“Yes.” He answered, “But ‘Australia Cold’ not ‘Norway Cold’, it was a kind of French temperature, I suppose.”

I shot Mr. Schnapps. What followed was 20 minutes of us continuing this playful water games, with water bombs and such.

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Chapter Eighteen

“Happiness is a warm gun.” – John Lennon / Paul McCartney

“How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?” Questioned Kelly.

“About 50 chucks’ worth.” Answered Robert

“And what are you basing that on, Rob?”

“I’m basing that on my opinion that the woodchuck would chuck 50 chuck’s worth of wood in an hour, and the woodchuck would chuck wood for one hour, before getting bored and wanting to CHUCK YOU (off a bridge).” Kelly cried at the idea of her being chucked off a bridge, she had so much to live for, maybe, but no one cared about her feelings that much, she was just there as a floozy, and she had to learn her place.

“I have a gun, perhaps you’d like to use it.” Said Ted Vicks, abruptly, and un-expectantly.

“Oh my god, you have a gun.” Stated Mr. Schnapps for reasons I could never understand.

“Where’d you get that gun? Also be careful, you could poke someone’s eye out with that.” Said I, as I was concerned, probably.

“I found it on the floor, and naturally assume that playing Russian roulette would be the thing to do.”

“Why would we want to do such a thing?”

“Character un-development.”

“Oh.”

I wasn’t sure whether losing a member of the gang was a good idea or not, also, I was perhaps slightly afraid that I may die, and dying was a concern for each of us, I imagine. Overall, I was curious about what would happen should Mr. Schnapps be shot in the head, and whether it would have an effect on him or not.

Before playing Russian roulette, or doing anything that would be worthwhile, we decided to go to a reaaaalllllly long wedding that would drag on and on, and on, and basically bore everyone out of their skulls for an hour, and we really wanted to drag it on more than anyone could imagine. Sure, the wedding was useless and didn’t make any difference to the plot, and didn’t add to character development in anyway, though with one of us due to die, it seemed pointless to bother improving our apparent lives at this stage. It was perhaps the worst hour that anyone could live, but for some reason it could be claimed to be significant, though most would fail to see this and have the “Just get on with it, already” feeling.

Eventually, we gave in and allowed ourselves to actually do something that would add to something, or minus it anyway, if you get my meaning, which I can only assume that you do.

We, the five of us that is, sat at the table, with the gun in the middle of the table. We soon realised that it was a shotgun, and refused to play, knowing that instant death would be sent out to whoever were to aim the shotgun at themselves first. You would have thought that we noticed the fact that it was a shotgun earlier, but we were too busy living in the hope that Mr. Schnapps would die, and failed to consider the type of guns that my brother may have found on the floor. Disappointed that our lives appeared to not be ready to contain any sort of excitement once again, we sat or lied down somewhere with very little to do with ourselves. But we had a shotgun (which incidentally, had no bullets with it, it was revealed) and a singing fish, so who were we to complain? Mini-Hitlers is the correct answer.

I think we all longed for something exciting to happen, and I think most the readers deserved something as well. But the readers were jerks for getting this far, and were probably jerk-like enough to continue reading, regardless of lack-of excitement. So basically, I felt no need for my life to generate a story, as it would be too late for anyone expecting a story, or too early for jerks that were willing to read such tripe.

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Chapter Nineteen

“Nothing is really wrong, feeling like I don’t belong.” – Karen Carpenter

Everyone looked towards me as if they hated me today, perhaps it was the dead baby jokes that I told, or maybe they just dislike me for some reason. I clapped my hands. I clapped my hands again. I paused. I clapped my hands twice again. Listening to “Tainted Love” has led these spontaneous reactions to wither through my body unexpectedly, and I think I liked it. I used to like lots of things, but lots of things betrayed my faith in them. I believed in many things, but many things felt the need to disregard my fascination with them, and refused my letters kindly asking them to live with me and tell me jokes and such, and so I cried.

And so, by the time I had reached the age of 3 years old, I had learnt to not trust or get attached to anyone or anything. That was, anything apart from socks, because, I like socks, you don’t know it, but I’m wearing two pairs of socks right now. My fascination with socks came unexpectedly, it all started one day, whilst I was wearing socks, and someone jokingly stated that I had an obsession with socks, after I laughed continuously for two hours before I decided that it would be ironically humourous were I to actually become obsessed with socks, and so I did. Ironically though, my ironic obsession with socks became something deeper than that. But that’s a different story from the one I was telling, well, I assume it is, because, quite frankly, my dear, I forgot what story it was that I was telling. I was probably telling a story about aliens, and fun, mad, crazy stuff that’s really exciting? Or maybe I was giving an autobiographical account of my most tedious opinions through the opinion of Vinny Vicks, which is I, in case you forgot.

So where was I last, until there was any type of story like event? Oh my god, I’m talking to myself, how bizarre. Yes, I’m right here, talking to myself, that’s an odd thing to do, I presume. But maybe everyone talks to themselves? Or don’t they? And how would I ever actually know if people did or not? It’s not as if people would come up to me and say “Do you ever talk to yourself?” which was funny, because that’s the exact point that Robert Rico asked me:

“What’s for dinner?”

I mean, he really asked:

“Do you ever talk to yourself?”

“No, of course I don’t.” I wasn’t going to admit to anyone that I was weird, but this was the flaw in finding out whether anyone would talk to themselves, as anyone that did, wouldn’t admit it anyway. So it appears that no one will ever know whether anyone truthfully speaks to themselves or not, which helped to make life that little bit more frustrating than was needed.

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Chapter Twenty

“When I saw her standing there.” – Paul McCartney / John Lennon

And just as I thought nothing of any interest would materialise from my life, is when SHE arrived at our house for the very first time…

“Hi Guys.” Said Ted Vicks in a way that warranted completely no reply from any of us, we knew that Ted had gone out and expected him to return, and now, he had returned, so there was no reason for surprise, and any exclamation in our faces. However, when one of us (which one of us will not be revealed to build up tension, although it makes little difference about whom it was) politely decided to reply to Ted’s welcome with a similar, almost mirrored statement.

“Hi…” started one of us (though which one of us it was will not be revealed to build up tension) until s/he gawped at Ted in a way that s/he had never gawped at Ted before, it was the kind of gawp that suggested the thoughts “Ted’s bought someone with him”, however, it was later revealed that this someone was really something, something that would change the lives of all of us forever.

All of us decided to use this point to stare at Ted, and to stare at him hard, but in a non-arousing way. We all sat there tensed, even Mr. Schnapps, who probably really didn’t care, the rest of the group that weren’t gawping decided to use this chance to gawp. Ted saw the four of us gawping at him, and knew that what he had done was wrong instantly, but it didn’t make him change his mind.

Robert Rico was the first to say anything, whether this was some kind of significant factor to later events, I cannot say right now, however, theoretically I know all the answers due to speaking in the past tense, but yes, no one knew if this was significant right now. Robert Rico decided that the first statement to be said, since the one of us that was not mentioned to build up tension, was to be an obvious statement, one that cleared up the confusion, worry and concern we all shared:

“It’s some kind of bush.” Robert was correct, but it wasn’t just a bush…

“It’s not just a bush, it’s a rhododendron.” Stated Ted in the kind of way a normal person would state that the bush wasn’t just a bush and that it was a rhododendron. Was.

“Oh.” I released in a sigh, a sigh that was not a sigh of relief, but a sigh of fear of what was to come.

“Well, what’s wrong with me bringing home a rhododendron?” Questioned Ted in the innocent way that you would expect him to.

“It’s cursed.” Stated Kelly.

“That’s bad.” Responded Mr. Schnapps.

“But it’s also pretty.” Stated Kelly.

“That’s good.” Responded Mr. Schnapps.

“But it will also bring a horrid event for at least one of us standing within this house right now, and something terrible, too terrible to imagine will happen, and it will be caused by this rhododendron. And I fear what this will cause for our social lives, and the such like.” Stated Kelly.

“That’s boring and overly long.” Responded Mr. Schnapps.

“What makes you think that the rhododendron is cursed, Kelly?” Said Ted in a questionable like fashion.

“I sense it.”

“But you’re just a floozy, you’re not here to sense anything.” Argued Ted.

“I don’t like the bush, why did you bring it anyway?” Asked Kelly.

“Because I heard a rumour that it was cursed, so it seemed like an interesting thing to do.”

“Hitler thought that invading Poland would be an interesting thing to do, don’t you think he regrets that now?” I asked hypothetically in a manner that I could only ask, referring to Hitler, that is.

“Vinny Vicks, I’m not like Hitler, the interesting things that I do will not resort into a world war, neither will it result in something that I will regret.”

Ted was wrong, none of us knew it at the time, apart from Kelly, but she was a floozy and everyone ignored what she really thought. But, it turns out Kelly was right, but there’s perhaps a simple reason for that, maybe, but I cannot remember without explaining it in a fine detail, such a fine detail that you’ll be shocked at how good my memory is.

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Interlude Six

Right now, you may be thinking that some kind of plot is becoming existent, I will put your suspicions to rest by saying that, and actually, twenty chapters into a story, an actual plot is evolving. It’s such a great plot, that it’s likely that it may even take up an amount of six or so chapters, because that’s how great and sexually attractive this plot idea is. For those of you who are frightened by the prospect of not hearing insane ramblings, don’t fear, they will still accidentally trip into the actual plot and story, but there may be a plot to distract your idle minds from the idle writing, and for this, we apologise in advance.

We also apologise for the decision of having the novel actually contain an actual rhododendron, I realise that this brings the appearance that the title is somewhat related to the actual content of the novel, and this could easily confuse many of you, and once again, we apologise. And by “we”, I mean, “whoever you like to think is writing this section”.

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Chapter Twenty-One

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older? God only knows.” – Beach Boys

So yes, the rhododendron. It was never going to be accepted in the same ways that the singing fish was accepted, and perhaps Ted Vicks would feel rejected by the fact that his brother had purchased a more worthwhile celebration of the stolen money. Whether Ted Vicks would take this emotionally, and become full of hurt, I couldn’t say, well, I could say, but that’d ruin everything that was worth dying for.

But seriously, the rhododendron was unwanted by all of us, I imagine. Maybe it was actually cursed, maybe it was just pretending to be cursed because it felt like it would fit in more easily that way, who knew? Probably Ted, he probably knew. The rhododendron was remarkable in ways that no one chose to imagine. It sat within the front room, as we all did. None of us were sure how to act around the rhododendron, it bought paranoia to the group, Kelly screamed at the rhododendron whilst she was innocently walking past the bush only to be mildly tickled by it.

Ted had bought many things home with him in the past, of which I haven’t mentioned to this point, because it seemed irrelevant at the time. But Ted Vicks had been known to bring sharks, Venus fly traps, elephants, piranhas, oak trees and abacuses home, all of which briefly threatened out emotional tethers of fear, only for us to realise that the sharks, Venus fly traps, elephants, piranhas and oak trees would bring us no actual harm, and that the abacuses would only bitch about us behind our backs, and perhaps spread rumours. Robert Rico didn’t like the abacuses, and did lash out at them at one point, the abacuses seemed rattled at the time, though this didn’t stop them making homosexual claims against Robert. However, I also realised that there was a chance that these abacuses were the ones that plotted the Eskimo’s suicide all those years ago, but when the rhododendron turned up at our cabin, I knew that it wasn’t the abacuses, and was more likely to be the rhododendron that had planned every step of the Eskimo’s suicide.

“Buh.”

From this point, I instantly realised that the rhododendron was cursed. It was completely unexpected to hear it speak, even if it was only the word ‘Buh’, a word which fails to be part of the English language did not mean that the rhododendron wasn’t plotting our deaths, or perhaps claiming Robert’s homosexual tendencies, either way, everyone apart from Ted was not amused to hear such weird one-syllabic words such as ‘Buh’.

“Fuh.”

We realised that the rhododendron was attempting to tell us something but what it was trying to tell us feared us all. It was quite entertaining, watching everyone become horribly nervous within the presence of what is really, just a bush; however, in another way it was quite fearful to watch. But not as fearful as it was to watch Psycho, not that it’s a scary movie, but it was more of the anticipation expecting something scary to actually happen. In fact, not even the shower scene was scary, by today’s standards, and of course you knew it was coming, but it was still fearful to watch, because you expected something fearful to happen, the fact that it didn’t makes no difference. In fact, I would think that if you went to watch Speed, or to a lesser extent Speed 2 expecting something really scary that you thought would give you nightmares forever, then Speed (and to a lesser extent Speed 2) would easily be capable of giving you nightmares, as long as you anticipated something bad to happen, then in your eyes, something bad did happen.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

“When I was young I’d listen to the radio (because our TV was broke)” – Karen Carpenter

All of a sudden the lights went off, that killed me. Not literally, otherwise I’d be dead, which I’m obviously not because I’m telling the story but, it killed me in the way that I found it so funny that I laughed till I metaphorically died, or that I was so scared that I trembled till I metaphorically died, and you get the idea. There was complete silence, and I just sat there, and for some reason decided not to question why the lights had gone off, but to accept it and wait for the lights to go on, but the anticipation of the lights going on killed me. All of a sudden, the lights came on, and everything was as it was, apart from the fact that the rhododendron looked completely murdered and dying, that killed Ted, emotionally, what with him being attached to the bush and such. All of a sudden, Ted spoke:

“Roddy!? RODDY!? RODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYY!” screamed Ted in a most cinematic way. And it can only be assumed that he had called the rhododendron ‘Roddy’ without telling anyone. That killed me.

All of a sudden the other four of us sat there calmly, that killed me. Then, all of a sudden Kelly spoke, and people were not expecting a floozy to speak.

“How ironic that the bush gets maimed and destroyed at the exact same moment that the lights go off.” This was a fair statement, and I considered the irony for what it was worth, and considered on whether to tell my mother, who of course liked irony and always did my shirts. I watched Ted Vicks at this point, it was as if his brain was ticking, however, I looked over his head and noticed that it was just a clock.

Ticking clocks annoy me a lot, they appear to be there just to emphasise the quietness of the current situation, they tick, and then they tock, and they repeat this for a very long time, of which the clock should be able to work out. But that isn’t the only reason ticking clocks annoy me, they also annoy me because once, one of them called me gay, and I didn’t like the fact that a clock dare suggest I have a different sexual orientation than I really did.

But yes, Ted appeared to be thinking some mysterious thoughts, until they stopped being mysterious and he blurted them out in a blurtiful manner.

“Wait a minute, this wasn’t an accident, SOMEONE intended to kill Roddy!” claimed Ted, all of a sudden his thoughts were not mysterious, that killed me.

Mr. Schnapps, who was, for whatever reasons, carrying a grass trimmer and an axe at the time decided to speak in an oral manner that you would expect someone who had recently mentioned that they were from Twatooine.

“What are you talking about Ted? Surely no one would have planned to switch off the lights and then attack the evil rhododendron with a grass trimmer and an axe…or whatever items they might have used.”

“I’m serious.” Replied Ted, although he didn’t sound serious, because he sneezed halfway through the statement, which seemed inappropriate, but it’s not as if you can contain a 100 mile per hour kind of sneeze. “I think,” continued Ted “that someone had planned this, and killed Roddy, and I have reason to believe that it is someone in this very room.”

All of a sudden, there was sheer tension, everyone looked at everyone, expecting it to be someone within this very room. Ted was the oldest one there, so what he said must have been true, that killed me. We had a murder in our hands, albeit it was the murder of a rhododendron, and it could have been any of us. There were no clues pointing to any of the five, I suppose it could have even been Ted, maybe he done it to relieve everyone else from the fear that this bush that was capable of saying ‘buh’ and ‘fuh’ and maybe he saw it in our interests to harm the bush before it harmed us.

Kelly had a big motive, she was the one that either killed the plant, or made someone else feel the need to kill it. Kelly was responsible for the death, that was certain, whether she carried out the act, I couldn’t say at the time, it had only just hit me. Robert Rico had been mysterious ever since the day I met him, this made it hard to tell whether or not he was killing something as innocent as a buhable and fuhable rhododendron. Mr. Schnapps was an alien to us, and had been alive for over 1000 years, why would he wish to kill a rhododendron? Perhaps he was bought up to hate those plants, but I think that it couldn’t have been him. He didn’t appear to be guilty; there was no evidence that it could be him, so I was led to believe that it wasn’t him. Then there was me, Vinny Vicks, a person that was young, only 20 years old, not sure of what I was doing in any country, not sure why I was even in the room, let alone with a brother 15 years my elder, two failed artists and a floozy. I don’t remember killing the rhododendron, I don’t remember wishing death upon it. I’m not sure whether you’ve realised this, but at times I may appear to be going slightly mad, and showing signs of cracking, maybe I did do it? I don’t think I did, but you always hear about people doing stuff that they can’t remember doing, maybe I was like that. That killed me. I’m capable of doing it, I know that much, but whether I would actually do it, I wasn’t too sure of myself. All of a sudden, things were different; everyone was looking at everyone else as killers, some people (myself) were even considering their selves as killers. And if it wasn’t me, then what’s stopping the killer deciding to kill someone else, including me? Is my life at risk? Does one of them want to kill me? Do two of them want to kill me? Maybe two people set up the murder of the rhododendron. Did I do it? If I did, will I do it again? And does anyone really care?

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Chapter Twenty-Three

“It finally happened, I’m slightly mad, just very slightly mad.” – Freddie Mercury

So, naturally, Ted Vicks was shocked to see the death of his closest relative, and naturally he phoned the police and the firemen, only, they’re not actually made of fire, so really it’s false advertising. I’ve always been against false advertising, ever since I bought that $10 gift voucher for $10, only to realise that all I had done was limit my $10 at that specific shop, which was a shop that sold toothpicks, and as I don’t use toothpicks, this was kind of a bad idea. And then I saw this advert that was advertising a cereal bar that was “fat-free”, I naturally assumed that it was fat-free and purchased 5,000 bars and ate them within one week. I later weighed myself only to find that I had gained weight, and so I decided to sue the company that made that fat-free bar, and earned $500, which may not appear to be a lot, but it was all the money that the company had, and incidentally was all the money that I had spent on the bars, so I only really got my money back. However, the company were now bankrupt, and I got a satisfaction knowing that all their workers would be redundant, and basically become craps for dogs to urinate on. Anyway, Ted also phoned the ambulance people for some reason, and also the coastguard, that is, if New South Wales has a coast, I don’t really know any more.

Obviously all the services were there in a haste speed, in New South Wales, the murder of a rhododendron overtakes any cases of same-sex, same-family rape that may be going on that very moment. Not that I agree with this, as I am against all forms of real life rapism, as I’m sure the services would also agree on, however, the murder of a rhododendron is that important.

I decided to name the people by their profession, as everyone from the services were there, I had to resort to calling them Mr. Policeman1 and Mr. Policeman2, and I never got to speak to Mr. Firemanthat’snotactuallymadefromfire, so. What really surprised me, and came across to me as unexpected was that Mr. Policeman2 was the first to speak, not Mr. Policeman1, for some reason, he seemed the weaker of the two, which is unlike most people who have the number “1” in their name.

“So, what time did the rhododendron ‘die’?” Mr. Policeman2 asked me.

“Five minutes ago.”

“Could you be more precise?” Prompted Mr. Policeman2.

“Five minutes and twenty seconds ago.”

“Yes, okay, but what time was this?” Prompted Mr. Polieman2, he was a very promptful man.

“Well, see, we don’t have a clock, or a watch or such, all we have is a singing fish.”

“A singing fish?”

“It’s a fish that sings.” I answered, but he was looking at me as if it had been a miracle to have such a thing. “Oh, well, it’s not a real fish, it’s plastic and attached to a wooden board, and is full of electrical stuff and such.” I hoped that Mr. Policeman2 would understand my simplistic terms.

“You have a fish on a wooden board?” He asked.

“Yes I do, it’s pretty boaring. HAHAHAHAHA.” I made a funny.

“Come with me, sir.” Requested the policeman that was aptly named Mr. Policeman2. At first I was flattered by being called ‘sir’ by such an authoritative figure, and then worried about his use of the word ‘come’ in the camp voice that he owned.

“Come with you? To where?” I questioned all panicky.

“Oh not far, sir, not far.” That’s what he said, but I was aware at how near the police station was, finally, Mr. Policeman2 nudged me about five inches to the right, and then moved himself five inches to the right also.

“Sorry about that, the sun was in my eyes.” He stated in the way that he did, that would be quite indescribable through text-only without trying to imitate him orally (in a non-sexual way) and so I’ll mention the way he spoke no further. That was when it hit me that this policeman was actually more bothered by the sun being in his eyes than he was about the murder of a rhododendron, this bothered me so much that I hit him in the face, this was perhaps my most violent moment since I had shot an Eskimo, not that I meant to shoot him, but I had fallen, and whilst I was carrying the gun (and also aiming it at him) my finger accidentally slipped and pulled the trigger and thusly shot the Eskimo in the face. That was followed by twenty minutes of the two of us continuing the playful water games with such and water bombs.

Oh…so yeah, I had hit Mr. Policeman2, rather than to fulfil his dreams of hitting on him. And well, he was on the floor making statements like ‘I’m on the floor, it must be the ‘60s!’ and well, that’s the only statement he made. I then went to talk to Mr. Policeman1, but he had left by the time I decided to do this (I had been conversing to the singing fish). So had Mr. Policeman2, they had both left, apparently Robert told them that nothing actually happened, and so they left leaving a note that read:

K, THX, BI.

MR. POLICEMAN2 & MÒ. PoL1C3m4N1

It became obvious that Mr. Policeman2 had allowed Mr. Policeman1 write his own name, I admired Mr. Policeman1’s cuteness of putting ‘R’ in a little circle, but I completely despised his idiocy and stupidity and am thankful that he had left before I suffered to have a conversation with such a man.

BUT THE MURDER MYSTERY LINGERED, and it sure was a mystery, and it sure was a murder, and not just of a rhododendron, but also of everyone’s emotions and feelings in metaphoric ways that anyone would hate, were they forced to study the situation. Who shot JR? No one knew anymore, but no one cared, all the interest was aimed towards who murdered and hacked a rhododendron? I was beginning to get my suspicions that it was Robert, because his hair was funny. Oh, when I said ‘Robert’ I meant ‘Robert Rico’ because of extra word count, and a willingness to be great. I then considered that “Rico” sounded Spanish, or Italian, and basically Non-New-South-Walesian, so I questioned him:

“Robert, where are you actually from?” I questioned him.

“Madrid.” He answered in a kind of simple tone.

“Oh.” I responded. So, I now knew he was Spanish and not Italian, that made me suspect him as less of a killer, at least he probably wasn’t with the Mafia, which is rumoured to be a good thing, by today’s standards. But really, the Mafia were just a group that aspired to be like Hitler, only with their reward being money, and loss of rugs rather than power, and loss of Jews.

“HAHAHA HAHAH hahah.” Laughed Mr. Schnapps unexpectedly.

“What is it, Mr. Schnapps?” I questioned, due to my not expected laughter.

“BOARING, because ‘BOARD’, that’s a good one.”

“Quite.” I replied.

“Hmmm.” Notified Robert

“Hmmmmmmmm.” Continued Kelly, or whatever her name is.

“I…. don’t……… think………….. so…….” completed Ted who felt like he had just completed some kind of irrelevant in-joke.

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Chapter Twenty-Four

“Incredible how you can see right through me.” – Freddie Mercury

I was there, in a house full of people, well… not full, I suppose 5 people in a cabin isn’t really what one could classify as ‘full’. But one of those people were a murderer, and that made sleeping very difficult, unless I was the killer, in that case it was very easy to sleep, but as I did not know, I was unsure on whether I could sleep easily or not. Many things went through my mind, I still think that Kelly is to blame, thought whether to blame the floozy directly or indirectly, I haven’t concluded as of yet. I don’t think Ted did it anymore, he truly did love the rhododendron, and would have rather sold it than killed it. Mr. Schnapps and Robert were both capable, and maybe they were performing art. Maybe I was performing art? I still couldn’t deny the fact that I had done it, but I couldn’t accept it, so there’s still a 50/50 chance, right? RIGHT? SOMEONE TELL ME I’M RIGHT? SOMEONE TELL ME I DIDN’T DO IT? SURELY SOMEONE WITNESSED IT? NO, THEY DIDN’T, AND DON’T CALL ME SHIRLEY. But no one can say that I did it, and therefore I didn’t do it. INNOCENT BEFORE GUILTY, RIGHT? What do you mean by ‘You refer to Hitler in an admirable way too much.’? That’s a dirty rotten lie. The guy was bad, overall, but he still had some admirable traits, that doesn’t mean that I slaughtered my brother’s cherished rhododendron out of jealously! STOP STARING AT ME!!1

As I was saying, sleeping was a difficult chore, and so I decided to stay awake throughout the night, as I expect many others did. But would the mystical case ever get solved? What we needed right now was a good solving agent. But tomorrow morning would be exciting, it would be the first time that the five of us would have time to talk properly, and would carry dialogue in ways that I could only imagine all the people, I wonder if you can. My mind wandered away from the murder, which was probably a good thing. It wandered to thoughts about my ‘Art’, I realised that I could not remember where I had left my jar of hair, which in a way frightened me, it was worth a lot of money, in someone’s opinion, maybe. I also thought about my mother, and wondered whether or not she was wondering about us. She was sleeping right now, it seemed safe to say, but had she actually noticed our complete lack of presence? She should have done, but whether she actually did, I could not say at the time. I thought about my father, the father of which that I had never met. The father of which had died ten months before my birth. I never talked to Ted about my father, all I knew was that he had died; I didn’t know whether he had a forename of which I had heard of? I knew that he was a Mr. Vicks, but I knew nothing more, and continued to know nothing more as I lay there “sleeping”. I then thought about my brief travels to Wales, and New Zealand, and pondered on why I first went to such places, and then why I came back? Some would say my reasons to go to Wales were unjustified, and I realised this was the truth once I had arrived at the country, nothing was wrong with Wales, it seemed like a horrible place bursting with niceness inside trying to reap through the soil in a metaphorical way. Of course, it’s thanks to my flight to Wales that I have perfect sight, but the perfect sight made me realise how ugly and awkward Wales could be at times, it is overall a nice place, if only they didn’t speak such a pathetic language at times. Their ability to pronounce several thousand ‘l’s within a second is a most impressive feat, and they deserve respect for it, but in a way I felt as if they were gloating about how great they could speak. My plans to move to New Zealand was a far worse plan, and was more of a decision that I made on the spot, without thinking through, the 11.25 sheep to each person came across as an interesting prospect, but the earthquakes and volcanoes did not, so.

I then realised that I had thought all these things within 10 minutes, and that the only wise thing would be to sleep, as I would run out of things to think about the way my mind was darting about. Speaking of darts, when I was 10 years old, my mother entered me into a competition, a darts competition, that is. The competition was aimed for 15 year olds, but my mother insisted that I enter ahead of my group. I tried to remind mother of the facts that I was about 85% blind and that I had never played a game of darts in my life, and didn’t really know how to. But she tried to remind me that it was only a matter of throwing sticks at a board. I was quite nervous; then again, most ten year olds that suffer from blindness would be afraid of facing off against 15 year olds. I remember that the draw led to my first match being against a man named George Davis, who was a sturdy looking 14 year old, or so my mother told me anyway. I was quietly confident, and I wanted to succeed in memory of the Eskimo that had convinced himself to commit suicide when he was only at the age of eight. I went up to the line, after being told the rules that I had to get from 501 to 0 by using these sticks and throwing them at the scores on the board, but the scores bought down the score of 501, which I was quite pleased with, as it was probably the highest I would ever score in any sport. I stood on the line, or thereabouts, and threw the three sticks at the area of the board, being the age of 10; this meant I had to throw upwards, which was most uncomfortable. George Davis then copied my idea of trying to win, and used his severe fatness to achieve such a thing. Several minutes later, George Davis had a score of 42 whilst I was on 180, with it being my turn to throw. I hate to sadden you, that I didn’t get the miraculous score of 180 with my attempt, and that I lost the match or the game, or whatever you call it to George Davis. I cried, as most blind children do when they’re playing in memory for a loss of an Eskimo, and proceeded to go home.

When I woke up it later dawned on me, haha, geddit? “Dawned”? Because, morning, yeah. Anyway, I later realised that I had slept for a total of nine or ten hours, which was most great, as I had become used to sleeping no longer than six of seven hours. The thought of sleeping for such a long time made me feel somewhat special, and what was even better, in a way, was that I woke up involuntarily. I’m sure you would agree with me that a kettle is a very loud inanimate object to have to listen to first thing in the morning. And hearing the loud, furious roar of the kettle boiling water to a very, very hot temperature is not a noise that one would wish to be forced to hear whilst lying in a bed achieving the ability to sleep for a very, very long time. The kettle continued to roar at me until I decided that I would arise from my stately bed in the hope that the kettle would stop, and it did, and thusly I was happy, and God could see that it was good.

“Good afternoon.” Said Ted, in a twat like way that most would completely despise to hear when they’re aware that it’s really morning and that the opposing figure is just a sarcastic twat that should burn forever for their horrid sarcasm. These kinds of people are the same jerks that ask “Do you want some more chips with your tomato sauce?” and these people are also the same kind of jerks that I hit in the face with an iron bar. I decided to not reply to Ted’s twat like sarcastic remark, and to instead walk to a chair and then fully operate myself to sit on it in a manner that would appear that I was sitting on the chair in a simple manner. I decided to finally reply to my brother.

“Haha, you sarcastic twat, however, what do you mean by ‘good’, surely you’re still distraught?”

“Oh…um…yes, I am, this is just me being…sarcastic and stuff.” I grew tired of my brother’s recent existence.

“Hi, Kelly.” I welcomed Kelly as if I had not seen her for a while, or something. I then got bored, and left the cabin, and decided to walk about outside the cabin somewhere.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

“Let’s go outside, let’s go outside.” – George Michael

I was walking outside, and it gave me a feeling of fresh air, because the air was fresh. It had also been snowing, which fitted in with the scenery, and the fact that Christmas was drawing near, but didn’t fit with the fact that it was New South Wales, and the summertime, and that it should have been 100° or thereabouts. But anyway, I continued to walk, and gazed at the unexpected reindeer and such like, and thought about the weirdness and surrealness that was going on all of a sudden. I was quite spooked out, but not as half as spooked out as those Jews that had to come to deal with the fact that some evil conspirator replaced their water with a violent gas, in fact, I probably wasn’t 1% of that kind of spooked out.

Scooby Dooby Doo where was he?

I liked the way he shook and shivered?

My name’s Vinny Vicks?

What is yours?

I bet it’s either Paul or Daniel?

I didn’t expect to burst into a nonsensical song, it just kind of happened, you know? I then realised that perhaps my use of the names “Paul” and “Daniel” was my mind going off on a tangent that I didn’t realise; it was as if my mind told me to think of Paul Daniels, and so I did. I thought about his shortness until I got bored and puked, or laughed, or basically died or went into hysterics in some good old-fashioned way. Oh and yes, that was the song that I burst (past tense) into, just because, but I was singing it in the snow by the cabin, and was singing it while lying in the ground and making snow angles. Some of them were 20° others were 90° and then some of them were a whopping 270°. But yes, in general, the day consisted of Paul Daniels, snow angles and not much, much more. And that was when I decided to go inside, and not much had changed, and the four of them continued to stay there being boring, with not a lot happening anyway. The rhododendron had been removed, I was going to ask where it was, but that was when I saw it in the bin that was situated in the kitchen, and by ‘bin’ I mean ‘skip’.

Life was boring right now, sure there was the fear of death coming up on us, but it just didn’t happen, nothing happened, and I found that quite boring, I was left there to be bored, it was as if I had been put on the world to be bored, and it was as if life would be like this forever and ever, amen. But enough about me, you’re probably wondering what was happening to those lovely interludes that you used to cherish so much, like a young puppy that only had three legs, or, more likely, you despised it like a kitten with five legs that refused to lend it’s leg out to the aforementioned puppy. But yes, the interludes would break things up, and fix them back together, and hopefully, at the end, we would be somewhere further with them, but we knew it would only set things back the extra bit. But I was tired, and the interlude guy wasn’t, so he probably wanted to give his two cents, or as some jerks might say ‘$0.02’. But yes, we will all hear about the interlude guy after this brief ripped-off message (or do I mean massage!? No, I do not.):

Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells. Flanders smells.

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Interlude Seven

Struggle is a term used to define someone’s attempts at achieving something, it is believed, I think. And to say that Vinny Vicks was struggling to tell a story which basically consists of absolutely fuck all, and to drag it out would be a truth. However, it demonstrates that, no matter how long and inevitably boring life is, that it does drag on, and everyone is making their lives drag on, the only difference here is that Vinny Vicks decided to tell people about how his life dragged on, rather than to suffer it silently, like so many people will do. So, now that you’re over two fifths through this novel, and thinking “Nothing’s happening, it’s just dragging on.” It’s probably at this point that you should realise that nothing is happening with your life, and that your life just keeps dragging on. Hopefully, this means that everyone will relate to this book, and that it will become published, and receive lots and lots of money, but honestly it won’t, because it’s just a drag, and no one wants to publish something that contains mere nothingness. So remember, no one really wants your thoughts and your life to be broadcasted, because it’s just as boring as this one, no matter how important you may think you are. You may also think that this would be a turning point, and something may now happen, but just like your life, it’s going nowhere and you better get used to it. If you can’t get used to this novel’s nonsense drabble, then you can’t get used to your life, so you might as well pull the trigger now, sweetie. If you think that this book has interesting thoughts, then you’re wrong, there are no interesting thoughts, and hence, it completes it’s similarities with real life, and that’s what matters about novels nowadays, oh and also the money they make, that tends to matter. Repetitiveness is an act that resorts when mind blocks occur, but repetitiveness also increases the chances of something actually sticking in someone’s mind, so if you think this novel may be repetitive at times, then that simply means that it’s sticking in your mind, and that this is one of the best novels to ever come from the horrible area of which it did, and in a way, that’s great. If you’re reading this and actually thinking that the story is better than the story that your life has led, this is probably true, and that some exciting and humourous things actually take place within this novel, and that nothing exciting and humourous happens in your life, and it is at this point when you should really consider why you even bothered waking up this morning.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

“That’s me in the corner, that’s me in the spot, right there, losing my religion.” – R.E.M Man

We were informed that within 2 or 3 days, a detective and/or an inspector would arrive to question us about the sexy death of the rhododendron. He then arrived four days later, because he was like that. He gave his name, his highly unsuspicious name giving no one any confusion that he was a real inspector, and that he really did exist; his name being “Mr. Ghost”. No one with such a suspicious name would admit it, and hence, he was unsuspicious and he did exist, I proved this by punching him in the face. After delivering his name (or was he dekidneyering it?), he asked us the time, though he done this in a manner whilst looking at his own watch.

“11:05” Answered I, well, really, I said “Eleven O-Five”.

“I thought as much.” Replied Mr. Ghost, looking at his watch and smiling to himself. Mr. Ghost was rather fat, the kind of fat that you snigger at, not the kind of fat that you feel the need to vomit at. “Oh.” He said this, but he didn’t really know where he was going with this. “…there was a murder?” he asked.

“Yes.” I answered.

“It’s…Eleven O-Seven now?” asked Mr. Ghost looking at his watch. I looked at my watch, noticed that it was 11:06, so waited a few seconds to answer.

“Yes.” I answered when redeemed fit.

“I’m glad you agree with me.” He guffawed in a manner that frustrated me highly.

“I disagree with your gladness.” Guffawed I, but I done it in a manner that I quite liked, and was quite proud of. Though Mr. Ghost looked frustrated. And as we both appeared we were frustrated we had breakfast and ate Frusties! (Instead of Frosties, it’s a joke, see.)

“So, tell me about the…” He paused, “It’s eleven twenty, is that right?”

“Yes, it’s eleven twenty.” I answered, looking at my watch, while he looked at his.

“I thought so.” He said, meanwhile, I considered the obvious fact that he clearly didn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked. This man seemed annoying, kind of like a chipmunk.

“Do you mind if I ask some questions?” he asked.

“You just did.” I guffawed. He guffawed at this too, it killed me. And this is how things went for a while, and we both got used to our guffawing ways. It probably annoyed all of us for a very long time, a bit like Sister Sledge did. And so I decided to walk the dog, but then I remembered a few facts, such as the fact that we didn’t have a dog, oh and Mr. Ghost was inspecting me (not sexually, of course) and so I couldn’t even leave the cabin, neither could the others, when they finally showed up from wherever they were. Everyone introduced themselves, and told Mr. Ghost the time whilst he looked at his watch.

Speaking of “watch”, I thought about Bernard’s Watch, a program which allowed this boy to pause time for some reason, in fact, I never saw it, but everyone talked about it, so. Basically, I wish I could have paused time a few times in my past, such as like, right then, when the inspector (Inspector, I hardly even know ‘or.) was there, and also this time that I bought a burger. It was a time in the early ‘80s, when I was just born, actually, that’s incorrect. It was the late ‘80s, but New South Wales was so far behind, it felt like the early ‘80s. Anyway, I was buying myself one of those burgers, because the television said that I would be loving it, and that it would be the best decision I would have made since the time I dressed as a piece of celery in some school production. Basically, I was the worst child actor out of all the children, so the school redeemed it fit for me to be a piece of celery for the nativity play, those who have read the bible will be aware that it’s the same piece of celery that provides Joseph and Mary with shelter at his stable, so that the son of God could be born. For some reason, the big inns at the time felt that having an inn that had held the birth of the immortally kind son of the creator of the universe was a bad thing, and so they had to settle for a stable, ran by a piece of celery. Basically I had one line:

“Hey, come on in to the stable, and give birth to Christ, $4.99 an hour.”

All the parents watching thought it was great, and loved it, and it was from here that I decided to retire from my successful acting career, and I haven’t regretted it since. And yes, I was planning on buying this burger, but had someone told me that the burgers were not that great, I would have used Bernard’s watch to pause time and steal a burger, to make sure that it tasted horrible, rather than wasting money on something that tasted horrible. But, I couldn’t pause time, and so I had to stay there with the inspector, and everyone else (was on fire, but they weren’t, it was just a joke, get over it.).

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I think I have a chance with this guy.” – Kristen, Teen Girl Squad

To say the inspector was nothing more than a time-questioning fatty would be a directional lie, as he was also very good at making you answer the questions that he asked, or maybe that was just because we were polite and that we would answer whatever he so wished us to do so. He also knew that his questions would result in confirmations for what it was that he already felt, and this put him in a good position to finding out whom it was that killed the rhododendron. And really, finding out who had done this was probably the only interesting thing that I could do with my life right now. We were all quite bored, having to tell Mr. Ghost the time, and that his watch was still neither too fast nor too slow. And then he decided to first confront Kelly.

“Kelly, tell me what you know about this rhododendron.”

“Roddy!” Ted protested.

“Okay, Kelly, tell me what you know about…Roddy.” Reapplied Mr. Ghost.

“Well, it’s just a bush, you know? Kinda funny looking.”

“In what way?” Asked the inspector.

“I dunno, just funny looking.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I couldn’t really say.” Answered Kelly, “It was trimmed.”

“Was it funny looking apart from that?”

“Oh, he was just funny-looking. More than most bushes, even.”

“Your story is very impressive, you must be proud.” Stated Mr. Ghost with strength.

“I’m just a simple woman, trying to make my way in New South Wales, Inspector Ghost.” Replied Kelly in a snapping manner.

“Aren’t we all?” Questioned the inspector. “Ever made your way as far as to that light switch, and then to the place where Roddy was situated and back to the light switch at around the time of 13:00 on the 12^th December?” He wanted answers, and he wanted them quickly.

“Once or twice.”

“Recently?” He prompted.

“Possibly.” Answered Kelly, while looking at the inspector in an eyeful manner.

“Ever heard of a man named John Franco?”

“John who?” Kelly felt daring enough to ask a question.

“John Franco, was he not your ex-boyfriend from 1988?”

“Never heard of him, I went out with a guy called Ian Yung.”

“Curious…” Stated the inspector in reply to this seemingly useless information.

“Do you like your hair?” Asked Mr. Ghost, and he sounded quite perverted as he did so.

“Yes, why shouldn’t I?”

“It’d be an awful shame were someone to cut it off, no?”

“An awful shame.” Replied Kelly, the floozy who appeared to imagine what it would be like with no hair.

“So why would you perform such acts on Roddy!? It was an awful shame that his leaves and twigs got cut off.”

“An awful shame.” Repeated Kelly.

“So why did you do it!?” He was being very forward, a little too forward.

“Oh, AFAIK I didn’t.” Stated Kelly, she now seemed intent on confusing the inspector.

“AFAIK?”

“As far as I know, it means as far as I know.” And she was succeeding with these intentions.

“I see.” Said the inspector, although he actually didn’t see (in the non-literal sense, of course.) “So, you admit that you murdered and slaughtered the plant?”

“Roddy.” Repeated Ted Vicks, who was my brother, but you probably knew that.

“So, you admit that you murdered and slaughtered Roddy?” Rephrased Mr. Ghost.

“I done no such thing, perhaps I wanted to, but I didn’t, someone beat me to it.”

“Ah, so you wanted to see the death of the bush, but were afraid of carrying out the act?”

“I suppose.”

“Hmmmmm, hmmmmmmmmmm.” He said in a manner that suggested that he was actually thinking, and that he actually knew where he was going, and what he was actually talking about. “So, perhaps, you encouraged someone else to carry out this treacherous act?”

“Not verbally, though I may have done it subconsciously through my mind powers of which I (don’t) have.”

“Hmm, so you confess to not killing it, but perhaps influencing the murder?”

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Admitted Kelly.

“I’ll admit, I’m not sure if that’s against the law of not, so right now, just go to your room.” And so, Kelly went to her room, Mr. Ghost moved on. “Which brings me onto Robert Rico.”

Robert stood up, as if he had just been called to attention, or something similar in terms of standing up abruptly. The inspector wanted to hear his story.

“I want to hear your story.” Stated the inspector in a manner that suggested that he wanted to hear Robert Rico’s story.

“Ok, I suppose this is my story then.” And Robert prepared himself for a story of a lifetime.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Now this is a story all about how my life got twisted upside down.” – Will Smith (I feel dirty for quoting him too.)

So yes, Robert went through an interesting (or more likely, not interesting) monologue:

“New South Wales – Six days ago. A bank got jacked for $100,000. The bank manager never saw it coming, but somebody fucked up. He heard a voice. Sometimes, that’s all you need. The four of us, and Kelly were bought up and accused of a bank robbery. It didn’t make sense that I be there. I mean, these guys all had hardcore bank robbing skills, but there I was. At that point, I wasn’t scared. I knew I hadn’t done anything. Besides, it was fun. I got to make like I was a bank robber. They lined us up, and we all stood there, not that anyone could say that any of us had done it. It was bullshit. The whole rap was a set-up. Everything is Policeman1 and Policeman2’s fault. You don’t put guys like us in a room together, who knew what could happen? Somebody was pissed about the bank getting robbed and there was no evidence. It was a violation, I mean disgraceful. They went after Mr. Schnapps first. He was a good guy. Crazy though.”

“Vinny Vicks always worked with Ted Vicks. He was a real tight-ass, but when it came to the job, he was right on. Smart guy. A dingo. Got whatever you needed for next to nothing, I mean anything, singing fish for $20, anything. And that was how it began, the five of us were a group, thanks to the meaningless line-up. What the cops never figured out, and what I know now, was that these guys would never break, never bend over for anybody…anybody. Apart from Mr. Schnapps, I’d daresay that he would bend over for anybody.”

The inspector redeemed it fit to break in at this point.

“Robert, you do realise I’m trying to help you?”

“Sure. And I appreciate that. And I want to help you, Mr. Ghost. I like inspectors.”

“Robert, I know that you know something that I don’t.”

“I do know many things that you don’t.” Replied Robert “For example, did you know that, really, it doesn’t take chewing gum seven years to go through your body, and that it really goes through as any normal substance?”

“I did not know that, Robert.” Replied the inspector, you could tell that he was considering the gum fact. “Anyway, I know you liked Vinny Vicks, I know you think that he is a good man.”

“He is a good man.” Protected Robert.

“He’s a failed artist, Robert.”

“Sure, two weeks ago, but he was a good bank robber.”

“I just want to hear your story.” Said the inspector, and he was being honest.

“It’s right here, probably.”

“Do you know a man named Freddy Knox?” Asked the inspector.

“You know a religious guy named John Paul?” Retorted Robert Rico.

“And you do know that he’s in prison?”

“Yes, but, he actually committed a crime, so.”

“Now, what happened after the bank robbery?” The inspector was bored of guessing games, probably.

“Well, we spent the money wisely, on singing fish, summer fashions, nachos, that sort of thing.”

“And a plant, I presume?”

“And a plant.” Answered Robert Rico, this was the most I had heard him since I had known him, and it was all in one chapter.

“And it was this plant that led to the destruction of the group, Kelly hated it, and we all feared it, all of us except for Ted Vicks, that is. Anyway, one day, we were all just sitting there for some reason, and then the lights went off, and we commented about how the lights had gone off. Actually, that was a lie, it was completely silent. And then the lights came on and ‘Roddy’ was murdered. No one heard the murder, no one felt it, and it was creepy.”

“Ever heard of a guy called Kevin Smoken?” Questioned Mr. Ghost who sensed as if he might rap it up.

“No, I haven’t.”

“He was the guy that set it up for one of the five of you to murder him.”

“I said I never heard of him.”

“But Vinny Vicks had, Kevin Smoken snapped the power off, while no one was watching, allowing enough time for Vinny Vicks to carry out the murder, and then Kevin Smoken turned the power back on.”

“But how – Wait. You’re saying Smoken sent Vinny Vicks to kill someone?” This was very difficult for Robert to take in. Meanwhile, I was finding this quite difficult to accept, but I was pretty much off-scene and only heard this story to talk about it, and didn’t have a personal experience while I was there, which is hard to explain, but just accept it, okay?

“I’m saying that Vinny Vicks did it.” And Mr. Ghost continued “He planned it all, though he didn’t want to kill any of you.”

“He wanted me to live.” Said Robert.

“That’s what I just said, Robert. And this is the real twist, Vinny Vicks was Kevin Smoken, who set it all up.”

“No…” Protested Robert.

“Vinny Vicks was Kevin Smoken!”

“NO.” Protested Robert again.

“The kind of man that could wrangle failed artists like yourself and Mr. Schnapps. The kind of man that could draw in his brother. The kind of man that could set up the needless line up.”

“NO!” Robert sure was protesting a lot.

“THE KIND OF MAN THAT COULD HAVE KILLED A RHODODENDRON.”

“But why Vinny Vicks? Why not someone unexpected, like Ted, or me. I’m stupid, I’m quiet, I’m indecisive, why not me?” Questioned Robert who seemed tense at the idea.

“Because you’re stupid, Robert. Because you’re quiet, Robert. Because you’re indecisive, Robert.”

“Tell me the truth Robert, it was him that killed the rhododendron.”

“It was all Vinny Vicks. We sat that all along, allowing him to do it.” Robert was breaking down.

“I KNEW IT!” Celebrated the inspector. “I ROCK! I WORKED IT OUT AGAIN! HA HA! Vinny Vicks, you are so being locked up.”

I cried, because, I knew that I didn’t really do it, and that Robert had lied, most probably just to get me locked up, because it was him, but either way, I was on my way to prison, and that sucked, really.

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Interlude Eight

Yes, you read correctly, Vinny Vicks has been sent to prison, but don’t worry, there will be no homosexual rape scenes to cringe at. Also, although Vinny Vicks did not actually kill the rhododendron, there will be no real further mention of it being someone else. It was probably Robert Rico, but I can tell you from this point forward that Robert Rico is unlikely to feature once again within this novel, because, he’s had his fame, he went to art school, and he’s useless. Perhaps Robert Rico has died, or perhaps we’ll never find out. Kelly Darca remains in her room as Mr. Ghost (who is also to disappear from the novel) never told her otherwise, and she was too much of a floozy to come out. Ted Vicks is still alive, and has gone to visit his mother’s for an indefinite time. Mr. Schnapps is still wandering about like the alien he is, and we’re bound to hear more from him later. Kevin Smoken didn’t really exist either, Mr. Ghost just went all wacko for the fun of it.

Vinny Vicks is in prison, and it’s one of those un-fun prisons where he mostly has to just lie there and collect his thoughts. He does have a roommate though, which we will hear about shortly. So, that’s the status, and to re-summarise:

Kelly Darca: Locked in her room.

Ted Vicks: At his mother’s house.

Mr. Schnapps: Wandering about.

Robert Rico: Deceased until further notice.

Mr. Ghost: Deceased

Vinny Vicks: Prison, one of the none-homosexual rape ones.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Oh.” – Many People

Prison. It was hellish bad, and I had only been there for 5 seconds. Five whole seconds, and no sign of homosexual rape, this was one of those normal prisons I had heard about. I looked for any signs of Mr. Policeman2 and Mr. Policeman1 but they were nowhere to be seen. I went into my cell, which had two beds, but only one person (being me). I found it hard to believe that I wasn’t going straight to prison without a hearing or anything, but it’s New South Wales, so. I seemed to accept being imprisoned for an indefinite amount of time pretty easily. To be honest, I was more concerned about when I would be fed, or rather, what I would be fed. I lay in bed, it was near nighttime, and so it seemed a good idea to try and sleep on the bed, it seemed like quite a fun idea. All of a sudden, I heard a noise, it was some guy falling off of his bed, and everyone laughed at this, and then slept. It was the worst sleep I’ve ever had, everyone was snoring and stuff, and no one can sleep when someone’s snoring before you have a chance to let your head hit the pillow. Of course, my mind was elsewhere, why would my mind want to suffer in prison as well? I thought about the Gang That Gets In Trouble Of Sorts, and whether I would ever see some of them, I mean, I didn’t know how long I would be in prison for, and what may happen with the others. Though I got the feeling that I would never see Robert Rico again, for some reason. That sucked, because, I hated him quite a lot, for stitching me up, as he did. I was unsure what had happened to Kelly, she didn’t appear to be in the prison, so had probably got away with any kind of charge for influencing “my” killings. Ted Vicks and Mr. Schnapps’ lives were undecided in my mind, whether they stayed together in the cabin or not, I didn’t know.

For some reason, we never took much interest in Mr. Schnapps’ ability to be an alien from Twatooine; we assumed this explained his large orange-skinned forehead, but I never knew if he actually had special powers, and also how and why he actually got to planet Earth, but I still didn’t really care, so. The cell was cold, colder than the cells I had used with Microsoft Excel. It was damp also, the cell, not Excel. Those that don’t know, a damp and cold cell sucks, and it sucks hard, in a non-sexual, non-arousing way. And when you’re in a damp cold cell, with nothing but your thoughts and a spare pair of socks, life can be difficult to struggle through. And I did find it hard to struggle through; I didn’t even have a roommate to suffer with, so I just lay there, thinking until I fell asleep. I later awoke, at a time of which the prison was glad to let us out, this was my first time to find out what the prison was actually like, and it was basically, ten cells, a food court, some police officer’s room like thing, and a pool room, to play pool in, I assumed. It was after seeing these rooms that I thought I’d be better off to return to my own room, and so I did. I later got hungry, and went to the food court. It was horrible. Although there was a wide choice of food, it was all horrible stuff, like McDonalds and that kind of crap. So I decided to starve, I felt I could cope a few hours without food for now, until I got really, really hungry. So I once again returned to my bed, and I felt a habit growing. Although there must have been about 15 other people there, none of them really talked to each other, apart from the occasional pointing and laughing at the one which fell off of his bed during the night. They were all pretty anti-social, which suited me fine, as I didn’t care an awful much. And that was my boring life in prison almost over, when my roommate arrived.

My roommate went by the name of George Davis.

For those that skipped Chapter Twenty-Four, George Davis was this guy that beat me at darts when I was 10, and when he was 14. He was now 24, and he remained to appear to be quite a sturdy fellow. I didn’t recognise him instantly of course, what with me being blind when I first saw him and such, but I recognised his name when he gave it to me, and he barely managed to remember my name when I returned it. He was in prison for something worse than I; he had recently, purposefully spilt 4 gallons of milk all over the fields of New South Wales, and was bound to be in prison for a longer length than I. This meant that I would have to share a room with him for as long as I was in prison, which was not good. I showed him around the prison, pointing out the ten cells, the food court, the police officer’s room like thing, and the pool room as the noticeable places. George seemed rather weirded out by the pool room, I asked him if he was still into darts and he claimed that he wasn’t, but he still seemed to be fascinated by the pub style sports. He asked me for a game, to which I rejected, I wasn’t too bad at pool, maybe, but I had never played it with my miraculously working sight. However, there was a pool tournament available for those who signed up, and I decided to do so. The tournament was in a week, or what one might classify as seven days, so I had time to prepare, and I did so. It was a British 15-ball table, with 7 reds, 7 yellows, and one black ball (which I assume is used to not appear racist). I did practice, but I made sure to do so when George was somewhere else, I didn’t want to experience losing to him again, were I to face him.

I appeared to do quite well, and played a friendly game with Kenny Watts, who I beat twice out of my three attempts, however, Kenny Watts wasn’t too good a player so I don’t know how good this was. The week went by pretty quickly, I was quite excited, and anticipated the tournament, and my desire to escape from the prison wasn’t too high, as George had bought a de-humidifier with him making our cell a hell of a lot less damper. We spent the nights talking about the tournament, I pretended that I wasn’t frightened to play him, and that I would beat him were I to play him. We made a truce to not play any friendly matches against each other, so that we had a grudge against each other, despite not knowing how skilled the other one really was at pool. The day before the tournament, there were 8 people signed up, and so the police cop guys pulled the names out of a hat, and used the order of which was chosen to make the 4 matches. I had avoided George (who had the simple task of beating Kenny Watts in the first round), while I received the challenge to defeat someone by the name of Trevor Whitten. Trevor was in prison for burning a pool club after he had been defeated, so I assumed that being him might be easy, but having him accept it would be a different task altogether. Myself and George took our food into our cells that day, and conversed about our opponents, I told George that he should get through easily, while he told me that it was him that had beating Trevor causing him to burn the club down. We then slept, George snored, but it was in a quiet and cute way, that a child would snore like, so I managed to sleep through it.

The tournament began at 10am, and we were woken up at 5:30am, by the fat guy that fell out of bed, so we had time to waste. There actually wasn’t a prize to be won, other than self-satisfaction, which was probably good, because someone would have stolen it anyway. We went to the food court, and had some form of congealed breakfast. Then the pool tournament began, and everyone was there, well, the eight players and the voluntary/forced policeman to be referee were there, and so, we didn’t need anyone else. George played first, and he played pretty well, and won the first two frames, or games, and that was enough for him to get through. Then two other games went past, of which I paid little attention to, and then Trevor Whitten and Vinny Vicks was the next game to take place.

And yes, what a game it was bound to probably be. Everyone was not too excited, they felt that it was now between George David and Henry Harvey, who would play the winner of the match that I was involved in, so Henry was just making sure that he didn’t have too much of a difficult competition in the next round. The first frame was decisive, and would easily give the winner the upper hand, and after the break, and the obvious balls had been potted, there were 4 reds and 2 yellows remaining, and I was on reds. I managed to pocket two of them, but after miss hitting the next shot, Trevor went away and won the first frame. In my opinion, it was a bad thing that I had lost the first frame, but a good thing that Trevor didn’t seem like he would burn me the way I was playing, but I had gotten into the mood to pocket balls efficiently, although I promised to talk about the majority of shots to carry out the tension. My break was good, I had potted two of the yellows, so I was already ahead, Trevor didn’t look very happy, though. I also managed to run in another three yellows until I became stuck, and Trevor had enough reds to hit. He managed to get to two reds, and we were even, but with it being my turn, and with my turn consisting of two fairly easy pots, and then a slight struggle on the black, I felt confident.

However, I fucked it up on the black, and lost, and that was the end of that, George Davis seemed most pleased with himself, Trevor seemed most pleased that he didn’t have to burn the prison down, and I seemed most pleased about not having to fear playing George. Oh. It was at this point that I was also pleased that I had secretly dug a tunnel going out of the prison, and that, somehow no one had noticed it. So, in my depressive state, and really not wanting to stick around in prison anymore I left, and no one really cared that I had left, despite the fact that I murdered a rhododendron that meant a lot to my brother, according to someone, Mr. Ghost? Yes, it was his fault, if I remember correctly. I was a free man, and God could see that this was good.

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Chapter Thirty

“The long and winding road, that leads to your door.” – Paul McCartney / John Lennon

So I had broken out, and I wasn’t all too sure where to go, so, on the spur of the moment, I decided to walk home. I knew the way there, and also knew that it shouldn’t take me too long, it was only a car journey distance, and walking it wouldn’t take more than 2 hours. This was before I realised that I walk a hell of a lot slower than the average automobile, and it in fact took me a few days. People referred to me as a fast walker, however, I simply referred to them as slow walkers, and that I simply walked a normal pace. Also, due to my anti-socialistic style, I found that walking by one’s self rather than in a group was a lot quicker. In groups, there tends to be an increased chance that one of them is a very slow walker, and so, they have to walk at the pace of the slowest person. However, as they try to do this, they actually walk slower, and hence an infinite loop of slowness begins. Groups pissed me off; they were the slowest people, in the brief cases when I did accidentally walk in a group I had to walk so slow it tired me out, I would find it difficult to walk that slow, I just had to walk quicker. However, there are a few exceptions, if you’re walking in a group whilst all members of aforementioned group are wearing black suits with thin ties, then it is far more than suitable to walk very slowly, and act slowly whilst removing sunglasses or the suchlike. And due to everyone else being slow walkers, I had to walk past them, I sometimes felt rude when I had to walk past old people, it was as if I was stating that there ability to walk was dying. And walking past groups was awkward, because it meant that I would have to step on the road, or something and due to my high paranoia every time I see a car aiming itself for me, this makes walking on roads quit irritating for me. Anyway, I was walking home, this was somewhat a new entertainment for me, however, the soles (or should that be souls?) of my feet did get tired very early, and didn’t seem keen on walking for a very long time. I enjoyed the walk though; it allowed me to think about the fun and exciting things that hadn’t happened to me over the recent months, though I looked forward to go home. I wasn’t sure why I was going home, perhaps I did want to see my mother, perhaps I expected Ted to be there, or perhaps I just didn’t have a better idea. I had a feeling that the cabin would be empty by now, no one would have wanted to stay there, too many bad memories. Thankfully, it didn’t rain, it was summer, and Christmas was coming up, which made me hurrah at the thought. Christmas was a time that reduced to no actual presents, I was twenty now, and hadn’t bought anyone any presents, apart from a child’s laughter. I didn’t really have anyone to buy presents for, and there wasn’t anyone to buy presents for me. So I concluded that my hurrah was useless. The sun was eventually on it’s fall, and my legs could have done with a meaningful rest, so I decided to sleep where I was, which luckily, happened to be Travel Inn. After booking the room, I went to my room, ate some ice, flicked through the TV channels, of which sadly, were all locked out and then slept. And unlike most of my sleeps, which just see me fighting a battle to actually get to sleep and see me thinking about everything, this time, I just went to sleep, and it was nice to be able to do such a thing. It was so nice, that I couldn’t remember feeling so happy since I had broken away from a prison. Alas, that was less than a day ago, but it wasn’t my fault that two good things happened in one day, and that the first was the slightly better of the two.

I awoke, as I tended to do after I slept, and it was at this point when I decided to consider how good my photographic memory appeared to be. I loved my ability to recall details in such a vivid manner. Surely this meant that I had a great memory, and should be paid for a proper job or something? (No it doesn’t, and don’t call me Shirley.) But still, it was some kind of an achievement, which was good, but right now, I had to walk home, which was only ¼ mile away. YES, I KNOW. I should have just gone home the night before, SHUT UP, OK? PLEASE. THANK YOU.

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Chapter Thirty-One

“Christmas time, mistletoe and wine.” – Cliff Richard

I arrived home; I had opened the door to the house, which seemed like a wise choice. My mother wasn’t in the house, but my brother was, which was quite unexpected. Ted Vicks was all:

“Holy schmoes, you’re not in jail!” He said.

“No, I’m not.” I stated.

“Why not?”

“Because, I didn’t kill you bush.” I replied.

“Oh good, I’d grown tired of hating you.” I felt touched.

“I feel touched.” I was thinking about the rest of the gang. “What happened to the others?” I asked.

“Robert has disappeared, he chanted something like ‘I GOT AWAY WITH IT!’ and then left, Mr. Schnapps is somewhere, and Kelly’s in her room.”

“What a floozy.” I stated. “Where’s mother?”

“She’s dead.”

That hit me pretty hard, it’s fair to say I wasn’t expecting it, and Ted had said it in such a direct manner, it was hard to deal with. I got quite emotional right there.

“Hah ha, I’m just kidding, she’s in the shed.” Ted then recovered. Ted always said weird things like that, things that made you want to stab a corkscrew in his eye, but he was all right.

“Oh.” I said, trying to come to deals with why God would let my mother go to the shed, why does stuff like that happen to good people? “Where’s the fish?”

“It’s still in the cabin.”

“Ah.” There was a weird silence between our talking, I had the feeling that one of us was keeping something from the other, but I didn’t know what. And I didn’t feel like pushing anything. “How are things?”

“Pretty good, it’s a bit too warm for my liking, and tomorrow is Christmas, but hey, it’s the sixties.” Ted was always saying things like ‘it’s too warm’ and ‘it’s the sixties’ even though both of these statements were strongly false.

“It’s Christmas tomorrow?” Asked I.

“Yes.”

“Ah. I haven’t got anyone anything, by the way.”

“Me neither.”

“You can be a right bitch sometimes, Ted.”

“Ditto, only, replacing ‘Ted’ with ‘Vinny Vicks’”

“Must you always refer to me by my full name?” Questioned I.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“In order with the prophecy.”

“Sigh.” I actually said ‘sigh’ and didn’t actually breathe a sigh; I was ironic like that at times. “I’m going out.”

“You’re going out?” For some reason my brother felt the need to ask me a question to which I had just answered before he even got to question it.

“I’m going out.” It would have been rude for me not to answer.

“You haven’t even seen mother yet, aren’t you curious to see what she’s doing in the shed?”

“Not really,” I replied, “I’d rather get a taco.”

I knew a good place that sold tacos, and by ‘sold’ I mean ‘gave’. So I went next door to speak to the neighbours and get a few tacos, I didn’t actually feel like giving a preference to filling, so I ate the taco on it’s own and that was fine by me. I decided to wander about the area, to see what had changed in two weeks and whatever length of time I had been gone, there were more Christmas decorations up than there used to be, but I suppose I expected it. Christmas wasn’t a fun time of the year, it was just another day to me, sure, Jesus Christ was born, but why should everyone else get presents on his birthday?

I remember this kid at school, who had his birthday on the 25^th December, and we all called him Jesus, and he played Jesus in the nativity play of which I was a piece of celery. There was also this kid that gelled his hair in a sold firm bowl, and his jet black hair forced us to refer to him as Hitler. Obviously, being in a class containing Jesus and Hitler was bound to bring a few laughs, what was funny was that Hitler was a bit of a nerd, and got all the answers right, especially at maths. But Jesus, he was quite rebellious, and used to be the kind that would say “Sir” when the teacher was female, and claim it was an accident, but we all knew that he did it on purpose. We used to encourage Hitler and Jesus to get into a fight, at the age of 7, the prospect of seeing someone whom is believed to be the son of Christ battle against one of the most ruthless dictators seemed quite humourous, and the children sold tickets to allow us to watch, it because a bi-monthly thing, they would fight on the 10^th and the 20^th of each month, unless it was a weekend. If it were a weekend, then we’d postpone it till the Monday, which made the fighters fresher, and promised a good fight. I’ll be honest; Hitler was too nerdy to make much a fight, and Jesus would usually win the fights. For some reason, the teachers didn’t care, but they were probably betting on it also. I felt sorry for Hitler, not only did his classmates refer to him as ‘Nazi Man!’ but also it was the fact that his parents would actually let him go outside the house looking like that. You must have been quite a bad parent if you encouraged your child, whom had black hair, to gel it in a bowl reminiscent of the führer. I felt sorry for Jesus also, not only did his classmates refer to him as ‘God’s Son!’ but also it was the fact that his parents would actually let him be born on a date like that. You must have been quite a bad parent if you encouraged to give birth on the same date as when the most famous Jew (behind only Natalie Portman, Harrison Ford, Woody Allen, Dustin Hoffman, Billy Joel, Elvis Presley, Paul Simon, Art Garfunkel, David Blaine, Pete Sampras and Boris Becker). Our fun came to a stop the next school year, when Jesus moved to Cincinnati in America, and so we had to pick on Hitler ourselves, until this kid that could do impressions came to school, but he done impressions of everyone, like, Cary Grant and Mark Hamill, and even Bill Murray. I can’t watch a Bill Murray films without thinking of the school’s impressionist.

So, I think we just accepted Christmas as any normal day; bad stuff still happened on Christmas day, just as they did on other days, if anything, more bad things happened on Christmas, especially in my experience.

One Christmas morning, when I was 13 and waiting for Satan to fill my stocking, this ghost came (and it wasn’t Mr. Ghost) and warned me that three ghosts would visit me in the night. Being as blind as I was, I barely cared, and as I was tired, my hearing was not as good as it could have been, and it turned out that three combs came to visit me, and all was well.

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Chapter Thirty-Two

“And I never met a girl like you before.” – That guy, that no one could remember.

Several uneventful months passed, and by uneventful, I mean, even by my standards. I met a possum, and that was about all the happened. His name was Frank, and he liked doing possum-like things, and I accepted him for what he was, a possum. He was fairly edible, if I do say so myself, especially in a stew.

I was back in the cabin by this time, and still didn’t actually see my mother nor did I find out what she was doing in the shed. I had met Kelly at the cabin, or rather, I met her decomposing corpse, still standing there, waiting to be told if she could go or not. I decided that sharing a cabin with a decomposing corpse was not ideal, and used a brush and whatever to sweep her under the rug. My fish was still there, as was my jar of hair. These were still the only two possessions I had, despite still having about $18,000. Ted decided to stay and live with his mother, as most 36 year olds would. I was now 21, which meant I could drink in New Zealand, provided I didn’t get caught up in an earthquake whilst ordering my drink. Being 21 wasn’t an awful lot different from being 20, apart from that I felt older, and felt that there would be a shortage of chairs for me.

I probably should have thought about Kelly’s death, and her importance to the story of my life, but it wouldn’t have taken an awful lot of time, so I decided to do something else. I had the whole cabin to myself, which was great; it was warm, despite it now being the winter months, (the winter months being June or July, because it’s Australia, and it’s all upside down, see).

Due to there being a shortage of characters, I decided to find love. Finding love wasn’t too difficult for me, I wasn’t too ugly, and I had a fun sense of humour that most would despise, and this appeared to be the type of guys that managed to get into relationships. I decided that the best way to do this was to find a girl. I did this by going to where I expected to find a high ratio of them: the women’s toilets in an airport. This seemed like the ideal place to meet a lot of girls, as (from my knowledge of the three airports I had used in recent times) that women would never use the toilets on the planes, and hence use the toilets at the airport. Men, meanwhile, either managed to contain themselves and actually claim their baggage quickly rather then get caught up in the traffic, or used the toilets on the plane, so. I imagine that a woman in search for love would find it a difficult case in a men’s restroom at an airport, as most “men” would be under the age of 8. But yes, after spending a few minutes in the women’s restroom, which wasn’t too comfortable to stay in, this girl walked in, and she was ugly. So I waited further, until a cute girl came, and eventually a cute girl came (not literally though, haw haw haw). She had this cute kind of looking face, but one that suggested she also needed to urinate. And I allowed her to perform such acts. When she came out of her cubicle, I tried to start a conversation:

“Hi.” I said, this seemed like a good introduction to what kind of person I was.

“Hello.” She replied, which was the kind of response I probably should have expected.

“Do you need help with your baggage?” I asked, this was probably stupid, and she probably thought I worked there or something.

“Umm, sure.” She thought about this, I think she realised that I knew her secret about her being cute, and I think she was considering how ugly or un-ugly I was before she said yes. I was happy with my progress, but was relieved to find out that there wasn’t some kind of fat, tall, scary boyfriend with her. Knowing of how she had just landed here, I realised that she may in fact not be from New South Wales, while we were waiting for her luggage or baggage, I’m not sure what you’re supposed to call it these days, to be honest, I continued the conversation.

“So, whereabouts are you from?”

“I’ve come from Perth.” She answered, this wasn’t too bad, but wasn’t too good. “But, I’ve come to live in Sydney.” This was good, pretty good. “Whereabouts do you live?” She asked me.

“New South Wales.” I answered.

“New South Wales is pretty big, could you be more precise? Canberra? Sydney?”

“Oh, well, I don’t think I live in Canberra or Sydney, I think I live in a quite quiet place with few people. I’m not too sure of the area; to be honest it’s forever changing. I couldn’t even say where I lived. But it’s a fairly silent place with few people.”

“I see.” She said, smiling one of those ‘Look how cute I am, you won’t be able to resist picking up my exceedingly heavy bags’ smile. And yes, her baggage was heavy.

“What have you got in these suitcases!?” I managed to avoid adding a sarcastic ‘ROCKS!?’ statement, I didn’t want to seem cruel to her in anyway.

“Rocks.” She answered, smiling that ‘Look how cute I am, you’ve got to carry these through this whole terminal’ kind of smile. “I’m a geologist.”

“Oh.” I said, thinking, “That rocks.” I said, in my pathetic ironic way, she gave one of those cute laughs. I was pretty pathetic, but she was pretty cute, and life forces men to become such pathetic men when life forces women to become such cute women. She had these clothes on, which was possibly good, she had these baggy-looking kind of trousers on that weren’t actually baggy, but they just looked like they were. And she was wearing some kind of dark green shirt with some weird writing on (but she was from Perth, so) and a similarly dark green fleece jacket that was zipped up to about halfway. She had these green-ish kind of eyes that were really emphasised by her long brown hair, which had blonde highlights that weren’t natural, but you had to claim they were, or girls slapped you for that sort of thing. As she was a geologist, I assumed that she was quite clever; this was bad for me, as clever people tend to be clever enough to know that they should avoid me, but hey, it’s the sixties, as Ted would say.

“So, are you living with anyone in Sydney, or on your own?” I asked her; I wanted answers, probably, so.

“I know a friend in Sydney, she’s got a large flat, and says that there’s more than enough room for me, so I’m moving in with her.” She smiled that ‘Look how cute I am, I’m sharing a room with another cute girl’ kind of smile, and I returned with my pathetic ‘you’re cute’ smile. I felt pathetic, but I felt great also. I was pretty smitten with this girl, and she didn’t seem to hate me, but I was carrying her rocks for her, so. She was getting a taxi, or a cab, whatever us Australians call them nowadays.

“So, are you in Sydney for University, or what?” I was all questioning her, and she didn’t know a thing about me, but I liked her, and wanted to know these stuff, which was quite unlike me, so I encouraged these feelings I had towards a cute girl. She probably still thought that I worked at the airport.

“Oh, no, I’m digging holes around Sydney to study for rocks for my own personal entertainment.” The actual words were sarcastic, but she said it in an un-sarcastic way, so I needed confirmation.

“Really?” I asked, as if I didn’t believe her at all, though I did.

“Yeah, there’s some nice rocks around Sydney: Limestone; Concrete, that kind of stuff.” She smiled that cute ‘Look how cute I am, I’m being serious about the concrete though’ kind of smiles, I always recognised those smiles. We were coming near to her taxi or cab, so I tried to slow my walking down as much as I could without seeming too slow, as I hate walking slowly. She started to question me.

“So, what do you actually do?” She went and asked the one question I really couldn’t have an answer for.

“Oh, well, I don’t have a job as such, but I get money from hobbies like art.” This seemed to impress her, so I decided to not tell her that my only artistic piece was a jar full of my own hair. We got to her taxi, or her cab, I forget which, and I put the suitcase in the trunk, or boot, whatever it’s called, and we said our goodbyes in a cute way. We swapped telephone numbers, as well as e-mail addresses, however, I hadn’t bothered to get one before, so I just gave her vinny_vicks21@hotmail.com and hoped that no one else had registered it. Her address was something that wasn’t too cute and pathetic, but cute enough to make sure that I wanted to speak to her again. She had the hotmail address of “severe_hottie” which I found to be quite humourous, but didn’t give me any clues to her name (which was quite weird, I normally found out other people’s names quite quickly), so I asked her as thus:

“I don’t know your name?” I assumed she had guessed mine from my e-mail address.

“Oh, it’s Kate Jenner.”

“K. Thx. Bi.” I said, while thinking that this name was pretty cute, and she exited my life right there, but she’ll probably return.

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Chapter Thirty-Three

“I can’t live, if living is without you.” – That guy, the one that Celine Dion stole off of.

I returned home, by which I mean the cabin, and went onto the computer, because, we had one, I just didn’t mention it because I wouldn’t want to mention something that was unimportant at the time. But yes, I wandered onto to the computer to register the recently mentioned e-mail address, and I did, and no one stopped me, so I breathed a sigh of relief. I thusly added severe_hottie, and then just waited. Sure, I had her phone number, but I’ve always not liked phones. It irritates me to hear a person without seeing them, though I don’t mind reading text from them when not seeing them. Also, talking on a phone didn’t feel manly, and there were all too many awkward silences when you felt bored. And everyone’s voice sounds terrible on the phone, even mine. And yes, I do have a nice voice, I suppose. I must have a nice voice; I live in New South Wales, in one of the quiet parts, shhhhsh.

‘Cute Kate’ wasn’t online, and so I stopped waiting, and instead did something far more interesting than sitting at a computer. I stood up at the computer, and this was a novelty for a few seconds, before I got the feeling that stabbing my eye with a toenail would be more fun. So I decided to wander about, I suppose I was waiting for the phone to ring, although, I didn’t know whether Kate would really call me. I hoped she would, but my pessimistic nature tells me that she wasn’t awfully interested in me; this was due to the events of my previous girlfriend. That was 4 years before, when I was 17 (it was a very good year, it was a very good year for small town girls), her name was, actually, I forget, but basically, she was horrible, her hobbies included stabbing me in the back and generally not liking me, so my expectations of Kate were perhaps too high, but hey, it’s the sixties. Maybe she did like me, I did carry her rocks for her, and were I to tell her that I liked socks, that would be a connection for us, and it’d be great. I assumed that she had gotten to her friend’s flat, and that, by now, she was probably putting her rocks all over the place. I wondered if she was telling my friend about how this guy met her in the restroom’s and then followed her to help her baggage and take it to the taxi or the cab…when I say it like that, I almost sound perverted. I hope she didn’t tell her friend, probably.

I decided to try and forget about her that day, she surely wasn’t going to phone, or come online on the first day, but I still wanted to stay inside the cabin just in case she rang, maybe. Oh, I was a fool, and I could see I was a fool, and everyone could see that I was a fool ALL the time, but I didn’t care, because, I needed character development right now.

I decided to clean the cabin, apart from under the rug of where had been left my former gang member. Kelly suffered from ugly disease, and so, her death was no real loss, and so her death didn’t affect anyone. But Kate was a severe hottie, and basically the cutest thing I had seen since that kitten I accidentally killed when I was 3 (I was blind and squashed it by accident, but assumed it was cute) and so her death would have sucked, so it was good that she was still alive. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, this girl that I had seen for not much more than 15 minutes was controlling my mind, yet, I couldn’t remember people that I’ve talked to for 24 hours on a plane to Wales. But for some reason, it felt right that this geologist who collected concrete as a hobby was the woman for me. I knew virtually nothing about her, but it didn’t matter.

She didn’t ring, I didn’t expect her to, so I was fine, and managed to not threaten suicide on myself. Mainly because I know that I can’t actually carry out the act of performing suicide on myself (as opposed to someone else). I had thought about suicide in the past, but not to any extreme lengths. Mainly because I knew that, when it came down to it, I couldn’t bring myself to voluntarily die, it was something I just didn’t want to do. Every time I thought “I’ve had enough.” Somehow, a positive side that never existed pops in and adds “But tomorrow will be fun.” And so, life was good. Life remained good because, it did.

Once again, I saw a night that involved me not being able to sleep. Partially because sweeping up a decomposed corpse, but mostly because I was muchly smitten with a woman I knew little about, other than her phone number, her e-mail address, and the fact that she was cuter than a penguin in a large hamster wheel. My mind was bored of not having female contact right now; I didn’t feel that I needed any until then. I was happy with single life, but ever since Ted left Loretta (the wooden plank), and I got the sense it was so that I could run away with some girl, it’d be rude for me not to. But I also dreaded that I was getting ahead of myself, and that she would never phone, and that was a bad thing. I knew that I should have been the one to phone, but she knew I wanted her, I didn’t know if she wanted me, she had to phone me, I think that’s how it works. I don’t know an awful lot about women; I’ve been virtually blind through my first 20 years of existence, so it was still kind of weird to have all these women being distinctly more attractive than those men. What I did know about women was that they tended to have a slightly more complex life than men, I remember failing my Biology exams on the account of the fact that I didn’t have a clue how women worked, apparently “bizarrely” wasn’t a good enough answer. Something told me that she would phone me, once she had finished unpacking her rocks, and talking to her friend about how great the concrete in Sydney was. I didn’t live too far away from Sydney, I don’t think. I would have said that I lived about an hour’s drive from Sydney, probably. It would have made more sense for me to visit her than vice versa, should a chance ever arise, mostly because I didn’t know where my cabin was. Also, I was somehow interested as to what was so great about rocks (also, I’m aware concrete isn’t a rock, if you readers are still complaining about that). I was full of curiousity to what her life had and would entail of. I knew simply nothing about this person, but my mind wanted to assume things without letting me sleep; this was probably not all a good decision on my mind’s behalf. My mind had made some silly mistakes before, such as telling me that I knew how to walk down the stairs of the cabin in pitch black, something that my mind now accepts is too difficult a challenge for me to complete.

And then, completely unexpectedly, just as I was about to drift of, the phone rang. Understandably, I ran downstairs (in pitch black, I owed revenge to my mind once again) and towards the phone before answering it.

“Hello?” Said a cute feminine voice, I also liked how people questioned their welcoming statement as if either no one was there, or they weren’t sure who they were phoning.

“Hi.” I said, it seemed like the good thing to do.

“How are you, son?” It was my mother, I told you that people sounded different on the phone. It was late, I was tired, and I wasn’t up for having a chat with my mother, so I hung up the phone and returned to bed to sleep restfully.

_________________________

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Sex bomb, sex bomb, I’m your sex bomb.” – Tom Jones

I woke up cold, and wet, I questioned what had happened.

I woke up warm, and dry, I questioned what my previous dream actually was, it was just one of those weird swimming ones, I think, I hope. I woke up due to loud singing from nearby birds, they were those horrible type of birds, the ones that wake you up, I hate those types of birds. It was generally a bad morning, I felt pretty rough, and I stayed up late just to receive a phone call from my mother. I regretted hanging up, in case it was something important, but it’s only mother, and well, who cares? Me, probably. My mother was obviously still alive, as she had managed to phone me, so what’s the worst that could happen, Dr. Pepper? And if it was important, she would have phoned me again, so I assumed all was okay.

I tripped over virtually anything that I could manage. This included things that I didn’t even know were still in the cabin. Like Robert’s bag of rhododendron killing equipment, though I’m not sure why he would have such a bag, ever. There were a few pictures here and there, left by Mr. Schnapps. They were mostly pictures of trout and pike and the suchlike, why he had these pictures I didn’t know, and whether he planned on coming back to get them was also a mystery. The cabin was too big for just one person; we needed some kind of gang to live there, or just for me to move out. But Kate only had the cabin phone number, so I couldn’t have gone back to my mother’s, assuming that I actually wanted my life to see some kind of future. So here I was, stuck in a massive cabin, on my own, so I was reduced to go on the computer, and checked my e-mail, of which I had none, and there were no signs of Kate being or having been online. So yes, I had very little to do, and so, I decided to wait until, MR. SCHNAPPS UNEXPECTANTLY VISITED! I suppose that I was quite lucky that my assumptions that he would unexpectedly visit were actually virtually correct, otherwise, I could have had a long time of boring waiting. He actually turned up two hours after I had been hoping that he would unexpectedly turn up.

“Oh.” Said Mr. Schnapps on realisation of seeing me. “Hi.” Said Mr. Schnapps as a response of seeing me.

“Oh.” Said I, on realisation that he had turned up. “Hi.” Said I as a response of his turning up.

“How come you’re here?” Asked Mr. Schnapps.

“I was about to ask you the same question.” I said, I hated myself for saying this, because it was the twat-like statement that would make me want to stab someone for saying it. “I mean, oh, I just thought it would be something to do. I got out of prison, y’see.”

“Oh.” He replied, it looked as if something had happened to him, but I could see that he didn’t wish to share it, so I didn’t push him. “Where are the others?”

“My brother is living with my mother, Robert ran away to never be seen again, and Kelly is in her room.” At this point, Mr. Schnapps decided to walk upstairs, and opened a door, I assume it was to Kelly’s room, though I wasn’t looking, so.

“I can’t see her here.” Stated Mr. Schnapps.

“Oh.” I responded, “She’s under the rug, she died and decomposed, y’see.”

“I appear to have missed a fair bit of news then.”

“Not really, Robert’s disappeared, Kelly’s dead, and I’m not in prison, that’s about it.” I was too curious to not ask him. “Where have you been?”

_________________________

Interlude Nine

Before we allow Mr. Schnapps answer the question for himself, I feel it is worth mentioning that when he left his parents at the age of 10, he had never gone back to meet them. This is mainly because of…that guy, who was running the planet of Twatooine, and felt there was no need for Mr. Schnapps to see neither the pike nor the tuna that had raised him. Before 1973, Mr. Schnapps had been elsewhere from Twatooine and Earth, and never settled on most planets (due to the environment’s lack of oxygen and water). However, in the year that planet Earth would title “1965”, Mr. Schnapps was living the life of dreams on the planet Boobling, this planet mostly consisted of, well, boobs. This taught him much about the ways of The Creator, and his weird dreams, but due to lack of masculinity, Mr. Schnapps had to once again move on. Mr. Schnapps enjoyed planet Earth, but also wondered about Twatooine for quit a long time, but had never gone back there, until, well, his story in Chapter Thirty-Five should explain all.

_________________________

Chapter Thirty-Five

“War, huh, good god, y’all, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing.” – Edwin Starr

“Oh, I decided to visit my home planet.”

“Wow.” I replied, I was pretty shocked about hearing that someone had left planet Earth, unrecognised, and then returned, also unrecognised. I was also quite surprised that Mr. Schnapps had carried out such an act, anyway. “How was it?” I asked.

“A lot warmer.” I looked at his even oranger forehead, and realised he was right. “Also, it turns out that it’s still ruled by… that guy. But, well, the planet’s not going so good.”

“How so?” I asked in the curiously caring manner that only I could.

“Well, I planned on visiting my parents, but over the past one thousand plus years, they have been killed by… that guy.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, apparently… that guy wanted them dead for being fish. The planet only populates people like me now, yet, there’s still not happiness. So, I went to the gravestones of my parents, only to find they had been demolished and built on top of by… that guy. So I went to speak to… that guy. And basically, he said that things were better this way, but they weren’t, because well, my species has a tendency to not like over-population, even a matter of two of my species being in the same room can result to fisticuffs, or even them sexually arousing each other. So filling the planet was either going to lead to a massive war or the biggest sex orgy this side of Pluto’s current point in the universe.”

“Woah.” This sounded like quite a contrasted situation of gore to me.

“Naturally, the massive war overcame the odds to triumph the planet and Twatooine has been in severe turmoil. It was like Hell being there, and with my parents being dead, because of… that guy, I was distraught, it was shocking to be there, and the planet is being destroyed by it’s own species, it’s terrible.”

“I can imagine (all the people, it isn’t hard to do).” I sympathised with him.

“That’s why I’m back here.”

“I suppose you won’t be going back there, then?” I asked.

“For the time being, no. But in the future, who knows?” He asked.

“God only knows (what I’d be without you).”

“Quite.”

He seemed downtrodden, mainly because he later told me that on his return to the cabin, the elephant parade trod on him. It was pretty surreal to watch him sitting there; slowly crumbling away, and this had nothing to do with the decomposed body under the rug. I was quite shocked of his story about Twatooine, a bit like those people that go to Africa and appear shocked by the news of how the Africans have nothing to eat but rice and bread and stuff. But yes, life was torrid for Mr. Schnapps, and we could all see that, thanks to me not being blind, unlike I used to be in the good old days of rock and roll.

And that was when the phone rang, and this time, it was who you would all be expecting it to be, and not just an un-dramatic twist that would bore the pants off of everyone more than a five-hour Elijah Wood monologue.

“Hello?” I was still fascinated by a person’s uncertainty on whether they had dialled a number at all.

“Hi.” I replied in a chirpy voice, Mr. Schnapps looked on, curious as to the fact that I had somehow captured an existence of a phone and a phone line.

“Hi, Vinny?” She had phoned the number that I had given her, and she was aware that I should be the only one there, but she still questioned, meanwhile, I still didn’t definitely know who this is.

“Yes, this is he.” I sounded pathetic, but I was on the phone, and it’s tradition.

“Hi, it’s Kate.”

“Oh, hi Kate!” I said this looking firmly at Mr. Schnapps with a broad, twat-like smile planted on my face, as I winked at him like a twat would do. I watched his face get all curious and all “Who’s Kate?” kind of look.

“Oh I’m fine.” I replied to the question that you could probably guess if you put your mind to it. Mr. Schnapps looked quite frustrated; he had forced himself to sit up now. “How are you?” I asked Kate, this was pretty great that she had phoned me, and she wasn’t laughing like a madman whilst she was doing it, this was some kind of phone call that I hadn’t experienced before.

“Oh, I’m alright, thanks.” She said this, and I assumed she was smiling whilst she said this, it sounded as if she were. “Listen, I don’t suppose you’re busy on Wednesday?”

“Wednesday?” I repeated, “Well, no, I don’t suppose I am…” I was waiting for her to continue her question…

“Oh good, would it be possible for you to come to Sydney?”

“Sydney?” I repeated, just to make sure that Mr. Schnapps heard, and grew more so curious. “Sure, it’s not too far away from where I live…maybe, sure, erm, where and when should I meet you then?”

“Well, I’m working early.” This didn’t make sense, she was a geologist for self-satisfaction, how she could have timed hours I really don’t know. “So I’ll send Jess, that’s my flatmate, and she’ll meet you by the <secret location>” I’m not mentioning where we were to meet, in case this novel starts a cult, and then everyone might make a pilgrimage to ‘Vinny Vicks and the Rhododendron’.

“Oh, sure, I know where <secret location> is, what kind of time?”

“How about 10:00.” I found the way she spoke in a 24-hour clock way was cute, kind of like how she was generally cute.

“Sure, I can make that.” I probably couldn’t, but I would have to.

“Great, thanks, I’ll see you on Wednesday then.” I pretty much repeated this comment to her, and waited for her to hang up, I hate hanging up first, in case they say something at the last moment.

“Who was that!?” Asked Mr. Schnapps in a rushed, urgent like manner.

“Kate.” I replied, in a stubborn way that would make me come across as a real twat, but hey, it’s the sixties.

“I kind of gathered.” Replied Mr. Schnapps in a way that pointed out that he had realised that I was being a twat. “Who’s Kate?”

“She’s this girl.”

“Oh, sounds pretty nice.” Mr. Schnapps was annoyed with my twat like status that was growing on me. “What’s she do, how do you know her and stuff?”

“Oh.” I answered, most my conversations were consisting of ‘oh’ all too often. “She’s a geologist from Perth that also likes to study concrete. She’s in Sydney with some flatmate called Jess. And I met Kate in the women’s restrooms in an airport.”

“What were you doing in the women’s restrooms?” He asked, in a curiously shocked manner that most would probably ask.

“Oh, looking for someone.”

“Who?” He sure was asking a lot of questions.

“Kate, apparently.” And I gave my twatty wink again.

“Sigh.” Mr. Schnapps shared my irony of actually saying ‘Sigh’ rather than carrying out the act of releasing a small part of air. “What’s she like, then, this Kate?”

“Kate?” I asked, in a rhetorical way. “Very cute.”

“So why is she with you?” He asked, undermining my beautiful talents that I may have had.

“Hey. It’s me.” I said, smiling, in a way that probably made someone experiencing their home planet being at war at the time very pissed off.

“Exactly.” He said. We all laughed, and went to bed, or something.

_________________________

Chapter Thirty-Six

“You’re a loner, you’re all on your own.” – The Four Tops

It was Tuesday, and I didn’t really know what to do with my free day. It was too early to start going to Sydney it was only 1 to 5 hours away, possibly, though maybe longer or possibly shorter. Depending on whether I took a short cut or took a wrong turn or not. Mr. Schnapps and myself was still there, I had the feeling that he had spent the night crying, I thought I heard something from his room, and with the destruction of his planet looking evitable, and with him not being able to get to go to Sydney to see a cute girl, he seemed pretty bummed (and not literally). Morning was quieter than the mornings when it was just me there, he didn’t say anything, and it was almost surreal. He was distraught, and I could sympathise with him, I thought that he would enjoy having the cabin to himself the following day, though. I didn’t feel like pushing him for anything, in case he would get all emotional on me, which I didn’t want. I, myself, was pretty happy that Kate had gone and phoned me, but like normal, whenever something went right in my life, something wrong would happen with someone else’s life, and thusly I would have to feel upset about it, which was not good. Most things weren’t good, like David Letterman’s sense of humour, but I was quite good at this point in time, so it was time to waste happily.

I decided to break the barriers of boredom and go for a walk, leaving Mr. Schnapps on his own, I trusted him not to perform suicidal acts, hopefully. I walked around the area of New South Wales that wasn’t Sydney, because that was perhaps too far away, perhaps. So I wandered about, like a wanderer would in the wandering land for wanderers, and I wondered, like a wonderer would in a wondering world for wonderers.

I wandered for fun, and I wondered about fun, and what fun meant to the world. I suppose that fun would be regarded by some as just something that mildly amuses someone, for example, a penguin in a blender, or an animation of that very such like thing. Some may think that fun has to be something that amuses one by quite a great standard. Others may regard fun as something that never exists, and can only be imagined, as the terms of fun are too great to be experienced on a world such like this. Perhaps fun was something achievable, but only for people that were very rich, and were able to buy fun, and that fun had a price. Maybe fun was too easy to get, and just had no value anymore, as even the homeless would sometimes appear as if they were living a life that actually had some kind of fun. Perhaps fun was something that couldn’t be bought, but only earned by one’s obsession to work for fun, though this was sometimes indirectly to do with money. But anyway, I was the kind of person that thought that fun would normally involve penguins in blenders, or large ferrets rummaging through your trouser legs, and not be capable of actually biting the most painful areas of the body, which I tend to call “The Penis”. Fun was basically an enjoyable factor that would make a life worth living for, if only for the briefest of times, and this was why I was against suicide, I looked forward to these brief moments of happiness even if it involved going through some of the worst moments possible. Because, in the end, fun was what stopped anyone from ending their life, whether they were experiencing it, looking for it, or questioning whether it existed and writing multi-million selling books about the possibilities of fun existing, fun (or lack, thereof) was what made people do the crazy things that they do.

This whole day kind of had a sense of being wasted. And in truth, I was wasting it; I was wasting it knowing that I would receive fun on the following day. I didn’t do an awful much for fun, I didn’t seek it immediately, and however, it was a nice day, so I decided to buy ice cream. I had jimmies. The ice cream was good, it wasn’t like normal cream, the ice had made it a completely different event to experience, and that was good. Ice cream was a zany creation, how one would consider on generating such a food product was something I found remarkable, how do you go and discover these kinds of things? It’s not as if ice cream grew on trees or anything, and this could only be a remarkable creation. Alas, although I may know a few useless facts, I have never heard whom it was to create ice cream, and this leaves me feeling empty, until I started eating the ice cream, and then I was full. My ice cream was great, but I wanted to return to the cabin and find out what exactly it was that Mr. Schnapps had done with his pitiful life.

And that was when I just about saved him from his death. He was standing upon a table, with a piece of rope tied around his neck, he saw me opening the door, and uttered the words:

“So long, and thanks to all the fish that raised me.”

I kind of gave a heroic scream, as the table tilted, I couldn’t let him kill himself, he had so much to live for, and I dare to say. I grabbed hold of his legs, they were kind of kicking at me, and I was just trying to get him to not die, because I couldn’t be bothered to hide him under the rug. I eventually got him down from his inevitable self-death, he was on the floor, gasping and calling me a twat for saving his life and the such like, but I didn’t matter, because I was nursing my arm which had received several hard kicks.

“What do you think you were doing!?” I shouted, and I suppose it was more than just a loud exclamation, so I made it into a question for tension.

“Ice-skating.” He answered.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” This was real laughter, not a fake “Hardy fucking har” laughter, because, despite the circumstance, Mr. Schnapps was still rather much a funny fellow.

“Listen, man.” I liked the way he had just said ‘man’, it wasn’t like a hippy, and it was just a strength-filled mannerism. “I’m fed up of this treacherous life, I want out.”

“You can not just, kill yourself!” I protested.

“Why the hell not?” He questioned as if he could just kill himself.

“Well,” I liked to use ‘well’ for most of the beginnings of my reasoning, I think it must have won people over, or something. “You can’t just end your life, what about all that stuff you have to life for? Your planet’s protection, Kelly’s dusted corpse under the rug, the singing fish, the money you have, your artistic career.”

“What artistic career?” He asked, solemnly, if that’s the right word.

“Well, you know, you could always give that another go.”

“No…” He said. “Listen, I’m a fraud.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“I know bugger all about art, as most people do. But I used my large orange skinned forehead as a means of convincing them to allow me to present that art exhibition. You see, Vinny Vicks, I knew you and Robert Rico would be there, I knew that we would meet up, and that we would run off together and form the Gang That Gets In Trouble Of Sorts, I knew about the bank robbery, I knew about the rhododendron, I knew about your prison break, everything. I saw everything before it happened, that’s why I had to make sure I could get to the art thingy.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise, none of these events would have happened.”

“So, what would be wrong with that?”

“I wouldn’t get to meet you.”

“So, what would be wrong with that?”

“Listen, Vinny Vicks, there’s something you don’t know about me.”

“That you’re a weirdo that plans on committing suicide before I even got here.”

“No, I had foreseen the suicide also, and I knew you would save me, I just needed the tension.”

“So surely you didn’t have to kick me?”

“I did have to kick you, and don’t call my Shirley.” He said, in a strong manner, I was quite freaked out right now; it was as if he was going to announce that he was my father or something.

“So if you’ve foreseen everything, and realised that it wasn’t too great, why did you let it happen!?”

“Oh,” he started, so he would finish. “Well, otherwise, you would have become homeless, and poor, and a further failed artist, and your life would have been in more tatters than Liza Minelli.”

“I’m not sure I understand this.” I wasn’t sure whether I understood what Mr. Schnapps was talking about.

“My real name is Sam Beckett, I travel through time for some reason to help improve insignificant lives. I jumped into the body of Mr. Schnapps as a means of improving your insignificant life.”

“By getting me into prison? And also why would you get Kelly Darca killed, and Robert Rico disappeared forever?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” He said “I regret nothing though.”

“Also, how can you travel through time, we’re at the present, which is the most future-point in the timeline to ever exist.”

“Firstly, your statement makes little sense, secondly I’m from the future, and a future you’ve never seen.”

“What’s it like?” I asked curiously.

“It’s ok, I guess… there’s a shortage of chairs.”

“Oh.” The future sounded horrible bleak. “The future sounds horribly bleak, why do you insist on keeping me alive and well anyway?”

“Character development.” Mr. Schnapps, or Sam Beckett answered.

“This has bought up so many plot holes, if YOU are from the future, then you’ve decided to jump into a body that is from another planet?”

“Correctomundo.”

“Sigh.”

“Nice use of irony there, Vinny Vicks.”

“Yes, but seriously, why are you here still.”

“Vinny Vicks, I’m here to help you to discover a life worth fun and knowledge, and also for you to find out who your father is.”

“Are you my father?” I asked.

“No, I’m not.” He answered. “And neither is Mr. Schnapps or anyone else you’ve ever met.”

“Freaky.”

“Not as freaky as Liza Minelli.”

“What’s with all this Liza Minelli talk?”

“Character development.” Mr. Schnapps, or Sam Beckett answered.

“So, what’s going to happen to you now?”

“Well, I, as in Sam Beckett am thusly going to leap into a body of a tarantula, and convince it that killing all the small flies in South Africa is not the right thing to do. Meanwhile, Mr. Schnapps will take my place here, and perhaps have quite a far different personality, theoretically, he should have a very different personality from me, but all us characters have crazy personalities that change for no given reason.”

“So, your job here is done?”

“My job here is done. I’ve already saved you from your torrid life, so theoretically everything in your life will now go swimmingly. However, I was only here to alter one mistake, just pray you don’t make another.” He paused, looking at me. “I warn you, I’m about to leap, and then the real Mr. Schnapps will be here, remember, he’s never seen this cabin, he’s never seen you, he knows nothing about Twatooine’s state, or his parents. Basically, he’s going to freak the hell out, and I’d watch yourself, if I were you.”

“Oh boy.” I responded. I then knew that it seemed that I get out of that cabin as quickly as fuck (not that fuck is really that quick) and to run off to Sydney, and so, I did. Just as I had got out of the door, I heard the manic screams of Mr. Schnapps, his voice was as it had always been, but, it was a safe assumption that he would be who we all expected him to be, Mr. Schnapps. But me, my life was about to carry on in Sydney for a while, after I had made either my short or long walk. I suppose I owed Sam Beckett a lot for saving my life, apparently. It’s weird how one person can change your life so much, and you never even realise it. And it got me thinking that there are probably loads of people like Sam Beckett, that come to this world just to improve someone’s insignificant life, a bit like I hoped Kate Jenner was like.

_________________________

Interlude Ten

I apologise for the less than obscure Quantum Leap reference, and I apologise for making the complete novel a completely different story. And I apologise to anyone stupid enough to read this novel again, expecting that there were clues all along about Mr. Schnapps’ existence, and I apologise for all of this being completely made up on the spot with little idea as to where it was going, but hey, it’s the sixties. Also, I don’t really apologise for any of those things, you all should have seen something like that coming, and now it has come, perhaps something better will come along. Also, if I’m perfectly honest, I’m quite proud of Vinny Vicks’ idea that there are many Sam Beckett’s out there to improve our lives, because, it a way, it’s true. Oh, but I do apologise for the upcoming use of probably slight romance.

_________________________

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“How will I live without you? I want to know.” – LeAnn Rhymes (Wait, does this line mean that the singer wants to know what it’s like to live without ‘you’ because the singer doesn’t really like ‘you’?

Sydney was a place that I prospected much, I had never actually been there, despite that it was so near, or perhaps so far, I don’t know. Perhaps one day I’ll do some research about the area in which I’ve apparently lived 20 and so many years in, but for now, I quite like this ignorant approach that I’m taking. I was in Sydney, and it looked bigger than I was probably imagining, I was there, with little more than my body and some money. I had left my stuff at the cabin due to my haste to leave the cabin with thanks to Mr. Schnapps who was probably rather, rather insane right then. It was kind of weird to be at <secret location>, I was standing there, looking for someone who I had never met, it was about 09:45 at the time, so looking for a women that looked like she may have been called Jess could perhaps wait a while. I felt quite cool at this location, and I wasn’t afraid to let passers-by know it. I had a cocky look that basically suggested ‘I’m going to be hooking up with a cute girl in a flat soon enough, and you basically aren’t.’ and I felt cool. I decided to go into a little nearby café like thing that had a ‘we are better than starbucks’ kind of aura. I basically got some form of coffee that tasted horribly bad, kind of like how Satan’s crotch probably tasted, though I can’t confirm that, because, as far as I know, I’ve never tasted Satan’s crotch, but in the grand scale of things, who has? After drinking Satan’s warm crotch, I returned to <secret location>, and was pretty much exact on time, and just had to wait for Jess, which could have been troubling.

However, what wasn’t troubling was that, in fact, Kate had come to collect me, and she was simply joking about Jess, to see how I would cope, or something. It was quite nice of Kate to do this, I wasn’t expecting it, and well, I would have been questioning on what work she was doing, if she wouldn’t have been there, as I was expecting. So there I was, my fears of no one turning up were over pretty quickly. And now she was going to escort me to her flat, you could claim that I probably could have found my way to her flat, but I suppose <secret location> was a far easier place to meet up. We had said our helloes and stuff, and she appeared almost as excited about I, I had asked about Jess, but I didn’t want to come across as if I was more interested in meeting her than Kate. Kate was still walking with me, looking at me with her cute smile and generally cute appearance, if anything, she probably looked cuter than she did after her flight. I wasn’t exactly sure of the intentions she had for me yet, there was nothing official between us, but I just wanted to get into her rock filled flat, first. And then we did arrive there, I felt quite un-gentlemen like, because I didn’t open the door for her, however, she had the key, so I suppose I couldn’t have done, but still. It was white, and the fireplace was full of rocks, and the whole room looked organic. I tended to not like things that were organic, but I didn’t plan on eating the walls right now, so I was fine.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” She began, I guffawed.

“It’s nice.” I meant it; it was pretty swell “Very nice.” I added.

“Thanks, it’s not all down to me, Jess has done all of the décor, I just added a few rocks.” I really wanted to stop guffawing at everything she said, but she was so damn cute, and she kept saying everything in a brilliantly cute way, and she could have said “I’m going to kill you and hang your carcass from the ceiling.” And I would have been fool enough to laugh, and gaze at her eyes once more, I felt pathetic really, but hey, it’s the sixties. And then Kate decided to say the words I really didn’t want to hear “Make yourself feel at home.”

This phrase has a tendency to annoy me, it’s overly used, I was flatter that she was giving out an aura that she wanted me to be comfortable, as if I would be there for a long time, which I hoped I would be (what, with the insane maniac at the cabin and the such like). The phrase just suggests that I should do what I do at home, and it’d be regarded as suitable. I decided to take my shoes off, that’s normally what people mean by ‘make yourself feel at home’ so I took my shoes off, and decided to sit on the sofa, which was also white (or cream, as a woman would claim), but I sat on the edge, not because I was uncomfortable there, but she was wandering about, and I wanted to look as if I was eager to stand up and help her with whatever she was doing. This was weird; I was just sitting there, watching this woman walk about carrying out what I assume was her daily routine, so I just sat there, admiring the scenery of the flat.

“It’s a nice place you’ve got here…” I said, it felt like the cheesy right thing to say.

“So you’ve already said.” She looked at me, and smiled that cute ‘you clumsy sweet little man’ kind of smile. My mind said ‘Oh yeah’ but I managed to refrain from completely making an idiot of myself, something I could only redeem as a good thing. Though my mind was going a mile a minute trying to think of something intelligent to say, however, I kept up with the cheesy statements,

“Nice area too.”

“Well, it’s Sydney,” she smiled “You’ve been here before, no?”

“Actually, no, I haven’t. It’s been on my to do list, but I haven’t done anything here, really.”

“Oh, ok. So we’re both newbies to the area then.” She smiled that cute ‘we are in the same situation, isn’t that great?’ kind of smile. I dreaded her saying something stupid like ‘I Love You’, I mean, something like that we should go sight-seeing or something like that, that would just be the cheesy kind of stuff that I hoped she wouldn’t do. I still knew very little about this girl, who up until this point was fulfilling my dreams. It was at this point that I had realised that I had been thinking all this mad thoughts with responding, and she got back in before I had a chance to thing of something witty.

“Have you had something to eat, yet, love?” She called my love, that was pretty unexpected, but I decided not to read anything into it.

“Not as such, dear.” She seemed relieved that I had echoed some form of affectionate word, even though we were both horsing about, really. “But I can’t say I’m starving or anything either.”

“Fair enough.” She smiled; she stopped rushing about and decided to join me on the sofa. She was pretty cool about it; there was enough space between us to let us breathe, but not enough to make either of us feel socially awkward. So far, I was under the assumption that everything had gone swimmingly, though was kind of… curious as to when Jess would turn up. I knew that we would be waiting for her to show up, and so I knew that I would have to make a good impression in front of her also, and trying to please two women can sometimes be a difficult thing to do ;o). She turned on the television, this was kind of a bad thing, I thought at first, but she was merely using it as background noise.

“So, what’s news?” She asked me, this was about the first time in my life someone had asked me this as if they actually cared, and I felt quite touched.

“Oh… well.” I was pondering on whether to tell her about my insane cabin mate and decided better of it. “Nothing really, I’ve just been drifting about the place, collecting my thoughts in times of silence.”

“Oh?” Apparently I was supposed to know exactly what she was asking me, so guessed my answer.

“Well, every now and then I just like to have complete silence to just think about everything.” I should have told her about Mr. Schnapps, that would have been better.

“Everything as in…?” She still sounded as if she cared, but wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was.

“Life, the universe, and everything.” I hoped that she got this reference otherwise I could be suffering.

“Ah.” I liked where this was going. “The Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.” She smiled that cute ‘I’ve read that book too, it changed the way I look upon life also’ kind of smile.

“You’ve read it?”

“On several occasions.” I’ll admit, this was more times than I could claim. “I can only assume you have?”

“You assume correctly, dear.” I wanted to try and make sure the flirtatious speech didn’t completely die, and that she didn’t get the feeling that boring a hole through her eye with a corkscrew was the right thing to do. To be honest, I was quite bored of the conversation myself, but I was more than happy to gaze at her, and so just carried on. We conversed about a few random stuff until an interesting conversation cropped up, it was at this point that I was glad the television was on, it was some animal documentary, and like all good animal documentaries there was a section about how they carry out the endearing challenge of having sex. I know that I should have had the feeling that this was an awkward situation, but by watching the two alligators go at it, I pointed out that…

“They don’t seem to be enjoying it a lot, do they?” It was a kind of rhetorical question, I was only expecting a ‘Hmmm.’ but I got more than that.

“Well, they’re not doing it for pleasure, are they?”

“Surely they are?”

“They are not, and don’t call me Shirley.”

“So, they’re solely having sex as a means to reproduce?”

“Certainly, humans are the only species that have sex for pleasure, well, humans and dolphins, providing I remember correctly.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” It’s as if my statement that solely consisted of ‘oh’ said more than I intended.

“Surely pigs have sex for pleasure as well?” I asked.

“Nope. It’s just humans and dolphins.” Kate was coming across as one of those girls that like to think they’re right, and they get quite a good bit of satisfaction when it’s proved that they’re right.

“But, why on earth…” I managed to prevent myself from swearing thus far, which was a good thing; anyway, I had a sentence to finish. “…Does a pig’s orgasm last for 30 minutes if it’s not pleasurable?”

“A pig’s orgasm lasts for 30 minutes?” She echoed.. echoed.. echoed.

“Yes.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I read it somewhere, and assumed that it was just rubbish, but I’ve read it in several other places after, so I’m assuming it’s a real fact.”

“As opposed to fake fact?” She smiled again. And I just mirrored it, not quite knowing what to add to this. “Anyway pigs are squealing little beasts, it doesn’t mean that their sex is pleasurable.” And then I just had to say something so direct it was great.

“If you had a 30 minute long orgasm, would you not find it pleasurable?” At first she would reacted like most would when you asked them to imagine how they would feel after a 30 minute orgasm.

“Ermmm.” She paused, and then simply broke into laughter, I can only assume that making her laugh was the best thing I had done thus far. I was still sitting quite upright, but her cute laugh reduced me to a slight snigger also. And she was doing all this putting her hands on my knees as if to say ‘There’s a real funny image in my mind right now, and it’s so unbearable that I just have to slightly grasp your knee to get me through it.’ Once again, I decided to take this maturely, and just take it kind heartedly, but not overly seriously, I still didn’t really know what she was about. And this was probably a good point to be introduced to a new character that would slightly alter my life, but in no fascinating way.

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Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Signed, sealed and delivered (or dekidneyed), I’m yours.” – Stevie Wonder

So yes, there I was, sitting ever so comfortably getting my knee grasped by a hysterical young cute girl of whom I still didn’t really know any personal details about when the hysterical young cute girl’s flatmate decided to walk in. It appeared that this was Jess, however, it also appeared that Kate never had the intention for Jess to pick me up. I say this due to her face looking quite shocked to seeing me there.

“Hi?” She asked, it was as if she was on the phone to us, or something. Cute Kate had managed to stop laughing and introduced as, Kate was very mellow and just sat there, but I insisted on standing and giving a good impression.

“Jess, this is Vinny Vicks, and vice versa.” Kate had refrained from using a horrid introduction and made me smile. I walked over to Jess, and shook her hand followed by a kiss on the back of her hand, solely because it felt like the right thing to do. I had no intentions that involved Jess, she wasn’t completely ugly, but was pretty worthless, and seemed more like the kind of girl that would make bitchy comments in front of you while smirking as if they know something about you that they shouldn’t. Jess really didn’t seem to be expecting me.

“Oh, welcome Vinny Vicks…?” She said my whole name, but that’s all she appeared to know about me.

“He’s the guy I met at the airport, Jess.” Kate tried to remind her.

“Ohhh.” Jess was nodding and smiling, but not much more, and I couldn’t be bothered to get caught up in it too much. Or could I?

“Oh, didn’t Kate tell you about me?” I asked, but I done it in a soft, and (I hope) an adorable way.

“No, she didn’t.”

“How curious.” I replied, looking at Kate with my ‘It was your plan for you to pick me up all along’ suspicious face. Kate simply laughed.

“Oh Vinny Vicks, you’re such a curious feller, ain’tcha?” She said ‘ain’tcha’ in such a cute way, I couldn’t get mad at her for her terrible use of English.

“So, what’s happening here?” Asked Jess, she had no idea who I was, and what was going on.

“Oh, I’m probably going to cook us something.” She said looking at me. “You can go decompose in a gutter.” Kate was being cruel to Jess, but in a cute way, and I assumed they were always like this, at least Kate wasn’t one of those subtle people that you never knew what to get for Christmas, and then they shout at you for not getting the diamond necklace that they specifically blinked at eight months ago.

“Fair enough.” Answered Jess, who then dashed about the flat, much in the same way that Kate did when we arrived, picking up a few things as she went, and she had left again, which was quite odd.

“You don’t have to cook me something, you know?” I asked Kate.

“Oh, but I do, because well, um…” She paused, “I’m not really sure where I’m going with this.”

“We can always go out somewhere?” My Australian accent is what caused that to be more of a question than I intended it to be?

“Oh, there’s no need for you to go and do that.” She said, smiling and fluttering her eyes. She seemed to be under the impression that I would be paying for it, and that I now couldn’t back down and had to be the gentlemen that took her out to some place nice.

“Oh no, it’ll be fine.” I said, this was the first time I got the feeling I was lying to her, unless the pig orgasm fact is an untruth. “I don’t suppose you know any nice places though, this is all new to me?”

“Actually, there’s a place not too far away from here, it’s not too posh, not too relaxed, and not too expensive, which is what you’re worrying about.” Oh the things I would do for that cute smile right now…

“Sounds great, also, it’s like 11:00, so, surely it’s too early?”

“It is too early, and don’t call me Shirley.”

“So, what shall we do now?” I asked with a soft, innuendo like smile, to which she slightly guffawed at.

“Oh, there are many things we could do.” She was all guffawy and didn’t discourage the innuendo at all. And thusly, we listened to Queen tracks and sang along. If by ‘sang along’ I mean ‘listened and conversed about how fun today was turning out to be’. Overall, Kate was just great, we got all questiony about our pasts, I told her about this Eskimo that I had shot in the face when I was 8 years old, I didn’t mean to shoot him in the face, but it was a water gun, and I’m sure the 20 minutes of water brawling after made his life easier to live through, apart from when he killed himself two weeks later. I found out about her, it was nice to learn that she lived in one of those families that weren’t complicated, she had her parents, and then another sister called Becky, who was like, 25 or something. Kate was 22, slightly older than I, though I quite liked the idea of a slightly older woman, it would keep me on my toes a bit more. I told her about my brother, and the pain he went through with Loretta. Meanwhile, she told me about how great Perth wasn’t and that she enjoyed being in Sydney and she told me about her schools days. And then the conversation rolled on to previous lovers, I told her about how I was stabbed in the back by my girlfriend who took abuse of the fact that I was virtually completely blind.

“It was like some kind of Abusement Park.” I told her.

She had also had a crappy love life in the past, she’d gone through quite a few men, but they were all twats, which is about right in consideration of virtually all men in the world. We had gotten quite close as the conversation went on, we were hugging each other, but in a comforting way, I still didn’t know where this is exactly going to lead. But it was nice to have a girl in my arms, regardless; the fact that she was cute was just a brilliant bonus. I think she enjoyed it too, well, she must have done, and otherwise none of this would have been happening. But it was interesting to swap our life stories, and to have someone listen to my story, rather than to just read it. It was just nice, and with the background noise of animals doing it still in the room, it was pretty perfect.

It was nearing to the point where we were both quite hungry, so we decided to go to this not-too-expensive restaurant, which was named Samuel’s. I didn’t want to point out the punctuation problems with this restaurant, unless it was suggesting that its full title was “Samuel’s Restaurant” or “This Is A Restaurant, and it is Samuel’s”. We got sat at a table, and the place was rather quiet, and by ‘quiet’, I mean that it was empty, so we weren’t discouraged from conversing in a normal height of noise in voice, and also that there would be no loud-mouths laughing in your ear throughout. It was upon my sitting down, (after pulling out Kate’s chair for her, how gentlemen-like of me) that I noticed that there was more than one fork at the table. In fact, there were two forks, two knives, and two spoons, and all six items were different from each other. This was the kind of things that stopped me enjoying eating out, I was never sure which one I was supposed to use, and always felt awkward. Every time that I do go out, and question the number of forks, I get told to start from the outside, and to work myself in towards the middle, but the togetherness of the spoons and the knives had completely thrown me. And if I didn’t have a starter, or if I didn’t have the bread roll, do I skip one of the knives, or something? However, I attempted to appear as if this taxing situation wouldn’t worry me, and felt that I was no showing off any confusion.

“Start from the outside and work yourself towards the middle.” Smiled Kate, although she had said the words that I most didn’t want to hear, she had said it in the expected cute way that just made me want to live forever.

“I know, I know.” I said in a mocking tone, smiling, still.

“And if you don’t have the starter, you just miss one. And you use either the knife or the spoon, whichever one you feel most comfortable with. You know, the waiters won’t be offended if you use the ‘wrong’ cutlery.”

“They not?”

“No, dear.” She answered in a straightforward calm way.

“Fair enough.” And at that point, the waiter decided to drop on by, and provide us with the menus, we decided to not have started, and just to have the main meal, we ordered whatever it was we ordered, I won’t bore of you such details, but we continued to get on well, conversing about our past events that had taken, and this was when she decided to tell a far more interesting story than even some of her previous ones.

It consisted of her taking a trip to some kind of place with her sister Becky, but I’m useless at telling stories, so I’ll let her do it.

“Well, me and Becky were camping out in this tent, it was a kind of tent that you would be used to finding around Perth, it had holes in it. And anyway, we were both in there, conversing about the suchlike when there’s this horrible tapping on the back of the tent. It’s super-dark at this point…” ‘Super-dark’ I liked the sound of this word, and had the feeling I would have to use it sometime later in my life. “…And we’re both pretty young, I was about fourteen, she was… seventeen and we both hear this tapping on the outside of our tent. Naturally we’re pretty scared, we don’t know what it could be, and it could have been anything. And part of your mind is just telling you to get out of the tent as fast as possible and just to run, and the other part was just telling me to stay in there, stay quiet and just hope that it went away. Becky’s looking after me, it was as if she was more worried about me than herself, and I really appreciated her being there right then. Then she whispers something I my ear like ‘stay here, just stay here’ and I just nod, because I was too frightened to move. And all this time, there’s still this tapping, and we’re thinking that it might just be a bat, or even worse, it could have been a bat, or a man with a bat, or anything, and it’s just mega-scary. We stay there for five minutes, and we’re both scared.” She’s got this real cute face on as she says all this, I love nothing better than to watch a face when it’s reminiscing, it is just the most magical thing to see a face go back to it’s memories. “So, after a while, we think it might just stop, or that it’s nothing, anyway Becky told me to just ignore it and try and get to sleep, and I’m frightened, and she’s my big sister, so I just assume that it’s the right thing to do. So I’m lying there, trying to block out this tapping, by this time I’m trying to convince myself that it’s just a tree’s branch or something blowing against us in the wind. I want to fall asleep, if it was a madman or anything, he would have done something more than just tapping by now, or did he just want us to believe that it was a tree. So I am now going paranoid that there’s this guy outside, tapping the outside of the tent pretending to be a tree, and it’s horrible. Because, I suppose, that inside my mind I know that it’s nothing stupid but I just cannot sleep anyway. Eventually it stopped, though this was far later, I’d say about two hours later. I had been lying there for two hours just thinking, like you said you do, with your silent times. But I had this tapping, and I just kept thinking and thinking, and I suppose it was pretty great, looking back. And then, I just looked over to Becky, it was super-dark, but I could tell that she was sleeping, and that she had been doing so for quite a long time.”

It was at this point that I had realised that I was capable of just completely shutting up, and listening to someone tell a lengthy story where, not a lot really happens. And it got me thinking about whether anyone would be capable to listen to me and my stories without complaining as easily as I found it with others.

“Did you ever find out what the tapping was, then?” I asked, I was curious, I actually cared about her and her stories, and it was great.

“No, we didn’t, though I do think it was just a tree branch tapping against the tent. Looking back, I feel that I was kind of stupid back then, but hey, it was the sixties.” She still smiled; she felt that it was good that I had managed to listen to what was probably a tedious story for others to hear, but I enjoyed it, I’m not sure why, but I must have been pretty well smitten with her to listen to all of this.

After we had managed to get all of the meal down through our digestive system, and after some more meaningless tales of character development, we did something, but moved it onto a new sentence. Yes, so after I completely paid for the whole thing, because I had to, because I was the gentleman and such like. And then we went back to her flat, it was about 21:00, and I regarded the fact that going back to her flat was a good thing, because well, y’know. And yes, we were back in the flat, once again I had to make myself at home, while she wandered about. Jess was now back at the flat watching “Wheel Of Fortune” which perhaps has a different title in this country, but I can’t remember. Jess was still kind of hating me. I could tell that she was more than likely not in any kind of relationship thing, and was totally hating Kate for consuming my life.

“Where have you guys been?” Asked Jess, in a very bitter tone, I didn’t like her an awful lot.

“Samuel’s.” I dared to answer.

“Samuel’s what?” She questioned, bitterly, she was worse than when I first met her.

“It’s a restaurant around the corner, Jess, stop being so ratty.” Answered Kate; suddenly sitting on the couch next to Jess was not where I wanted to be. She was still dashing about; God only knows what these women are actually doing when they’re pacing about everywhere. The movie was “Song of the South”, I managed to get the right answer before Jess, and I think this made her even bitterer towards me. I also got the phrase “All’s Well That Ends Well” and with there being a lot of vowels in that phrase, I was quite pleased with myself. Jess wasn’t. Jess was just looking as if I should die right there. Kate was still maddening about; I was hoping that she would hurry up and save me from Jess’ evil gaze. Eventually, she joined us on the sofa, she sat in the middle, splitting us up, which I regarded a good thing. And it was a very, very, very good thing. She sat that watching Wheel of Fortune with the two of us, asking what Jess had been doing, and basically generally questioning her existence until this point. They were friends, and I could tell this much, but they were friends in a bitchy way. Jess had really seemed to have had a bad day, and was muchly sitting as far away from the both of us with falling off of the sofa. Kate was trying to suggest that Jess should go elsewhere. But it was Jess’ flat, and to ask her to go somewhere else was rather rude, but Kate was cute, so. So the three of us sat there, for a rather long time, I think Jess was aware that she was damaging any chances of Kate and I conversing or such like, but I tried to act as if it didn’t bother me. I had my arm around Kate, and she was virtually lying down, with her legs over Jess. Jess knew that Kate was being stubborn, but Jess also knew that she was going to insist on being stubborn still. We were all talking, as a threesome (oo-er), but I knew that one of them was going to give way soon. I didn’t mind too much just sitting there, with Kate, I was happy, but Jess being there meant that something happening would be awkward to propose. I wasn’t expecting sex or anything, but Kate was bound to ask me if I was going to leave, or stay, or something. But in the end, Jess won, and by ‘Jess’ I mean ‘I’. Kate tired, released her legs from above Jess and stood up.

“Right, I’m going to bed…” She said, with the sound of being fed up of Jess. “Are you coming?” She was asking me, and I was pretty much like ‘woah’, and also thought better than to say ‘Yes, I’m coming, snort.’

“Yes?” I asked her, because, well, I wasn’t expecting this an awful lot. She went and walked right off to what I assumed was her room, and followed her. I didn’t look back at Jess, but I could tell that she was seething; it was as if I could hear her, or something.

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Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Let’s, let’s stay together, together.” – Marvin Gaye

This was a slightly weird experience; Kate had entered a new room, but not introduced it by dashing about everywhere. I closed the door on my entering, and instead of seeing her immediately run off everywhere, muttering about who knows what, she simply came up to me, and hugged me.

“You’ll have to sleep on the floor.” She said, she smiled, and virtually laughed, she was joking, of course… I hoped.

“Okay.” I replied, smiling in muchly the same way, I was joking, of course… I hoped. She then decided to wander about, opening another door of her bedroom.

“The bathroom’s there, should you need it.” She had a bathroom in her bedroom, which was cool. However, I was not totally for using someone else’s toilet, let alone someone like Kate’s toilet, I hated to think of how bad a smell I could leave in there by accident. I didn’t like using other people’s toilets anyway, I just couldn’t feel comfortable, and however, I knew that I would probably have to use it at some point. It was pretty late by now, and Kate looked very tired, completely and utterly shattered, in fact. So she went straight into one half of the bed, and opened the other half to welcome me. She seemed quite comfortable with sleeping in the clothes she was pretty much in, my clothes weren’t as nice; I had jeans on, which are horrible to sleep in if you’ve ever tried. Kate was great; it was as if she could read my thoughts.

“Don’t worry, you can take your jeans off, if you like.” She smiled, and I followed what felt like a command in a way, and entered the bed, I was pretty tired as well. I entered the bed, facing her back, just watching the back of her head with admiration. I thought carefully, and then decided to cover her with one of my arms, to which she replied by turning her neck around and kissing me. Woah. That was just great, to receive a kiss from someone who’s cute, and great, is normally a great thing to receive. But to receive it unexpectedly is all the cuter.

“Good night.” She said, I’m sure this was the cutest thing she had said to me thus far, my heart was completely melted by now, so I snuggled up with Kate a few more inches, and then slept away.

Waking up was horrible, I woke up with the feeling that I wasn’t exactly sure where I was, and then that Kate wasn’t there. I briefly thought that she had run away, or something stupid, but it was her flat, she wouldn’t have done. I rolled around in bed, I felt pretty rough for some reason, I saw her through the bathroom door, and could hear her brushing her teeth, so I decided to just stay in bed.

“You should probably leave soon.” She said, wandering back into the bed. I simply whined, a pathetic whine, I really didn’t want to leave, especially right now.

“Sorry dear, but you can have a shower or breakfast or whatever first, but you probably should get back home.” I whined again, I didn’t want to have a shower to get back into the same old dirty clothes, I told her, but I needed a breakfast. But at this point, I couldn’t even get up. Then I realised why it was that I felt so terrible, peering over t her clock, which read “04:07”.

“WHAT!?” I almost leapt up, if only it wasn’t 4 in the morning, “It’s only 4!?”

“Oh, sorry dear, I have a tendency to wake up early in the morning.”

“Four!?” I mumbled.

“I’m just used to waking up early, perhaps it’s the geologist in me.”

“Four!?” I mumbled. She was now lying down with me, with her had on my chest, attempting to comfort my startled mind. She kissed me on the cheek.

“Sorry.”

“Four!?”

“Sorry.” Even at stupid o’clock, this made me laugh.

“It’s fine, but, erm, can’t I get like, a few more hours sleep?”

“Well, you could, but I’m leaving in about ten minutes, so you’d only have Jess to say your good byes to. Don’t get me wrong, yesterday’s been great, and I want to do it again. But you have a life to get back to, remember?”

“Yes, my life at this point in time would normally consist of sleep.” I said in a jokingly bitter way.

“Four!?” It really was difficult for my mind to fathom, especially considering the time in the morning. She kissed me on the cheek, to which I replied in muchly the same manner. “Four.” I stated, realising that I would have to leave, and stood up, dressing myself in the clumsy manner you would expect to do at 04:00, or 04:08 as it was, though I didn’t think those 8 minutes had made much difference to how I would feel. I was sitting at the end of the bed, where she sat next to me, with her arm around my neck, which felt quite painful, I didn’t sleep very well, and it appeared quite obviously by a look on my face, meanwhile, Kate looked her normal perfect self. As I was ready, I stood up, and looked longingly at Kate, in desperation. She stood up with me, hugging me, though I feel she may have been doing this to support me more so than anything else. It was a great hug that went on for minutes, we were just holding each other up. Neither of us really wanted to part with each other, though Kate found it more necessary than I did.

“Ok… you should go.” She said, though she didn’t want me to leave, and I could tell that from her tone. I whined again. “Perhaps, in a couple of days, I’ll see you again?” She wanted confirmation from me.

“Sure, I’d love it… most of it.” I couldn’t help being childishly bitter, I was like that in extreme mornings.

“You’re cute.” She said, kissing me on the cheek again, to which I synchronised with. We walked out of her bedroom, and then to the flat door, where we hugged for minutes again, before I was told that I should go, again, to where we kissed again, and to where I exited her life for some span of time. I’ll be honest, I was outside of the flat door for about 10 minutes, sitting. With my head against the door, longing for Kate already, or trying to sleep, I forget which. I couldn’t wish to walk home right now, I don’t think my body was quite capable. In fact, it was Kate opening the door again, before I realised that I had to go. And so I began one of the longest walks in my life, not because I was depressed, but because I was so tired and confused, I took a few wrong turns throughout the journey. And that was when I went home, relieved to find that Mr. Schnapps had left and was not still there waiting for me. And that was when my life changed… for the worse.

_________________________

Chapter Forty

“Tie your mother down, tie your mother down. Give me all your love tonight.” – Freddie Mercury

It was kind of like life is in the movies, when someone gets home, and the phone rings straight away, so for this to happen in my real life was somewhat odd.

“Vinny Vicks?” Someone asked, my tired mind couldn’t solve out who it was at the time.

“Yes?” I asked, lying on the sofa in the cabin, still trying to sleep, which I knew was the wrong thing to do.

“It’s Ted.” He said, and I noticed that his voice was slightly off. For my brother to phone me in the first place suggested bad news, and I knew it.

“What is it?” I wanted to exclaim, but my body wouldn’t allow such feelings.

“It’s mother…” And that was it. He didn’t have to say any more, his tears over the phone had hit me. But, I still had to ask.

“What!?” I was quite panicky, but slightly more awake.

“She’s been killed.”

“Killed!?” I suppose I expected that she had died, but to be killed? This was not good.

“By Mr. Schnapps,” oh my go- “He was insane, he just walked in, I welcomed him, but he didn’t recognise me, he trashed the house, and killed…” He broke down, and he hung the phone up. He still hated talking to me on the phone, and this was the same case. I managed to put the phone down, and fill myself with my own thoughts, which was not a very good fulfilment.

I was angry, I was upset, and I felt that if only Sam Beckett had stayed in Mr. Schnapps’ body, he wouldn’t have gone on the murdering rampage that he did. The feeling of your mother dying is unbearable enough, but when they are killed, it’s indescribable. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t really have anyone to turn to, apart from Ted, but I had the feeling that he didn’t want to speak to me, or that he couldn’t speak to me. I only had Kate to talk to, but it was still six in the morning, and she was probably doing something. I didn’t decided to phone Ted, to find out what was happening with mother’s funeral, which was on the following Wednesday. It seemed my lot in life, that things should start going absolutely and then ever so quickly life would become unbearable once again. For some reason, it appears to be one of the commandments that no one’s life can be great for longer than 24 hours, and my situation was proving this all the more.

I gave in, and tried to phone Kate, I would have been worried that she may think that I was being desperate, but I was still getting over the fact that my mother had been murdered, I was still in a muchly crying state.

“Kate?” I managed to stagger this word together with not much evidence that I was completely dying from my tears.

“Yes?”

“Hi, it’s Vinny Vicks.” These words were further away from each than they were read, with high-pitched warbles added.

“What’s wrong?” She sounded concerned which was great, I probably should have apologised for phoning her, but it didn’t occur to me at the time.

“My mother…” There was a burst of tears from me at this point. “… She’s been killed.” I could hear her gasp over the phone, and I could sense that she felt the urgency to swear, but she also knew that suppressing it would be the best idea.

“Are you ok?” She knew I wasn’t, and it was a stupid dumb-assed thing to say, but what do you say to someone in this situation? I decided to not actually answer her question.

“Will you come with me to her funeral on Wednesday?” I asked her, because I needed her.

“Sure, of course I will, I mean, will others not mind?”

“You don’t have to worry about the others, I’d really appreciate you to be there for me.”

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” I thanked her.

Funerals were and are stupid things, they have the habit to be placed at the time when you’re just about learning to cope with the loss of whoever, and then it all comes surging back. The clever thing to do would be to have the funeral as soon as possible, but most people have a tendency to not be clever. My mother’s loss wasn’t easy to cope with, I wasn’t attached to her like some people are with their mothers, but I never wished death upon her, and I felt terrible for what had happened. I didn’t actually know what was happening with Mr. Schnapps, Ted had never told me what had happened to who I thought I was once a good friend with, before everything changed for the worse. These events had tied together and made so little sense, much like the previous twenty-odd years of my life, and I always it assumed it was just like this when I was a child, but it appears that it’s an eternal thing, and I hate that. Life does appear to be shit, although now and then, life gives off a hint that it might actually be the best thing ever, I have the feeling this is just an attempt to convince people not to commit suicide. Although I didn’t believe in God, if I did, then I would be questioning his existence at this point. I was lost with myself, I didn’t know what to do about anything, I was confused, but unlike when I’m normally confused, I wasn’t aroused at the same time. I worried that mother’s funeral would not receive a good audience, other than Ted, Kate, and myself; I wasn’t really sure who else would attend. In fact, what with mother being the social outcast she was, I don’t think anyone else was coming.

The day before the funeral, Kate came to the cabin, I’d obviously told her where I lived, and she managed to find it. After a hug that was longer than our departing one, the day consisted on her just supporting me. I realise that it was a difficult situation for he to be in, and I truly appreciated what she was doing. She sat on the sofa, while I lay with my head on her lap, just staring at her. I wasn’t sure whether my mind was thinking about how great she was, or how dead my mother was. We didn’t speak a lot, I wasn’t sure what to say any more so than she was. I then decided to ask something that I didn’t even know was on my mind.

“Listen, are we like official, or are we just having fun?” I asked her, and instantly regretted it, or felt that I should have done.

“How do you mean?” She asked.

“Well, like, are we officially going out?” Oh Vinny Vicks, you fool, maybe.

“Sure. Aren’t we supposed to be?”

“Of course we are.” I felt I was digging a hole already. “I just thought you might not see me as something serious.”

“You’re cute.” She said again, stroking her finger through my hair, this was just a great feeling; I’ve got a really sensitive head that just loves being stroked. “Don’t worry, you can present me as your girlfriend.” She smiled that cute ‘You’re so clumsily cute’ smile. I smiled back.

“Okay, though I fear it’ll only be my brother there, my mother wasn’t… very popular with others :o(”

“:o(, That sucks, but maybe there will be loads of people there, you don’t know.” She was trying to comfort me. But I knew the truth.

“I can’t see there being more than five people there, to be honest.” I was actually right with this prediction, but more about that later. I fell asleep on the sofa a while later, Kate decided to leave me there, and use one of the bedrooms; thankfully she opted for the one which didn’t contain a decomposed corpse in. The following morning, I decided to dress into my suit, and then sit on the sofa, alert for a relevant time. Kate had already been awake for a few hours at this time, but that was fine, she’d crept around slowly, whatever it was that she was doing. We were both at the point where we were both ready, and so Kate drove us to the church, it turned out she could drive, which was handy.

So yes, my estimation of five people was correct, Ted was there waiting for the two of us, as was the vicar like guy, and also… some guy, he was from this planet it appeared, though I didn’t know much of who he was.

But first, I’m going to talk about my father, he died 10 months before my birth of course, and so, I had never seen him, but Ted had seen him, and had known of him for 14 years, we actually had the same father, which was kind of retro. So basically, for me to see my father would be obvious, because Ted would know him, surely? Yes, and don’t call me Shirley. Also, my father was dead; I couldn’t see him, not without digging him up, which I didn’t plan on. But this guy, he could have been anyone, he was probably just there for the free food, I bet. We went through the service, which was short, there were only four people there to talk to, what was the point in dragging it out, and Kate never knew my mother, so it was more pointless. And the other guy, I don’t know what he knew; he never made a speech or anything.

After the ceremony, or whatever you call it, I introduced Kate to Ted properly; Ted was quite gratuitous to her, and vice versa. Though we were all questioning about the other guy.

“Who’s the other guy?” I asked Ted.

“I’m not sure, who could he be?” He replied.

“I don’t know, what’s he doing here?” I answered

“Who knows?” He retorted.

“Not me.” I answered.

“Nor me.” Kate added.

“Why is he here?” Ted asked.

“For mother’s funeral, I’d expect.” I expected.

“Hmmm, most confusing, this matter is. Clouded by the rain clouds, it is.” Ted fell into the trap of quoting Star Wars.

And life went on like that for quite a while that day. We were in the whatever room, eating the whatever snacks that were being provided by whoever. And He was still there, none of us recognised him, no one really knew anything about him. He just continued to sit there, solemnly, eating the whatever snacks as if he had all day to do it. It would get to the point where one of us had to question him, and this was when Ted decided that it should be his task.

“Hi.” Ted decided to ease into the conversation before shouting questions at him.

“Hi.” He replied in a quiet manner.

“How did you know my mother?” Ted wasn’t very good at easing.

“Oh.” He started. “I’m really sorry about her.”

“It’s fine.” Ted stated, holding back the tears in a simply red manner.

“I mean, I never actually knew her…”

“What do you mean!?” Now Ted was shouting questions at him, he was a bit tense, naturally.

“What I mean is, that, I’m one of her son’s father.” My ears were naturally dropping more eaves than usual at this point.

“One of? Both her sons have the same father…”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but your mother used a sperm donor for her second child, a month after losing her husband. And well, it was my sperm.”

“I don’t understand.” Ted didn’t understand.

“When a mummy wants a child very much, and doesn’t have a daddy, sometimes they go to this place like a… bank, and after a mummy has gone through lots of banking like stuff, she realises that she’s going to have a little brother or sister for you.”

“I see.”

“Excuse me?” I entered the conversation with this.

“Yes?” Replied Him.

“You appear to be my father, how can I assist?”

“Son!?”

“Father Vicks!?” I was all exclaimationable right now.

“Well, technically, my last name isn’t Vicks, it’s Terrance but oh wow, this is great, my own son, what’s your name and stuff?”

“My name is Vinny Vicks, my hobbies are short and worthless.

“Oh boy.” He was pretty upbeat about meeting his son. “Wait, wait, I’ve got it.” He paused at this point, before breathing heavily. “Your mother never told you about your father.”

“She told me enough, she told me he was dead!” I proclaimed.

“No, Vinny Vicks. I am your father.”

“No, no, NOOOO! That’s not true, that’s impossible.”

“Search your feelings Vinny Vicks, you know it be true.” He claimed.

“Actually I don’t, and I desire proof.” I stated. “No, actually, I don’t care, you weren’t there for me in the past, why do I need you now?”

“Good point.” Admitted Mr. Terrance. And to that, he simply flew away, and that’s the first and last I ever heard of my father. Sorry if you were expecting some kind of twist, but it’s late, and I don’t feel like one.

_________________________

Chapter Forty-One

“Childhood was like that, perfect and violent, so the fact that I ever did leave home never really made sense to me, but neither did The Matrix, until I watched it a second time 4 years later, that was when it hit me that the story kinda made sense and I assume the same happens with the story of my life.” – Vinny Vicks

So yes, many things have happened in my life. Although, not many things seemed to happen until I was eight, when I shot an Eskimo in the face. I also had the highs of meeting Jesus and Hitler, and having thoughts on whom the children’s lives we based upon. I’d travelled to a different hemisphere, and I travelled to what that hemisphere would regard as a different hemisphere. I met a man that sold stickers. I’d become a successful artist to an extent. I had formed a gang, and that gang had been questioned about the murder of a rhododendron. I had been imprisoned for the act; though I suspect that it was really the singing fish that done it. I had lost a pool competition and broken out of the aforementioned prison. And since then, little has happened, sure, I found love, found out that one of my friends was really Sam Beckett, and that the aforementioned friend has murdered my mother, and it was at her funeral where I met my father for the first and last time, but nothing significant has happened for a while. Of course, with Mr. Schnapps locked… oh, that’s something I meant to tell you.

Mr. Schnapps had of course murdered my mother, and was now being imprisoned by some kind of prison that imprisons people for worser crimes than sweet nothings. This was a crappy prison that did have homosexual rape, and didn’t have a food court. Of course, with Mr. Schnapps being a far away alien from Twatooine, it is my understanding that for him to receive homosexual rape, it would be the attacker that would receive all the pain, so Mr. Schnapps was safe in this way. I supposed it was too difficult for him to understand what he had actually done, and understandably so. In a way, I suppose it wasn’t his fault that he had gone insane; really, it was Sam Beckett that had generated the confusion. There may be lots of people out there that are there to improve insignificant lives, but they can also ruin them, that’s a bad thing.

When I had gone to speak to Mr. Schnapps, he didn’t really know whom I was, but he had told me a story about meeting someone called Robert Rico, who had attacked Mr. Schnapps on the suspicion that it was his fault that Robert was in prison. However, Robert Rico was killed for this crime, and it seems a shame that the only way people cannot question what has happened to someone is by definitely killing them off, or finishing somewhere positive with them. I choose this point to tell you that Mr. Wilson from Chapter Two had died shortly after the wizard revelation.

I can tell you now that Mr. Schnapps went to live his life out in prison, but I could also tell you that he died instantly, you’re going to believe whichever story I tell you, but yes, he was in prison, trying to recover from his insanity, though he never did by the time this novel ends. Kelly Darca’s decomposed body had now evaporated around the cabin, and every time someone coughed, one would ask who it was, while the other would reply

“It was Kelly.” It was some kind of in-joke, which is one of the best jokes there are. One of the worst jokes there are, are of course fat people. Fat people, can be chirpy, but in my experiences, are not. Fat people also have the habit to walk slowly, but also to be walking in front of you. As I’ve mentioned, I’m a fast-walker but hate to over take people, however, when I attempt to over take a fat person, they waddle so much that it’s hard to get past them without taking a long cut, because they have the habit to go exactly where you don’t want them to. Also, fat people tend to walk small dogs, small dogs on long leads, making it even harder to over take them, whilst trying to not squash the dog (or the puppy it’s walking). Or sometimes, fat people have those big stupid bags that you carry at your side, making them even fatter, and even harder to walk past, or look at.

Ted Vicks had decided to get back together with Loretta, with our mother dead, they moved into what was now his house. The last I heard, they had given birth to a lovely collection of fences, and Ted was still doing that businessman like job I suggested earlier, maybe. However, I was living at Sydney at this point, so communicating with Ted was something that I never did an awful lot of, but he was a married man and had reached a full happiness, this was good. Everyone’s lives had seemed to tie, of course, Jess and Kate’s lives, as well as my own had still not been answered, but what do you expect? I’m leaving that interesting bit for the finale, which happens to be Chapter Forty-Two; I classify this as the best thing ever. But first, I’d like to remind you of the situation, Jess appears to hate me, Kate appears to love me, despite my slight ignoring of her back at the bit where I met Mr. Terrence. I’d also like to remind you that there are no plot holes, no unanswered questions, and not contradictions in this story, I’ve told you everything. If it didn’t make sense, then perhaps you misread it, because, trust me, it’s all true, and it’s all life. No errors have been made, apart from the errors made in my life, which have not ended yet, maybe. But I’d like to tell you an irrelevant story, that doesn’t conflict with any other part of my life, and never will, it seems to be a separate part of my life, that didn’t really happen, but maybe it did? Who knows?

When I was 15, I was in a car crash. Well, I say car crash, but really, my car blew up (five balloons and a condom). It was a traumatic experience for me, Ted had been driving me to some kind of house that was far away, and for a completely unexpected reason, the car blew up (five balloons and a condom). It was some form of an Audi, a nice Audi, in that it was blue, and blue was a suitable colour for me. Not that I had a favourite colour, that was something that jerks would have a tendency to choose, but the car was blue, and I couldn’t complain. But, for no reason at all, the car just blew up (five balloons and a condom) we were shocked at the car, and had to sell it, as it didn’t appear that it could work after blowing up (five balloons and a condom). So yes, the car was a write off, and then we couldn’t get to go to… that house, which was sad. Almost as sad as when they stopped producing those hedgehog-flavoured crisps, on suspicion that the crisps had been spiked.

It was kind of humourous to me, that lives had seemed to all of a sudden concluded in some form or another, though I was slightly envious that I seemed to have the only life that still had some kind of story to tell. It was kind of ironic, considering that my life, has, fundamentally consisted of nothing, and yet it’s the only life that doesn’t seem wrapped up in the cutest bow yet. Perhaps I’m stalling, not wanting to tell you how my life panned out after the funeral. Perhaps I’m just using as many words as I can before I tell you, for suspense, and length, and greatness. Or perhaps I haven’t decided on the best way to tell you about the inevitable happy ending. A happy ending that most would hate, and consider a false ending, and not true to what would happen in the real world. But this story happened in the real world, and so a happy ending is possible, but due to the pessimistic, sullen character I am, there is bound to be a sever battle to wait and see what happens to such a character. But ladies and gentleman, we draw near to the nigh of the end. And I welcome you to enjoy the final, and more than likely longest chapter in my story, and coincidentally also the novel. So long, and thanks for all the boring tedious things, but now, I exit the life of contradictions, plot holes, and annoyances, and shall finish with some thought provoking, interesting, romanticising, enjoyable ending. Pfft. Yeah, right!

_________________________

Chapter Forty-Two

“We hope you have enjoyed the show. We’re sorry but it’s time to go. We’d like to thank you once again. It’s getting very near the end.”

After the funeral, many things had happened to many other people (see above), however, it took a while for things to take place in my life. I had mostly been spending it hugging Kate, and coughing in the cabin and blaming it on Kelly Darca. This was now somewhat many months later, and I think I would be right in thinking that I was now 22, and that Kate was now 23, and that we had both succeeded in a) remembering t’other’s birthday and b) providing a good enough gift to not reduce t’other to feel hate towards the supplier of gift. Much like the old lady in Titanic (the movie, that is), I’m thinking that you’re thinking that we’ve had sex by now, And who am I to deny such claims? Vinny Vicks, that’s who. We hadn’t had sex yet, some would regard this a bad thing, but the fact that we had lasted such a length of time without experiencing sex, that probably meant that we liked each other for more reasons than Kate is cute. Also, upon hearing that sex is muchly a disappointment, I preferred to wait before my life went downhill right now. Also, for me, although I felt that sex between the two of us would be great, I liked hugging as it we, and we could be all emotional, without having the chore of bouncy about in painful awkward positions. But anyway, this was none of your business, you rude, rude person. But yes, we were older, and still severely happy, most of the time, we would go to her flat, now that Jess had begun working at some place that entitled the flat to be emptier more often, the conveniences led us to stay there. We would hug, and talk, and that kind of stuff, and things would get raunchy at times, but we were in our twenties, so shut up, mum. Oh wait, she’s dead :o(. So yes, nothing was stopping us doing anything, by law, or by moral fear of parents. But still, sex was not a necessary right now, and that was the way we both appeared to like it.

So yes, life was like that for the two of us, meanwhile, Jess had become less bitter towards me. She still seemed to be desperately single, but she had somehow won to be a contestant on Wheel of Fortune, or whatever it’s called over here. Me and Kate woo and yayed for Jess, at least she would get out of the house. The fact that I was far better than her at the quiz show suggested that the wrong person ended there, but this was her chance to make it as if she was intelligent, and who was I to dash her confidence? Vinny Vicks, of course. I teased her, testing her until she was going to hit the show time, and generally beating her to every single phrase and movie title. Although, she was good at locations, even when compared to me, or maybe I was just bad at locations, I don’t know. Either way, it mostly depends on the luck of spinning the actual wheel of fortune, and sometimes misfortune. Jess was kind enough to actually let us come and participate in the audience to watch her. It was kind of cool to be in the audience of a television set, with cameras and stuff, and to applaud on cue and that kind of stuff. We did watch her, and in a bitchy way, I suppose we were supporting her. She was doing very well; the first round was a location “The Statue of Liberty” and was staying in the lead throughout. We applauded muchly when the cameras had to pre-record where they would leave for the breaks, even though the show just went straight on. Jess had impressed me; I suppose she was just getting all the right phrases, movies and everything. And she had got to the final; Wheel of Fortune was one of those quiz shows where the final only consisted on one participant. So the fact that she was in the final was a good thing, because it meant that she didn’t really have to beat anyone. The task of the final was easy, they would show them a place name, or something, and then they’d get to guess so many letters and then have 30 seconds to try and get it. She ended up getting a singer, who was basically “_RAN_ / __NAR_RA” after 24 seconds of Jess fumbling about trying to get the right words, she eventually worked out that the singer was Frank Sinatra and won the prize. Me and Kate applauded, or whatever, and then we had to go home, due to, wanting to. Jess had to stay there for an indefinite amount of time to celebrate, receive her prize and whatevers. So me and Kate decided that going to some place that done pizzas would be a good idea, and so we did. We had some kind of pizza that was half-Hawaiian and half-spicy meat (I once knew a guy like that). We then decided to eat half of each flavour each. The pizza was a nice pizza, so nice, that we managed to congeal it all, so yay! After the pizza we returned to the flat, Jess still hadn’t got back yet, that was a good thing, and so we faffed about, watching whatever was on television and hugging and talking about sweet nothings. Somehow, we’d been like this for the majority of the year, and yet, it hadn’t got boring. I can imagine doing some things that would just get boring after about 8 months, such as:

a) Listening to Rosie O’Donnell talk.

b) Banging my head against a well.

c) Arguing about who could outrun teh Flash.

d) Apple bobbing.

e) Watching Lord of the Rings (replace ‘8 months’ with ‘8 minutes).

However, hugging and talking about sweet nothings for 8 months never really bored me. Neither did it cause pain to my penis, unlike some things would, such as:

a) Fire

b) Ice

c) Wind

d) Earth

e) Knives

f) Those stupidly pointy shoes

g) A hungry dog

h) Hacksaw

i) Watching Lord of the Rings

j) Cyanide

k) Drill

l) The Apocalypse

m) A vice

n) Sharks

o) Eyelash curlers

p) Endoscopes.

So I had been grateful for the previous 8 months, and was looking forward to a long future with Kate, and it’s as if fate could tell that I deserved my comeuppance. And so, at whatever the time was, Jess arrived.

“Well done.” Kate commented, unenthusiastically.

“Oh.” Said Jess. “Thanks.” Girls can be real sarcastic bitches when they try.

“Well done, Jess!” Don’t read too much into that exclamation mark, it was a weak exclamation mark, to say the least.

“Thank you…” Kate was saying at that point of time. “Oh, I suppose you’ll be glad to know.”

“Oh?” Asked Kate.

“Oh?” Asked I. We asked virtually at the same time, but I was slightly, ever so slightly, behind Kate’s ‘Oh?’.

“Well, the prize for my winning the game show was a bit of money, and also somewhere to stay in some faraway place.”

“Oh?” Questioned I.

“Oh?” Questioned Kate. I had slightly reacted quicker this time.

“Yeah, it’s in Taiwan, or New York, or something, I forget.”

“Oh?” We both asked, Kate had got quicker this time, but only to be exactly at the same point as I.

“Yes well, I’ll be moving out, and live the life of rye, meanwhile, you can have my flat, and pay for it and stuff.”

“Oh.” Responded Kate.

“…” Responded I (or lack, thereof). I wasn’t really feeling like responding at that exact moment, for some reason.

“I assume that with Vinny Vicks here, and all, you’d appreciate my giving my flat to you for you to have sex in and stuff.”

“Oh!” Now I felt like responding.

“So yeah, I’ll move out, like soon, so celebrate, or not.” Jess was pretty happy about leaving, it appeared, though could not really be bothered to tell us. Kate was happy though, but it was also late and dark, and so, Kate went to bed. I stayed up for a while, it made me feel slightly more independent, and less under the thumb than I really was. Jess was faffing about like normal, she never seemed to really sleep, but just to disappear.

“So, what’s happening?” She asked me.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t know what she meant.

“Well, between you two.”

“Oh.” I always preferred to answer like this; it made sure that I gave myself time to think. “Well, we’re getting on brilliantly, last time I checked. And don’t take this the wrong way, but with you moving out, things should get better between us.”

“Hmmm.” She suggested.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, nothing.” She said. “It’s none of my business, really, sorry I asked.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with you asking?”

“Oh, isn’t there?” She said in a rhetorical way, but I answered it anyway.

“No, there isn’t.”

“Hmmm.” She suggested again.

“I don’t get you Jess.” I stated.

“Fair enough.” And then she just got up and left to her bedroom.

“Hey?”

“What?” She asked, continuing to leave.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m going to bed.” She answered.

“What?” This word was being over-used.

“I’m going to bed.” She repeated.

“You’re avoiding something.” I inspected.

“Am I?” She asked

“Yes?” I didn’t actually know, I was just guessing.

“No.” She answered, and then left to what was her bedroom, and I assume was her going to sleep. I decided to also resign, going into to Kate’s bedroom, to find that she was still awake, despite leaving about 30 minutes ago.

“Hi.” I said, as if I hadn’t seen her for about an hour.

“Hi.” She smiled cutely.

“You okay?” I asked, I was pretty concerned, it was pretty late, and she’d normally be awake pretty early.

“I’m fine.” I thought I heard a sort of sniffle, or a snuffle, I couldn’t conclude which.

“C’me’ere” I said, going up to hug her, and comfort her, whatever the hell was wrong with her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She stated.

“C’me’n, tell me.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, what the fuck are you talking about?” She protested.

“Oh, ok then. You just looked, as if, you were, not good.” I tried hard to make this not sound like an insult to her beauty.

“I’m fine.” She had calmed down and gone back to cutely smiling.

“You sure?” I asked, I was still concerned.

“Yeah.” She kissed me on my cheek, this was a good way to making someone shut up.

“Why are you still awake?” I was concerned as to this being a reason to her not being good, more so than her sniffling or snuffling.

“I was just thinking.”

“About?” I was perhaps pushing her to hard, I decided to lie in bed, all relaxed like.

“Oh, Jess leaving, and us two having the whole flat to ourselves.”

“Oh.” I smiled, this seemed like a good prospect to me.

“We’ll need more money, I think you may have to go get one of those jobs.” I found this funny; in the way that Kate didn’t have a job either, not that I was so reluctant to get a job.

“I need to?” I questioned.

“Well, I’m still studying geology, I can’t get a job.”

“Sigh.” I kissed her on the forehead in a ‘you win’ way and went to sleep.

The following morning, we found that Jess had already left (a note, also). To which the note read:

Gone to Taiwan/New York, I’ll perhaps see you sometime. I hope you both live happily ever after / rot in hell.

Jess

P.S. I left anthrax on the rim of the milk carton. Perhaps that’ll encourage you to use a glass, Vinny Vicks.

“I’m going to throw the milk out.” I told Kate, of course, she had seen the note some hours before I had even awoke, and so why Kate hadn’t thrown the milk away before me kinda scared me, but hey, it’s the sixties. And then, Jess had exited our lives, most probably for quite a long time. And it was just Kate and myself living together, without having to worry about finding a place. However, I had to get a job, but I couldn’t really find the urgency to do it at that precise point. So I decided to walk around Sydney, without Kate, and with my thoughts and myself. Alas, I didn’t have much to think, I wasn’t especially, happy, although, considering my current status, I probably should have been. I was walking around Sydney as most people would on a Thursday morning, confused. I never got the hang of Thursdays. There were a few people about, but these people were not interesting to describe, unlike the following person I was to meet. I saw him from a distance, and in a way, I recognised him, but only in the kind of way you recognise someone that you’ve barely seen, and when you did see them, it was two years ago, or about 40 chapters ago.

“Wanna buy some stickers?”

“Yeah man.” I answered to him.

“You are such a kind man.” Said the small short man, who was also old.

“Thank you?” I wasn’t sure what to say.

“No, thank you.” He insisted.

“Um, okay?” I still wasn’t sure what was happening.

“You ever thought about selling stickers?” He asked.

“I can’t say that I have.” I answered honestly.

“Well you see, I’m so old, and in the past years, I’ve made it from the crappy bit of New South Wales and cracked Sydney. I’d like to think that this business could run on after I pass on.” And he kept on saying words to this effect.

“I see.” I didn’t really.

“Wanna buy some stickers?”

“Nah man, I bought some already.” I stated.

“You did? Well thank you, you kind man.” He respectfully said, bless them old people.

“You’re welcome.”

“You ever thought about selling stickers?” He asked.

“Yes, I have.”

“Oh, that’s great, you see, I’d like to think that my business will run on after I die, from my old age, you see.”

“I see.” I must say I probably did see where he was going.

“Do you want to work for me? You see, I don’t want to see my business die when I do.” At the time, I couldn’t’ve said that I actually did want to work for him, but it would get Kate to shut up, the stickers were wonderfully expensive and wonderfully cheap to buy, which meant a great profit, providing someone actually bought them, which they did.

“Erm, sure.”

“Sure what?”

“Sure, sir.”

“Sure sir what?”

“I’ll sell stickers for you.” I said.

“You will? Oh that’s just great, because I would hate to see this business die when I do. Right, so basically, this is where you get the stickers from.” He gave me a card. “And you sell them for this price.” He pointed at a $7 sign. “No more, and no less. And I think that’s all you need to know.” He informed me.

“Oh, okay.” And like that, pooft, he was gone. He becomes a dead man; he dies right on the spot. And suddenly, I assume I’m the new sticker man. I decided that I had earned a day off, picked my stickers up, and returned to the flat.

“Honey, I’m home.” I said in the cheesy way you all think I said it in.

“Where have you been, you’ve been out for nearly 30 minutes.”

“I got me one of those jobs.”

“Oh well done Vinny Vicks, what are you doing?” Kate asked.

“Oh, I’m the new sticker man.”

“Sticker man?”

“Y’know, a guy that sells stickers. Basically, I buy them at low, low prices, and sell them for surprisingly high prices.” I said.

“Oh, well, will it support us?” She asked.

“More so than your bra does.” I answered.

“Oh well in that case, dinner will be in a while.”

“I’m under the impression that it’s still morning, dear.” I announced.

“I meant a long while.” Kate clarified.

“Oh, I see.” Needless to say, she was smiling cutely, so I was quite happy to wait for dinner, also, I was expecting to wait. She was going to cook something for me later, but what, I didn’t know. I now had a job, which was impressive; it allowed me to earn money.

Of course I had had jobs before, other than my failed art career, and my bank robbery success, there was my desk job. I got a job as a desk. Overall, it was quite successful, despite the back pain, and having hot coffee spilt on me on numerous times. The pay was rather good, and I got through life being a desk without too many complaints. At one point I was a desk for one of the larger companies in my area, and I was on the up. Some people would claim that they were using my blindness as a cheap labour cause, but the guys well good to me there. People didn’t have to support me; I had to support them, or their work, more precisely. But I had done that job up until I had to leave, when I decided that I wanted to move to Wales from New South Wales, of course, this was a trip to the past that was unnecessary, but I didn’t know that at the time, did I?

That was the Thursday pretty much over with; tomorrow would be our first whole day living in a flat with no Jess. It would also be my first whole day living a life as a sticker salesman. So yes, what a difference a day made, 24 little hours. But the next 24 hours would nearly be kind of eventful, slightly, and that wasn’t too bad.

Waking up on Friday was not nice, Kate had woken me up earlier than I intended on waking up, it was four in the morning.

“Four!?” I asked.

“I’ve warned you about this before, darling.” She smiled.

“Yes, but, can’t you just creep out, like normally.” It was four in the morning, so it took me this long to realise that she was holding a saucepan and a wooden spoon, in her left and right hands respectively. “Wait a minute, did you wake me up on purpose!?” I questioned in a startled way that one would at four in the morning.

“No…” Kate answered, with that cute ‘I’m totally lying’ smile.

“Why?” I protested, in a moaning style that you would tend to use at only four in the morning.

“It’s your first day of work today.” She stated, as if she was actually expecting me to start work this early.

“Honey, I don’t think anyone wants to buy stickers at this time of day.”

“And you’ve done research to prove this?” She questioned, with her Australian accent, it was hard to tell whether this was a question or just a statement, her voice was going to be raised either way.

“Yes, I have. Statistics show that the majority of people, and therefore, the majority of people wanting to buy stickers, are sleeping at four in the morning.” She laughed at this, and then picked up a few things following with the line.

“I’m going out for a while, I’ll see you whenever.” I was still lying in bed, with a slight grimace on my face. She came up to me, kissed me on my forehead; to say I responded with a generous act of love would be a lie, but I intended to make one, had I been fully awake, and I think she knew this. And then she left, and that was the same point that I decided to stay in bed for a few hours.

On my second awakening, I decided to get up more quickly than I would, my tired state stopped me gaining any kind of head rush, and this was a good thing. So I went to the bathroom, or restroom, or toiletries, and done the kind of things a man would do in such a room, alas this doesn’t include cleaning one’s face or anything that doesn’t involve excreting at a high percentage.

It was still rather early, in fact, I considered myself quite an early waker, until I actually met Kate. So, I had one of those cereal like breakfasts, there were easy to eat when you had just woken up, that was a good thing also. After my cereal, I watched television for an indefinite amount of time. Not a lot is on at that time. In fact, not a lot is on television ever, but at about six in the morning, even less. I had the choice between watching the news, of which there was none, because it was six in the morning, and everyone that had the power to change the news was actually asleep at this point, or watching miscellaneous cartoons on another channel. It’s not as if I was watching the television in the hopes of impressing someone that I might watch the news in the morning, so I went and watched the cartoons. Sure, the majority cartoons are aimed at kids, and these cartoons were part of that majority, but there were still a few funnies that I don’t think you would understand as a child, and this is why, being 22, I could still watch cartoons, because there were jokes made for people like me to get.

After watching the cartoons, I gazed at my stickers, and considered going out to work, but also considered not going out to work, and this was a more appetizing consideration for me. I decided to have a shower (shower? I hardly even know ‘er) and clean my teeth and the kind of stuff that I should do. Then I glanced at the stickers again, and decided that I really should get out and sell them, instead of watching cartoons and eating cereal to wake me up, and showering.

Walking about Sydney was fun, but walking around Sydney carrying stickers was something that made life all the much better, or do I mean worse? I forget. But yeah, I decided to stand where the nameless sticker man was just before he died. This was quite a busy area, but there was room to move about. I actually found a nice bit of wall to sit on, so that when it was quiet, I thought that I could just sit and wait, rather than to stand and wait. The first guy I saw there was walking about, so I slightly approached him, and asked,

“Wanna buy some stickers?” Is what I asked.

“Nah man.” He answered. I felt crushed, I was upset, and I felt I had disappointed the nameless sticker man that came before me. I felt rejected; I didn’t know how I could cope with people not wanting to buy my product. Asking someone else became difficult, I felt that they would reject me as well, and I was bringing the business down already, and nameless sticker man was probably upset with me. But in a way, I knew that nameless sticker man didn’t want me to be like this, he wanted me to be able to lift myself up after any crash downs (metaphorically) and so I attempted to build up my courage, and earn a living, for me, and for Kate.

“Wanna buy some stickers?” I asked a quite elderly man, or shared the same height as I did, but had no other abnormal appearances that I could attempt to describe.

“Oh?” He was being curious, this was my chance to sell.

“Well, for the low, low price of $7, you can buy one of these variety of these stickers, which have many uses.”

“Such as?” He seemed like he might actually purchase one of these.

“Well, you can use them to make other people happy, you can prevent leaks, and with some of the stickers, you can warn someone sitting or standing next to you that they are stupid, and also that you’re with them.”

“Hmmm, they are pretty useful.” He said.

“They sure are, and with you being on that pension that I assume you’re on, you must have loads of money, so spending it on one sticker will only improve your life doubly so.” I stated, with my salesman smile that I appeared to have.

“I’ll take two, please.”

“Two? That’s fine, that’ll be $14 please.” And the transaction was complete, and I was making a profit, and I bet that nameless sticker man and my mother were both smiling up/down/sideways on me from wherever their bodies were. And the day continued to be successful, if this were some kind of movie, it’s be showing me asking “Wanna buy some stickers?” over and over again, and then there’d be all this money flowing into my face using computer technology and stuff, and they’d be playing some kind of music that suggested “That man is making a severe profit” and then it’s skip to me going home and saying something cheesy like “Look how much money I made, Kate.” And I’d have this big smile on my face, and then my life would take a turn for the worse.

However, this wasn’t some kind of movie, this was real life, so I actually had to go through the suffering of asking everyone “Wanna buy some stickers?” and such like things. I then received lots of money, and then thought that it would be time to go home early, after a very successful day. The walk home was fun; it was easier than the walk to my spot, due to my sticker case now weighing less. Sure, that weight should have been put back on by the money, but shut up. Anyway, I was walking back to the flat, as I normally would when I was somewhere else in Sydney that wasn’t my flat. After climbing the stairs, I didn’t feel like using the lift, I walked into the flat.

“Look how much money I made, Kate.” I said, I wasn’t too sure if she was actually there, I hope she would have been, otherwise I would have felt stupid talking to her when she wasn’t even there. Like her, I decided to faff about the flat as if I was looking for something, but this time I actually was, so.

And that’s when I went into the bedroom.

…

I stormed right out. I was pretty angry at the time. I didn’t want to look at her. I didn’t want to listen to her. I didn’t want to hear any explanations. I left my stickers and the money in the flat. I didn’t care about them anymore. I didn’t care about her anymore. I used the stairs again. This time because I felt I could run down them quicker than the lift. I was outside the building. Walking. Just walking. I was doing nothing else. I just kept walking. Away from the flat. Away from Her. I didn’t know where I was going. My body assumed I was going to the cabin. Or to Ted. She followed me a long distance. Eventually she gave up. I just kept walking. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t laughing. I was just angry. Angry and full of hate. I hated Her. I hated Him. And that was all there was to it.

My body went to the cabin. My mind was still in the flat. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Her. About Him. About Her insistence to make me listen. About my reluctance to listen. About whether I should have listened. About whether anything that ever happened in my life should have happened. I was lost. Angry. Maybe happy. Happy because now I knew. Angry because my mind was everywhere. Jumping to conclusions. Perhaps the right ones. But perhaps not? I can’t say what happens afterwards. Because, well. You’ve caught up with my present life. Perhaps there will be a sequel. Perhaps it’ll talk about how big a piece of shits Kate Jenner and George Davis are. Perhaps they won’t. Who knows? I’ve gone through 22 years, I can’t say how many more I expect to go through. I can’t say anything, because I don’t know. Life can be like that sometimes, but hey, it’s the sixties.

And now, the end is almost near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friends (or lack thereof), I'll say it clear,
I'll state my case, of which I'm (un)certain.
 
I've lived a life that's empty.
I've travelled to Wales and New Zealand;
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way, when I felt like it.
 
Regrets, I've had a few (including shooting an Eskimo when I was 8);
But then again, too few to mention (apart from the Eskimo one).
I did what I had to do
And saw it through with complete failure.
 
I didn’t plan any charted course;
Each careful step along the bi-way,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way, when I felt like it.
 
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew (heaven knows how much I babbled on about them)
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall, considering my age;
And did it my way, when I felt like it.
 
I've loved, I've laughed and cried (I have, you can check it up).
I've had my fill; my share of losing (share = severe overuse).
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so confusing.
 
To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in an entertaining way,
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way, when I felt like it.
 
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way, when I felt like it!
 
Scar.
 
(ALL MATERIAL IS COPYRIGHTED TO BARRY J. WATSON, PLEASE DON’T STEAL IT AND MAKE A PROFIT FROM IT, I’D BE SURELY PISSED OFF. All rights reserved also, so don’t pull a fast one, laddie.)