by Unknown
Plan 6
Tell her I’ve had a breakdown and wait for her to come back. (Play mad.)
Plan 7
Commit suicide.
After careful analysis of the options, bearing in mind my tendency to be cowardly and take the easy option, I have decided on number 1. Also, Dad reckons he could score Princess Diana with his homegrown roses if he put his mind to it – I guess us Miltons should play to our strengths. This time tomorrow night I could be lying on my bed kissing the Mermaid. It’s not impossible…
Saturday 2nd March
Mom tried really hard to convince me that trying to win Mermaid back was a bad idea. The way I see it there’s nothing to lose except my dignity. (Which I lost anyway when I begged her to stay with me after she dumped me.)
I spent the day editing the poem I wrote last night and planning what I was going to say to her. I thought about phoning her first but that’s too scary so I guess I’ll just surprise her and see what she says.
Dad offered to drive me to Mermaid’s house and then wait for me around the corner. He reckons ‘a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do’.
16:45 Mom tried to talk me out of it just fifteen minutes before I was to embark on Mission Mermaid. She said I should ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.
17:00 Dad roared down the street in our turbocharged hearse. In one hand I held the biggest bunch of red and yellow roses and in the other a purple envelope with the poem inside. Dad stopped the hearse around the corner from Mermaid’s house and gave me a big hug. He then dabbed some of his Old Spice aftershave on my chin and said, ‘Secret weapon.’
My heart was thumping and I felt nauseous. I found some bushes and tried to puke but nothing came out. I crept around the outside of Mermaid’s property, keeping close to the hedge and finally stopping outside the gate from where I was able to sneak a peek at the house. The front door was open and I could see blurred movement inside.
After about twenty minutes of hiding behind the gate like a criminal, I finally psyched myself up for my big move. Just then a white Volkswagen Golf with shiny silver wheels and a yellow surfboard on the roof, sped down the road and hooted impatiently. The electric gates opened immediately. I slammed the small gate shut and leapt into the hedge. The driver sped through the gates and stopped inside the Mermaid’s yard. A strong looking guy who looked like a surfer checked out his long blonde hair in the rear-view mirror before getting out of the car and slamming the door with his foot. He wore cut-off jeans just below the knee, a tight vest that said Billabong, and green slipslops. I sank low into the shrubs as he swaggered across the front lawn whistling through his front teeth.
And then I saw her… It was the Mermaid, walking out of the house and standing like a picture of beauty on the veranda. I was battling to breathe and had to steady myself against the fence. She wore a denim miniskirt and a tight red top. Is it possible that she has become even more beautiful? Then she smiled her dazzling smile. Except it wasn’t for me. It was for the surfer and his white Golf. And then I had to watch them kiss!
It was like watching a horror movie. The rest was a blur and after some time I realized that all I was staring at was a car, an empty garden and a closed door.
I staggered down the street and must have thrown the roses away because they were gone by the time I reached Dad’s car. Dad took one look at me and said, ‘Shit a brick.’ He then tried to cheer me up by saying that I would one day remember this moment and be pleased that I was freed from a neurotic girl and an even more neurotic mother-in-law. I nodded because I didn’t want to cry in front of my father.
I should have listened to Mom. She probably knew anyway.
Sunday 3rd March
I didn’t get out of bed until lunchtime. Mom opened my bedroom door for Blacky who bounded in and leapt onto my bed and began licking my face and growling suspiciously at my bedside lamp. I heard the station wagon roar up the driveway and then the slam of car doors and the high-pitched screech of Wombat. I rolled over and pretended to be dead but then Blacky started humping my leg while staring passionately at my lamp.
I walked outside and saw the usual scene: Dad blowing on the braai and muttering angrily to himself about the dropping standards in charcoal, Mom in her tanning chair holding a goblet of wine in one hand and her fly swatter in the other, and Wombat (dressed in a green velvet suit) speaking in hushed whispers from her deckchair in the shade. This time Wombat was going on about a jackpot that she was meant to have won at Bingo on Tuesday. She reckons the organizers have it in for her and gave it to Beryl Edmunds instead. She then floored her glass of sherry and accused Beryl Edmunds of being an alky.
I jumped into the pool to get away from everyone but the swimming pool made me think about the surfer in the Volkswagen Golf.
After lunch Mom made an announcement. Our flights to England have been booked for 4th July. I’ve never been overseas before – I’m already excited! (Despite the fact that we may emigrate and never come back home.)
18:30 Since the burglary Dad and Innocence are no longer selling booze from our house. Johnny Rogers (an old friend of Dad’s) is selling the booze from his garage next to the bus shelter. Dad says he’s had to put the price up to two rand a bottle because Johnny takes fifty cents a bottle now. It turns out that Innocence’s brew is so popular that she and Dad have a waiting list. The magic brew is called INNOCCENT MOONSHINE.
I asked Dad if he was scared of being bust. He laughed nervously and told me that all Miltons are born winners and he’d rather take the risk than go back to dry cleaning.
On the way back from a moonshine delivery I asked Dad to drive me past Mermaid’s house. I made an excuse and told him I had dropped my pen there last night.
The house was dark, and the Volkswagen Golf was still parked on the lawn.
Monday 4th March
Innocence’s sister (Mbali) is doing the housework now so that Innocence can focus on the moonshine. Mom and Dad can’t remember Mbali’s name so they call her Innocence as well.
Spent the day reading Nineteen Eighty-Four. It’s very bleak but brilliant.
This has been the worst weekend in living memory.
WEEKEND SCORECARD
RAMBO Shagged a barmaid in the flower bed at his cousin’s wedding. He said he has proof. (Apparently his cousin bust him in the act.)
FATTY Tried eating crocodile for the first time and said it tasted like tough chicken.
BOGGO Worked at his stepdad’s tote and got paid five hundred bucks a day!
VERN Was allowed to take Roger home with him. (I think Sparerib has finally realized that his cat has dumped him.)
ROGER Went to Vern’s farm and didn’t leave Vern’s cupboard once.
SIMON Admitted that his mom bust him wanking. (Blind one.)
MAD DOG Opened up a tree house business. He reckons he has 12 orders and is charging R5 000 per house. Think I might have to go into business with him!
SPUD Found out that the Mermaid is in love with somebody else.
Tuesday 5th March
It rained all day. Everything was cold and gloomy. Every teacher gave us a mountain of homework. Feeling homesick.
Wednesday 6th March
Freezing and raining again. Boggo said there’s snow on the Drakensberg.
Because of the weather, Adventure Club consisted of a rope-tying class and a safety lecture on lightning. Mr Hall said that a total of eleven boys have died from lightning strikes since the Second World War. Fatty looked wickedly impressed with this piece of school trivia and made a note.
Sparerib called me into his office after prep and asked me if I was okay. I told him I was fine. He obviously didn’t believe me because he then asked me if there was trouble at home. I told him there was nothing wrong.
Why is it that everyone can be as mad as they like, but the moment I have a bad day I’m hauled into Sparerib’s office for the Spanish Inquisition?
Thursday 7th March
Vern announced that today is Roger’s birthday and dr
essed him up in his orange birthday jersey. We all shook his paw and congratulated the cat on his fourth birthday. Roger looked quite chuffed with the attention and pranced around on Vern’s locker purring loudly and head-butting things.
Saw The Guv outside the dining hall and he asked me if I was all right. I nodded and told him I was late for a meeting.
18:00 Rambo and Mad Dog threw Roger into the fountain. Vern was horrified and at one stage looked like he wanted to punch Mad Dog. Rambo sat Vern down at dinner and explained that if Roger wants to be a member of the Crazy Eight then he has to have a birthday present. Vern eventually nodded in agreement, stuffed a lamb chop in his top pocket and raced off to find the cat.
Friday 8th March
Still cold and wet. All sport (apart from squash) has been cancelled for the weekend.
Sunday 10th March
Spent the weekend sleeping and finished reading Nineteen Eighty-Four. I can see why Dad’s so scared of communists.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me – my nipples are so sore. If I touch my chest I yelp in pain. It’s been getting worse all week. I wonder if I’m dying? If Gecko were here he would tell me exactly what is wrong with me.
Monday 11th March
17:00 Death Breath pushed me out of the shower. He said I was using all the hot water up. The moment he touched my chest I screamed out in pain. Death Breath thought I was taking the piss so he tried to shove his Colgate shampoo bottle up my bum. I galloped out of the showers, trying to cover my nipples with one hand and protecting my backside with the other.
My shower revealed two things: the first is that my nipples are getting worse. The second is that Death Breath is most probably a pervert or a homo. (Or both.)
Tried to watch The Bold and The Beautiful before supper but I kept thinking about my chest. Can a boy of fourteen (nearly fifteen) get breast cancer?
I summoned up the courage and told Boggo about my nipple problem on the way to dinner. He said it sounded serious and that I should get help. Boggo then told everyone at the table that my nipples were infected. Rambo said I was going to grow big gazoombies like Dolly Parton. Mad Dog said that I might become a transvestite and grow female genitals. Then Fatty said that he had heard of a freak from Colorado whose breasts grew so big that they exploded and killed him. By now I was in a complete panic and decided that the problem was bad enough to take to Sister Collins. I pushed my sausage and mash aside and left. I could hear sniggers behind me, and the sound of Fatty scraping my food onto his plate.
I rang the bell at the san. Sister Collins flung the door open with a mouth full of food. Once she had finally swallowed her mouthful of sausage, she said, ‘Right, young man, is this a case of grave illness or have you got a test tomorrow?’ I told her I could be at death’s door and that I most probably had breast cancer. She let rip with a great hacking laugh and told me to take my shirt off and sit on the examination bed. She then looked in my ears, down my throat and told me to say Ahhhh. She touched my left nipple and I yelped and jumped back. Then she told me to put my shirt back on and join her in her study. She sat me down and poured herself a whisky and lit a cigarette.
‘Your condition is serious and I’m afraid irreversible,’ she said before taking a swig of whisky. ‘This disease is impossible to cure and it will sentence you to a life of pain, anguish and perversion.’ I felt vomit rising in my throat.
I’m going to die like Gecko!
Sister Collins sighed and looked at me with a stern face. Suddenly she broke into a huge grin and said, ‘I would look for a new nickname if I were you – your days of being a spud are numbered.’
I felt the blood rush to my face and managed to stammer out, ‘What?’ in a very high-pitched squeak.
Then Sister Collins said, ‘Your mysterious killer disease is called puberty. This is the first stage. The second stage is pubic hair and the third is the ball drop. Now back to prep with you before I get all emotional.’
I raced back to the house skipping with glee and investigated myself thoroughly in the toilet. I couldn’t really see anything and had to call off the examination because Vern kept banging on the toilet door and saying ‘Oi!’ Luckily I left when I did because he was already scribbling me a warning letter for bad form in the bogs and surrounds.
21:30 I called the Crazy Eight to my cubicle and announced that I was soon to be a spud no more. Everyone laughed and shook my hand. Mad Dog said he was relieved I wasn’t becoming a transvestite because then he’d be forced to nail a stake through my heart. Vern shook my hand and then made me shake Roger’s paw and Potato’s amputated limb, which he keeps with his toiletries. Vern has hidden the rest of Potato from Mad Dog for fear of further amputations.
Tuesday 12th March
Woke up feeling the best I have in weeks. I definitely felt more rugged and manly in the showers and I’m working on a new macho swagger in my walk.
Lunch with The Guv was a ripper. We got into a long discussion about Nineteen Eighty-Four and George Orwell. The Guv said the book was an attack on power, corruption and something called ‘totally terrorism’ which means a dictatorship. In the book the hero is forced to confront his worst fear in a torture room called Room 101. His worst fear is rats. The Guv said I must read Orwell’s Animal Farm next, which is all about farmyard animals rising up and taking over the farm. Sounds pretty bizarre.
He asked me why I’ve been so depressed lately. I told him it was because of the Mermaid. I told him about the blonde surfer guy in the Volkswagen Golf. The Guv clutched his chest and cried, ‘The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables!’ He then told me to go on. When I told him I was at last hitting puberty he shouted, ‘Hurrah and huzzah!’ raced to the wine rack and cracked open a twenty-one-year-old bottle of wine.
After finishing his second bottle The Guv started slurring badly and moaning about his wife leaving him empty and destitute. He then turned to me and said, ‘By God, that Mermaid’s mother has a proud pair of knockers.’ He then passed out in his rocking chair with a naughty grin on his face.
Wednesday 13th March
Fatty arrived at Adventure Club with a whole folder full of photostatted pictures and articles about lightning strikes which he had dug out of the library and the archives. Mr Hall invited him to conduct a debriefing. Fatty passed around a series of grizzly photographs of dead bodies that had been struck by lightning. Every single victim had been blown out of their shoes and one old man’s scalp had frizzled up like bacon!
Fatty says that of the eleven schoolboys killed in the last fifty years, ten of them had died in the month of November. Even more strange was that all ten were struck between the 15th and the 26th of November with three of them dying on the 20th. (Fatty did admit that two of the three were hit by the same lightning bolt.) Mr Hall thanked Fatty for the lecture and sucked on his pipe. Then he nodded to us and said, ‘Boys, I think we’ve all learned an important lesson here today. Never go fishing in November.’
Thursday 14th March
There was a rumour flying around the dining hall that Simon is about to be chosen for the first cricket team. I ran up to The Guv as he was heading into the staff room and asked him if the rumour was true. The Guv threw his hands into the air and slammed the staff room door in my face.
14:30 Julian came galloping up to me at choir practice looking incredibly anxious. He slammed down a pile of hymn books and said, ‘Oh my God I heard you have stonies?’ We both looked down towards my nipples and I told him it was true. He then thumped me on the head with a hymn book and cried, ‘Don’t look so smug – you have a solo to sing on this tour and if you sound like a constipated donkey I’ll castrate you and keep your nuts in a jar beside my bed!’ I apologized and assured him that my balls wouldn’t drop in the next few weeks.
Friday 15th March
Simon is still our cricket captain. He reckons the talk about him playing for the first team is just a rumour. Tomorrow we play St Christopher’s.
In art Mr Lilly set
us the task of painting a picture with the title Rhapsody in Blue. He then played a song called Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin on his old record player. I tried to create a moody seascape with massive waves crashing against some high rocks. Unfortunately, it ended up looking like pea soup crashing into a black hat. Lilly took Vern aside for the umpteenth time this term and asked him why his Rhapsody in Blue looked distinctly like Roger in Pink. Vern looked a little alarmed and pulled out a clump of hair making Mr Lilly jump with fright. Our poor art teacher stared at Roger in Pink, before giving Rain Man an emotional hug and swallowing half a jar of white pills.
Fatty had to go to the san after Boggo dared him to drink a cup of white paint.
23:30 NIGHT SWIMMING
Rambo told us the Crazy Eight was becoming lame and needed to do something illegal to get our street cred back. He said our severe lack of night swims this term was unacceptable and that we were setting a bad example to the first years.
Rambo and Mad Dog woke up the Normal Seven and told them to pad up for the mother of all night swims. One of the Darryls started crying and Thinny pretended that he’d died in his sleep. Fatty was outraged that Thinny was being so cowardly so he farted on his head. Thinny was instantly revived from the dead, but then threw up in the bin. He then tried to get out of the night swim by claiming he was ill. Rambo told Thinny to ‘raise his game’ and made him take the bin with him so that he could wash it in the dam.
Runt started sobbing and begged Boggo to let him stay in bed. Boggo considered his request while holding poor Runt out of the window by his feet. Runt screamed in terror and suddenly there was the sound of doors opening and slamming. Emberton and Anderson marched into the dormitory brandishing hockey sticks and sugar cane and demanded to know what was going on. Half the first years were hysterical and once again we were caught red handed. Anderson took one look at the dormitory and told the Crazy Eight to line up for a thrashing. Rambo refused and said that the first years had food poisoning and were vomiting everywhere. Emberton scoffed and thrashed a locker with his sugar cane which immediately started two of the Darryls sniffing again. JR Ewing stepped forward and said, ‘It’s true, Mr Anderson, I gave them dried fruit which must have been off.’ Rambo showed Anderson Thinny’s vomit in the bin, looked Anderson straight in the eye, and swore on his mother’s life that we had done nothing wrong. We got away with it. (Not sure about Rambo’s mom though.)
