Spud

by Unknown

  When normal people say cottage they mean two rooms, a kitchen and maybe a loo outside. When rich people say cottage they mean a mansion with a thatched roof.

  (Mental note: I must stop jumping out the car and saying Wow when I arrive at rich people’s houses. I always get laughed at and then people keep coming up to tell me that their dad’s holiday house makes this mansion look like a chicken run.)

  There were at least eighty teenagers drinking up a storm with not a single adult in sight. More people were arriving all the time and the front lawn was covered with bodies dancing to Springsteen. The Crazy Eight made their way to the main lounge. Everyone stopped talking and all eyes fell on Vern who seemed to be having some angry words with himself at the entrance to the lounge. Rambo looked at the crowd and said, ‘Don’t worry about him, he’s deranged.’ Vern grinned and gave a thumbs up and everybody laughed.

  I wandered down to the bottom of the garden and sat on a swing bench. I didn’t feel like having a downdown competition with Fatty and Rambo. I didn’t feel like drinking beer or smoking cigarettes either. I was thinking about Mermaid. Should I write back? Use the excuse of thanking her for the birthday card? Then I tried to forget about her and focused on the sound of screams and wild splashing coming from the dam.

  I looked up at the sky and thought about her again. I was about to stand up when I heard footsteps approaching. I sank into the bench hoping Vern hadn’t discovered my whereabouts, but I was too late. I felt the lurch on the bench as somebody sat beside me. I smelled the scent of vanilla. I remember turning my face and locking into a pair of dark brown eyes.

  It was Amanda.

  Before I could say a thing she was kissing me. I got such a fright my left leg started shuddering like it had a life of its own. I felt like I was slipping off the swing. After the kiss she smiled at me and said, ‘Hello, Oliver.’ I tried to speak but my voice sounded like a donkey. She laughed her husky laugh and said, ‘So at last the spud becomes a man…’ I smiled but didn’t say anything. And then she kissed me again. I mean, like she just grabbed the back of my head and pulled me towards her. After some vigorous kissing Amanda pulled back, looked me in the eyes and – :

  AMANDA How’s your girlfriend?

  SPUD What girlfriend?

  AMANDA You know – big boobs, all bright eyed and bushy tailed…

  SPUD Um… she… I mean, we broke up.

  AMANDA Good. Do you want to be my toy boy?

  SPUD (Not sure what to say, finally manages) Ummmmm.

  AMANDA Then you’re going to have to keep a secret.

  SPUD Why?

  AMANDA So that my boyfriend doesn’t find out, you dork!

  SPUD You have a boyfriend?

  AMANDA Second year varsity. Studying politics. He calls these parties examples of infantile masculinity.

  SPUD What do you think?

  AMANDA I like infantile sexuality.

  More kissing on the bench at the bottom of the garden.

  We didn’t talk much after that. We just looked out over the moonlit dam and watched the stars and my fingers were entwined through hers.

  Sunday 19th May

  It feels like last night was just a strange dream. Everyone was teasing me about spending the entire party with my tongue down Amanda’s throat. I tried my best to pretend I was embarrassed.

  After chapel and breakfast Mad Dog made me go on a lynx hunt with him. After hours of hunting we hadn’t seen so much as a francolin so we returned to the Mad House where I spent the afternoon trying to read Cry, The Beloved Country while Mad Dog and Rambo made noisy alterations from the branch below. I hardly read a word and kept thinking about Amanda.

  I have to say that sharing her with an older man isn’t ideal. Simon reckoned the relationship is doomed because there’s no trust and everything is only physical. Boggo said it sounded like his dream relationship.

  20:00 There was a long debate at play rehearsal about how Fatty would appear as the ark’s anchor. It was decided by Pike that Fatty would be lowered down from the roof by means of a fly bar. The rope from the fly bar would also look like the anchor rope and the blue light would look like the sea/flood. Pike bravely phoned Viking at home to find out if this was allowed. Unfortunately, Viking refused and said Fatty’s weight would pull the fly bar out of the roof and could bring the entire theatre down with him.

  The three Darryls were all fired for being untalented and over emotional.

  Monday 20th May

  Sparerib called me in to his office for a chat. He looked at me with his wonky eye and said, ‘John, I’m really looking for an improvement on your results this term.’ I told him I would do my best. He sniffed snootily, and gave me a dodgy look that indicated that he didn’t think my best would be good enough. He scratched his chin for a while and asked me if I had given any thought to my choice of subjects for matric. I informed my housemaster that I wasn’t taking science or biology and instead I’ll do drama, history and geography. Sparerib went red in the face and his eyes bulged with surprise. He said, ‘Are you sure you’re making the correct decision?’ I told him I planned to become a famous actor. Sparerib looked horrified and began fidgeting with his fountain pen. He clearly didn’t know what to say next but he told me to give the matter some serious consideration.

  Spud 1 Sparerib 0

  Flushed with my success over Sparerib, I called Amanda. She wasn’t in but her dad gave me a number where I could reach her. I called the number and a man answered. I asked for Amanda. He said, ‘Hold on.’ There was some whispering and scuffling and then Amanda came to the phone. I was shaking with excitement and looked down at the little piece of paper I held in my left hand. On it I had written:

  CONVERSATION DEFINITES

  1 How are you?

  2 Thanks for Saturday night

  3 How is school?

  4 When can I see you again?

  5 Defeat of Sparerib

  POSSIBLES

  1 African Affairs and general Struggle talk

  2 A date on the long weekend (depending on her answer to No 4 above)

  3 Wombat stories

  4 Overseas trip

  Unfortunately, I had barely got through point one of the conversation definites when Amanda told me never to call her at that number again and hung up.

  I sat staring at the phone for the next five minutes praying it would ring. It did, but it was Vern’s mom.

  20:00 Our first real rehearsal of Noah’s Ark was a complete shambles. The script still isn’t ready. Pike said he was working on the fourth draft but obviously nobody believed him. Not sure what kind of part the Dove of Peace will get when the script is finally complete. Vern had nothing to do as the prompt so he spent an hour doing a very dodgy impersonation of a goat. Rambo asked if his Baboon could have a huge set of blue balls. Julian (who has been brought in as set designer) said it was a thrilling idea and promised to make them himself.

  After lights out I sat on the window ledge and thought about Amanda. I know in my heart that I should write her off. She has never taken me seriously and quite obviously her boyfriend will always be more important than me. Unfortunately she’s just too beautiful to ignore so I plan to lie low and wait for her to come to me. I then thought about Mermaid but then started struggling to breathe so I thought about cricket instead.

  Tuesday 21st May

  I went up to the dorm during break and found Runt in my cubicle rifling through my locker. He blushed and said he was looking for a pen. I accused him of being a thief and told him to get lost or I’d thrash him within an inch of his life. He smiled at me but left in a hurry. I then felt myself blushing, not because of Runt, but because I sounded exactly like my father. Think I’ll have to report Runt to the Crazy Eight for dodgy and possibly very dodgy behaviour.

  Thursday 23rd May

  Call from home. Mom sounded happy and excited and said that Wombat was making great strides. Also more good news is that all the booze is now being brewed at Johnny Rogers’ depot. Innocence works
the mornings on housework and the afternoons at the Moonshine depot. Dad is now branching out into selling insurance and has been having discussions with a man called Dennis who sells life and death policies. She then reminded me it was just 42 days until we leave for London.

  Dad came to the phone and asked me how the rugby was going. I told him I was flyhalf for the under 15Cs. He warned me that rugby was a dangerous game and asked me if I had a comprehensive life cover. I didn’t know what he was talking about so I told him I needed to get to class and hung up. Eight days until the long weekend!

  Friday 24th May

  I told my dorm mates about how strangely Runt has been behaving. I explained the constant staring and how I’d caught him on Tuesday going through my locker. Almost before I had finished Mad Dog stormed into the first year dorm, there was a loud squeal and then Mad Dog returned carrying Runt under his arm. He plonked Runt down on the floor and asked him if he was a bumrusher. Runt went blood red and then burst into tears. By now the Crazy Eight had all gathered around to inspect the situation. Poor Runt looked pitiful sitting on the floor of my cubicle sobbing his heart out. Rambo pulled him up with one hand and said, ‘Right, you little pissdrop, why are you staring at Spud like he’s Cindy Crawford?’ Runt burst into tears again. Mad Dog then lost his patience and threw Runt over the wooden partition and onto Simon’s bed.

  I have to admit it was quite a sight seeing Runt flying through the air like a paper plane. There was a loud snap and a cry of agony. Rambo howled with laughter and said, ‘Hey, Runt! If you’re looking for a bumrushing, you’re lying in the right bed. Simon’s a raging homo…’ Boggo laughed so much he fell back over Vern who was busy pulling at a large clump of hair. Vern giggled and stashed the clump of hair in his laundry bag.

  By now everybody was doubled over with laughter, except for Simon who pushed Rambo and told him to piss off. The next second there was a sickening thud and Simon was on the deck holding his left eye. Everyone was shocked into silence. Then Rambo called Simon a fag once again before leaving the dormitory with a slam of the door. Runt seized the moment and galloped back to his own dormitory. The rest of us stood around just staring at poor Simon who was snivelling and sobbing and holding a pair of underpants over his eye to stop the bleeding. Mad Dog and I helped him to his bed while Boggo snuck down to the prefects’ kitchen for some ice and a dishcloth. Mad Dog said he was going to find Rambo, flung on his khaki hunting jacket and disappeared through the chapel window.

  We spent the next few hours trying to cheer Simon up as he held the dishcloth over his eye. His mood improved as time went by and he even giggled when Boggo told him he looked like Yasser Arafat.

  Mad Dog didn’t return and neither did Rambo.

  Saturday 25th May

  Sparerib hauled Simon into his office and demanded to know why his face was disfigured. Simon told him he was hit by a hockey ball in the dormitory. Sparerib then asked him who had hit the hockey ball and Simon said he’d hit it himself. Sparerib said that considering Simon’s ball skills this was unlikely and then tried unsuccessfully to get Simon to rat on Rambo. Rambo apologized to Simon at breakfast and said he wouldn’t call him a fag anymore. Simon nodded but didn’t say anything.

  We lost 28-27 to St James College (but I scored a try!). I must admit it wasn’t a classic Danie Gerber try – more like being dragged over the line by Pig who then dived on me. Unfortunately, my leg was hurting so much after being crushed by the falling Pig that my conversion attempt didn’t get off the ground.

  Mongrel was so pissed off that he refused to shake the hand of the opposition coach who had also reffed the game. I must admit a few of his decisions were a bit controversial. (At one stage he sent Pig to the cooler because his bootlaces were undone!) He also penalized Vern for backchat although Vern was actually shouting at his rugby boots because they weren’t running fast enough. Their coach awarded them a penalty in front of our poles and then shouted to our linesman, ‘We’re going for poles!’ The score at this stage was 27-25 to us.

  Mongrel was getting so irate on the touchline that he shouted, ‘Hey, ref! Why don’t you just kick the blerrie thing over while you’re about it!’ The ref/coach wasn’t impressed and tried to order Mongrel to the cooler (I didn’t know teachers could be sent to the cooler?) but Mongrel wasn’t going to be pushed around and started rolling up his sleeves and striding towards the ref who then let off a series of loud whistle blasts that became more and more shrill as Mongrel got closer. Eventually some St James parents got involved and one of them gave Mongrel a beer and told him to cool it. After much pointing and heated discussion Mongrel left the field cursing and sipping deeply from his beer. The St James parents gave him a few boos and he gave them the finger. The St James kicker kicked the penalty through the poles and the ref/coach blew the final whistle ten minutes early.

  The first team lost for the first time since I have been at the school. The score was 24-6 and our boys played terribly. The big school buses returned to school in absolute silence.

  21:00 The school is like a morgue. Usually at this time of night there would be voices from the cloisters below and the sound of somebody sprinting across the quad. Tonight all I could hear was the far-off rumble of the train and the never-ending trickle of Pissing Pete.

  Sunday 26th May

  The atmosphere in the dorm was weird so I set off for the pine trees with Cry, The Beloved Country. It’s a beautiful story of a black priest who travels from the Midlands to Johannesburg to find his son. He discovers his son is in prison for the murder of the son of his white neighbour back home. (It sounds more complicated than it is.) I got halfway through and then had to stop because I was feeling so sorry for Reverend Khumalo. I then started thinking about the AA meeting tonight, and then I thought of Amanda and how much I want to kiss her again. But then my thoughts turned towards the long weekend, and riding my bike to the Mermaid house, and hopefully getting a glimpse of her blonde hair like a waterfall. I felt a stabbing pain in my chest and had to think of cricket for about ten minutes before it disappeared.

  House play rehearsals were cancelled because Pike hasn’t finished the script yet. Why does it feel like I’m the only person worried by this?

  I got into shit at the African Affairs meeting because I lost the minutes of the last meeting. I hate being secretary – it feels like I’m doing an exam on a Sunday night instead of sitting around drinking coffee and being a freedom fighter. Linton Austin was livid with my mistake and put a motion forward that I should be suspended from AA for two meetings and be replaced as secretary of the society. Nobody seconded his motion so he ended up looking like a turd. After Linton had finished his tirade I took a deep breath before asking if I could retire as secretary. Everyone laughed at me. (This may have been due to a spectacular knackjump rather than my attempt at resignation.)

  Monday 27th May

  Boggo rushed in to lunch and told us that Fatty had been invited to the Natal Inland Hotdog Eating Competition and he will be representing Nottingham Road. The event takes place at the Royal Show in Pietermaritzburg in June. Fatty was so excited that he lost his appetite. (Not a great start.)

  Back in the dorm the excitement had spread. Boggo stuck Fatty’s invitation letter up on the wall with an old piece of chewing gum. (Since becoming Fatty’s eating agent Boggo opens all Fatty’s mail.) Boggo flicked over the invitation and showed us where the prizes were listed. The winner gets a thousand rand, second five hundred and third two-fifty. Fatty said if he won anything he would use the money for upgrades to the Mad House. Boggo (who gets a thirty per cent manager’s fee) didn’t say what he would do with his money.

  Fatty sat on his bed like a buddha and said, ‘If you think nine boerie rolls was something, wait for the hotdogs…’ He then informed Boggo that he would need to practise. Boggo took a five rand collection from everyone. (Vern had to pay an extra five for Roger.) Mad Dog offered to pay in for me because my pocket money ran out last week. I felt a bit embarrassed but promised I would
pay him back. Boggo snatched up the money, borrowed Thinny’s bike after threatening him with a razor blade, and cycled off to the trading store at the railway station. He returned with four packets of Estcourt vienna sausages, Fifty-four rolls and a Scope magazine. Anderson has miraculously allowed Boggo to keep the sausages in the cop shop fridge and the rolls were stashed under Fatty’s bed.

  Anderson must be pretty excited about Fatty’s eating competition because he put a sign on the fridge saying:

  TOUCH FATTY’S SAUSAGE AND DIE!!!

  Rambo accused Boggo of defrauding the Crazy Eight because he bought the Scope magazine with our money. Boggo denied this and swore on his mother’s life that he had used his own money. It was then pointed out that Boggo hates his mother and stands to inherit millions if she dies. After a long argument Rambo threatened to shit on Boggo’s pillowcase and it was quickly agreed that the magazine would be circulated weekly. Rambo threw it into his locker and said he was taking the first week. I get my hands on it after five weeks, which means I will only get it next term by which time Boggo will have cut it to pieces. (Poor Roger has to wait seven!)

  Wednesday 29th May

  I got a bizarre letter from Amanda.

  Spud no more

  Wait for my call

  Out of the blue

  I will come to you A

  QUESTIONS ABOUT WOMEN

  1 Are they all mad or are they just acting mad to get their own way? (How does one tell?)

  2 If they say they love you does that mean just today or forever?

  3 If I squeeze a woman’s boob will she hit me?

  4 Will she like it?

  5 What do they think about when they are not talking?

  I asked Boggo and Rambo about how one goes about squeezing girls’ breasts. Rambo reckoned there were two methods.

  1 The Easy-Easy Catchy Mammary Approach This is when you are kissing her and you allow your hand to run down her side and then onto her breasts.