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Even een sidenote, ik heb toestemming van prulleke om dit hier te posten.
Je bent of vakantie, zit te wachten op de AmTrack, hebt niets te doen, dus gaat maar schrijven.
Dat begint als een stukje van een regel of 4, maar, naar mate het langer wordt, wordt het ook leuker, en staan er op een gegeven moment al stukken van een bladzijde.
En na een klein tijdje, hoewel al weer terug in Nederland, ben je zelfs al bij hoofdstuk 2. Met een 14-pagina's tellend hoofdstuk 1.
Het verhaal is in het engels geschreven, en aangezien we allebei nederlands zijn, kan het dus voorkomen dat de grammatica / manier van schrijven niet helemaal geweldig is.
Hoewel ik betwijfel dat er typo's in zullen zitten, aangezien ik het grondig door de spellcheck heen heb gehaald. En zo zie je maar dat MS Word ook nog ergens nuttig voor is.
Het verhaal heeft nog geen titel, dus een goede intro kan ik er niet echt voor geven, maar ik wil in ieder geval zeggen: veel plezier.
Citaat:
If you'd asked her yesterday, what she had planned to do today, she would have answered 'Nothing much, hang out with some friends, maybe go out for some pizza or something." Of course she could not have known the things that would happen on her way home from school.
Now, of course, you wonder, and you'll start seeing all kinds of miraculous scenes and situations. What you might not realise, however, is that you are not at all far from the truth.
Read on, and live the wonders of this Alice in Wonderland-like story we are about to unfold...
First you'll have to know some of her past, present, and her assumed future. She grew up at a farm, lived there 'till she was eight. At that age, her parents split up and she moved to the other side of the country with her father. They lived together, but that was all. Her father didn't care about her health or social life.
Being 'the girl from the farm' she never really got to fit in with the city kids.
As you can imagine, this is hard on an eight year-old girl, growing up all alone, nobody to talk to, have fun with, play games with...
She wanted out, back to her mum preferably, but the court had firmly stated her mother "Incapable of raising a child". And that's where Fun Tony comes into the picture.
"Fun Tony", as he called himself, was a weird-looking fellow who took care of her. She didn't know why, and she didn't care.
Tony lived at their house, a big castle-like old building, but he never seemed to pay any rent, even though he must have been renting one of their empty rooms. In fact, he never even seemed to talk to her dad at all, and her dad never spoke of him either. To her dad, it was like Tony didn't exist.
But then again, she and her dad never spoke to each other either. She never talked to her dad about Tony, assuming he wouldn’t care anyway. But Tony did, he cared about her, loved her and most of all laughed with her. Before Tony showed up, she was a calm, silent, shy girl. But since she met 'Fun Tony' her whole life turned around, she grew up, got more confidence and self-awareness. And most important of all, she loved herself, and life, again.
When she first met Tony, she was a bit suspicious, because of the way he looked, and because of the way he looked at her. Full of admiration, with a hidden twinkle in his eyes, with love. Not the being-in-love look, after all, he could have been old enough to be her father, even though he looked younger than he probably was.
Tony, dressed in his daily purple-and-green outfit, stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, waiting like a real gentleman, to walk her to school, and unfortunately leave her there for a couple of hours. But she didn't really mind, because she knew he'd be there when she walked out of the classroom, ready to go somewhere extraordinary, or ready to take her to one of his extravagant friends.
His friends all had something about them, a little thing that was very characteristic, and marked their existence as it were. Blossom, for example, was a round, pink doll-like woman, dressed in the height of 17th century can-can-dancer fashion, always with a blossom on her face. Hence the name.
Her 'mark' was the little pig snout, which made her ever laughing face even more amusing, and completed the pink lady-of-fun look.
She and Tony, and his other friends of course would regularly meet, finish a whole set of strange greeting rituals, and then start a tea-ceremony.
Probably the nicest thing apart from Tony's company, which by the way dropped to an absolute low when he was having one of those tea parties, was the fact that there were always other kids there, each brought by a friend of Tony's.
Blossom always brought Cindy, another eight year-old girl, who'd play with her, while the adults nipped their tea.
She loved those parties.
Especially the cookies. They were baked just right, when you ate them you'd get that mushy, warm sensation of freshly baked dough in your mouth. It would melt right as it touched your toungue. The tea was nice and warm as well, just the right sip able temperature. The whole place was warm and moist, and the kids all got a bit drowsy at those parties.
But, oh, the fun they had; they'd play hide and seek in the hollow trees, play chess with flattened marbles, sing songs and learn foreign languages just by playing . They had laughs, giggles, they hugged and danced, but they never talked.
And that began to bother her as she grew older.
Older, that means a flash forward in time. This flash stands for two years. She was now ten-and-a-half, and Tony still lived with them. Cindy had become her best friend, even though they only saw each other at the old English house on the outskirts of the city, at the meetings with Tony's friends.
Tony never lost that twinkle in his eyes, or so it seemed, even though she was quite boring, and after almost three years of fun and games, Tony knew more of her than anyone in the whole wide world. But never would he get bored seeing her. Even on days when his back hurt or the little bag he always carried around wouldn't get packed the way Tony wanted it, he'd still be cheery and optimistic.
His case was like on of the doctors had in the old black and white movies they watched together, with one black and one brown handle and a never-ending supply of treats, sweets and nonsense.
As she grew older, so did Tony. He always adjusted his treats, sweets and nonsense to the occasion, her mood and her age. Although she just turned eleven, she felt like an adult. She cared about the things that happened around her, in her city, her country and the rest of the world. She didn't feel like having fun all the time anymore and the tea parties began to feel like an obligation. The only reason she still went was to see Cindy.
At the last meeting she discovered Cindy was feeling the same way; about the parties and the tragedies happening in the world. But she heard something else too: Andy, the oldest of the boys, had found a way to get that warm, drowsy almost flying sensation out side the place the teapartymeetings were held...
Lysergic Acid Diethylamide it was called, or something like that, and it was easy to use.
She had to get Tony off her back of course, that's what they'd agreed, the kids from the tea parties. After a while she noticed Tony would stay away from her, act insulted, every time she insisted they had to do something serious too; talk about the world, talk about him, her love, anything. And so, a new ritual was born. Every Monday they'd talk to each other, the kids, and agree a new date on which she'd have to act sophisticated, upset Tony, which she hated, and get away. It wasn't nice, but it was the only way. Then she'd go out, walk over to Tom's house, another boy she knew from the parties, Fat Ted's boy, and together they'd go.
They weren't all there, when they got the stamps. Some of the mondaykids were way too dull or too much of a risk to get invited to the stamps. Because they all knew the stamps weren't something to talk about. Andy'd told them. They could only talk about it to each other, and that wasn't a problem, because she had found out that the kids in her class didn't understand it when she spoke of her experiences. Of the colours.
Because the greatest thing about the stuff that they used to get the drowsy happy peaceful feeling were the colours. All the colours of the rainbow and then some passed her eyes as she thought about escaping this godforsaken place. With its wars, fights, arrogance and narrow-minded people.
The 'stuff' she used made it all possible. She, and her friends, all reached a higher level as if they could fly.
She flew to the weirdest places, places on earth, like Saudi-Arabia, Hong Kong, Zimbabwe, and Greenland and so on. Places outside earth; Luna, Pluto, Uranus and the stars of Orion. She loved the stars the best, because that's where the strangest things could happen and the weirdest people lived...
But in an hour or two, it would all be over and she'd sink right back into this shithole we call 'mother'.
At this point, I think it would be wise to skip another few dozen frames in her life, as it will becalm a drag again. Only this time it'll be a magical one. A drag that differs from the last one, a drag you don't live from day to day, but from trip to trip. But a simple drag in which all the actions were sneaking out of the house, licking a stamp, swallowing, and speaking a language long lost from this world or dimension...
She loved these things year after year, from the age of eleven, when she was the one being 'babysitted', as they called it, which meant she didn't have to pay to fly, to the age of fifteen, when she got a job, and became a babysitter, pitching in, for herself and the younger members of 'the club', which had grown quite a lot over the years.
And with those years came the pleasures of approaching adulthood; getting into x-rated movies through the front door instead of sneaking in at the back of the theatre, paying some pimpled fifteen year old kid twice as much for one ticket, getting liquor at the store, instead of buying it from some bum who had done - heaven knows what he had done with it...
She had the right to vote, to have an opinion about everything she always wanted to have an opinion about.
But that wouldn't happen, as she wasted her life by being wasted.
But marvelled in its exquisite joy.
Oh, the lovely symptoms of being part of the new youth of America, wandering the streets, finding yourself walking alongside the beach, tripping on acid.
She had the aspect of fun covered, and her social life was A-ok as well, and her sex-life, well, that was not exactly the way she had pictured it, but it worked. She had lost her virginity on one of the first sitter-parties she had attended. Those were only for the kids over sixteen and with a job, but since she was one of the first group, she got in when she got her first job, at an ice-cream parlour, by the way, aged fifteen.
Being a sitter, she got into different kinds of parties, besides the regular full-group ones. The sitter fests of course, and a kind Andy had introduced, called the X-fests.
Experimental parties, in which the did and tried so much more than just the LSD and MDMA.
They knew it wasn't healthy, but that didn't count for anybody in the sitter group.
The experience, the fun and the unbelievable thrill were more important than the effect the drugs had on their health.
They got to places no well-doing person ever got to.
Losing her virginity didn't mean much to her, ok, she liked it, she felt like something happened inside her, not just physically. Mentally as well, as if people who saw her knew she was a woman of the world, filled with experiences, filled with life. A few months later she was literally filled with life, and nine months after that it came to earth; a son of cheap thrills.
It was Andy's. They'd been steady for a year or so. It must be Andy's, she guessed; she hoped. Or Brad's, Tom's, Robert's, Dave's... She didn't know, as she never knew what exactly happened on her trips, in that twisted reality which was in some way sort of true and real. And this was the product of all that.
She'd call him Jon. Baby Jon. She realised she had to tell her dad, and mom, although she didn't have all too much to do with them anymore. She moved out of the house about one and a half years ago, when she just turned seventeen, and came to live with Andy and Brad, best friends, and her best friends.
At that time, Cindy'd been gone for a while already, moved to Washington D.C. when they were thirteen. It was terrible, losing her best friend in the world, and drove her even further into the drug created fantasy world she had loved and rendered physical for years on end.
She also realised Andy must have a view on all this as well, and that she had to ask him about it.
Andy was twenty-three now, and had just finished some kind of financial study, which gave him lots of job opportunities, so he could support them. And she still had a job too, although she didn't make much money. Only just enough to pay her part of the rent, and some groceries. But she'd have to give that up too now, wouldn't she?
"Andy, can I talk to you for a moment? I'd like to talk to you. Come on, let me talk to you!"
"Shut up woman, I'm watching the game, hand a very busy day at my new job and now you want to talk to me?! Get out of my face and be quiet!"
"Look, Andy, I appreciate everything you do; you bring in the money, take care of the baby when I ask you to, but you seem to forget the most important thing, the thing we agreed on doing when either one of us needed it. You seem to be forgetting we need to..."
"You bitch, I don't give you the love you need? As I recall I 'made love to you' the day before yesterday."
"You didn't make love to me, you fucked me. But that's not what I need, asshole, I need to talk, talk about our son, talk about us, about me, my feelings and everything that I want to talk about at the moment."
"My God, is it your period again already?"
"Men... Arg, I'm off, don't know when I'll be back. There's enough baby food and diapers in the kitchen. Good luck!"
She slammed the door as she walked out on her soon-to-be-husband, and she felt great. She trusted him with the baby; he wasn't all that bad and he adored little Jon.
So she left, truly not knowing when she was going to return.
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de tekst in Italics is geschreven door mij, de gewone tekst is van prulleke...
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I'd like to meet the man who invented SEX and see what he's working on now
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18-05-2003, 12:18
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