2687. Soup

Boniface and family lived next door to an unruly bunch of youths. Youths can be nice, but these weren’t. It was party, party, party.

Sad times came when Boniface was diagnosed with a terminal disease. The final hours had come. Boniface’s family gathered. The house next door turned up the volume of the Heavy Metal of which they were fans.

Mrs Abernethy, Boniface’s wife, went next door and politely asked if the volume could be turned down. Boniface was dying. Their reply will not be recorded on these pages. Suffice to say that the volume was turned up even louder. Boniface died. The funeral came and went.

A month or so later sad news came that one of the youths in the house next door had been killed in a car accident. Mrs Abernethy made a big pot of soup and took it over. “I would imagine you’ll be having lots of visitors,” she said.

2626D. A memorable event – Part 4

(continued…)

In the morning the boy’s father called in with my clothes (all neatly folded). The boy had the flu and had got delirious. He escaped out the toilet window and with the rain and river thought that the events had actually happened – which is why he was so believable.

The Armed Defenders had surrounded the house. The parents came to the door. It took the poor fellow a year or so to get used to what had happened.

Years later I bumped into him on some street steps in Wellington (New Zealand’s capital city). He owned and ran a popular lunch restaurant in the heart of the city’s business area. We chatted and he gave me the recipe of his most popular lunch soup recipe – which I still sometimes use to this day!

He then invited me to dinner at his home with his wife and children – and a good time was had by all! We sort of lost touch over the years, and haven’t “bumped into each other” for maybe a quarter of a century. So Carl, if you ever read this…

The End

2626C. A memorable event – Part 3

(continued…)

I phoned the police. Two policemen came and interviewed him. They too drove to the house and came back. They then called the “Armed Defenders Squad”. (In New Zealand the Police don’t carry guns, but when there is a need such as this the highly trained Armed Defenders step in.)

The police took the boy away. I did not know for the rest of the night what had happened.

(To be continued…Finale tomorrow)

2626B. A memorable event – Part 2

(continued…)

I leapt out of bed. My heart stopped. To this day I’m quite pleased with my reaction. I handed him a towel and said, “Well don’t stand there all wet. Dry yourself.” He was about my size so I found him some clothes.

He explained what happened.  He had gone to the bathroom in the night. While he was there the voices of men (it sounded like two of them) were shouting at his parents in their bedroom. Then there were gunshots. They started yelling for him to come out. The toilet had a louvered window. The boy squeezed himself out. He ran through the rain towards the river – the area of which was unhoused. The river was slightly in flood. He waded up the river towards school and came into my room. Naturally he was upset.

We got in a car and drove to his house (I have no clue why). No lights were on in the house. There were tall poplar tree swaying in the wind. It was dark and threatening. We drove back to school.

(To be continued…)

2626A. A memorable event – Part 1

Story Number 2626 is an interesting enough number to deviate from fiction into truth – as is customary on this blog! Today’s story is about what could be one of the more memorable things that has happened to me!

I was a teacher and house master at a large boarding school for boys – mainly sons of farmers from isolated areas, but the school had some local day students as well. The dormitory area of my responsibility catered for about 120 sixteen year old young men.

It was in fact a dark and stormy night. I was fast asleep and at about 2 in the morning my door opened, the light was switched on, and a boy appeared in his pyjamas covered in mud from top to bottom. He wasn’t from my dormitory, but was a day student who lived with his parents about a mile away. He said, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but my parents have just been shot.”

 (To be continued…)

Story 9: Egg sandwiches

This is the seventh and final day of seven days in which an earlier story is repeated. Today it is Story 9: “Egg sandwiches”. It was first posted on 19 October 2013.

The truth was, she didn’t get on all that well with her son, although she loved him dearly. At least, she didn’t get on well since he’d reached puberty. They couldn’t seem to talk. And now he was eighteen. So it was particularly special when he asked her to come to a social afternoon at one of his mate’s houses to celebrate a marriage engagement. “Just my mates and their Mums”, he said. “And bring something to eat.” It was their way of getting food.

She rather liked his friends, but he never brought them home. All the other parents seemed to have their share of the young set calling around at their homes. Not that they necessarily socialized with them — but at least they were there and, somehow, relevant. She had felt… well, left out. She thought perhaps they scorned her behind her back.

But now he had invited her. “Bring something to eat”, he’d said. “Bring something to eat.” In some silly way (at last! at last!) she felt as if she was wanted.

That morning she boiled some eggs, forked them to a paste and made some sandwiches. She arranged them on a plate with a piece of parsley.

She was a little bit scared. Since her husband had left quite a few years back, and she was left to manage alone, she never quite knew how she was doing. This little party was her way of saying — perhaps without anyone noticing — “This is my son. I think I’ve done a reasonable job”.

The little social started, and she felt so proud of her son. He walked in with her and said to everyone as they entered, “This is my Mum”, and he seemed to mix so nicely and casually with everyone. She had a lovely conversation too with one of his mates — about fishing, and where the best trout places were in the river. Later she heard someone say, “Shit, who made the fucking egg sandwiches?” And, when at the end of the afternoon she went to get her plate to go home, she noticed that no one had eaten anything she’d made.

2344. Old bones

Great Aunt Imelda said that twenty-year-old Harold would “never make old bones”. He was sickly and took no interest in living a healthy existence.

Well, how wrong can one be? That was seventy years ago. That would make Harold ninety; that is if he hadn’t died when he was forty-two. But his bones have certainly aged.

2343. When you were twelve

It wasn’t something Vernon was that keen on. His mother had said “Make sure you and your friend, Bertie, don’t go anywhere near that waterfall.” Vernon was only too pleased not to go near the waterfall because he was a bit scared of it, and had been so all his life. In his short twelve years there had been at least one report of someone drowning at the waterfall. Bertie, however, was another thing altogether. To rock climb to underneath the waterfall was a daring thing to do. It’s what every second adventuresome boy had done in the good old days.

Today there was a fence that prevented people from getting too near the waterfall. There was also a big sign warning of the danger. Neither the fence nor the sign stopped Bertie, and poor Vernon tagged along. You can’t say to a friend in such circumstances, “You go on ahead and I’ll wait here.” The waiting is possibly worse than the going. And besides, if he gets into trouble he’ll need help.

So over the fence and off they went. Many a twelve year old has been as audacious and daring!

It was the best fun they’d had in ages.

2241. A snarling snake

When Alison got the tattoo on her right buttock she was terrified her parents would find out. The tattoo was of a snarling snake crawling in and out of a skull. It was to let her ex-boyfriend know what she thought about him. How he would find out is anyone’s guess.

Alison’s parents had absolutely forbidden her to get a tattoo – “You can get a tattoo when you turn eighteen, but at present being only fourteen is too young to know what you want permanently on your arms.”  But fourteen year old Alison took things into her own hands and got her buttock tattooed where no one could see – well not her parents anyway.

It was quite fun for a week at school, sharing with her friends and giving friends a peek. Rather quickly the admiration wore off.

When she turned eighteen Alison paid the earth to get the tattoo removed.

2087. Loud car

(Warning: This story contains swearing).

Archie worked the night shift. He would arrive home, and after messing about a while would go to bed. He would almost always instantly fall asleep. At least he used to instantly fall asleep. These days the neighbour’s nineteen year old son had a souped-up car, complete with removed muffle.

Just at Archie’s point of sleep every morning the car would start up. The youth didn’t simply start the car and drive off. He would rev it up and rev it up and rev it up. Then he’d go for a quick spin around the block, leave the engine running, and wouldn’t depart for another five minutes or so. By this time Archie was livid.

 Archie had had enough. He leapt out of bed, got dressed, and went over to confront the nineteen year old neighbour.

“I’m trying to get some sleep,” said Archie, “and you have that ****ing noisy old bomb with no ****ing muffler. I work during the night, and honestly it’s driving me ****ing nuts.”

Well, Dear Reader, you know jolly well what modern youth are like. His response is not going to be recorded here. It could be given, there’s no rule about it, but you can imagine it for yourself, and I dare say you won’t have any trouble imagining it. In fact, your imagination is possibly more vivid than what the youth responded with.

Oh blow it! What the heck! I shall say it anyway! That typical nineteen year old youth responded to Archie’s complaint with: “Oh I’m terribly sorry, sir. I had no idea. If it’s alright I’ll fix it when I get home from work this evening. Once again, I apologize.” He shook hands with Archie. Archie thanked him and went back to bed.

Modern youth.