Saturday, October 24, 2009

Escaping my hiding place - Chapter thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN


“A true hero is not someone who does a heroic act under extreme pressure;

It is someone who does heroic acts time and time again,

simply because he can!”



As clearly a work of absolute brilliance Explosion Man was, it still wasn’t the best thing to come out of my first semester back at Uni. Even more surprisingly it wasn’t even the best thing to come out of an assignment!

Half way through the semester, my nature photography tutor decided to drop a bomb shell of his own on the class. It was decided that instead of an exam that year, we would be given an unexpected major assignment. We would be required to split into groups of two, and hand in a portfolio of ten photographs under the title “Unnatural Nature”. Our only guidance was that the photos could not include any man made items; they had to be completely natural.

Now if you have read the rest of my story up to now, then you would struggle to see how I could consider an assignment like this to be the best thing to happen to me in a whole semester of university.

Well the reality is of course at first it wasn’t. While most people in the class were forming natural groups of two with friends, or just other class mates, I sat in my usual spot in the back corner nearly having a panic attack. I burst out in sweat, and began breathing heavily like I had just gotten my head stuck inside a plastic bag for five minutes (or more likely someone had stuck my head in a plastic bag and held it on until I fainted – that’s how it usually happened).

Most times when situations like this had come up before, most people would find friends to form their groups, then the several Friendless Freddie’s of us would all sit looking uncomfortable trying to spot who would be left over. If there was an even number of Nigel No Friends then you would slowly slide over to who ever was closest and say “I guess were stuck with each other” and the other guy would reply “I guess” then you would both make faces like the teacher had just told us that no body would be given permission to leave the room until everyone picked somebody else’s nose and ate what ever you could find in there, most likely a huge gooey booger, which looked like a slug which had been smashed with a hammer. Then you would proceed to do as much of the work as possible without talking to that person and therefore guarantee yourself a crap mark.

The alternative was worse. In this case there would be an odd number of Nevil Nobody Likes in the class, usually three. The other two would then proceed to look around and both agree that they would rather work together than have to end up with me.

I would then sit as quiet as a dead mouse hoping that no one would notice me being on my own, and just as I was starting to think I might get away with it, the teacher would suddenly pipe up

“Jason Domey! Where is your partner?”

“I haven’t got one miss…….I’ll have to do it on my own” I’d optimistically reply

“No you will not” She would respond “I’ll find you a group to join”

“Ok”

“Christian and Julian (it wasn’t always Christian and Julian, but it would always be the two kids in the class I hated the most) let Jason Domey join your group”

“Awwwwegghhhh do we have to miss?” they would whine in unison

“Yes you do have to”

I would then eek my way over to where they were sitting, and one of them would say

“I can’t believe we get stuck with a Lenny Loser Dickless wonder like you” and the other would offer encouragement in the form of

“We’re going to make you pay for this”

They would then make me do the entire assignment by myself and then beat the shit out of me for getting them a shit mark.

On this day I was following the usual routine, only problem was that no one else was. So in no time at all I was the only person sitting all alone. The rest of the class had quickly congregated into their pairings, and by now were sitting in groups of all sorts of sizes busily discussing their initial ideas.

I on the other hand was busily having severe heart pains at the pressing prospect of admitting to the teacher that I was incapable of finding a partner. However just before I reluctantly made my assault to the teacher’s desk something quite unexpected happened.

A beautiful girl from where the biggest student congregation was, separated from her group and walked over to me, she then sat in the chair in front of me but backwards on the chair, so that her legs were spread on either side of the back rest with her arms crossed on top.

She starred at me straight into my eyes, which precluded me from looking up her skirt which I could tell must be showing a very exposed pubic region with her oh so short skirt and legs spread like a peanut butter sandwich. She starred at me for what seemed like two minutes without either of us saying a word, until she eventually broke a very uncomfortable silence.

“Hi” She said with a cheer in her voice

“Hi” I shyly responded

“So”

“So”

“Do you have a partner yet?”

“No”

“Do you want one?”

“Do you want to be my partner” I hesitantly replied

“I’d love to! Thanks for asking”

“But you”

“So you’re Jason aren’t you?”

“Yes”

“I’m Hannah………..I know daggy name” She replied as she reached out and shook my hand

“Nnniiiiiiiiiiccceee……..firm hand shake you got there Jas, you’re pretty fit bloke aren’t you, do you work out?”

“I just go on lots of walks….run sometimes too”

“Coooool…I’m a walker too…..mostly go for bushwalks or somewhere by the water. I just love getting out in nature…you know what I mean? Well deeeerrrr, nature photography class! Obviously!”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE OOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRR” the bell screamed

“So hey, here is my number and address” She said as she began scribbling down her details “can I have yours?”

“Oh…ok” I wrote down mine too, she took my piece of paper and studied what I wrote briefly

“Hey same neighborhood! We’ll be able to hang out heaps and do it really well”

“Ok”

“Well cool, great to meet you Jas, talk to you soon ok?”

“Ok”

With that she jumped up and left the room. I sat there dumfounded. What the fuck just happened? Did that beautiful outgoing girl really just decide she wanted to be my partner on this?

I sat there until the class room began to fill up with the next class – then I decided that being in the wrong class when it commenced was one embarrassment that I didn’t need, so I eventually got up and left - feeling very serene.

I should probably tell you what Hannah looks like. She is a very pretty girl, but I would say she is a weird kind of pretty. First impressions of her when she just walks into the room is wow, wow, wow, breath gone like a punch in the guts. Then she gets closer to you and you think, yeah very, very nice, but maybe not as nice as you thought when you saw her from ten meters away. So you leave her company that day not really necessarily thinking about her. Then one day, on a day like this day for me, she comes up to you real close and talks to you. And you actually get to study her face, with her enormous eyes, and that smile which could light up a black hole, and you realize, hang on this is one god damn attractive femalie, how did I miss that before?

Hannah possesses a number of your stereotypical male masturbation fantasy weapons of choice. She has blonde hair, a very nice skinny figure but with enough in the butt and breast area to keep you more than interested. However her blond hair is extremely curly and wild, her body is cracking but your attention is often drawn completely away from it by her wild dress sense, full of colors and clothes in weird shapes and sizes. Then again her dress sense is constantly changing. One day she will be wearing baggy cargo pants with a huge long t-shirt over the top and her hair as wild as a starving monkey in a banana shop, and no one will really notice her. Then the next day she will come to class in a short mini skirt, a midrift singlet, with her hair combed straight and she will become the centre of attention like there is some tractor beam emanating from her, and the whole class will stare at her all day, even the girls.

I guess she just decides at the start of the day how she feels like being treated that day, attention or no attention. It must be nice being able to manipulate people like that. Maybe that’s why she did it, just that feeling of power at being able to affect the way people around you feel emotionally.

That night I had one of my stock standard boring nights in front of crap television. It was a cold night, with rain falling outside, so I decided to have a shower to warm myself up.

You know what it’s like when you’re in the shower and the phone rings? You hear it from the first ring, but you only sort of hear it, and don’t really register it until about ring three or four, then you wait for about two or three more rings trying to decide whether to get out of the shower or not. However in two or three rings you somehow have time to run through a thousand possibilities about who it may be in your head, from your mother or father, to some random girl who wants to tell you she secretly loves you, or someone from a hospital telling you someone is about to die and just wants to talk to you one more time, or a telemarketer, a radio competition, a wrong number, a guy wanting to tell you he has a secret crush on you (eew), a prank call, a brother wanting to take the piss out of you over something, etc etc.

Until you finally decide there are enough good possibilities on that list to make it a call you want to get. So you make that mad rush out of the shower, through the room getting everything wet, and managing to step on the one thing in the room which is both important and not water resistant, and then fall over onto the floor as you reach out for the handset, snatch it off and pull it to your ear just in time to hear the phone hang up at the other end.

Of course this convinces you that whether good or bad, that was a call that you just absolutely must have answered. You check the caller ID – private number, this just both makes you want to bash yourself in the head with the receiver and convinces you for certain that it was an important call; I mean who is not important that feels the need to privatize their numbers? Arrogant bastards!

So you sit and stare at the phone, praying to god and the devil and Allah that whoever it was will call you back one more time, just in case, I mean this is life or death after all. You stand there with a prayer in your mind and hope in your heart just long enough for all the water on your body to transport itself onto your porno magazine collection strategically located directly below you. Until you finally give in and accept that the love of your life will call her back up guy and they’ll be shagging before you’re dressed again, and that your father is dying and you wont get that one last chance to say “Fuck you, you miserable old bastard!”

So you stagger back to the bathroom, with the carpet feeling surprisingly gross being all wet, and getting all your old dirt and crumbs stuck to your foot. By then you’re basically dry but out of habit you reach out for a towel to dry yourself off, when the phone starts to ring again.

Now you know that this time you heard the first ring, this time you’re already out of the shower and within five steps of the phone, so you know you have time to casually pick up a towel and wrap it around yourself, before strolling back across the room and scooping up your receiver well and truly in time for a jolly old chat.

This however, is not the decision you make. Spurred on by a lethal cocktail of frustration, curiosity, determination, and stupidity, you attempt to break the world record for the five meter sprint, then pull off a full stretch swan dive and smash the phone into your ear before the third ring is heard around the land of your apartment. You then proceed to answer the phone with heavy breath, while now completely drying off on your bed, guaranteeing a night sleeping in a wet patch not acquired in one of the two or three possible fun ways. You then are fortunate enough to say “No I don’t want to change my long distance phone company, look at my phone records you fucking moron, I haven’t made a long distance call in my entire life, I don’t even make local calls, so fuck off, and fuck you, and fuck your company and fuck fucking fuck you fuck”.

Does that happen to you? It still manages to happen to me regularly, and I only get about four calls a month. How on this wide, wide universe do they bloody well know when you’re in the shower?

So any how that’s not what happened to me that night. Most of it happened, although I didn’t get to say that “fuck fucking fuck you fuck” bit, because it wasn’t a phone company or telemarketer trying to find out how often I buy laundry detergent and would I like to try new ‘summer sunshine stick it where the sun don’t shine’ laundry powder. Instead I had the following exchange.

“He uh ha uh uh ha llo” I answered with my little remaining breath, from my short dash across the room

“Hi, is that Jason?” Replied a female voice somewhat hesitantly

“Yes”

“Oh hi this is Hannah, how are you tonight?” She said, now much more cheerfully

“Ok”

“Cool…….. I’m doing pretty good tonight……..did you just get home?........Just I called a couple of minutes ago and nobody answered”

“Sorry…..I just got out of the shower”

“Hhhhmmmm….reaaally….so does that mean your still naked? She asked in a sinister tone

“well………..yeah…….I guess”

“Hhhhhhhhmmmm………I guess I shouldn’t have called……I should have just come on over”

“O………K”

“Really…you don’t mind?.......Ok I’ll be around in five minutes…seeya then”

“Wait but” I said as I heard the phone hang up at her end “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck”

So started the most frantic five minutes of my life!

I don’t have much stuff, but when you have an apartment smaller than Jennifer Lopez’s arse it can still get very, very messy, and with that little space and furniture its bloody hard to clean adequately in an extremely quick time.

I had to prioritize. First thing – all the (wet) porn under the bed, then jam absolutely everything else possible under the bed. That was about three things! It was already pretty jam packed with a bunch of other useless shit. Then pile everything else up as tightly as possible into the corner behind the door.

I was just finishing up when there was a knock on the door, Hannah!

“Holy fucking shit forgot one thing……getting dressed!” I screamed at my brain (god I hate my brain sometimes).

“Thank god for the spray painted window” (see what smart things I’m capable of when I don’t use my brain?)

“Just a minute” I yelled at the door

Then I frantically grabbed at the pile behind the door to find some clothes, throwing stuff all over the room until it was far messier than it had been before I started cleaning up. I whacked on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt and opened the door looking like I had just taken a nap on the back of a truck driving down a rocky road.

.. ..

“Hi Jas……hey…you said you were nude…..never would have come around if you were going to put clothes on” She said as she walked in

“Ok”

“Just kidding mate…..what have you been up to?”

“Just a bit of cleaning up”

“Oh looks like you did a good job”

“Thanks”

“Man…..this place is a dump…..never thought I’d find someone with a place as crappy as mine” She said as she gave herself a tour of the place, which of course only required her to do a circle on the spot “Are you paying your way through school just with tax payer handouts too?”

“Yeah”

“God bless working folk”

“I kn”

“Heeeey……I like your blinds……very alternative modernist!” She said as she looked at my spray painted window

“Thanks”

“So there Mr Domey…..do you want to get down to it?”

“Get down to what?”

“Our assignment!.........What did you think I meant…..having a quick fuck on this so called bed of yours?” She said very seriously, before suddenly bursting out into fits of laughter

“No”

“Hey it’s ok Jas…don’t worry….I just usually wait until after we’ve finished our assignment before I fuck my partners!” She said as she walked past me, giving my cheek a little pinch on her way to sitting on my bed with a huge smile on her face

“Ok”

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha” she laughed again “Don’t worry Jas…..I’m not that crazy……I’ll probably even wait until you stab me until I stab you……so come over here and sit next to me…..unless you have some other place to sit hiding in this apartment somewhere”

I went over and sat down on the bed. She was sitting right in the middle of the bed, so I tried to sit as far away from her as possible, right up against the wall. She responded to this by immediately sliding over right up next to me, so that our legs were touching just gently.

It was only now that I noticed she was again wearing a really short skirt with her legs wide apart.

“Damn I knew I should have put a mirror opposite my bed!” I thought to myself

She was also wearing a low cut singlet showing some ample cleavage which I couldn’t help to look down at from where we were sitting. Well I guess I could have looked her in her eyes, but that’s a bit hard when sitting so close.

“So why did you decide to be my partner?” I asked after what seemed like an hour of uncomfortable silence, but in reality was probably only two or three seconds.

“Fuck you” I thought to myself. I was saving that question for a really bad uncomfortable silence, not the first minor one. She had been there one minute and I’d already used all of my conversation ideas.

.. ..

“I was wondering when you were going to ask that” she replied

“So”

“You're really a quiet one aren’t you?”

“I guess”

“Well lets be serious for a second……..you’re a really quiet guy, super quiet, quiet as a mouse, quiet as an empty house”

“Ok”

“That’s why I picked you”

“Because I’m quiet?”

“Yes”

“But why?”

“Listen I’ve known a lot of people in my life…and I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know…..quiet people are always….one hundred percent of the time…..the creative ones…..are the imaginative ones…..and are the original ones!”

“You really think?”

“Absolutely…hey I’ve only known you for less than a day, and you’ve barely said ten words to me in total….but I can tell you fit the mold”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean look….you have a floor covered in junk…but I can see at least ten drawings you’ve done of some super hero…..you have a window spray painted black instead of blinds….your surrounded by creativity. Me I’m just a try hard creator….I love trying to express myself creatively….but I just do it in the obvious stereotypical ways….like a pierced nostril….or taking up art classes. I picked you because I want to drain your brain of all those wonderful…unusual….amazing ideas that I know you have all day. See my theory is……the only way a guy like you gets through the day without sticking a Swiss army knife into your jugular…..is by retreating into fantasy worlds……where magical things happen. You don’t know how lucky you are. People like me….we’re stuck with plain boring old reality. We dream of just five minutes of time in your mind!”

“I don’t feel all that lucky”

“Hey man….grass is always greener…..that’s why you make friends with your neighbor”

“And you don’t care that I’m quiet?”

“Well if you haven’t noticed yet…I’ll give you the hot tip……..are you ready?........(I nodded)…….here’s my big secret………I talk lots!.....it’s nice to have someone to spend time with who’s not competing with me for airtime all of the time!……..Besides….spend enough time with me and I promise you you’ll start to find your voice!” she said, and I

I smiled

“Ok Serious talk time over…..fulltime……now lets get a pick axe out and crack open that big beautiful skull of yours!”

Now this may surprise all you readers out there, but I had actually already given quite a lot of thought to this project. Nothing like fear of embarrassment in front of a hot girl to motivate you to get some work done!

“So spill….I know you have some ideas going for a jog in your mind already” She blurted out

“Ok” I started slowly “the way I figure it……..is……….um”

“Yes”

“Well the title’s Unnatural nature right?”

“Yeah”

“So what’s the obvious thing people are going to photograph?”

“I don’t know” she replied looking like she genuinely didn’t have any ideas

“They’re going to walk around the bush or a lake or something and try to take photos of some weird looking flowers…..or plants…or trees…or animals, bugs or something…..or try to get a photo of a four leaf clover….you know things like that”

“Yeah of course….that’s all you really can do….isn’t it? I mean it’s unnatural nature….your supposed to take photos of things that come in nature that look unnatural”

“Well we’re not!”

“We’re not?” She didn’t look too convinced

“We’re going to take photos of very ordinary natural things” I said smiling

“And?”

“We’re then going to make the prints unnatural”

“Ok……I’m starting to like the sound of this” she replied now with that big beaming smile of hers going

“See that way its unnatural nature!”

“Ok….but how are we going to make the prints unnatural?”

So I laid down my plan for her. See with the development of black and white photography it’s all about the exposure of light to a piece of photo paper. Photo paper is designed so that any light which comes into contact with turns the paper slowly black. A little bit of light and you get light grey and the longer the light is exposed to the paper the darker it will be.

So you take a negative and put it inside this machine which shines light through it onto the paper. Because the negative is the opposite of what you photographed, the sections of the picture which are bright or white, will be dark or black on the negative, therefore less light flows through and causes less grey on the photo paper. Of course the reverse is also true, sections which are black or dark will be light on the negative, so more light flows through and the photo in that section will come out darker.

This was the key to my plan. We would take a usual nice negative of a nature photo and manipulate the way the light shines through onto the paper to produce an unnatural looking picture – Unnatural Nature!

My idea was that we would take a series of photos, which were from a distance, but had one element to them which we wanted to highlight, or to make the focus. We could then add some effects to the print my messing around with the flow of the light to create a pattern of some sort which would draw your eye to the focal point. I just hadn’t decided what to make the theme of our focus points.

“It should be like a human body part!” Hannah suddenly suggested

“That’s not a bad idea………. I like that” I replied

“Oh oh oh oh oh I’ve got it!” She said with a huge smile on her face

“Yes”

“It should be nude body parts………just sort of poking through a bush…….or the hole in a tree!”

“I guess it has to be doesn’t it……clothes are man made……..so it could be like our hands or eyes or something”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a breast, or a penis, or a vagina!”

“That sounds great……only……we don’t have any nude models” I said in a tone suggesting that there was no chance in hell that that was going to be what we did

“Yeah we do…….you and me!”

“Hhhhmmmmm…….yeah……..well no, no we don’t”

“Well I’ll do it even if you’re too chicken”

“You would actually let me take photos of you in the nude for the whole class to see?”

“Yeah……of course……I don’t mind…..I’m not shy about my body – people see me naked all the time…..I don’t have any issues like that with my body”

“Are you sure?…..I mean we can come up with something else”

“I’m totally sure….absolutely……besides it’s only going to be bits of my body at a time….no one will even know it’s me…….except you of course…….it will probably actually just look like we went to an extra special effort and went out and hired a model!”

And so transpired an event which several days earlier would have seemed about as likely as me being abducted by aliens and taken back to their home planet and worshipped as a god; I got to spend nearly four whole hours in the woods with a gorgeous naked girl!

She didn’t even feel the need to put on clothes between shots, she just walked around like that the whole time, bending over, sitting down, standing around, jumping over loose rocks down the forest path, whatever she would normally of done if she was clothed. By the end of the day I don’t think there was a single milicentermetre of her skin which I hadn’t seen extensively.

She never even once showed any hint of embarrassment or modesty, even when I was quite clearly having a good old perve, she would actually smile and wink when she caught me starring at her pink, then again having studied her body I am quite certain she has nothing to be embarrassed about, but she never even acted at all like this wasn’t just the normal way people spend days with her. I felt as lucky as a champion race horse retired to stud.

We had taken about thirty rolls of film by the time she finally pulled her summer dress back over herself. We would walk around for ages to find a suitable location. Then we would take any photo we could think of at each spot. For example if we found a pretty spot with a section of foliage offering a window through the wall of shrubs and trees, then we would take photos from a bunch angles, sometime the ‘window’ in the middle or top corner, or what ever we could think of.

We would almost all the time take them with one of Hannah’s lovely body parts (quite often one of the most naughty parts) just showing enough so that there was no mistaking what it was, but only if you studied the photo looking for it. To the untrained or uninformed eye, they were just intended to look like a nice nature shot like you may find on a post card. Occasionally Hannah even talked me into being the model (she has a great ability to make me pack my bags for a guilt trip), but when she was starring down the lens and I was exposing my physical imperfections it would just be my hand, or eye, or at least some part of me that didn’t require me to strip. Actually Hannah was quite sweet and kept telling me I had a great body and should show it off, I know she was lying though, it must be much easier to be confident in your body when you have the ability to make the opposite sex ruin a pair of underwear just by looking at you!

At the end of the day I also actually got the guts to suggest that we get a bunch of close ups of her full body – head to toe. Not just so I could sneak a couple off to hide under my mattress to keep me company on my frequent lonely nights at home, or because I would probably in my entire life never again get such an incredibly opportunity to just study a gorgeous naked female right up close, but honestly mostly because I wanted to use them artistically in my last new idea for the project.

I decided that we should take the pictures and separate them into body parts. Then when we put them all together for presentation we would do it so it sort of formed a whole body. So like on the top would be one showing hair, then ears, then nose, an ear to one side, a smile below it, then a breast, a hand to the side, stomach, vaginal region, and at the bottom a foot (that was just my run down in case you didn’t know what order body parts go in). Then in the middle I had an idea how to use one of the full body shots spliced together with a general nature shot.

After we had picked out which of each photo we wanted to use, it was time to make them ‘unnatural’. The way we did this was experimenting with different ways to manipulate the light flow onto the photographic paper.

We tried all sorts of methods. Crumpled up pieces of cling wrap (it’s amazing how many times cling wrap has affected my life!) or cellophane, or paper, which we would spread all over the page, trying to make a pattern which would spiral your eye towards our body part. Sometimes we would make a circle pattern like hypnotists spin to take people under their control, or have the spread get more and more dense as it got closer to our focus, or sometimes we would have straight lines pointing out our vagina marks the spot.

We cut out patterns from paper which we laid over the paper or we’d spin the paper as the light shone on it to create a shadowy streaky effect, and just a shit load of trial and error.

After quite a long time in the red glow of the dark room, we finally got a feel of what worked and what didn’t, and the results started looking unbelievable. I’d never been more proud of something I had created. Hannah seemed more than pleased too. I got more hugs in a couple of hours in that dark room than I had received the entire rest of my life combined.

Eventually after asking Hannah seventeen times if she was absolutely completely truly undeniably utterly unrestrainedly positively with chocolate sauce on top definitely, definitely sure she didn’t mind that we could use a full body full frontal nude shot of her, and receiving sixteen variations on the answer “Yes I’m sure, please, please stop fucking asking me already”, I set to work on the big centre piece.

I matched an extremely captivating photo of a massive Morton Bay Fig Tree Hannah had taken, which was almost daunting in the way it dominated the photo, dark and menacing, with branches which seemed to be reaching out to grab you, with just one ray of sunshine flowing through highlighted by the forest dust, like a ray of hope to inspire you to overcome the enormous beast of a tree bearing down on you. Along side a gorgeous photo of Hannah, well all the nude photos of her were fantastic as you could imagine, but this one was my favorite, it was one where I clicked the photo right as there was a loud squawk from a black crow, which sounded like the high pitched wail of a man in the moment of his death at the hands of a foe, which understandingly scared the shit out of her for a second, which was just enough time to capture an amazing photo of her with her natural sexuality so obvious but with this shocking frightened expression on her face.

Then I cut a spiral type pattern out of a piece of paper and the opposite of the pattern. Then I made the exposure of the tree at first over the whole photo, but then only in the areas which the pattern allowed, then the reverse, Hannah over it all and then Hannah more pronounced on the opposite of the spiral. The result ended up being one of the few things in my life which far exceed my initial expectations.

At first glance the final photo looked like someone had somehow eaten a whole pile of negatives and photographic chemicals and vomited them all over the photo paper, not really resembling anything. But then if you focused on just the tree it suddenly jumped from the page and it was all you could see, then again if you focused just at Hannah she would jump from the page and the tree would be a distant memory, lost in the spiral pattern which dominated everything. Then if you unfocused again and tried not to concentrate on either of the images you would see a haunting image, dark and moody with the frightened ghost like image of Hannah looking up towards this ray of light fighting its way through the tree, only rather than offering a ray of hope it is seemingly a ray of evil and a source of horror for the girl. All this with the incredible pattern and tone changes all over.

By the time our big hand in day had arrived we had set our ten photos all together and the result was quite spectacular (even if I do surprisingly say so myself), and I was able to walk into class holding it in front of me really looking forward to going into a classroom for the first time in my life.

The teacher had set up around the classroom hooks so that everyone could hang their projects and we could check out what everyone else had done. “Just as I thought….everyone else has done the obvious” I gleefully said to Hannah. Then all the students started to walk around and look at the photos. There must have been six or seven projects which had at least one close up photo of an ugly insect! Soon enough though pretty much everyone was congregated around mine and Hannah’s work, and we were more than excited to hear comments such as

“Wow”

“Cool”

“These are niiiiiiiiiice”

“Fucking shit fuck, fuck shit…….why didn’t I fucking do something more like this”

“Not Bad” and about twelve different versions of

“Oh my god! I can’t believe they have Hannah nude in these”

Hannah just looked over at me with a smile and raised eyebrows and said “and you wanted to know why I picked you for my partner”.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Escaping my hiding place - Chapter twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE


“Find something to do which you truly love!

Then you will never have to work another day in your life!”


Explosion Man

The power of his name

Explosion Man

He’ll fight his evil brother

Desert Fire

Until the world is safe

Explosion Man

Explosion Man

The world is safe thanks to Explosion Man!


That’s the theme song for my comic book ‘Explosion Man’. I know it’s really hard to imagine it without the music, but it is sung by a choir of deep voiced men with a really dramatic melody. At least that’s how I imagine it in my head.

Explosion man is actually a class assignment. For our major assignment in my cartoon class for the semester, we were required to come up with a completely original cartoon character. We were only actually supposed to draw him or her in a few different poses, but I decided to take it one step further and write and draw the entire first edition.

Unfortunately in this medium I can’t reproduce the entire book for you, and I can’t put in any pictures, so I can’t entertain you with the whole story, but I will give you the gist.

The story of the world’s greatest hero of the twenty first century actually begins during World War Two. With the allies struggling against Germany and Japan on fronts across the globe, the US government decided that they needed a new type of super bomb, a bomb so menacing that the strongest armies in the world would have to surrender to its enormous powers. Most people think that they succeeded in this with the invention of the atom bomb. This is a myth.

The team working on this top secret project consisted of seven men and one woman. Now this woman was your typical nerdy chemist however, as you all know the nerdy scientist in glasses is actually a super model once the glasses are removed and her hair is released from its tightly banded pony tail, plus under her white lab coat she rarely wears anything other than sexy lingerie.

So it was basically inevitable that over time in the high stressed close working environment that sexual tension would build, and eventually it spilled over when one night one of the male scientists found himself working alone with this amazingly attractive chemist, and their passion overcame them. In one swift move they cleared the top of their workbench and made love in a pool of spilt chemicals, and a miracle of science and godliness took place and nine months later their twin boys, Ben and Bill, were delivered to the world.

These were no normal boys. Their development was extraordinary. Their strength was beyond full grown adults within a few weeks, and their intelligence would have made Einstein jealous.

They soon also discovered when the two of them touched, it would create fire. Lots of fire! After many tests were done, it was discovered that Ben and Bill’s atoms were actually splitting in their bodies at an alarmingly fast rate. This was incredible; at this point no body even knew atoms could be split.

As incredible as it was though, it was also shockingly scary. As they grew so too did the energy they could produce. Until one day it was realized, that by their first birthday, they would be creating so much energy and power simply by touching each other, that these two remarkable beings could in fact be the weapon the allies had searched for.

With the army chiefs notified it was eventually decided that this power would be used on ..Japan.. in the city of ....Hiroshima.... on the sixth of August, 1945. The children were then taken away and separated.

From that day on for the next five months the kids were trained in secret for a very important job. Their task was simple. Two soldiers would drop them ten meters apart and they were to locate each other and move together and embrace. The two extraordinary babies completed there mission perfectly, and the explosion was so powerful it changed the world for ever.

With the mission a complete success the decision was made to use the babies one more time on ....Nagasaki.... on the ninth of August. Again the babies completed their tasks with aplomb and another city was leveled, and by the fourteenth of August ....Japan.... surrendered and World War Two was over.

This time however when the babies were found by soldiers, although alive, they were in a coma. Fearing a frightening accident, the babies were taken back to ..America.. separately where Bill was taken to a secret military hospital near ..Los Angeles.. and Ben was taken to a secret military hospital near ....New York.....

Meanwhile the President was proclaiming the explosions were caused by a new weapon they had developed, which they named Atom Bombs. Using data collected from experiments from the babies these weapons were eventually actually developed for real.

Skip forward to the year 1999, when on New Years eve, as the world celebrated entering a new millennium, the two brothers finally an abruptly awoke from their comas.

Despite such along time in a coma, both brothers looked extremely youthful, and were both incredibly athletic and powerful.

This is where their stories take very different directions. In New York Ben was nurtured and fed with knowledge, which he ate up like a fat man eats donuts.

Meanwhile near ....Los Angeles.... Bill had also awoken, officials were frightened of what Bill was capable of. They were so fearsome that they kept him locked in a cell under constant armed guards, and would perform cruel and painful experiments on him. He too however began to notice his physical and mental superiorities.

Overtime he grew bitter of his captors. Eventually he reached his boiling point and made the decision to escape. And in a bloody rampage he broke free of his captors, and demonstrating exactly how powerful he was, he remained unharmed while fighting off an entire army regiment, before racing away to his freedom.

He soon discovered a world of things he didn’t recognize or understand, cars, houses, roads. They frightened him, he didn’t want to be near any of these things which he had no knowledge of, he wanted solitude. So he ran on, until he eventually found himself in the ....Nevada.... desert, with no signs of civilization anywhere in site. There he was able to take shelter in a mountain side cave, and began to make a life, surviving by hunting local wildlife for food.

Meanwhile Ben was having a great time in ....New York..... The army was soon convinced that with his intellect and skills he would be no danger out in the real world. He was set up in an apartment in the city and exposed to as many aspects of life as possible, from the slums to the museums.

One night he was out on an exploratory walk when he walked in on quite a horrific scene. A young girl was being gang raped by four despicable youths.

Without thinking he swept to her defense and with barely a finger raised had the four youths lined up knocked out cold. He then called an ambulance and police car, but fled the scene as they pulled up.

That night he lay awake all night. This was ....New York City...., horrible, selfish and cruel crimes were being committed every day and no one was stopping it. He began to fill with rage.

His frustration eventually intensified until he lashed out and punched the wall. To his immense surprise there was a huge explosion and when the dust settled his wall was missing. Seems his powers were greater than he had even imagined.

He withdrew himself from the world for several weeks experimenting with what else he could achieve, and when he eventually returned to the world he was a changed man.

He walked outside wearing a red lycra suit, with purple boots, mask and cape, and the letter EM on his chest. He would now be known as Explosion Man, with a promise to rid ....New York City.... of violent crime.

It wasn’t long before he was the biggest celebrity in the nation, a hero to all, except the criminals who shook in their boots with the thought of Explosion Man walking up behind them. Crime in ....New York City.... began to drop to nearly zero.

Meanwhile back in ....Nevada...., Bill was still a nomad living in a cave, oblivious to what his brother was achieving on the other side of the country. He too however, began to realize the full potential of his abilities.

Bill discovered his exploding fist early on, but developed even further. He learnt to light up in flames at will, and learnt to master his speed.

He began to grow curious about the big bad world. He wanted to punish it for being so cruel to him. So he began taking captives from highways and bleeding them for information on the world. The thing was once Bill demonstrated his abilities his captives often turned to followers and he began to build an army in the desert, with him as their leader.

His followers would tell him of a man in ....New York.... known as Explosion Man who had similar, although weaker abilities, and used them for good.

Bill had no such intentions. He emerged from his cave one day wearing a replica of Explosion Mans costume, only orange, with yellow boots, mask and cape, and the letters DF on the front. As of this day forward he would be known as Desert Fire and with his army of Fireflies in toe, he began to descend on the nearest big city, Las Vegas, and wreak havoc.

He would murder and rape at will, he would destroy entire casinos in huge explosions and bursts of flames, and his army would return back to the desert with food, money and women. It wasn’t long before he was the most feared man in ....America.....

Desert Fire scared Explosion Man to death. After putting in so much effort to end violent crime in ....America.... suddenly it was the worst it had ever been. Worst thing was he didn’t know if he could stop it, after all Desert Fire was more powerful than him, and had an army to back him up.

Despite his continued efforts to stop crime, people started to call him a coward for not facing Desert Fire. Explosion Man didn’t know what to do, should he risk his life to try and stop Desert Fire, or should he protect himself so he could continue to stop crime on the east coast?

His answer came from a knock on the door one wet windy night. At the door was an old man, in his mid seventies, weak and frail, when Explosion Man opened the door to him, out of costume, the old man said simply - hello brother!

The old man introduced himself as Bernard, then told Explosion man a story his father, their father, had told him many years earlier, the story of his two sons, who were killed in World War Two, just babies, but brave enough to give their lives to put an end to the war.

When Explosion Man and Desert Fire made themselves known to the world Bernard knew right away that these must be his two long lost brothers. He had searched for them ever since, and finally tracked explosion man down to his alter ego, simple Ben.

So Desert Fire was Explosion Mans brother! Explosion Man now knew that it was up to him and no one else to stop his evil brother. He began to devise a plan.

The next time Desert Storm and his army headed into ....Las Vegas.... they were in for a rude surprise. Before they had even entered the city a flash from nowhere screamed in and killed two of his army. Then another flash, two more dead!

Desert Fire knew this day would come eventually. He began to scream out loud “EXPLOSION MAN YOU COWARD, FACE ME MAN TO MAN!” Explosion man had no such intention. Instead he would keep his distance and mock Desert Fire. He would tell him of his life in ....New York.... and of everything that had been done for him to make him happy, and berate Desert Fire over being caged and treated so poorly. Desert Fire became incensed.

Again he screamed for Explosion Man to face him. This time Explosion Man answered the call. However he didn’t come right up to Desert Fire, he kept his distance. Again he berated Desert Fire, this time about how everyone loved Explosion Man and everyone hated Desert Fire.

Desert Fire could take no more. He charged at Explosion Man with a furious pace. Explosion Man turned and ran. Desert Fire was faster but Explosion man had intentionally kept just enough distance between them so that he wouldn’t be caught……. yet!

What Desert Fire did not know though, was that Explosion man had no desire to escape, and to his immense surprise as they reached an absolute deserted area of desert, explosion man stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Desert Fire. Desert Fire stopped too, and came up to within a foot of Explosion Man. Still Explosion man stood still with his hands by his waist and eyes closed.

What he knew, which Desert Fire did not, was what had happened in ....Japan...., and would surely happen here again. And as Desert Fires fist flew towards his face a little smile showed on his mouth, and before the blow rained down upon him he moved forward one step and hugged his long lost brother.

The resulting Explosion was the biggest the world had ever seen. The shockwave could be felt in every corner of North America, the mushroom cloud could be seen for thousands of miles, and the crater it created was twice as deep as the ..Grand Canyon... Remarkably (or was it just good planning by Explosion Man) there was not a single fatality. Only two capped men, a hero and a villain gone - vanished into thin air.

Explosion Man had given himself to save man kind. He was again revered like the hero he always was. Desert Fire was now listed along names like Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini as the greatest villains of all time.

However what the world didn’t know was the two of them were still very much alive. Buried deep beneath the ground again in a coma! Would they wake again? Would they escape their soil coffins? If so would Explosion Man be able to save the world again? Only time would tell!

I got an A for this assignment. My first ever A!

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Escaping my hiding place chapter eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN


“No body has ever been thought less of because they were persistent!”


I woke up to soft, gentle, moist lips lightly sucking themselves onto my lower neck, then releasing their grip gradually like a piece of bubble gum off the bottom of a shoe.

As I began to stir from my slumber, the kissing was replaced by a warm body snuggling up behind me. I could feel the firmness of her perfect pert petite breasts squashing up against my back, the tickle of her pubic hair rustling against my naked backside, and the softness of her skin massaging just about every other part of the back half of my body, as she gently rocked me back and forth.

Her arm was over my side and she was playing with my small crop of chest hair. I moved my hand up over the top of her tiny and oh so cute fingers, which she then intertwined with mine and responded with another kiss on my neck.

I smiled and closed my eyes again, determined to let the moment linger for just a brief few seconds more, before opening them again and looking at the alarm clock sitting beside the bed.

“Shit” I said, as I saw the time click over to 9:29pm.

“Do I have to go?” Ellie responded with much more breath than voice

“I think so” I replied “what time does your boyfriend get home tonight again?”

“About ten”

“Damn it……….I guess you better hurry”

“I’m so sorry honey”

“It’s ok sweetie, it’s not your fault”

“Yes it is…….it’s all my fault”

“Well I guess…….but I knew your situation, I didn’t have to agree to go along with it”

I turned to face her and she gave me a deep sensual kiss on the lips.

“You’re so good to me JayJay……….. I’m so lucky to have found you” She said

“I’m lucky to have found you too” I responded

We then looked deep into each others eyes with our foreheads touching, just smiling warmly. After about thirty seconds we started to kiss, softly at first but then harder and deeper, when she suddenly pulled away, with my tongue still submerged deep into her mouth.

“Ok ok ok ok ok” She said “I have to go”

“I know” I replied “Doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for you to leave me”

“Oh hon…….you know it’s never easy to leave you”

I smiled warmly and she pulled herself away from me, got out of bed, and began to get dressed. I just lay in bed and watched her. I always liked to watch Ellie get dressed.

She was wearing a small blue mini skirt and a tight red t-shirt which showed off her amazingly sexy, petite, yet curvy figure. After putting on each item of clothing she stopped and gave me a kiss. Panties – kiss, bra – kiss, skirt – kiss, t-shirt – kiss, sock – kiss, sock – kiss, shoe – kiss, shoe – kiss.

I then walked her to the door holding her hand; but not saying a word. As I opened the door she looked up at me with her amazing puppy dog eyes

“Miss you” she said

“Miss you too” I responded

Then one last kiss and she turned and walked away, stopping only once to turn back towards me just long enough to give a quick finger only wave goodbye.

After she departed I went back inside to contemplate what was happening in my life.

Actually hang on.

I was going to mess with the order of this little tale of mine for a while, but I think I’ve just changed my mind; I can’t suddenly head into a section like this out of the blue. I think maybe I’ll just leave it in for you as a little teaser of things to come. So where was I anyway………..oh that’s right, I’d just re-enrolled in university.

Well suffice to say I actually managed to survive the next few weeks leading up to starting another semester of schooling without having a bath with my toaster. That’s not to say I didn’t spend much of that time in an absolute panic. And I can’t promise I was my usual careful self when crossing the road in front of semi trailers, but I did make it to registration week unscathed.

After getting lost on campus for about three hours, waiting in the wrong long, long lines four times, then asking advice from people who were in no position to give it; and successfully not managing to talk to any other students all day, I finally walked off campus back to the train station holding a class schedule. This schedule included three subjects (figured that way I could still fuck up as badly as last time and still be allowed one more semester).

Those subjects were ‘Nature Photography’ (chosen because I figured nature photography might include lots of time in nature, and therefore not in the class room, ‘landscape drawings’ (ditto), and ‘Cartooning” (well I explained before my natural ability in this one)…. (Wow that was very un-modest of me, see how much I have grown!).

The morning of my first class I was the most nervous I had been since hiding under a cling wrap machine while nine year olds vandalized a factory. Mostly I was just nervous about being thrown straight into the social aspects, which are especially forced in the first week or two. Then I reminded myself “you’re going back there to add some human contact in your life, so grow up you little fuckwitt”.

So I psyched myself up and made my grand entrance. My first class was a practical for my cartoon course, so it was only a smallish classroom. I walked in and the tables were all huge and had drawing paper on them, and the walls were lined with thousands of pictures of all sorts of cartoon characters; Mickey Mouse, Spiderman, Sponge Bob Square Pants, Tom and Jerry, Captain America, Donald Duck, and many, many more.

There were only three other people in the room when I came in. All girls sitting in the middle chatting away, I don’t think they even noticed me coming in. I took a position in the back right corner which allowed me to watch as the class filled up. In the end seventeen people came in.

Out of seventeen, eleven of them were girls “yes! Great ratio” I thought as they walked in, and obviously six boys, when including me. It was a strange looking bunch, there was a girl with dreadlocks and about five girls with a prominent piercing or tattoo, there were your usually preppy polo shirt wearing students, there was a really slutty looking girl wearing a midrift exposing singlet that barely covered her breasts and tiny, tiny shorts (who likes short shorts…..I like short shorts), and then there were several slobish looking people, including myself.

About ten of the other people set themselves together in groups of three or four, chatting together like they had been friends for years, but obviously weren’t because I heard several of them introducing themselves, so that I could be consumed with jealousy for their confidence. The rest of us knew no one and talked to no one however, so I wasn’t the only one sitting alone looking uncomfortable at least. Then eventually the teacher came in.

The teacher was the biggest nerd I have ever seen. He was about as skinny as toothpick. He had no jaw and a massive overbite. He had a rapidly receding hair line which he made no attempt to cover up or shape into any style. He had a tie with Beavis and Butthead on it, and he actually had a pocket protector in his shirt pocket (I honestly thought they were just invented for the movie the revenge of the nerds!).

He walked into the room with a huge bag over his shoulder. Quickly without saying a word he climbed up onto the desk at the front as. Everyone in the class suddenly moved into their seat and sat quietly. After about thirty seconds with no one saying a word, he suddenly put his arms on his hips and looked up to the ceiling on his right.

“I AM TEACHERMAN” he yelled

“I AM ON A ....MISSION.... TO USE MY POWERS FOR GOOD NOT EVIL”

“TO GIVE GUIDENCE WHERE NO GUIDENCE WAS GIVEN BEFORE”

“AND TO CHASE TRUTH, JUSTUCE AND GOOD MARKS FOR ALL”

“Hey I like this guy” I thought.

He then leaped to floor and picked up his big bag, then opened it up and ran up and down the isles pouring its contents all over the floor. It was comic books! More comic books than a comic book store. Every type imaginable!

Pretty much everyone in the class began to giggle as he did this. He then leaped back onto the desk in a single bound.

“YOU’RE TASK FOR TODAY!” he yelled

“PICK UP ANY OF THESE COMICS OFF THE FLOOR, AND USING THE PAPER IN FRONT OF YOU AND ANY PENS OR PENCILS YOU LIKE, DRAW ME SOME COPIES OF SOME OF THE CHARACTORS”

There was a bit of a murmur and a pause before everyone started to sort through the pile and make selections. I chose a ‘Ducktales’ comic and proceeded to draw quite a good attempt at an Uncle Scrooge.

Meanwhile ‘Teacherman’ was walking around the class, occasionally stopping to give people advice or just ask their names. By the time he was up to me I had drawn Uncle Scrooge, Huey, and Dewy and was just about to draw Luey. He stood over my shoulder starring at me working the whole time I drew Luey, which made me very nervous, which of course made Luey my worst drawing so far.

“Shit…you fucking idiot” I thought to myself

“What’s your name?” Teacherman asked me

“Jason” I replied

“I’m John…nice to meet you Jason”

“You too”

“You know you have some real talent there…..keep going”

“Thanks sir”

“I didn’t say my name was sir, I said John, we just have fun here, no formalities”

“Ok Si…..John”

“Wow, he said I was talented, no one has ever said that to me, about anything!” I thought to myself as he moved onto another student.

By the time the class was finished I had drawn a good fifteen different comic characters and was feeling pretty damn good about myself, but then I didn’t know what was about to happen.

When I was on my way out I happened to make eye contact with the girl with dreadlocks. She smiled at me. So I smiled back.

“I like your hair” She said to me.

“Ok now what the fuck is going on is this some cruel hidden camera TV show where people give you compliments, then suddenly some bastard jumps out and says ‘sucked in you’re on ‘Arsehole Camera’, and in fact you’re still a complete loser’?” I thought

“Oh thanks………………you too” I finally replied.

What a great first class. I felt on top of the world. The best thing was the whole rest of the first week kept along this path.

For my drawing class they just let us to go anywhere we wanted on campus, and to draw anything we wanted, as long as it was from a distance. Same again for photography, just chucked us cameras and said go and take photos. I also had several more semi decent exchanges with other students. It was all moving along swimmingly, like some talented athlete in the Olympics, well maybe not quite that good, but not drowning at least, which is what I usually would have done in a pool of water such as this.

In fact I only had one really uncomfortable experience in the whole first week. I was walking around campus minding my own business on a sunny afternoon, as I tended to do. When suddenly I heard a voice behind me!

“Jason……………… Jason Domey right?”

I swung around to see standing right in front of me a girl from high school that I had had a huge crush on; Stephanie! Steph and I had actually sat next to each other in English. Well that’s what I used to think anyway. In actual fact I sat all alone. The class room was in a horseshoe shape, and I sat on the left end. Of course in a full class room with a horseshoe shape, someone has to sit next to you.

So to my real joy it ended up being Stephanie. I had a crush on Steph about the size of an Olympic pool, mostly because she had breasts so big she would struggle to swim in any pool without them dragging along the bottom.

My crush may have been basically about her breasts; however that wasn’t the only thing I liked about her. After one had starred at her breasts for a while, one is bound to realize that one should better look somewhere else, at least briefly. Which lead me to occasionally find my eyes drift up and look directly at her face, and she had one of the most gorgeous smiles I had ever seen. Could light up any outdoor pool, if anyone was actually looking at it, and not her breasts! (Ok I’ll stop with the pool analogies now - that’s what I get for trying to write while the swimming’s on TV)

She even sometimes said hello to me, one of only two or three girls in the school to give that a go from time to time. Unfortunately of course, she didn’t sit there to sit next to me. She sat there because the next seat along was where her boyfriend sat!

His name was Stone! That was his actual name, the name his parents had given him! I always wondered how they had seen their little baby, all so cute and vulnerable, and so accurately picked what his brains would be like. They should be psychics. They could go from hospital to hospital helping parents name their children based on what they would eventually turn out like. And it could be like “here you go Mr and Mrs Condor, here is your baby girl whom I have named slutty! Or here you go Mr and Mrs Peterson, here is your cutie pie baby boy whom I have named Pedophile Priest, or as I like to call him PeePee!”

So anyways, Steph came up to me and said hello. Despite my excellent social skills which had been developing all week, I reverted back to highschool me. So our conversation went along the lines of this

“Hi” I replied

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages”

“Not bad”

“Cool….I’ve been great….University is going fantastic….I have a new really cute boyfriend….his name is Bruiser (“are you fucking kidding me” I thought)….I think he might be the one”

“That’s good”

“So what are you studying?” she asked

“Art”

“Cool…I’m doing law; can you believe Stephanie Moore is going to be a lawyer?”

“Nup” I replied, not so much because I couldn’t believe it, more because it was the most fitting one word answer I could come up with

“Heeeeeey………….oh well I guess I deserve that…..I was a bit of a scatter brain at school”

“Yep”

“So what else have you been doing with yourself?”

“Nothing”

“Are you working too?’

“No”

“Play any sports these days?”

“No’

“Are you enjoying art?

“Yes”

“Oh fuck, I better come up with more than a one word answer to one of these questions soon” I thought

“Still see anyone from school?” she asked

“No”

“Fuck another one worder” I thought

“Really………..no one?” she asked

“Not if I see them first!”

“Oh fuck that’s a really lame joke” I thought

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha” she genuinely laughed hard

“Why is she laughing so hard? Oh Fuck! I hate it when someone laughs at a joke which is patently not funny! That joke is so fucking old and over done, surely she has heard that before, she was probably even thinking it, but didn’t say it because it was so corny and terrible and certainly not worth a mention. So why the hell is she laughing so hard? It must be one of three things, 1. Maybe it actually is funny, so does that mean I can actually adlib hilarity and cause random people to fall into fits of laughter, only I have completely lost the ability to figure out myself what I have said is funny, therefore rendering this quite a desirable ability useless, and even makes it a handicap, because now I have to question everything I ever have the urge to say, even more so than usual, in case I say something hilarious right at the time it’s the least appropriate, or when I am trying to be genuine or sweet and I’ll get passed off as a class clown, and no one will ever take me seriously. 2. Maybe she is just humoring me, in which case she doesn’t like me at all, and is just taking the piss out of me. And if she is doing this, maybe everyone I have ever talked to has only done so to take the piss, and therefore I am even a bigger joke than even at my most pessimistic I thought I was! 3. She is some kind of lunatic who just laughs at everything, like she’s high on some fucked up drug from the sixties, and if I spend anymore time in her company she will slowly drag me down to her mental inadequacies, and I’ll be trapped walking around like some six year old school girl, just giggling to myself always, until eventually they lock me up in some mental institution where people eat their own poo, then lick your face!” I thought to myself, while starring at the top of the one hair on her head which was out of whack with the rest, just one strand which frizzed upwards. Finally I looked back down at her face. She was scowling.

“Well better get back to class” She said, before scurrying off quickly.

I don’t know if you have noticed yet, but I can sometimes have a tendency to over analyze things.

So anyways apart from that little encounter with Steph, my first week back as a student went pretty much ok, and then I pretty much settled into College life really well, and even quite enjoyed it sometimes. Art was such a better school for me to be involved with, I liked the teachers better, I liked the students better and I liked the work better, and subsequently I liked life better!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Escaping my hiding place - Chapter ten

CHAPTER TEN


“The first step to improving your life - is the decision to change!

Nothing great ever just happens”


My first step in putting this criminally insane master plan into action was to look up every night school, every day school, every college and University in my accessible area and order subject catalogues. There was no way I was going to make the same mistake I made the first time I went and do horribly boring subjects. I was going to choose this purely on what interested me, and which classes I thought would have the highest ratio of girls to boys.

I ruled out all the business school courses straight away, too boring. All the science courses went next, too technical. I threw out things like drama (don’t think I need to explain why on that one). The IT industry went next, I didn’t even know how to turn on a computer.

So I continued to sort though them, and continued to rule out course after course which I was either way too stupid, well not stupid, just unqualified for, and class after class that I was just too scared to do for various self conscience reasons, until finally I found myself holding a booklet from my old university in the school of visual arts. Art! I had never really thought of art as a career before. Art to me at school was mostly doing doodles to stop myself from falling asleep in math’s class.

I actually really enjoyed doing doodles while I was at school, and was actually not bad at them. I could do some very close copies of numerous cartoon characters like transformers and smurfs. But I drew all sorts of things houses, people, penises, still life.

I was reminded of a time in school when I got in huge trouble one day for my approach to a particular assignment we had been set for the day. I am not sure what the assignment was on, but I remember that we were supposed to put a big heading at the top of the page about what we were writing about. Unfortunately by the time the teacher said “pencils down everyone, and pass your work to the front!” I was still working on my heading. Not because I was so stupid that I couldn’t write a heading, as some of you may be thinking, but because I had been doing it over and over again in all sorts of different ways, with letters slanting, with patterns, with other symbols which represented the letters. I just got lost in it.

However when the teacher saw it she wasn’t as impressed with my artistry as I was. Instead she yelled “JASON PAULINE DOMEY (have I told you yet I had a girls middle name – my parents thought I was going to be a girl and couldn’t give up the name - see people have been screwing me since birth) ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL ME YOU HAVE SAT THERE FOR THREE HOURS AND NOT EVEN STARTED AND NOT ASKED ONE QUESTION!”

“Sor” I nearly got out

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF YOU NAUGHTY BOY”

“Well ummmm”

“WELL……WELL…..IS WELL ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY”

“No miss”

“WELL YOU CAN GO TO THE PRINCIPLES OFFICE AND EXPLAIN TO HIM WHY YOUR WASTING EVERYONES TIME”

“Yes miss”

With that I plodded my way to the principles office and reluctantly went in and explained myself. The principle responded much the same way as my teacher. I copped a long lecture about wasting my time, and the teacher’s time, and the other student’s time, and my parent’s time, and his time and about forty other useless tid bits of crap.

Don’t teachers realize that they need to nurture and encourage student’s interests, even if it affects their other work occasionally? That’s how to make kids to not hate school! I just made a mental note to look up that teacher and throw a brick through her window! “IS THAT A GOOD ENOUGH EXPLANATION BITCH?”

So the school of visual arts it was going to be. I felt really comfortable with that decision from the start. Not only was it an area that I actually had some interest in, but surely the art world would be filled with cute young girls. I might have still been way, way too shy to talk to them but I could definitely perve. Maybe that would inspire me. The female body is gods greatest ever art work after all!

Unfortunately this decision posed one massive problem. Out of about a hundred course booklets sprawled out across my floor, the single one I had decided upon was possibly impossible. I had flunked out of that university. They weren’t going to let me back after my half hearted completely fucked effort the first time around.

However going by my new rule that I had to decide what I wanted and do it no matter how hard it was; I decided that I must still make an attempt. I decided the most likely way they would let me back in would be to write them a letter explaining how the first time I was there without wanting to be, but this time I was there because I wanted to make something of myself. And hope that I could convey enough passion to woo their hearts into granting me restitution in their institution.

So I sat down and wrote my most passionate letter ever. Then I rewrote it. Then I rewrote it. Then I rewrote it. Then I rewrote it. Then I was basically happy with it. So I rewrote it two more times, and then was finally ready to send it.

Unfortunately I had no idea who to send it to. So I went down to my local Kinko’s and made a hundred copies of it. Then I went over to the university and stuck it under every single office door I could find on the campus. I didn’t care what the door said, chancellor, chief financial officer, or school nurse. Then I sat by the letter box waiting for a reply.

Day one - nothing, day two - nothing, day three - nothing, day four - nothing (although I did eat an excellent pepperoni pizza that day), day five - nothing, day six - nothing, day seven - nothing (I’m still not sure why I checked the box on Sunday), day eight - one letter with the university letter head!


I opened it up and read inside.


Dear Mr Domey,


I am writing in response to your many letters, posted to numerous staff members, in relation to your desire to re-enroll in our University. I regret to inform you that unfortunately at the point a student fails out of this institution he or she is no longer able to participate in any further classes to be held by our professors.

However, should you ever choose to read the forms which were supplied to you at the time of your initial enrolment, you may be interested to note on page two, appendix III, it states “a student shall be deemed to have failed out of his or her chosen course at such time that he or she receives a failing grade in a total of eight subjects over any three year period’. Having reviewed your academic record from your first semester with us, I have noticed that you only enrolled in four subjects, four of which you failed. Thus you still have four more subjects with which to fail before you have indeed failed out of this university.


Therefore I am able to inform you that you are most welcome to enroll in any of your desired classes from the school of visual arts for the next semester starting on February 27.


I am not quite sure what to make of you Mr Domey. On one hand I admire your tenacity in sending your many, many letters. Although I question your intelligence having not bothered to even check whether you had flunked out, and having sent one of your letters to the janitor!


I do hope your commitment to your studies is far greater on your second journey into higher learning, and will watch your results with great interest.


Regards,

Norman Johnston

Head of admissions


BACK TO UNIVERITY! Oh my fucking god. Didn’t I remember how god damn happy I was to be gone from that place. The introducing yourself! The speeches! Class participation! Group assignments! Bullies! Teasing! Social situations! Study! Lectures! Tutorials! Professors! Had I gone completely insane! How did I come up with this fucking life plan! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Escaping my hiding place - Chapter nine

CHAPTER NINE


“It doesn’t matter how low you get,

There will always be someone worse off than you,

Someone who wished they could have what you have;

So appreciate everything good in your life,

However little - for some have nothing good at all!”


This is actually where we came in at the start of my story. I didn’t mean to give you quite so much of my life history, but we ended up taking the scenic route. Not scenic like a drive through the Canadian Rockies, with huge snow capped mountains towering over the landscape, creeks snaking there way through the country side lined with pine trees and maple trees, and Moose, Elk and Grizzly Bears playing in the fields. Not beautiful scenic, my story is more humiliating scenic. Like watching a baby hit his father in the balls with a hammer. Everyone loves laughing at other people’s pain, I don’t know why, but we do, human nature I guess.

It’s really quite hard to explain how I felt, but the closest I can come up with is this, I felt my life was like a bloody fetus lying in the corner of an operating room in an abortion clinic, while the thirteen year old mother sits on a bench crying over her forty eight year old lover who had promised her he loved her, and promised her he would leave his wife for her, and promised that pregnancy wasn’t possible for a girl her age, and had dumped her the minute she came to him with news she was pregnant. I wasn’t just covered in blood, and completely unwanted by anyone in the world. I was unwanted from people whose lives were fucked aswell. I was the epitome of unwantedness. I had absolutely nothing in my life to be happy about.

What do you do when you hit a point like this? I lay in agony in deep thought trying to come up with some answer, any answer, to that question, I didn’t think of anything else for days on end. Then I finally decided that I could keep feeling sorry for myself for hours, and days, and weeks, and months and years, but if I wanted more out of life I had to actually go out and find it. No one was going to do it for me, and I was never going to do it myself if I didn’t stop being such a wimp and start doing something with my life.

As I described this epiphany earlier - I had had enough of living that way. I needed to change. I needed to find love. I needed to set goals and achieve them. I needed to find something to be passionate about. I needed to find a reason to wake up in the morning, rather than lying awake all the time wishing I could sleep. I needed to find a reason to leave my apartment and my neighborhood and go to where good things happened and good people frequented. So that’s what I set out to do.

I have heard people say that the hardest step of a journey is the first step. This is especially true when you have a fractured shin bone. But what’s the first step when you’re where I was? This was not an easy question to answer. For me the answer came with one simple decision.

I decided that from that moment forward, from then on, all the time, for ever more, that at what ever moment I was in, I would think to myself, “what is one way I can improve my life right now?”, and then no matter how hard or scary a thing that would be, it was something I would do.

So for me the first step was deciding that even though I had a major fear of doctors I would go to one to see to my injuries. My fear of doctors went back to when I was fifteen and had to have a blood test, and the doctor taking the blood kept missing the vain, he did it three times in my left arm, then said “sorry young fella, not going to work in that arm today, give me your other arm” and then he tried three more times in that arm. Still no success! Then he had me go back to the other arm and squeeze a ball for five minutes or so to get more blood pumping. Which he was finally able to extract from me, and then proceeded to drop the vile of blood on the floor, where it broke and splashed disgustingly across the tiles!

This of course meant that he had to suck more out of me! So back to squeezing a ball again, while a nurse mopped up a puddle of my own blood off the floor, which for some reason was a process started by smearing it all over the place. Then finally after extracting another vile of blood I was told I could leave.

Of course you all know the kind of luck I have by now. On my way out, with a gush of relief flowing over me having come to an end of that ordeal there happened to be a loose nail protruding from the wall, which I of course scrapped up against, not just ripping a gorge of flesh from my upper arm, but also causing the doctor to say “going to need a tetanus shot there now aren’t you”. So I got to get my ninth and most painful injection for the day, at least my arms got a rest, this one was in my ass!

My fear of doctors might also have something to do with when I was twelve and had a stomach ache and a doctor decided the best way to try and figure out what was wrong was to fondle my penis. Although it wasn’t until blood day, as I referred to it from then on, that made me declare I would never go back again.

However with my new attitude I knew that to heal fast and well I needed to see a doctor. So off to see the doctor, the wonderful doctor at the free medical clinic I go! Fortunately it was just down the road from me. I hobbled my way down there and joined a line of people waiting to be helped at the check in counter.

There were two nurses working the counter. One of them was a really pretty brunette who looked about seventeen. The other one was a short stubby woman, who looked one hundred percent like a man except with a pony tail and a small tight white nurse’s dress on. I waited in line thinking to myself “please be served by the cutie, please be served by the cutie please be served by the cutie, etc etc”. Until eventually the man woman with an equally manly voice took my details and told me to take a seat. Meanwhile the guy in front of me in the line who I had heard say was in for a sore throat was being walked over to a seat by the cutie nurse who was rubbing his back and saying in a very, very sweet voice “there you go, you poor man, we’ll make you all better, promise”. Damn luck!

I sat for about an hour before I was taken into a doctor’s room. And I spent that hour studying all the other patients to try and figure out who was the worst off. I widdled it down out of numerous unwanted possibilities until I had my top three, in no particular order

1. The man who decided to sit just opposite me who had a nail still lodged right though the middle of his hand and blood all over himself.

2. The mother and about seven year old girl, who were both almost completely covered in very chunky looking vomit, I wasn’t sure who had vomited on whom!

3. The man who stood in a corner with tears in his eyes and his hands over his bottom, with eyes darting from side to side, back and forth, like he was watching a tennis match, left right, left right and in every direction, non stop, and who responded to several offers for him to sit down by just shaking his head wildly. I didn’t know what he had done to his ass, but what ever it was I didn’t want to do it ever!

I finally got into see a doctor, who was a very old looking Indian man, with the thickest accent I have ever heard in my life. I spent about forty five minutes with him as he dabbed some red liquid on all of my cuts which felt like a white hot spear was being thrust into me over and over. Then he spent sometime putting in stitches in about seven places in my body. Then for some god only knows reason decided to poke every single one of my three thousand seven hundred and sixty three bruises. Finally I was able to leave and after breaking down his language code I’m pretty sure he told me something along the line of “yu of tree bwoken wibs, a fractured in yu shun bone, many, many, many hurted bones in yu hol if de body, and ov had to ov t-hurty sevone switches”. There was one quite good thing I left with. A prescription for the most powerful pain medication on the market!

Thus I was able to spend the next several weeks lying in bed tripping off on some legal fantasy chemicals. They took away most of my pain which was wonderful, but they also made me very, very sleepy which was heaven. It felt to me like I slept more in those four weeks on those drugs than I had in the whole year before.

After four weeks I didn’t even want to sleep anymore so I would try and fight the drowsiness for as long as I could. This to my surprise caused me to hallucinate, and was lucky enough to have some wonderful times playing with oh so cute cartoon bunny rabbits, and was able to have a long chat with an alien about the meaning of human life. It has something to do with marketing apparently!

After five weeks of being a government sponsored drug addict, doing nothing but sleeping and eating - my prescription ran out, which meant I was supposed to be relatively healed and would be required to get back to some form of normality. What I wasn’t expecting was the strange way I felt about that prospect. I think normal people call it optimism. Certainly not something I had felt before.

I had faced up to one fear so far in order to improve my immediate situation, and it had paid off handsomely. The old me would have sat in that apartment for months in complete agony and ended up with scars all over my body from poorly healed wounds, just to avoid a visit to a doctor. However the new me went, and I had a very much needed five weeks of great rest, my stitched up wounds had already all healed to being almost no longer visible, and the only pain I had left was my still sore ribs and shin. But overall I felt the best I had in as long as I could remember.

I started to really look forward to what my next risk would be to improve my today. What could actually truly improve my day though? What did I want? After much self deliberation I finally came to the conclusion that even though the thought frightened me to death, what I most needed were other people in my life.

How does a person like me even try to introduce other people in my life? I had never really had a friend, not a true friend, and my sex life to date included one fat old ugly woman! I didn’t even know one single person I could call to go to a movie with.

I ruled out the ‘looking for love’ newspaper section straight away. No way I was going on that haunted mansion ride again. So what other methods are there? I could only think of one other sure fire way to meet lots of people, and the fact I made this decision still shocks me today. I was going to re-enter a world which I had dreaded and hated and failed miserably at the first time around, I was going to go back to school.

Escaping my hiding place - Chapter eight

CHAPTER EIGHT


“Sometimes it doesn’t matter how hard you fight,

You just weren’t meant to win

That does not mean you failed!”


This was blackness like I had never seen before. It was much darker than the black from a black car or the night’s sky; it was even blacker than my room with the spray painted window shut. This was real black as pure as it could be. Occasionally it would be replaced by horrible images of the man standing over me hitting me repeatedly with the piece of wood, and I could see chunks of flesh coming off with the nails. Then blackness again! So much blackness.

After a long, long time I finally began to regain conciseness. I opened my eyes, but couldn’t really make anything out except that it seemed nighttime already. My vision had become extremely blurry; it was a shockingly frightening situation. I could tell I was lying in the shrubs still, I could feel the sting of the branches digging into my back. I tried to stand up but had no strength.

I didn’t pass out again. I just lay there in total agony for what felt like hours. After a while I began to regain focus in my eyes and looked around to see that the shrubs were covered in blood.

I realized I had to get out of here no matter how painful it was going to me. I started to push my way out of out of the shrub and felt the most intense pain of my life. I tried to yell out but nothing came out at all, just a heavy breath of air. I decided to try and roll my way out, and felt a spiral of pain as I broke free, then collapsed again sideways and rolled onto the soft grass.

I lay like that for a minute or two regaining my breath. Then pushed myself back up to my feet, and then tried to walk. I took about four or five wobbly steps, like I had just drunk five cases of beer. Then fell to my knees.

I tried this again for the same result. Then again. The old me I think would have given up in times like this and just allowed myself to pass out again and hope someone helped me eventually, for some reason though I was consumed with determination here. I couldn’t stand for more than a few steps in a row, but I still managed to half crawl, half wobbly step my way home. Cars drove past almost constantly the whole time, I couldn’t believe no one stopped to help me, but I guess that’s the world we live in these days. Strangely I was almost glad about this; I hated the thought of having to explain what had happened to me.

I opened my door while still on my knees and collapsed inside onto the floor, and that’s where I stayed. I lay there with the door wide open face down for several hours. It amazed me how incredibly worn out walking/crawling around two blocks had been. I was in lots of pain too of course, and just moving any part of me would hurt, even lifting a finger or wiggling my toes, there wasn’t a section of my body which had escaped their cruel punishment. All I could do was try to stay as still as possible.

I didn’t pass out and I didn’t sleep either. I just lay there. I spent eons of time just focusing on a single thread which was hanging off the end of tattered blanket. Barely another thought went through my head the whole time I was on the ground. I didn’t think about the attack, I buried it deep into my mind and basically never really thought about it again. One of the skills you acquire when you live a crappy life is the ability to hide bad memories in your own mind.

Eventually I got up off the floor and stumbled over to the bed. As I lay there, finally starting to try and sleep, I began to feel a real sense of regret. Regret and guilt! It took over me. I felt guilty for Wendy “for Christ sakes that wasn’t even her real name, I had been calling her that for months” I screamed at myself.

With the advantage of hindsight it suddenly became clear what a downright awful a thing it was to invade her privacy like that. At the time I had justified it to myself by thinking “I find her attractive, girls want to be found attractive, and so she would be happy to have a guy looking at her because he finds her attractive”. Not like that though. The honest truth is that it’s the most disgraceful thing I have ever done. I am not at all proud of it, but I can’t take it back, and I can’t deny I enjoyed it in the moment, but I do honestly regret those actions.

I felt guilty towards her brother. I started to think about if I had a sister and someone violated her like that. I’d want to do the exact same thing as he did. Only I wouldn’t have the guts! Maybe it didn’t matter if I was lonely and depressed, so what if it wasn’t fair that arseholes and bullies from school got to have sex with beautiful girls where as guys like me get nothing . Life isn’t fair, that’s not an excuse to treat other people with so little respect.

I felt guilty towards myself. Why hadn’t I just chosen against becoming a peeping tom? People make that decision every day, “should I go look in some girl’s window tomorrow? Hmmm no I think not, I might go to work instead!” What if I had quit peeping the day before this, why did I wait till today to start seriously considering it? Why didn’t I keep a better eye out for people coming? If only?

My life always seemed to come down to ‘If only’s’. If only I was better looking! If only I was smarter! If only I was taller! If only I was thinner! If only I had more money! Always blaming something out of my control, I never seemed to say if only I had tried harder, or if only I had put up with a little embarrassment for a lot of gain. Always excuses. I was sick of making excuses.

I eventually got to sleep and actually slept through the night. When I woke up the sun was already shining through my open window. The warmth of the beam of sun hitting me right in the face was what woke me up. My first thought was “mmmmmmm that’s nice”, “then oh fuck I slept in I’ve missed Wendy!” and then “Why do I hurt so incredibility badly”, to finally remembering, “That’s right, I had the fucking shit beaten out of me”.

I climbed up out of bed and walked over to the mirror. I looked into it and immediately burst into tears. I looked like a can of spaghetti had exploded inside of me and had ripped holes in my skin everywhere and was slowly eeking out.

There wasn’t a part of me which wasn’t red with blood or black from bruises. I had full chunks of flesh hanging off me by thin threads of skin. I was missing two teeth from the top near the back, and my lips were so swollen I looked like one of those awful victims of wanting collagen injections. I pulled off my shirt, painfully, and found similar grotesqness there. I took off my pants and realized I was one enormous bruise with a million cuts thrown in. On top of that my family jewels (not worth much in our family) were swollen to about three times their normal size and were as purple as a piece of grape bubblegum. Worst was that they were also covered in blood veins which made the whole package look like something from a “worlds ugliest sea creatures” TV show. Not the fashionable look for ones goolies.

I cried hard, so hard I could barely make any noise, my mouth was just stuck wide open with a weird squeal noise coming out. I just stood still looking at my mangled body in the mirror. It was damn well frightening. It’s not an image of yourself you ever think you will see. I stumbled into bed and realized something. My life had spiraled out of control. No that’s not right, that suggests my life was once in control, that’s certainly not true. What I realized was this was officially my rock bottom!

I thought I had hit rock bottom several times before. In high school, in University, and of course not that long ago at the cling wrap factory. And at hitting those points I always went through a period of improvement. Before suddenly, as I was climbing out of my hole, the walls would give in and I’d smash into the ground again and this time break through the surface into a whole new hole and hit the bottom of that one. This bottom I was in now however, I was sure this one had to be the absolute bottom of my seemingly bottomless pit.

It was like I had been eaten by a lion and the lion had shitted me out, and then a giraffe came and ate that shit, and then shitted that shit out, then a zebra had come along and eaten the shitted giraffe shit of the shitted lion shit of me and shitted that shit out. All the while hyenas stood by laughing, laughing, laughing. And this had gone on through bugs eating the shit of the shit of the shit of the shit, and then the bugs been eaten and shitted and that shit had been eaten and shitted until finally I had got the point where there were no more animals of life willing to eat my shit. My life was so shit that shit eaters thought I was too shitty to eat.

Ironically I reached this conclusion while sitting on the toilet not shitting due to my chronic constipation. Having the shit beaten out of you seems to not be a literal term. When I have the shit beaten out of me, the shit stays in there for a long time. It’s really quite a shitty feeling. Especially when all your ribs are broken and bruised and you have a million cuts on your body that stretch open as you struggle to squeeze out your human waste. But that’s what hitting bottom is all about isn’t it. It’s far too shitty to actually be shitty.

.. ..

Friday, October 16, 2009

Escaping my hiding place - Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN


“Great opportunities come up all the time!

You just have to be on the lookout for the right windows”


I was frozen with fear and time seemed to freeze with me. The next few seconds seemed to take twenty minutes; I was desperate to turn and run but was stuck to the ground like someone had hammered nails into each of my feet.

The man in the middle was the biggest, he looked like a world wrestling champion, with biceps as wide as my chest, which were busting out of a skin tight yellow t-shirt. He seemed like the leader of this group, and he was the first to talk, actually it was more like screaming, only with a deep booming voice, “T h a t s m y f u c k i n g s i s t e r y o u f u c k i n g p e r v e r t !” he yelled at me as the four of them charged towards me.

Then in super slow motion, he raised a big chunk of wood from his side to high above his enormous shoulders. Then slowly started to swing it towards me. I still couldn’t move. I could see it coming towards me clearly, a thick whitish square piece of wood about twice as think as a baseball bat, but just as long, and alarmingly with two nails protruding from the end. I could see them clear enough to see the rust on the sharp points, yet I just couldn’t move out of the way.

Suddenly someone switched off super slow motion and turned on fast forward. The piece of wood flew towards me at a thousand miles an hour and smashed hard into the side of my face. The force of it was so strong that I flew over and hit the ground so hard it felt like I had been dropped from a plane. Then all three of them started to kick me over and over again. They pummeled me all over, my head, my arms, my stomach, my legs, and most painfully my reproductive areas.

Over and over and over and over and over! I lost all the breath from my lungs quickly and couldn’t shout out. I just let out howling squeals like a piglet being used as a soccer ball. The pain was so overwhelming and consumed me so much I couldn’t even fight enough to raise my arms to cover my face. I just lay there limply being beaten like a piece of meat at the butchers under the hammer, being tendered up for some fat rich bastard. Finally they stopped.

At least that’s what I was thinking when the blows suddenly came to a halt. Instead they all stood over me yelling angry, angry rants, although I couldn’t make out what any of them were saying, my ears were ringing loudly, like I was trapped in a church bell tower, from the numerous kicks which had all but crushed in the side of my head.

Then I saw the main guy lifting the wooden bar high above his head again. He then lowered it down on my face using all the might he could muster. Then again! Then again! Then again! Then blackness.