Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Cindy

Darren's Story    Wilfred's Story    Molly's Story (Part 3)

I’m such a fucking idiot! Why would I do that? I’m such a- Oh it’s itchy!!

Cindy sat perfectly still in Sansky’s math class. She wouldn’t scratch it. Not in a million years. Not while Darren sat across the classroom stealing a glance at her every 30 seconds - sometimes for 30 seconds at a time.

Boys are so obvious. Does he realise I can see him and his goofy expression?

It was actually a little comforting to have his complete adoration emanating from the corner of her eye. It steeled her resolve to remain unflinching, maintaining an exquisite distribution of indifference across her face. In the opposing corner she could see Molly Bingwall. Usually at this point Molly would be trying to steal her own glances at Darren and then follow his gaze despondently to Cindy.

She used to be such an amateur. Maybe she finally learnt how to be cool. One conversation with me and- I hope she doesn’t tell anyone my secret.

Cindy was a professional; even in the face of adversity. That morning, though, was a different story. Excited about the day’s events she grew anxious about her unflattering aromatic disposition and, in a rare moment of amateurity, she applied an ample serve of anti-perspirant to mask her shame. It was more than an allergic reaction. Within ten seconds she had let out a scream of agony and thirty minutes of showering wouldn’t make the itching stop. She would have preferred to harvest a nest of fire ants than endure this pain.


“Has anyone heard of a quadratic equation before?” Mr Sansky probed. “Cindy, have you ever seen a quadratic equa…?”

Sansky trailed off weakly as he received Cindy’s deathly blank expression. She shook her head. If she opened her mouth to talk she feared she would scream for help in a pathetic well of tears, so she channelled every hateful emotion into that blank face. Daggers of contempt and disrespect pierced Sansky’s soul. Unable to save face in front of adversity’s like his student, he let out a barely audible yelp; disguising it (poorly) as indigestion. He recovered after some time and searched for his rock. Old faithful. “Molly, can you help me ou- ah us out- Can you help us out?”

Fuck he is pathetic.

Molly, floating aimlessly in a vacuum of maturity-come-early confusion, looked up like a stunned bank robber who had fallen asleep in the vault, shocked out of dreamland by the shouts of ‘FREEZE!’ She almost put her hands up in surrender. Sansky appeared even more hurt by this facial expression. He slumped his shoulders and turned back to the board to continue his lesson.

Cindy was relieved to watch the theatre going on in front of her as it distracted her from-

Oh God it itches!!!

- the relentless pain. She stared curiously at Molly who was absently colouring in her booklet with a blunt pencil. Molly suddenly turned and looked back at Cindy, still with the dead fish expression on her face. Cindy was too slow to react and looked away too late. Instinctively she looked to the other side of the room to dodge the awkward eye contact and ended up getting caught in Darren’s ever growing dedication. She looked down at her page feeling herself blush a little.

Wow, I’m slipping. I can’t believe I’m blushing. If it wasn’t for this Goddamn itch. Oh! I wanna cry. Maybe I should talk to Molly again. She is smart and it’s like she doesn’t care what people think anymore. She doesn’t care what I think anymore! Did she ever care? What is happening in her head? Oh fuck I gotta scratch! I need to get out of here!

Cindy stared at her book, intent on not revealing any more weakness. She never would have come to school if it wasn’t for the stupid State Poetry Qualifiers. This was her chance to get out of the fraud of a relationship with Wilfred. The whole school would wonder why they had just broken up after one day (and one night) together. They had truced their secrets and charaded through the school hand in hand. But she had heard that Darren was entering the Qualifiers. What if he beat Wilfred?

The bell finally rang to the relief of Sansky, Cindy and Molly. Darren jumped up like a puppy dog who just learned the wonders of fetch and exited first, followed by Molly and then Cindy. Sansky meekly dusted the blackboard. Darren had waited anxiously outside the classroom and said ‘Hi’ to Molly sheepishly as she walked by him. She ignored him with genuine disinterest. Darren brushed off his brush off and turned to greet Cindy, smiling idiotically. Cindy was shocked.

Molly just ignored this moron and I’m planning to fuck him…No way!

“Hi!” he exclaimed. Cindy gave him a sympathetic look and patted him on the head before casually walking to the girl’s toilets. Darren was heartbroken. He walked off, head down and very uninspired to perform his poetry later that day. Sansky remained dusting the same spot on the blackboard throughout the whole of recess.

***

It was time for the big event. The whole school packed the temporary seats on the basketball court and its surrounding bleachers. Cindy had tranquilised her grief with four panadols and an ice cube; Darren waited anxiously backstage with Wilfred who sat opposite him stealing a few too many glances for his liking; Molly was nowhere to be seen; and Sansky sat in the teachers’ area looking like he wanted to curl up into the foetal position while his mother gently ran her fingers through his hair humming lullabyes.

The scraps and trash of the drama-class students had etched out an array of tragic ballads and sonnets. Some had rapped epic poems while a few confused children beat-boxed. One even rapped while beat boxing, the 10 seconds of meagre applause his only reward for 3 years of practice. And to top it off a student performed interpretive dance while reciting a Shakespeare-inspired dialogue between a the ghost of a recently deceased dog explaining death to his grieving ten year old owner.

Then it was Darren’s turn. The crowd hushed. He stepped out to an eerie silence and was visibly scared. “I see-” he choked and his hands began to shake. “I…I…I can’t…” he turned and was about to head off stage.

“You can do it Darren! I believe in you!” At the door to the auditorium stood Molly. She shouted at the top of her voice, “C’mon Darren, Woooooo!” There was an eerie silence across the hall.

She is so brave. She is so wise and forgiving. She is so...Cool!

“C’mon Darren!” Cindy jumped to her feet and beamed encouragement to the sad figure on stage, mimicking her new idol. “I believe in you too, Darren!” Darren was shocked but this was all he needed. He had the love of his dream girl - and the girl he treated like shit…but Yes! Cindy! He began in a soft yet resonating voice, growing more confident with each line.

"I see the door to oceans blue
Where freedom reigns and motions stew
But back upstream, the love, it boils
It burns and rises, above the spoils

"I spin and turn and swell in circles
Trapped inside, my cell, my whirlpools
Pure love it clouds, above I see them
Float t’ward the sea and rain down in freedom"

There was silence as everybody was shocked by the sheer beauty. Molly smiled and exited the building. Cindy and every other girl in the crowd was moved, it was like 1964 and The Beatles had just sang out ‘She loves you Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!’ Most had fallen in love with Darren instantly. Even Sansky slowly unravelled the knot of tension that engulfed him. But none was more moved than Wilfred. He had tears in his eyes and was struggling to contain himself in the presence of this Angel, this poet of the Soul. As the applause eventually settled he hushed the crowd with his turn to speak.

"Darren, I concede, you have won this day
but I tell you and all that I love you, I’m gay"

With this he jumped Darren and clasped him in both arms. Unable to free himself from the muscular queer, Darren squirmed weakly as he felt a tongue – it too exquisitely toned and muscular – enter his mouth.

The auditorium erupted with shock and laughter. Cindy joined in, ecstatic that she was free from her relationship and didn’t have to reveal her smelly secret. But she was surprisingly moved by Darren’s performance and had decided she was still to bed him that night.

***

Darren was an animal. He sat perched between Cindy’s legs. It was the foulest thing he had ever smelt or tasted but he loved every moment of it. Anything to get that horrible feeling out of his mouth. He couldn’t shake the sensation that Wilfred had delivered him with his kiss. He felt raped.

Eventually Cindy relieved him of his duties and they swapped positions. Darren needed more to escape from reliving his nightmare. “Suck it you slut! Hurry up!”

He shouldn’t say that to me...But it’s true. I just go around fucking guys and pretending like I am better than everyone else. I don’t care how good his poem was he is an asshole just like the rest of them. I need to change my- UGH!

“What the fuck?!” she yelled, trying to look up. She wanted to give Darren her filthiest look ever, but struggled to deliver it while her left eye winced in pain. In his eagerness and inexperience Darren had shot his load straight into her eye. She tried to complain further but his next round shot straight up her nose and she reeled back as if she had just been punched. Suddenly the door swung open. Jonny Aitch entered, just arriving after work. Cindy had forgotten that she had invited him over. A snarl formed across his face.

“Who the fuck is this!?” he demanded.

“Jonny don-” Cindy couldn’t speak. Her face screwed up and she sneezed. As a kid she had learned it was polite that one should always cover one’s mouth when sneezing. She did and looked down with her one good eye to see a chunk of green and white goo residing in her hand.

Jonny was furious. “You gave my girlfriend a facial?!” Within two swift steps the 27 year old traversed the room and beat the living shit out of Darren.

Darren spent the next week in hospital. Cindy didn’t visit him once.

Sansky's Story

- Eden

3 comments:

  1. Dude, that was the greatest thing I've ever read! It's past 1 in the morning and I was laughing out loud, probably woke my sister in the process, but all she needs for an explanation is to read this and all will be forgotten.
    It's so cool hearing pretty much the same story, but from different points of view. When you published 'Darren', I thought that was it. But then came the others, all better than the next, and not because of your writing getting any better (they are all great in their own right), but because of the sequel aspect. I guess it's the same as when you watch the original Star Wars. It is cool when you watch it the first time without watching the sequels, but after you've seen the others the original has an aura about it. I'm just deciding which is your Empire Strikes Back.

    Oh and by the way, you (aka Darren) are a modern day poet! I think I'm starting to feel a little like Wilfred...

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  2. Yeah you are a fag Russ. Edz they're getting better and better with each tale, I think it's like any story, a little bit of familiarity goes a long way. That said I think if I read Darren again I'd appreciate a lot more. This is one of the best things on botm, and demonstrates why botm is great. All hail Eden.

    Will there be more, Mr Sansky perhaps? Only time will tell.

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  3. seriously, that was great. You're an Angel.

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