Howard fumbled in his pockets for the front door key and
entered his new lodgings at number 19 Napoleon Terrace. In the lounge a lady
from the Accommodation Office was inspecting some patches of damp, guided
by Gallie and Karen. Karen was expressing distress over the perceived risk
to her wardrobe. The depths of her concerns matched the lengths of her speeches.
Unfortunately for Howard (or so he thought) the Accommodation
Office lady had received intelligence of his moving into the house and so
it was that he was obliged to sign a tenancy contract and part with a cheque
covering the rent for the full duration of the term. A second, smaller cheque
was conferred as a deposit to be cashed only in the doubtless unlikely event
of damage to the house or furniture. The lady stuffed the cheques in her handbag
and hurriedly claimed she 'had to dash'. Hence she was tragically unable to
answer more of Karen's questions 'until next time'.
Gallie and Karen turned their attentions to the late afternoon
Australian soap
The Young Doctors on the television. Howard pondered
the shamelessness of the
ne'er do goods that pedalled such trash.
He sat down at the lounge table and studied the posters on the walls. Of
those that did not depict rock bands, Harley Davidsons, cars and scantily
clad women, one was of a Rodney Matthews fantasy scene, with a pointy alien
landscape occupied by large, insect-like beings. The painting was ingenious
but he felt it should have had one of the insectoids smoking pot. Another
poster was of an obese, orange cartoon cat, which he instantly recognised
as Garfield. Garfield was looking rather glum (and fat). The accompanying
tagline was
Die is Diet without the T.
Sitting at the lounge table he reached into his bag and
pulled from it the scarlet folder containing Jacintha's astronomy notes. Fingering
through the pages that were as crisp as new banknotes, he admired the pristinely
etched notions, diagrams and equations. He found it difficult to believe that
she had jotted these notes during lectures. He suspected she had studiously
rewritten them, adding material she had read from books. However, perhaps
because these lovingly crafted notes were so clinical, the notes did not inspire
within him his natural love for the subject. He felt like a believer, who,
upon discovering a wonderful, long-lost sacred script, begins to doubt his
faith.
'This Jacintha's damned smart,' he said semi-consciously
to himself.
'Who's Jacintha?' asked Karen. She was sitting on the sofa
behind him.
'Oh, no one in particular,' said Howard looking up from
the red folder.
'My day was appalling actually! We had this
awful
lecture on art history and professor wazisname literally bored us all to
tears
about Matisse, who's really pretentious anyway. Like, as I said to Gallie,
there was this idiot sitting next to me and he kept fiddling with his pencil
and tapping it all through the whole lecture. Tap, tap, tappity tap. I kept
thinking
should I move? Should I move? But I thought that it'd be a
bit rude, quite frankly, a bit
much really, but it really annoyed me,
you know? He just would not stop tapping! He went on and on and on! He just
wouldn't stop! I'm not one to complain, but he shouldn't have been so annoying!
And, after the lecture, literally everybody agreed with me!'
'I agree with you too Karen.' Howard's mind was ebbing.
'Gallie was saying you study astrology.'
'
Astronomy,' corrected Howard, his mind reawakened
by the mention of Gallie. 'Astrophysics to be precise.'
'That sounds really hard, like rocket science.'
'It
is rocket science.'
'Gosh! Does it have lots of arithmetic?'
'Yes there's plenty of sums, especially long division,'
he said sarcastically.
Karen frowned. 'Must be dreadful. Actually I hate maths.
I really loathed maths at school. I think our maths teacher, Mr wazisname,
was really awful. Anyway, I hated science too. Frankly it's very hard work
and too over the top and
soooo not-my-thing, actually.'
Howard, who felt affection for science, took this to be
a personal attack. Nobly, he strove to suppress his offended feelings. He
failed to overpower them, however, and, sulking, said nothing. He watched
the Aussies cavorting about in
The Young Doctors. He had read somewhere
that, of all the Aussie soaps, this was the worst of a dismal lot. This was
partly to do with the staggeringly inept acting. He rarely noticed good acting,
only bad acting; gradually he found fascinated by the forced smiles and stiffness.
Then the strangely familiar theme tune whined and the credits scrolled.
Gallie proffered a plateful of melting moments. The company
tentatively nibbled the yellow biscuits. Howard mentioned that his mother
used to make them. He asked how many times the bright red cooking cherry
in the centre had been bisected. Replying that she had cut them into eighths,
Gallie thrust the plate of melting moments at him and implored him to help
himself to the one with the largest cherry. Not wishing to appear impolite,
he took the closest.
She sighed deeply. 'Ohhhhhhh God-I-need-a-cigarette! I've
gone
three days without
one ciggie! Now I'm going to go out
and get some! I've given up my diet so I might as well start smoking again.'
Her words were quasi-aggressive but her voice was pleasant.
'Well,' said Karen, in harsher timbres, 'frankly I
did
tell you not to go on a diet
and give up smoking at the same time,
actually! I knew it'd all end in tears. You really haven't got enough willpower,
dear.'
Shoulders drooping and head slightly bowed, Gallie made
for the newsagents. He resisted the temptation to follow, believing it not
to be a good time.
Karen addressed him. 'Actually I like told her so, but
she wouldn't listen to me. Huh! She's only Gallie but she can be stubborn,
really stubborn! But, I mean, she didn't
need to go on a diet
anyway, she wasn't fat before. Well, OK, maybe she was an incy wincy, tiny
bit fat! But she really hasn't lost an ounce anyway! Actually, I wish
I
had
her figure.
I look like a stick!'
'All your notches and twigs seem to be in the right places.'
'I'm not
twiggy am I?' Karen peered down at her body.
'No!' Howard struggled.
'You mean I'm
fat?'
'Of course you're not! I think women are too obsessed with
their bodies sometimes.'
'I'm not obsessed actually! Actually I don't pay any attention
to my self-image, none whatsoever! It wasn't
me who went on a diet,
it was Gallie. Frankly I'm not like Gallie. I'm not saying I've got the perfect
figure though, no way! Actually, I really could do with losing a bit off my
legs and my bum. But I think that must be a tiny bit of water retention.
I might go on a liquids-and-fruits diet to purify my system and flush out
all those toxins. Actually my
skin's not what it should be. There
are definitely impurities in my system and they're playing havoc with my spots.
Do I look
really awful?'
Howard was not considering Karen. With horror, he was wondering
if Gallie would get fat now that she was off her diet. He returned his attention
to Jacintha's notes and Karen continued to fret over her body.
When Gallie reappeared her face was saturated with guilt.
She sighed.
'You don't think my face is pale and unhealthy do you?'
Karen asked her.
'Whaaat? Noooo not at all,' said Gallie weakly. 'You've
done a brill job with your makeup!'
'Thanks. (A pause). '
What do 'you mean?' Karen pouted
her mauve-painted lips.
'
I think,' said Howard, 'that your makeup looks
natural.'
'Soooo do I,' said Gallie, 'it really suits you! I'll go
and put the saucepan on for a nice hot cup of tea.'
Karen crossed her arms and frowned.
'Here's my mug,' said Howard. 'Two sugars.'
He mentioned to Karen that he had nearly seen Marlon that
morning.
'Actually he's really scared of leaving his
beloved fucking computers. I gather he’s
a total loner: he never once listened to anything
I had to say. Typical stupid male son of a bitch!'
Gallie re-entered the room.
'Ah, poor Marlon.'
'I was telling Howard about Marlon. Frankly that boy should
be hospitalised,' sneered Karen.
'Yeeeah, but I doubt he'll swap his machines for nurses,'
laughed Gallie.
'Matrons in suspenders and low-cut tops are the only cure,'
said Howard.
'Hey! I've got those! Would you like me to model them for
you?' Gallie smiled alluringly.
'Don't bother, I'll fuck you as you are!' he blurted.
Gallie laughed pleasantly but there was no mirth in her
gesture. She looked away.
No one spoke.
He wished he had the knack for flirtation. His attempts
never quite worked. His words, far from hitting their mark, deflated and rotted,
leaving the foul stench of embarrassment. His every flirtation was a faux
pas waiting to detonate. He chided himself as shameful, as unworthy as the
average yobbo.
'Ohhh shit! The saucepan!' cried Gallie, trotting from the
room.
Howard and Karen remained in silence.
'Karen?'
'Yes?'
'Can I fuck
you instead?'
In for a penny, in for a pound.
'
Sexist fucking
pig! You men really are all
the same! You're all mouth the lot of you! You're brains are, like, in your
dicks, quite frankly. And you're all total fucking, wanking shit-bastards!
Literally!' declared Karen.
'Was that a yes or a no?'
'What do
you fucking think?' she screamed.
'I think this conversation is going badly.'
***
*****
***
At two in the morning Howard lay awake in bed, contemplating
his fucked-up life and how he needed to get laid and soon when he heard a
creepy noise. Someone or something was scratching at his door. With minor
trepidation he wandered over to the door and pulled the handle. No one was
there. He peered down to see two demonic yellow lights. He jumped back with
fright and fell over an unpacked cardboard box. A plastic bag full of music
tape cassettes broke his fall. A fusillade of snapping plastic was an alarming
declaration of damage to his collection. With a bruised hip and a scratched
forearm, he struggled onto his feet and cursed. The owner of the demonic lights
was revealed to his eyes to be a brawny, bristling black cat. He castigated
himself for letting a mere feline startle him. Upon closer inspection, the
animal was completely black: it even lacked the white dot below the neck usual
of its species. The cat's demonic yellow eyes glowed, two enraged coals on
dead soot. It slowly purred like babbling blood. He swung the door heavily
into the creature's face and heard the creature bolt down the stairs. It scratched
at his door no more.
 | | | | |
| From: |
isolani | Subject: | 2001-04-28 17:12:41 |
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| From: |
Knoeier | Subject: | 2001-05-01 06:08:53 |
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| From: |
Knoeier | Subject: | 2001-05-01 06:09:24 |
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| From: |
MadPole | Subject: | 2001-05-04 15:51:10 |
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| From: |
MadPole | Subject: | 2001-05-04 15:52:20 |
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| From: |
MadPole | Subject: | 2001-05-04 15:53:07 |
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| From: |
MadPole | Subject: | 2001-05-04 16:06:07 |
| | | | |
| From: |
MadPole | Subject: | 2001-05-04 16:21:35 |
| | | | |
| From: |
isolani | Subject: | 2001-05-04 17:46:27 |
| | | | |
| From: |
Knoeier | Subject: | 2001-05-05 13:50:10 |
| | | | |
| From: |
chris | Subject: | 2001-05-06 21:08:47 |
| | | | |
| From: |
Harry Crumb | Subject: | 2001-05-09 02:10:28 |
| | | | |
| From: |
MadPole | Subject: | 2001-05-11 19:39:09 |
| | | | |
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