Thank you for your review and yes, the character never gets a name. I couldn’t tell ya why, I just wanted to make him a everyman
Novel Treatments / For Corners
AND GOD CREATED DORK
We are born twice. We die once, final and complete, but we are born twice. The first time it’s easy because somebody else does the driving. We just sit back, watching the little fuzzy light at the end of the tunnel grow larger and larger, until we are spewed into the rubber-gloved hand of a new world. The birth is all physical and painful for both parties, and sometimes due to this suffering, a bond is formed. I can recite, offhand, many instances were my mother -- after whipping me severely for some atrocity -- would say: “And to think I went through six hundred and thirty-one hours of sweatin’ and screamin’ trying to bring you into this world and this is how you treat me?!” Then she would cry, but not hard, not really.
The second birth is a bit more complicated. It can happen anywhere, anytime. For some it comes after a long, deliberate thought like somebody going off into the wilderness to find themselves, or some shit like that. For me it was thrust upon me, unwanted. This yarn is about my birth and its aftermath.
I was doing time at Pasadena High school. It was my Senior year and life wasn’t so good for this seventeen year old. It was 1988. Now, I know a lot of people have it a hell of a lot worse than I did. I mean, I’m not deaf or mental retarded or crippled or anything like that. I have all my parts in the right place, all systems operational, but that’s just it. If I had been physically or mentally disabled, people would say: “Oh, it’s not his fault. He’s just born like that.” And that would have been the end of it, but when you are pretty much normal as the next guy, then you run out of snappy dialogue and quick comebacks. You become, in essence, a sitting duck.
And that was just what I was when Darrell Patterson entered the classroom on that fine September morning. Boy, what a fake sounding name, huh? It’s like something a hack TV writer would come up with. (Man, talk about your bad first impressions, but the name is real, I swear to sweet Jesus.)
He walked into the room. No, no, it was more like a peacock’s strut than a walk, and stood, looming, in front of me.
Now, I wouldn’t be doing my job right if I didn’t describe this guy in all his steroid-saturated, monosyllable-speaking, would-sleep-with-his-sister-if-he-had-one glory.
To every one else in the English class, he was just the overtly big, dumb guy who was just barely getting by like the rest of us, but to me, he was a monster, only to be rivaled by Beowulf’s Grendel, except Grendel probably had better diction and a bit less body odor.
He was eight feet, if an inch, and topped the scales at least three hundred pounds. All muscle—and that was just in his head. I always remember him wearing a plain gray T-shirt and dirty blue jeans. (The tell-tale signs of a shop student, which was what he was, when he was there). His hair was the consistency of a Brillo pad and when he walked he waddled like a goose high on goof-balls.
He sat in front of me, this great behemoth of a kid, as big as a bull and just as bright. Hell, he was so smart he asked me for a calculator once in the middle of a vocabulary test. I guess he figured the algebraic equations would help him spell C-R-O-M-A-G-N-O-N. I don’t think he liked me very much. Each morning he would come into class, say hi to his “friends”, who were equally mono-syllabic and sported the popular blank stare and “duh” mentally, and then look at me and say, “Hey Jerk” or any of the common put-downs associated with his brain type. Sometimes, he would do a change and say, “Morning Wimp,” or “how ya doing, loser?” But it was mainly the same old same old. He did this so often, that I, mistakenly, began to see it as a sign of “togetherness” and camaraderie. I took it as a something of a inside joke. Big mistake. On this particular day, my last day of normal teenage life, my last moment of plain, ordinary, sentimental life, Darrell walked into the room as he did every morning and said the same thing he always said, “Hey, moron.” I, and who knows why I said this, but I said, “Hey, dork,” right back at him. He didn’t hear me at first, now if I had walked away from it and just said the simple “nothing” or “never mind” I would have been home free, but I didn’t, don’t ask me why I just didn’t. I repeated myself and this time louder as if he was deaf or standing in a wind tunnel. Oh, man, did he hear me then and he was not amused, not in the least.
He slowly turned around, looked me dead in the face and said “What did you say?” Now, let’s see, I said it twice already, was this guy serious? Did you ever notice that the so-called self-designated, bully never gets a comeback or put-down on the first shot? I often wondered why that is? Beats me. Ask someone who could understand that kinda crap, I sure as hell don’t. I would spell it out for him but I don’t think he’d get that. I mean, if he uses a calculator in English class, then that blows any chance for further intellectual communication.
Turns out, he did “get” me. When he asked me what I said. I took the wimpy, cowards way out, I dipped my head down and couldn’t look him in the eye, not for a second. “You say that again, you BLEEP! (I’m omitting the profanity, what if some kid or worse a nun, or worse yet, a nun’s kid was reading this. I do have to be responsible here) “I’ll kick your rotten BLEEP and then I’ll BLEEP and BLEEP and then BLEEPITY-BLEEP and your grandmother too. You BLEEPER!
I was just as confused as you are.
I could feel his eyes on me, staring me down. I kept my eyes on my desk. Now, I’m a pretty nice guy. I never have a bad word to say about anyone, at least within ear shot of them, so what they don’t know won’t kill them. So, why was this guy on my back? Like I said, I never did a damn thing to him, not one solitary thing and here I was being threatened as I sat at my desk in English class, threatened for what I thought was a simple joke. What was a boy to do? He finally sat back around and faced front. I was left humiliated, humiliated and angry. I sat there brooding over what just occurred. I thought about all the other guys who had hated me for whatever reason. I thought about Eugene Abner, in the sixth grade who chased me down from Sunset Park’s civic center on the last day of the school year. I thought Rudy Sanchez who, in my sophomore year in high school, constantly tormented me in gym class, calling me every name in the book and ,like Darrell, threatened my life with pummeling and ass-kicking. I even thought about Ronnie, who in the fourth grade, pushed me down while waiting in line for lunch and then said I was in love with Kathy, the biggest girl in school, if not the state. Why did all these guys and some not mentioned dislike me so? Who knows. The fact of the matter was that I was this scrawny, geeky looking kid, four-eyes and silent. The nerd type. I thought of all these things and the anger grew in me. I hated them; what person wouldn’t? I felt frail and weak. I felt like a loser.
I looked at him with anger welling up inside of me, oh, did I mention that I was angry? I kept staring at his head, fixated on that huge black bozo the clown looking hairstyle and before I knew it, without thinking, I said something back to him, something that was going to change my life, at least at the time it felt like it. “You’re a bleepin’ a-hole,” I said.
”What did you say?” (See what I mean?)
”You heard me.” (Nice comeback, huh?)
”I’m gonna kick your ass after class,” he said, trying to be mister tough guy.
”Oh, so I have to wait all that time?! Why don’t you do it right here?!” I said. My voice was rising quickly like a runaway freight train. He looked at me with a mixture of confusion and the atypical tough guy glare. Actually, I think his atypical tough guy stare was more of a dim-witted, questioning glower. Think of a deer caught in a eighteen wheeler’s headlights. I was being possessed, be he a devil or be he a god, (Hey, that was pretty good.) I was not being myself. “Maybe I will,” he said, trying to hold back his uneasiness. “Well, here I am, Brainiac. What ya waiting for?” I said. By this time I had an audience. Everyone around me was staring at us wide-eyed. They say a shark can sense a drop of blood in hundreds of gallons of water, I guess the same goes for high schoolers and budding fist-fights. They waited patiently for Darrell to jump up and kick my lily-livered ass in front of everyone. He didn’t and, brother, I was on a roll. “All talk huh?” I jumped up from my seat and was standing in front of him. “You better make sure your mouth don’t write a check your ass can’t cash.”
”It can cash it.” (huh?)
”Ooh, good one. You got me there, dork.”
”You better watch it.”
”Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”
The teacher, I think, had enough. Mr. Reynolds came over to us and looked me in the eye. “Son, you better sit yourself down.” I didn’t. I was really steamed. I didn’t know what I was saying. “I had enough of this crap.” I said to him. “If little boy blue here can’t take it, he shouldn’t dish it.”
”I said sit.” I still didn’t comply. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, quite angrily. “If you don’t stop this now and take a seat, I’m sending you to the office.”
”Office?! And what about this loser?”
”Right now you seem to be the one causing all the trouble here.”
”What? He started it!” I know that sounded very immature but I was so mad, I couldn’t think straight. Finally, he grabbed me by the collar and lead me to the door and as he took me outside I looked back at Darrell and said, with a smile on my face. “You’re nothing but a BLEEPING dork and BLEEP with a little BLEEP to boot. And your grandmother BLEEPS with sheep.” I was practically dragged out the door.
Out in the hall, Mr. Reynolds talked to me sternly, saying only, “Go to the office and see the principal.” I walked away and didn’t say a word. I walked toward the office, slowly, taking my time. Adrenaline rushed through my body and I kept checking my shoulder to see if wimpy ole Darrell was following me. He wasn’t. I kept looking in classrooms watching the students inside learning the golden rule. I was in the 12th grade and this was last year, it was the last semester and in 9 months school would be over and the rest of my life would begin. I must admit, I felt kinda weird for blowing up like that but what could I do? What happened, happened. I think I reached the end of my proverbial rope. All these years of mental torture and constant fear of people like Darrell had done some serious damage to me. I hated school for that and for letting someone like Darrell into it, when he obviously didn’t want to be there. I liked to learn. I loved it, but did I deserve that? No! Well, like I said, my mind was reeling and as I approached the office, I didn’t stop. I didn’t go in. I just kept on walking and as I reached the corner I turned around and made a U-turn and walked in the opposite direction. I didn’t think at all. I just walked straight toward the doors at the back of the school and out to the football field. As I walked, I began to pick up momentum and by the time I reached the outer doors, I was practically in a run. I blasted out those doors and ran out into the parking lot beside the football field. There was a gym class out there kicking a soccer ball around, the coach screaming at them for poking around. “Hurry up, boy. You’re killing the grass,” he said to one of them. He was so busy with his class and putting them in their place that he didn’t see me running through the parking lot and out into the street.
It didn’t hit me as to what just occurred until I was halfway down Jackson street. I passed the bridge on Jackson street that crossed Sims Bayou and I walked into a park that was next to the bridge. Sitting at one of the park benches, I began to cry. No, no, I’m not a wussy. No, I’m not a sissy. And no, I didn’t stub my toe. At that moment everything came roaring at me. I cried hysterically and then I vomited my eggs and bacon I ate at breakfast that morning. I rocked my body back and forth, holding my stomach and cried some more and threw up some more.
I just confronted and screamed at my mortal enemy.
I just got sent to the office for disrupting class.
I just walked out of school.
WHAT WAS I NUTS?!
I could have gone back, I guess. Went back to the office, like nothing ever happened, and take my punishment like a man. I’d get reprimanded in some way, like several hundred days of detention and a stern talking to and, of course, and this is my favorite, the call to my Dad. I’d be sent back to class, where I would have to face Darrell who by this time is pretty steamed with me, plotting my eminent demise. More than likely thinking of ways to do me in, like slipping bamboo under my fingernails or the Chinese water torture, nah, he wasn’t that bright, he’d probably settle for punching my lights out, less trouble that way.
Of course, I could do all that, in theory.
I mean, here I was sitting in the corner of a no-name park, regurgitated eggs and half-eaten strips of bacon at my feet and I was free as a bird. Cars zoomed by me, but none of them took notice. Not that I expected them to, but I did have the quick thought of the swat team jumping from the trees, rifles aimed at my cranium. They would look at me and say, “Boy, why ain’t you in school?” Well, I’d probably get up too quickly or make a sudden move and then BLAM I’m lunchmeat.
No cops came.
Where could a kid like me go? It wasn’t like I could go shopping (not that I was really into shopping, mind you) or go to the movies or anything. My options were pretty limited. I decided after some time to just go home and face the music. My Dad, I knew, would literally kill me and hide the body in a dumpster down the street. I was scared of my Dad and who wouldn’t be? He was a big man, plain and simple with a bad temperament besides. I was scared to go home, to be honest, but I had to go somewhere. After some time, I stood up, straightened my clothes and headed toward home. Scared out of my wits.
By the time I reached the house, I had devised a plan, a plan so devious and intricate in its intricacies that it was frightening. A plan so well-planned out that even I was amazed at my inventiveness, I decided to go through the backdoor. Okay, so it wasn’t that great, but it was all I really had at the moment.
Dad’s car was home, which meant that he was home and I know he wasn’t expecting me. I hated to do this, I really did. I snuck in to the backyard and tip-toed to the backdoor. I looked into the window and there was Dad sitting in his recliner like always drinking a beer and watching Sally Jesse Raphael. Around his recliner were four crushed beer cans. I closed my eyes tight, grinded my teeth tighter and opened the door. What else would I do? He practically leapt from his chair in surprise. “What are you doing home?” he said, quickly. I don’t think I ever saw the old man move that quickly, that in itself was amazing.
”Ummm, something happened,” I said, stupidly. What was I supposed to say to him. Oh, nothing Dad. You’re first born just dropped out of school. No big deal.
”What something? Are you sick?” he walked from his recliner, which was still in the reclined position, and came toward me. I was still standing at the backdoor like a dolt. “Answer me,” he said.
”I dunno,” I said sheepishly, keeping my eyes down at his feet, he was barefoot. “What did you do, just skip school?”
”Yes,” I said. I couldn’t think of a lie. I plain just couldn’t lie to the old man. He had a real bad look on his face, the kind of look I’ve seen a hundred times before. I knew I was in deep crap. But who wouldn’t be? I walked out of school, without, in his eyes anyway, any provocation. If I told him what happened, I know exactly what he would say, “Why didn’t I just kick his ass?” or, “I should have kept my mouth shut.” I don’t think Dad would ever understand where I was coming from. “You are going to march right back to school, you hear me?”
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
margaritaceres reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
This 141 word review has not been unlocked.
nageena reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
Good use of punctuation, grammer and you’re extensive range of vocab is evident here.
Like the story and I think you have something good here so don’t be discouraged by any bad reviews you may have had just make sure that you keep writing ok.
Keep up the good work xx
- add/view comments (0)
thesnoopyone reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
loved the dialogue and the attitude of this character he knows he’s in deep doo but won’t go down with out a fight. wish I had the guts to do that as a teenager I would have donw what every other self respecting chicken would have done--hid under the desk. However the fight back attitude and lines gives the piece humor.--I could picture the scene in my head. Great writing I loved it and I hope the protagonist doesn’t get his a** kocked too hard.—I pioture a kid—who got his butt kicked regularily wants to fight back and prove himself. Just remember there’s assertive and then there’s absolute stupidity.
July 18, 2006
Deleted User
Review of Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
Amazing work here. I love that caption, ‘And God created dork’ – wonderful.
Also, we can almost ALL relate to that scene with the mother. Complaining about how many hours of labor and us turning out to be so misbehaved, had to make me smle from the memories.
The entire first paragrpah is perfection, I wouldn’t change any part of that.
Your dialog is believable and I love how you allow us so easily into the main charactors head. Very effective.
Love this piece, keep up the good work!
Earl_Daniels reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
I like this. You can’t help but like the main character pretty much from the start, but for the life of me I can’t seem to place his name,is that intentional? I read over the story twice and I still can’t find his name.
I like the character developement and his interactions with the others you have placed in his path.
Keep writing.
Showing 1 - 5 of 5
Review item
Add to favesCreator
Relevant Links
Item Stats
GENERAL
5 Reviews 2 Comments
Version 1
Latest Activity: about 1 year ago
REVIEW QUEUE
Appeared in Queue: 0 Times
Skipped: 0 Times
Ratings & Rankings
