Sunday, May 02, 2010

#173: Quiet Storm

Another great font eh? Vintage and lovely. I'm sure that there's a lot of ex-spouses out there who can relate to the sentiments in that headline, be they stalked or the stalker (I've often wondered if 'stalkee' is a word.  Hang on, I'll ask someone...the answer is, "I don't know, I'm not sure," so, if it's not a word, well it is now and I invented it, so feel free to send cash).  I'm not fond of stalking, I do prefer to skulk, but I have been stalked, most famously by a nut job who travelled over 2,000kms to climb a lattice and attempt to break into my apartment, which was on the first floor.  Not to mention the utter madperson who smashed my windows and then crashed their car in an attempt to have me visit them in hospital.  I kid you not.  That's just some of the crazy people I've been involved with - sweet insanity.  But that's what I want to discuss this fine morning.  We'll discuss stalking down the track.

Still looking for a job? Never let it be said that I'm nothing but helpful.  There is work out there if you really want it.  Otherwise there's always the army.  After all they'll take anyone who hasn't got broken legs.  The more psychopathic the better.  Actually, that's not as true as it sounds.  When I went to school, back in the 1780s+, we had a guy who had been held back in year 12, I think, which is where I first met him.  Large guy, head full of acne and a gingernut to boot.  He wore army gear all the time (which, combined with his tight curly hair, made him look somewhat like an overgrown Brussel Sprout topped with tomato sauce) and would play military games, such as a Star Trek one where you had to blow up Klingons.  He used to get frustrated with me because I'd attempt to crash the Enterprise into any number of asteriods, Klingon ships or worm holes.  Then he'd try and play Dungeons and Dragons, but, to be honest, I was more interested in spending time with girls than I was spending Saturday evenings with boys trying to kill Frodo, and I took delight in upsetting him by bringing pizza and 1970s porn videos to Dungeons and Dragons nights (for reasons that will not become clear later on, he had an issue with boy on girl sex in any form).

He tried to get into the army more than once. Fifteen times I believe. He felt he was prime armed forces material - he hated wogs and Asians, couldn't stand Germans and had an oddly heroic name, which, if memory fails me (and it does) was something like Montezuma.  Indeed Montezuma hated everyone that wasn't white, freckled, ginger topped and covered in zits.

To his credit Montezuma was determined to show the army what they were missing and would regularly go on parade during lunchtimes, complete with a broom, at the age of seventeen, in full view of the school. No, seriously. Stop laughing. He had his own unique view of the world and would regularly call me a fag because I’d actually, well, had sex with a girl and had a semi-regular girlfriend most of the time. He once came around a corner and found me in a clinch with a girl, locked lips, hands in shirts and pants, fumbling, the lot, and pulled me up about it later in Biology class. “You know,” he said, as he looked at me with utter disgust, “you really are a fucking poofter. Why do you waste time on girls?” As we were in biology class I attempted to explain the needs for males to want to mate with females for the continued survival of races (missing out the bits that I wanted to mate because I was a raging hormone machine loaded with testosterone and bad manners, same as most 16 year old boys), nature and the like, and how it was perfectly normal for a boy to want to have sex with a girl. “Queer bastard,” was all I got out of him. I’ve never understood why Montezuma would believe that a boy and girl relationship was a ‘queer’ one, but then he did want to join the army, and I presume that when he proudly proclaimed, “I do everything the army wants already,” he also meant that he wanked himself silly onto Sao biscuits and ate the results, along with allowing himself to be buggered by the Anderson Walk Skinheads* (who had a history of doing such things in various public toilets around Smithfield, but would get very angry and violent if you called them homos - go figure).

What,s that you say?  They don’t they do any of that now? Hey, it was over a million years ago^. Poor old Montezuma, he was finally rejected for good, on the fifteenth attempt, and his file was stamped, “Too mentally unstable for active duty”. Or so he proudly told us all. "I'm too fucking violent for the army," he stated, "they're afraid of me."  Personally I think he failed because he was a great fat bastard, but I could be wrong as he was a bit of a nut job. Either way I lost track of him once I left school behind, but then again I lost track of everyone I went to school with, and with good reason. I suspect that they didn’t like me anymore than I liked them*^.

Such is life. In a perfect world Montezuma would have gotten into the army and spent twenty years as a private before being killed somewhere in the Middle East, but, alas, that is the stuff that dreams are made of.

+an approximate time, not actual time
*more on these idiots later
^ see +
*^ see * for a partial reason

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