"But I can't write stories." It's true, I can't.
"Oh, Jason, just make something up, your in grade nine now
you should be able to handle a simple story." She's making
this out to be easy, but it's not really.
"I dunno how."
"I'm sure you've lied before, just tell me a long version
of why you didn't do your home work." Ha ha, very funny,
but I'll give it a go anyway.
It was a dark and stormy night.
"Whatever you do, don't start with something stereotyped
like; 'it was a dark and stormy night.' because that sounds a
bit silly."
Jeez, I can't do anything right, I'm never gonna get a good idea.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
"That's the fire alarm," the teacher says, "I'm
sure it's just a drill, you should all know it so let's go down
the hall."
On the way out there are kids running all over the place yelling
"FIRE FIRE" and stuff like that. All I can think about
is the stupid story. As we walk out I see smoke coming out of
one of the windows, how cool, this is so really cool.
"Students," that's the principal talking over the PA,
"Due to a fire, the school will be closed for the rest of
the day."
"You beauty." I say. "This is gonna be a great
day and, oh no, I have to wait for the three o'clock bus; it's
only eleven forty-five. Bugger it, I'll walk down town instead."
So I'm starting my journey down the hill and I see lights, orange,
flickering lights far off in the distance. I wonder what's happening
down there. I'm sure it's nothing. Going down this hill is murderer,
I think I'm going to slip, or trip or do something embarrassing.
Now what can I do for my story; a haunted house, and extra chapter
in the Star Wars saga, write the screenplay for the next Ninja
Turtles movie? I don't know. Hey, that dog's got something in
its mouth, and I think it's a twenty buck note.
"Here boy, come on, there's a good little puppy doggy."
Here it comes, it's coming , "Come to poppa," it's
here, it is a twenty. SNATCH. Got it.
"Here boy, I've got a prezzie for you," he can have
my pencil to chew on.
"CHOMP." Woah, that was close, but it's running off
so it must be happy. Wow, twenty bucks, I think I'll buy a drink
now. The shop's just a little down the road, I can see it from
here. I enter the shop, get a Coke out of the fridge and take
it up to the counter.
"That's a dollar fifty thank you."
"There you go," I say slapping the twenty dollar note
on the counter, just showing off my new found wealth. I go outside,
count and pocket the change. I open the Coke and pour that liquid
refreshment down my throat. It's half gone now and my gut's gurgling
something shocking, so I put the lid on and start walking again,
chucking the half bottle of Coke in the air and catching it again;
up, down, up, down, down, oh no. I've dropped it and it's burst
open, the lid's rolling around and around and stops face down.
The lid has something written under it; 'sepalq', what the b'jiggy
is 'sepalq'? I pick it up and start walking away thinking about
that word, 'sepalq'. Those orange lights are alot closer now.
What's going on down there? There's a feint noise now; sort
of like a soft whistle. It sounds like it's getting closer.
That noise, it's really loud now; I think it's a siren and those
lights are just around the corner. There it is, I think a car's
crashed or something, 'cause there's lots of people around. I
go up to the smash site, and I see it; it's not a smash site at
all, someone's dead. There's a body just lying on the foot path.
I can't stand watching, but I don't know how to turn away, it's
like this dead guy's hypnotising me so I'll watch him. I have
to leave, but as I do, I stare at him until I can't see him.
He's gone, I 'm running to get to the city, I don't know why,
it's not like he can catch me. I reach in my pocket to see if
the Coke lid's still there, yep, it is. 'Sepalq', what language
is that?
I'm at the traffic lights; the first ones into the city. The
button's making beeping noises, the slow ones that go with the
'don't walk' sign. There's a rumbling noise like a dragster coming,
and I can see this black car coming. Hey, I know that car, I
do. It drives past with vicious grunting noises, like a wild
boar was trying to get out of the engine. I look around, and
there's the coolest thing I've ever seen, that car looks just
like the Batmobile. It does.
"Cool," I say. I can't get over it. I watch it as
it goes off around the corner past the crash site. I'm in such
a good mood now. The lights start beeping faster so I know I
should cross the road now. I reach down and pull the Coke lid
out and, reading the mysterious words, realise that I'd been reading
it upside down.
"BLADES!" I yell at the top of my lungs. Everyone turns
around and looks at me.
"So frigging what?" some guy says who's walking past.
I don't care about him, I've never won anything before, wow,
this is really an exciting day.
I'm going to the supermarket now to buy some stuff for school
on Monday, 'cause I've got lots of money now. I'm stocking up
on chips, cans of 'El Cheapo' cola, you know, about seven bucks
worth of stuff, so I take it up to the counter, and an alarm goes
off on me.
"Excuse me sir," the manager says as he walks towards
me, "..but you're the shopper of the month."
"Cooool. What does that mean, anyway?"
"That means you've won twenty dollars cash, just for being
a customer." Cool, I've never shopped here before in my
life, and they're giving me more money than I've just given them.
I'm in that good a mood now, I think I'm going to explode.
I look at the time. Two fifteen. I've just been sitting around
in McDonalds for the last hour with Steve, Frank, Billy and Johnny;
Billy and Johnny are twins but they don't look alike or act like
brothers; they fight, they argue, well, I guess they do act like
brothers. Steve's onto his fifth Big Mac, he's a guts, a cool
guts, but a guts nevertheless.
"STEVE, STEVE, STEVE, STEVE, STEVE!" Everyone's chanting,
even people who don't know him are joining in on the fun.
"What's he doing?" someone asks.
"He's onto his fifth Mac." Frank is getting back like
he's about to get puked on.
"HE'S DONE FIVE!" Johnny calls out. The cheers go up.
Then the McDonalds manager comes over.
"Here, get this into ya Ned Kelly, it's a bonus Big Mac for
buying so many," and he hands him the burger, so naturally
he starts straight away.
"STEVE, STEVE, STEVE, STEVE, ST..." We all stare at
Steve as his eyes swell, his cheeks are puffy and he's holding
his gut, then his mouth opens. Five and a half pre-chewed Big
Macs come flying out, all over the managers shoes. I don't know
exactly what's happening, but half the people there, including
me and Frank, bolt out the door.
It's two thirty now, me and Frank are in the comic shop, because
there's new Basketball cards in. When we get there, there's an
old guy there with a funny hat and beard; Frank identifys him
right away.
"Oh my god, it's Stan Lee."
"Who?" I ask him.
"Stan Lee. Stan 'The Man' Lee. The god who created the
X-Men, Spiderman, Fantastic Four, ring a bloody bell mate?"
"Kinda," I don't recognise the guy.
"Will you sign my comic book Mr. Lee.?" He snatches
one off the shelf and shoves it under his nose.
"I'm sorry, but I don't sign copies of Batman and Robin,"
he says pointing down to the comic under his nose.
"Ahhh Shit!" Frank says as he swaps it for an X-Men
comic.
He gets it signed and pays for it. I just stare at the comic
rack and try to decide what I want, all I like is a Superman comic.
I pick up a comic called Spawn.
"Is this one of yours?"
No unfortunately, but that one is." He points to a comic
on the top of the shelf; it looks old and is in a plastic casing.
"That's comic, is the last one, with the last of the characters
that I created."
So he signs it, and I buy it. It's twenty-five bucks, but I reckon
it'll have to be worth something in the future.
I get on the bus at two fifty five. The back seat, the back seat's
mine; I run to the back of the bus and sit down. Then four smelly,
sweaty college guys get on the bus and sit next to me. I'm stuck
in the corner, I can't get out, I'm think I'm gonna die.
"Hey, Jase!" someone yells from the front. It's Norman
and Gareth, there's my excuse, my ticket to escape death. Norman
and Gareth always wag school; they go to college now. I go up
the front of the bus to meet them, I sit behind them, and tell
them about my day; the stupid story we have to write, the fire,
finding twenty bucks, winning the roller blades, seeing the stiff,
watching the Batmobile go past, the supermarket competition, Steve
chucking on the Maccas manager, meeting Stan Lee or whoever he
was, and nearly being crushed by the fat blokes up the back.
"Sounds like you've 'ad a bloody good day mate."
I smile as I say, "Yes I have," but there's one more
thing I have to do.
Okay, I've got paper and a pen, now what the BLOODY HELL AM I
GOING TO WRITE ABOUT?
