A wonderous insight into my teen years
put to a happy tune.
All footage filmed by Kyle Reed or my friends.
Song: Reel Big Fish- Nothing But A Good Time (Fame, Fortune and Fornication, 2009)
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Tuesday, 27 April 2010
Creating writing? That's so old school.
It's been a while since I've posted anything on here. What with the ridiculous law revision cramming of the soon to be revised ridiculously crammed law unit. Bleurgh.
I took a few precious moments out of my revision to delve into the relics of a document folder labelled 'school,' in which i found an abundance of essays and rehashed Wikipedia pages fobbed off as 'research'. I really should have erased these years ago but somehow my obsessive compulsions scream at me that sonnets about my friends 'being attracted to men' and guides on how to PEE must live as long as I.
Among such things I also found a file titled Johnny's Johnny. I used to thrive on writing creatively in any way I could and somewhere in my room hidden from humans are the remains of crude half finished Goosebumps books and spy novellas. Well, they used to exist. I looked most forward to the English classes where I had to generate something original and something inspired. Johnny's Johnny was my answer to the brief of GCSE Creative Writing and one of my first and favourite inventions.
It's no Bloody Chamber, but to cut a long 'you had to have been there' story short, here is my somewhat dramatic account of when my best friend and I took some guys clothes while he showered.
Johnny's Johnny: Beast In The Showers
I waited. The cracked window rattled in the wind. I knew it would break, any second. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off. The whole cabin shook. The weather outside was insane. However, the eight-hour hike had knocked all strength out of me.
Everyone was upstairs, watching some b-rated movie on channel three hundred and something. This place sucked. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. ‘The Lakes,’ they called it. Same difference. Jim and Tom filled the silence with immature laughter, the dirty magazines controlling their minds. Pathetic. No, I preferred to waste away on my bunk.
He was in the shower. Secretly, I hoped he would drown in his own smugness. He’d made this trip hell. He was known as Johnny and was pure evil. When we’d reached our goal, The Old Man, highest mountain peak in the area, I could have finished him off. I didn’t, so instead I feared for my life.
Another giggle. I was getting tired of this. “You guys up for a laugh?” I said, obviously disturbing an important pastime of theirs. Like they could laugh any more than they were anyway.
“What like?” Tom asked, in a curious tone. I had their attention. I told them my plan. Told them it would be easy. They were just as much afraid as I was, but I didn’t show it.
The lock on the cubicle door slid away with ease, completing my flick knife’s task. He sang a deadly chorus of poison as he washed his filthy self. It sounds over the top, but he’s not human.
“Look!” Jimmy whispered, shaking like a pager. Johnny’s boxers were in view. They were his spies. Tom reached in; aware he would lose his life at any moment. There it was. In a flash, the shower room was empty, Jimmy plunging it into darkness with the click of the switch. It was empty, except for the trapped beast in the shower. A howl of fury escaped as I leapt to my bunk.
It seemed like forever before he appeared; dripping with the acid he had washed in. That’s when I saw it. That’s when he infected me with his evil. That memory; a life sentence. Jimmy was first, his forehead being slapped into the future. I could feel his pain. He was on his knees, begging for mercy. Still, Johnny screamed with pleasure. I wanted to help but was frozen by my fear. I fell down the side of my bunk, now trapped between it and the wall. This was the end. I had no chance. Tom, protesting his innocence, joined alliance with the evil. Together they taunted me, trying to capture my soul. I resisted, struggling to get under the bed. But it was too late. Johnny crushed my chest with his monster size 12’s, forcing my gaze towards his weapon. It ruined me. From underneath the bed I could see Jimmy. He wasn’t moving. I wished to hear him laugh. I couldn’t call his name. I couldn’t breathe. I could only hear the beast’s howl of satisfaction; could only see him step off me, cursing me one last time.
I thought the movie would end soon. But it didn’t. They didn’t save me. I’d seen it. I’d seen what no male teenager should ever see. So a bomb did go off. It was nuclear, left my mind paralysed. It will leave my children with horrible defects. I should be thankful I have lived to see them. But I am scarred with this permanent image. The image of evil; Johnny’s Johnny.
Move over, R.L.Stine.
I took a few precious moments out of my revision to delve into the relics of a document folder labelled 'school,' in which i found an abundance of essays and rehashed Wikipedia pages fobbed off as 'research'. I really should have erased these years ago but somehow my obsessive compulsions scream at me that sonnets about my friends 'being attracted to men' and guides on how to PEE must live as long as I.
Among such things I also found a file titled Johnny's Johnny. I used to thrive on writing creatively in any way I could and somewhere in my room hidden from humans are the remains of crude half finished Goosebumps books and spy novellas. Well, they used to exist. I looked most forward to the English classes where I had to generate something original and something inspired. Johnny's Johnny was my answer to the brief of GCSE Creative Writing and one of my first and favourite inventions.
It's no Bloody Chamber, but to cut a long 'you had to have been there' story short, here is my somewhat dramatic account of when my best friend and I took some guys clothes while he showered.
Johnny's Johnny: Beast In The Showers
I waited. The cracked window rattled in the wind. I knew it would break, any second. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off. The whole cabin shook. The weather outside was insane. However, the eight-hour hike had knocked all strength out of me.
Everyone was upstairs, watching some b-rated movie on channel three hundred and something. This place sucked. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. ‘The Lakes,’ they called it. Same difference. Jim and Tom filled the silence with immature laughter, the dirty magazines controlling their minds. Pathetic. No, I preferred to waste away on my bunk.
He was in the shower. Secretly, I hoped he would drown in his own smugness. He’d made this trip hell. He was known as Johnny and was pure evil. When we’d reached our goal, The Old Man, highest mountain peak in the area, I could have finished him off. I didn’t, so instead I feared for my life.
Another giggle. I was getting tired of this. “You guys up for a laugh?” I said, obviously disturbing an important pastime of theirs. Like they could laugh any more than they were anyway.
“What like?” Tom asked, in a curious tone. I had their attention. I told them my plan. Told them it would be easy. They were just as much afraid as I was, but I didn’t show it.
The lock on the cubicle door slid away with ease, completing my flick knife’s task. He sang a deadly chorus of poison as he washed his filthy self. It sounds over the top, but he’s not human.
“Look!” Jimmy whispered, shaking like a pager. Johnny’s boxers were in view. They were his spies. Tom reached in; aware he would lose his life at any moment. There it was. In a flash, the shower room was empty, Jimmy plunging it into darkness with the click of the switch. It was empty, except for the trapped beast in the shower. A howl of fury escaped as I leapt to my bunk.It seemed like forever before he appeared; dripping with the acid he had washed in. That’s when I saw it. That’s when he infected me with his evil. That memory; a life sentence. Jimmy was first, his forehead being slapped into the future. I could feel his pain. He was on his knees, begging for mercy. Still, Johnny screamed with pleasure. I wanted to help but was frozen by my fear. I fell down the side of my bunk, now trapped between it and the wall. This was the end. I had no chance. Tom, protesting his innocence, joined alliance with the evil. Together they taunted me, trying to capture my soul. I resisted, struggling to get under the bed. But it was too late. Johnny crushed my chest with his monster size 12’s, forcing my gaze towards his weapon. It ruined me. From underneath the bed I could see Jimmy. He wasn’t moving. I wished to hear him laugh. I couldn’t call his name. I couldn’t breathe. I could only hear the beast’s howl of satisfaction; could only see him step off me, cursing me one last time.
I thought the movie would end soon. But it didn’t. They didn’t save me. I’d seen it. I’d seen what no male teenager should ever see. So a bomb did go off. It was nuclear, left my mind paralysed. It will leave my children with horrible defects. I should be thankful I have lived to see them. But I am scarred with this permanent image. The image of evil; Johnny’s Johnny.
Move over, R.L.Stine.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)