So, things have quieted down a bit. I'm back working at a school, which I'm enjoying and writing around it. Got no gigs coming up at present, but I'm quietly busing myself with a couple of projects which will hopefully come to fruition next year. The first, is something I've started back at the end of May, and is a collaboration with another writer and another poet. Don't wonna say too much for now, but it's certainly unlike anything I've ever done before. The second is an expansion really. Over the summer, I had a bit of time to take stock of things. There were two thoughts that came up; 1 I wanted to expand The 90 Sick E.P and 2; I want to do another show. So guess what? Yep. I'm going to combine them together. There's a lot of material I wrote and a few ideas that didn't get used. It's early days and these things take a while, but let's see what happens. Gotta' large up Malika Booker too (She's a really good poet, writer and lovly person), she gave up a whole afternoon to sit down with me at Southbank last month and school me on a few things. One of which, was having the balls to put my stuff out there, in written form, which I never thought would work with the stuff that I usually perform, them long-arse windy stories. Add to that my fears of it ripped apart by some spell-checking-grammer-don-smart-arse. Seems it was just a case of simply re-formatting into paragraphs, not peomy-type lines. Just done one aint I! And it was fun, it's below, have a butchers, straight from the EP itself, I'll stick the audio up too, you could read-along if you like...
The Fun Fax Kid, by
Paul Cree.
It's a Wednesday afternoon, school's finished but I haven’t.
I'm sat on that infamous naughty desk underneath the stairs, writing lines
about property theft and deliberately disrupting class time.
I should be at home watching Byker Grove! Instead, I'm staring
at the carvings etched into the well knackered wood, crude claims about
people's mum's, alongside a rollcall of scratched in names, older brothers and
cousins of mates, who've not gone on to achieve much. I'm sat here because of
Alan. Little shit that he is!
It all started yesterday. Alan's bragging to Miss about how
his cress plant's gonna’ be the biggest in the class. All the class's cress plants
are lined up on the window sill, next to the wooden desks with the hinged lids,
where me and best friend Richard sit, right at the back at of the room. Alan
sits a few rows in front, sucking up to Miss and flipping the bird everytime
she turns to me and Rich. As Miss inspects the cress plants, she catches me and
Rich talking.
'Open up your desk lid' Miss says;
As if she knew it was gonna be in a state, and upon seeing
how messy it is, texts-books, paper and felt tips missing the lids, looking
like rubbish overflowing in a skip, she orders me, and Rich, who's
desk is just as bad, to stay in at break and tidy them.
'My desk is tidy miss.'
Butting in, Alan’s
opened his desk lid, to reveal to Miss an annoyingly tidy pile of stacked books
and paper, and that flippin’ Fun Fax Alan always has with ‘im! Choc-o-bloc with
geeky information, and stickers, so smug pricks like Alan can cover his
textbooks with cheesy slogans
and claim facts like it was ‘im that discovered it! When
Miss walks away, Alan swings back round with a devious look on his face says;
'Oi, I bet you too dick-‘eads have the worst cress plants in
the class. You two always come bottom in all the tests. You should be used to
it, ‘cos you're both thick as shit!'
'Shut up Alan!' I replied
'Yea, shut up Alan.' said Rich, backing me up.
'YOU shut up!' Alan comes back angry, as he'd just forgotten
the insults that had pea-shooted from his lips.
'No, YOU shut up Alan, we said shut up first.' I said.
'WHAT'S ALL THIS NOISE ABOUT?!' Says miss, turning round
from writing
on the board and looking at us.
'Miss, THOSE 2 keep swearing at me.' says Alan!
Thing is, though I don't often do well on the tests, I know
I'm not thick, and as for Alan, who always seems to do well, I know he's not
that smart, not as smart as he thinks he is! I've seen Alan cheat on tests by
using his Fun Fax, hidden inside the lid of his desk, or the times-table on the
back of his packed pencil case, and he always seems to get away with it! Little
shit that he is!
Miss turns back round to the board at the front of the
class, Alan swings back round again;
'You two nobs, are like those characters from that new
cartoon I seen on MTV called Beavis and Butthead, ‘cos you’re both thick and
need braces, that's your new names yea, Beavis and Butthead!'
Alan follows this with a silly little giggle, which I'm
assuming is taken from this mythical TV show which made everyone else in the
class laugh! I feel the beginnings of a blizzard in my tummy, as if I was
inside of a gently shaken snow glass, sat on a mantel piece, which I
immediately want to suppress. I can feel my face going red.
'I've not heard of that cartoon ALAN! I don’t know what
you’re talking about!' I said
'That's because your mum and dad CAN’T afford Sky! You've
never seen MTV!' Alan replies, as he turns back to his desk, doing that stupid
laugh again.
'My parents have got SKY. I've seen it' pipes up Richard! Out
of nowhere!
'And HE’S me more like Beavis and Butthead than me, HE’S the
one with goofy teeth who needs braces!' Pointing at me!
I pause; look at Rich for a bemused sec;
'what?' he says, 'you
do need braces.'
Ignoring the fact that my best friend has just cussed me
off, I then turn straight back to Alan, with his back to me, trying to think up
the best cuss I can possibly cuss him back with…
'Shut up Alan!'
No reply. It just bounces off the back of Alans white shirt.
During the break, detained, me and Rich are tidying our
desks, stuffing our faces with too many Nerd sweets. Alan keeps on walking
passed the window, calling us Beavis and Butthead, doing that stupid laugh, which
is spreading like hair nits amongst the other kids, ‘cos they're all doing it. Clenching
our fists, me and Rich pledge revenge and plot a roadmap to our very own Count
of Monty Cristo.
'I'd take him.' Rich says
'Yea I reckon I'd take him as well' I said
'Yea but I’d beat him ‘im up harder, I’ve been doing press
ups'
'Yea, but I'd put him in a headlock, you've seen me arm
wrestle, I’ve got strength there'
'Yea but I'd elbow drop him.'
'Yea but I’d elbow drop him then put him in the super-sharp-shooter.'
'Yea but I'd elbow drop him, put him in the gorilla-press,
throw him out the window from the first floor, then jump out myself and body
splash him!'
The emergency cobra meeting continues, as we empty our desks
of all the unfinished school work
and half eaten sandwiches. Just as I'm loading up my gob
with another handful of Nerd sweets, I casually discard the empty box on the
side behind me, and my gaze turns to the cress plants on the window sill. In particular,
That Fun Fax sticker-clad plant pot, right in the middle, hogging all the sun
light, and wonder how it is, that ALAN’S cress plant, actually looks like ‘im!.
I stop chewing and just stare.
I hock back! Sounding like a snorting pig at a trough, lean
towards the window sill, then unleash a thick wod of rainbow coloured flem directly
into the soil of that bellend Alan's plant pot! Rich laughs and then follows! Spitting
right into the same spot! We go back forth in a flem rally, covering Alan's cress
plant in a monsoon pallet of food colouring, sugar and e numbers, making Alan's
Cress Plant look like an abstract Van Gough! We watch the venom of our combined
saliva slowly seep into the soil, we hi five and laugh, admiring our handiwork.
The class come back in from break, Richard and I are schtum.
The cress plants are lined up on the outside of my peripheral vision, like
soldiers standing to attention, having just been witness to sabotage. Those annoying
little giggles are playing out in stereo around around the room, subtlety conducted
by Alan at the front, sitting on his desk with his Fun Fax, blissfully unaware
of what's just happened, and everytime Miss turned round to the board, Alan
swings round to me and Rich and mouths 'Beavis and Butthead.' I just smile. The
sun's out, it's all calm inside the snow glass.
The next day I walk into class to be greeted by scene I didn’t
quite expect! Alan is standing next to the window sill! Alan is crying! Alan is
being comforted by Miss. I slowly shuffle over to my desk…
Alan's cress plant is dead! No one else’s Cress Plant has
died! Just Alan's! It's as if we unintentionally hit the target at a carnival
shooting gallery, and there's a now prize winning Goldfish swimming under the
eyelids of me, and Rich, who's just arrived and seen it too! But we’re both a
bit surprised; we didn’t intend to kill Alan's cress plant. We didn’t actually
think about what would happen if we spat in it. We just thought it would be a
laugh. ’Cos Alan's always giving us shit!
Alan 's touching the leaves tenderly with his hand. All the
shoots are draped down the side of the pot, and are dry and yellow, looking
like anorexic vines suffering from jaundice, and when Miss lifts the pant pot,
there's a little multi coloured stain on the plate underneath! Looking like the
liquid bit in the bottom of the bowl after eating a whole load of Neapolitan
ice cream!
Alan rubs his teary eyes and looks up, to see me, looking at
him, his eyes immediately dart to the side, behind where my desk is. But then
His face suddenly frowns?! I follow his sightline, and that’s when I see the
empty box of Nerd sweets sitting there casually on the side! He looks back
towards me, he looks mean, he looks angry!
'It was Beavis and But’ead.' he said all hysterical;
'They did it Miss, they did it!!'
'Alan, stop being silly and sit back-down.' Said Miss
Alans states at me Rich, a hard stare that could strip pant
off walls, and he remains quiet for the rest of the morning.
At lunchtime Alan's no-where to be seen. But me and Richard
are too busy feeling proud of our unintentional murderous achievements to be
concerned about this. After lunch we came back into class for our Geography lesson
Alan's already sat down at his desk. Miss says that were going to be studying
capital cities Alan immediately shoots his hand up, as fast as the donkeys arse
on that Bukooo board game;
'I know all the names Miss. They're in my Fun Fax.'
Which he instinctively goes to grab, but it's not on his
desk! Alan makes a real show of trying to find it, until Miss can't ignore it, As
Alan gets more and more distressed and I don't think Miss wants anymore tears.
'Ok class, everybody take a moment to look for Alan's Fun
Fax.'
10 minutes and No dice, the Fun Fax has disappeared! Lobbied
furiously by Alan, Miss decides to inspect the desks. Lids fly open and she
gradually approaches the back. She gets to me and Rich and
Suddenly I feel very scared. I open my messy lid…and
THERE IT IS! Sat there, next to an empty box of Nerd sweets, in all its
smugness is AlAN’S MUGGY FUN FAX!!
‘
It was Beavis and Butthead Miss! They took my Fun Fax!'
I'm gobsmacked! When the bellowing begins, my snow glass
turns to Ice and I freeze. Just nodding my head to everything Miss says, about
how we deliberately concocted this plan to disrupt class time and distress
Alan, who was already upset, even though we didn’t do it! Miss doesn’t know we
killed his cress plant, but I wonder if she’s giving us too much credit, planning
all that?! We’re not that smart! And we’re sentenced to afterschool detentions,
writing lines on the naughty desk about property theft, and deliberately disrupting
class time.
For the rest of the day me and Rich are sheepish. I can't
help thinking how unfair life is, and every now again, as if just to remind us,
Alan let's out that little giggle. Confirming the class's hierarchy and where we both sit, Little shit that he is!
And as I
sit here, and finish carving words to that effect into the naughty desk,
underneath the stairs, annoyed as I am, I can't help thinking, when visualising
those dry cress plant leaves, the rainbow stain on the plate, and the tears in
Alan's spoilt eyes, it was all worth it.
©Paul Cree 2015
