Date: Tue, 9 Jan 2018 16:47:05 +0200
From: Charley Reed <alongweekend@gmail.com>
Subject: Reed 'em and Weep - next chapter (17 April 2008)

Thursday 17 April 2008

Things I can't take seriously: Mr Questions. I mean honestly, mate, fuck
off, would you?

Okay, so there is going to be some chronic excitement at home. You'll never
guess what I found in the outside bin when I was surreptitiously throwing
away some unrelated stuff of my own in the big bin outside under cover of
darkness? Well, I guess it was related, in a way, since... never
mind. Still, I found a Home Pregnancy Test box! A bit more digging and,
under a mound of not-exactly photogenic and largely rotting uneaten
cat-food, jackpot – a positive test, with two dark blue stripes. I'm
guessing my little Ms Goody Two-Shoes sister – not Miss, note; it's Ms
– Mandy is up the duff! A bit of a surprise, really, since as far as I
know she's not seeing anyone, but you hardly need to be in a relationship
to get yourself accidentally knocked up. So much for her massively
feminist/pseudo militant lesbianesque stance on the uselessness of men,
since I'm pretty sure she can't go to a sperm bank at almost 17. Of course
that latter assumption also raises the preposterous notion that she wants a
kid while still at high school, and if that's the case I'll eat my
hat. We're not stupid, my family, with a long history of being fairly
bright, and if Mandy is indeed preggers then it's a fuck-up in every sense
of that very useful, ubiquitous, and wholly appropriate phrase.

The trick now is keeping mum while trying to find out a bit more. I think
it might be time for some Facebook stalking. Unfortunately the ol' FB will
be overloaded this coming weekend, since it's her 17th birthday on Sunday
and if I know teenagers and Facebook... On that note, I supposed I'd better
go get her a gift. Fortunately I managed to save a bit from last month;
waiting tables being not always lucrative and my
not-quite-excessive-but-also-not-quite-not partying being a deadly
combination when you're not exactly swimming in money. I guess a Congrats!
You're Expecting! card instead of a birthday one will be more than a touch
off-side, although it will be fucking funny.

Thinking about this a bit, I should probably be more empathetic at this
point than I actually do feel; currently I'm more amused than anything else
and I'm not sure that's a rational response to something of this nature. I
mean, potentially I'm only a few months away from being an uncle; and more
than that, it appears that even my predictable, dull, religious and
uber-conservative younger sister has had more sex than I have.  How about
you let me catch a break, Mr G_d, huh? Yeesh, this has got beyond
ridiculous. I'm this close ---> <----, just nanometres away from auctioning
my virginity off on eBay, offering a cut of the money to charity to buy
myself a smattering of redemption in the process.

Last practice for D&C today with our first game next Tuesday. We're the
last match of the day on the roster, kicking off with just 15 minutes of
Lunch period remaining and I will have to hustle to get to the prac
afterwards. We're playing another group of newbs called Meads United; I can
tell they're new too because their current log position from last season
is, like ours, a one of these: – Anyway, it will rule. And hopefully we
don't get prison-raped; although at least that would be sex of a sort for
me...

Mr Questions – my G_d, what a freak. It's 2008, for shit's sake, when
did anyone last take short shorts out in public as their preferred choice
of workwear? I do hope that he's not getting any sex here at varsity,
because that would be hideously unfair and prove that G_d himself likes
nothing more than a good joke and enjoys pointing and laughing at all the
rest of us. In Chem today we were asked a question, possibly for one of
those bonus-1%-at-the-end-of-the-semester, about the densest element known
to man. I guess mercury, but not aloud. Prof gave some clues and I realised
what it was; I say "osmium" under my breath to Kim, which is correct. Mr
Questions practically came in his pants waving his arm around trying to
give his answer.

When Prof continually overlooked him, he resorted to calling out "over
here, Professor" in a taunting, sing-song manner; it was simultaneously the
funniest, scariest and saddest thing I've ever seen in my life. You could
feel the collective pity (girls) and disdain (guys and Prof) mount in the
air; real, proper resentment, like the type you reserve for bible-bashers
who knock on your door when you're trying to watch porn and scammers who
surprise you as you take your cash from an ATM so you can't pretend to not
have any money on you. I don't think any male in the room was not
envisaging putting their fist through his face at that point.

Eventually, determined to not take the hint, Mr Q blurts out "I say
iridium!" and looks around at us, all bright-eyed, chest heaving,
triumphant and conquering and looking like he was waiting for all of us to
pay homage and lay the spoils of war at his feet while sucking his
notably-uglier-than-mine winkie (did I mention mine was nicer than his? I
saw it the other day when we peed together, and mine really is, you know. I
mean, I really like looking at winkies, I've seen footage of thousands of
them and his is really not a good-looking one at all). You could hear the
smug satisfaction in Prof's voice as he politely replied "you are wrong,
sir" and, I shit you not, a loud and obnoxious titter went around the
room. Oh, what a beautiful morning it was! I don't even feel bad for
gloating, such is the overwhelming power of Mr Q's twattishness.

Finally Kim says "is it osmium?" and Prof beams at her and then decides
it's worth it and hands her one of his gift vouchers, redeemable for an
extra 1% for her end-of-course mark! I didn't even think that was allowed,
but apparently I'm wrong, and now that heifer has my extra marks!

-C