CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON & THE WHEELCHAIR KID
During the Autum term a new kid started at my school.

I recall the headmaster introducing him to us in assembly. There was a muted exchange of words between all the little shits, sitting cross legged on the polished floor.

"Now, this is Colin - he's just moved from Wolverhampton with his family. I know we'll all do what we can to make him fit in," said Mr Ozier, the head. "Would anyone like to ask any questions about Colin?"

A few hands shot up.

Obviously, the entire concept of raising my hand and waiting to be asked to respond was as alien to me as washing is to an Armenian.

"Why's he sat in that chair with wheels on?" I shout.

"Because he's disabled, Spanky," says Mr Ozier.

There's a few more hushed conversations amoung the assembled shits.

"Can I have a chair like that too?"

"No, you can't," comes the sharp reply.

And with that Colin is inducted into our little world. Later that term it gets round to planning for the Christmas play. After the whole Nelson Mandella debarcle the previous year I knew my chances of a good part were fucking zero. So I sat at the back of the class and fumed while all the other people got the plum roles. We were doing some sort of Dickens inspired bastardisation of the Nativity this year. It was the Nativity meets Scrooge - all they fucking weird to an eight year old.

To make matters worse Colin was cast as the old miser. Colin was a quiet kid, very well spoken (for someone from Wolverhampton, anyway), and he tended to keep himself to himself. When he got the lead role I was angry. Angry because he'd only got it on account of being a weird loner who couldn't fucking walk (I really was a nasty little shit when I was a kid).

But I hit on an idea.

"Mrs Facey," I ask my teacher. "Colin's going to find it hard to move round and act - can I push him round to make it easier for him? I could wear all black so no one can see me!"

Mrs Facey looks at me slightly dubiously. "Thats... a... good... idea... Spanky..." and the poor woman sounded genuinly shocked, as if she needed a nice stiff whiskey.

Ha! I thought. I get to dress up as a ninja and no one fucking realises it! Result!

We go through rehersals, me pushing quiet Colin round in his wheelchair. Its dull, its boring, its also fucking hardwork for an eight year old. And through all the rehersals my resentment towards the lad from Wolverhampton with the wonky body grows.

I'm very quietly seething away inside.

On the big day everyones in costume. I'm pretending to kill my mates ninja-style off to the side of the stage, decked out head to foot in black with a black balaclava covering my face.

Mrs Facey grabs me, reminds me she doesn't want a repeat of the Nelson Mandella incident, and positions me behind Colin. And we go out on stage.

The play is going fine. Colin is actually doing really well. He makes a very good West-Midlands Scrooge. Fuck this, I think. This fucker's getting all the attention.

As my raging hatred starts to boil, I start to push Colin round the stage with more and more venom. He starts bouncing round as if he's driving a formula 1 car.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, Mrs Facey's arm is round my waist and she's lifting me out the way. It turns out Colin was on the verge of tears. The cunt in the ninja outfit was fucking up his big day.

I scream: "Noooooo!!!" As Mrs Facey lifts me off the stage and plonks me down in the wings.

Colin, to his credit, starts to get his act together - he didn't really need me to push him round, it was just my way of being involved in the production in some way. Colin lets out a little sniffle and starts with his lines.

Until, off stage an itinerant little shit screams:

"THERE WERN'T ANY DALEKS IN THE OLD DAYS!!!"

Then Colin just loses it, and I find myself whisked even further away to sit in a dark room and think about how much of an evil little cunt I was.



If you're reading this, I'm sorry, Colin -




but I bet I could still beat you in the 100 meters dash.



( SpankyHanky, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:47, 4 replies)

How I wish
all these stories were true.*

You make reading the QOTW rather worth it.

*Please say they are, PLEASE!
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Fri 27 Mar 2009, 15:59, closed)

They are actually all true -
But that's it. I am now a spent husk this week.... Oh, but the one about shagging my long lost sister wasn't true, I have to admit...


(I actually knew she was my sister before I plunged the pork dagger)...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 27 Mar 2009, 16:02, closed)

Well, obviously
it's no fun if you don't.

If you don't know already then you're not really fucking your sister; you're fucking a girl who turns out to be your sister. In Islam there's this thing called niyyah, your intention; based off that principle if you think you're fucking your sister, but instead end up shagging a total stranger, than in fact it still counts as shagging your sister in some ways!

Score! Great for me, 'cos I don't even have a real sister!
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Fri 27 Mar 2009, 16:29, closed)

Classic!
:-D
(Errin C, Sat 28 Mar 2009, 15:09, closed)