Variation On A Theme In The Key Of - Part Ii Variation On A Theme In The Key of + - Part II Introduction There are the smokers and there are the non-smokers who are ultimately divided by the ill stench of death and or the fear of it. Whatever…There are inside people and there are outside people. Inside people seem to always be condemning the outsiders because they don’t mingle or make the rounds in hopes of establishing what just very well might be yet another boring useless conversation otherwise known as “small talk”. For whatever reason the superior needs the inferior to survive, it seems the Insiders really got a beef against the Outsiders. I’m by nature an Outsider and could honestly give a fuck about the feud between the two as it just might be the most pointless class war I have seen to date. Etiquette is such a bore. Most people, myself included, who bought the whole idea of being “grown up”, are nothing more than jaded fools. Somehow we’ve got this idea in our heads that once we grow into adult humans we magically become patient and tolerant unlike the maniacal smart-ass children humans we once were. Eventually there comes a time when you just have to accept the scary sad truth. The Adult IDEA or what some might expect from maturity is nothing more than a crock of shit. Who is to blame? Blame the universe or the Catholics for cheating us out of our adulthood. Blame the fascists. View it as the sick joke that it is, and have a good laugh. I didn’t want to grow up anyway. The 45 degree angle. It is, and will always be a reminder of what separates us from a primate living in the 4 star luxury of the local zoo. “Stand up straight!” has most likely been said by just about every parent to their offspring. Slouching is by some unknown twist of fate synonymous with being young. There are the grown ups and there are the kids, who whether they like it or not are divided by a sinister rule that has for quite sometime driven a wedge between adults and their young. Tables. Why must they sit at different tables? Which leads me to my point. There are the grown ups and there are the kids, who whether they like it or not are divided by a sinister rule that has for quite sometime driven a wedge between adults and their young. The kids table should be outlawed. Defiant, Bitter and albeit compromising teenagers have all fallen prey to the kids table, only to live out the irony that the sad insulting tables inevitable tragedy holds. Older kids and younger kids might look the same to a forgetful weathered eye, but not so fast... Twelve is a lifetime away from six, and nine might be in-between and not yet pissed off enough to say it but old enough to side with twelve year olds and the six year olds become a thorn in the side of all. Makes you question if you were ever really young, kids table young. As the story goes there is two sides to a story. What about the middle of a story, which is the bulk. In the middle of the story lies the mystery and the adventure that can only be conjured up through a wild mixture of imagination and bliss. 1 The Agreement It’s hard to look cool at the kids table. I think I grew about a foot in six months and it was hell trying to fit my legs under the damn thing. Screw these stupid people and their stupid kids. Damn the whole idea of getting through another meet and greet the parents friends from work. The worst was their damn preppy kids that I was determined to hate by default. It was hell… “What a you a fuckin’ sissy? You don’t do it, and I will make you wish you did.” He said. God Damn! I thought. Finally a worth advisory. I turned to my left and glared at him in all his devious grandeur. Lo and behold, Aleck Sans, son of the low man on the totem pole was holding some lanky kids head in his left hand forcing his face towards the creek bed into some mossy suet. I had met him once on a weekend job that our fathers had worked together. Granted my Father was good at his job, but he sure let Aleck’s dad know and damn straight Aleck knew, because he was there of course. I coward in his presence that day, him looking at me with inevitable revenge brewing in his eyes. I forgot all about it until I saw him stirring it up creek side. Shit, I decided to forget it all together just then as saw him living out my wildest dreams with the bosses bosses’ kid. Sweet Jesus, my parents would get pissed if they saw this little event unfolding, but hell I would be alright with passing a little embarrassment their way in light of the silly kids table incident I had to suffer through. “Brilliant!” I thought as I ventured down to the creek intent on getting into the mix. As I approached Aleck he turned rabid on me with a scowl and said“What the hell, you want to see what it’s all bout? Come closer you little fuck..” What the hell was he all tight about for crying out loud? I mean, really, he was torturing the skinny kid. Big man.. “Screw this little fuck!” I said in my most tough guy banter. “Let’s tag team his ass. He won’t tell. You won’t tell will ya you little fucker.” “LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” OK, on the receiving end of an ass kicking by two more than willing tough guys who have a sour disposition for company parties. “Leave Me Alone” is next to the worst thing you could say. “I’M TELLING MY DAD1” Like I said the next to worst thing. THAT is the worst thing. All of a sudden my right foot met bosses sons chin inflicting a nice two foot lunge up in the air only to find him straight on his ass in the creek bed. The creek bed was all rock so I’m feeling pretty confident that his ass was in a world of pain to spite his face. Feeling all exuberant about what I had done I turn to Aleck and say: “Dija see that!! Little bastard must a flew two feet in the air! Just like WWF.” Aleck shot me this look, that over time would become synonymous with his ever-loving’ superiority or. Humph… inferiority complex between him and I. It was like no other look. That look had just about a bit of every look in all looks that are looked in it. I guess it could have meant anything, but when he shot it to you, you knew. That particular look on that particular day was an “I’m gonna kick you ass!” look. That was a look that I will never forget. Sad truth is I forget a lot, mostly on purpose. That look hurt. Next thing I know I’m on my ass in the creek and a goose egg residing on my left cheek is slowly elevating heavenly. “What the hell?!” I said. I could barely make out the sickening image that was before my eyes. Aleck and Skinny bosses’ kid were having a hell of a laugh at my expense and I was dumbfounded. I had to think quickly to save face, my rep was riding on the words that were about to leave my mouth. I knew that the only reason I kicked the stupid skinny bastard was to get a little clout with ole’ Aleck. I just wanted to give the terrorizing little jerk a hand in his dirty work. Given, it was not my style to prey on the weak but that day on the job site and the look on his face haunted me. Call me yellow, call me a sissy. I wanted this guy as a friend. “I’ll get you, you fucking bastards!!” No. NO!! That’s not what I meant to say. Shit! SHIT! I’m thinking I’m dead and all of a sudden I fall back on my ass. Let’s get this out of the way. I have a big nose. Not just a big nose in the scheme of big noses, I talking a freaking honker. I have been compared to Gonzo from the Muppet Show on occasion and to be frank, it IS the bane of my existence. Well, for all the hell and prepubescent grief Gonzo had provided he made a move I would have never expected. A Gusher. I shit you not an honest to god hoarding gusher.. The blood Gonzo gushed that ill fated afternoon was in my life immeasurable by any other blood related injury I have ever seen. “OH, crap!” I said I think that’s what I said as the stars came out and I fell on my back. An exercise in 45 degrees.. Nuh huh. It’s called getting you’re ass kicked. Funny, that silly little smack sealed the deal on the friendship between Aleck and I, not to mention our inevitable hatred of one another. “Intimidation works wonders kid.” Said Aleck. Who the fuck does he think he is Bogart or something? This guy just gave me the gift of a goose egg and a nice Gonzo gusher all in one fatal soldier of fortune blow. Now he’s adding insult to injury by pulling a “Listen Kid. Hey Baby” cool but not to cool bullshit act. What a fuckin prick! “To bad it was all an act. See Jackson and I decided to play a little trick on you. Funny, it worked flawlessly. I don’t know if you remember but we met before on the jobsite a while back when our dads were working on a Sunday. Remember?” said Aleck. “Yeah, I remember.” I said “Yeah, so do I. I also remember giving you my “little” look as your dad was giving my dad the shaft and I KNOW you remember that. Well, Jackson and I got to thinking that me kicking the shit out of him and no one coming to his rescue would be kinda boring and seeing as how we did that for the first couple of years we were thinking about spicing it up a bit. Sure enough, there you were looking for a spot to fit in and make your mark. Then, as luck would have it, thank you by the way Jackson for taking the one for the team, you fell right into our little web. I’ll let you take it from there, but let’s just say I got what I wanted and that’s cool, right? Right Jackson?” said Aleck “Hell yes you cocky son of a bitch!” Said Jackson Let’s just say this was creeping the shit out of me but I somehow saw the genius in it all. I’m not saying it wasn’t just absolutely freaking nuts or anything but I’m not saying it was. Aleck offered me a hand up and I accepted. He gave me the “little” look again in a different way and all was right with the world. As I walked up the lawn towards my mother she nearly shit her pants. “What on gods earth happened to you?!” She screamed. “Aleck, Jackson and I were running through the woods and I ran into a tree.” I said I knew how she loved perfect grammar and all. And shit, I was in a kiss ass situation considering how laid out I looked at the COMPANY party and all. I shot her the “I’m hurt mommy look” that no mother could resist. “You goof! You’re always running into things. Honey, you really must learn to be more careful.” She said in the most impressive mommy dearest voice pulling it off as if she gave a shit. “Yeah, we were just being lame. Hey mom, this is Aleck, he’s James Sans kid. You know, Jimmy the guy who works with dad?” Mom and dad hadn’t been on the best of terms lately and were on the verge of an inevitable split. She, ah hell, and me for Christ sake were only at this stupid party to show face for my dad anyway. I had faith in her answer. When all was said and done dad did pay the bills.. Surprisingly it seemed he let her forget it from time to time. Tactical error on his part I always said. “Oh, sure, Aleck it’s nice to meet you. How are your folks by the way?” Breaking out the mommy dearest once again. As if she fuckin knew them. Talk about over acting. C’mon mom, I know you can bullshit better than that. “Oh, they’re great. Thanks for asking. Well, nice meeting you. Hey Sam, let’s go see what Jackson’s up to. C’mon” Aleck shot me a shifty stare as if to imply “who gives a fuck”. “See ya Mom.” I said She was already off into another conversation with some random guy who was no doubt a swinging bachelor. Like a said, she and I have an arrangement. As I flipped her the finger behind her back, for good measure of course, I ran after Aleck. Little did I know that running was little less than following. 2 Strategy’s weakest link I loved chess. The single most important function in the agreement between my mother and I had nothing to do with expressing our love for one another or allotted time spent going over the simple things “normal” families talk about on a day to day. That’s what was truly liberating about us is that we really didn’t feel the need for that type of interaction. To be honest we really found it a bore and all, at least she did. I won’t blow smoke up your ass, I could of used a hug or two from time to time but getting a hug out of her was like trying to clip the claws of a cat. She surely never volunteered a clipping. A must if you have a nice couch and feel the need to keep it so, and all the while having a feline that pleasures itself on the destroying the very couch you hold dear. Not to sound like an ass, but I have it figured out. The cat consciously kills the couch as a reminder of who is boss. Who runs who? Who ran us, I would sometimes wonder. The important function that I was telling you about, that tie that binds. It was plain and simple chess. We loved it. Well, she loved it before me, as I am her son or spawn or whatever. Let not get into that. But we loved it together and it was ours. The act of keeping a worthy adversary at bay was time well spent not only busying her mind but providing me with the survival skills I needed to “beat this life” as she would say. Looking back on those countless minute shaped hours and day shaped months we spent sharpening each others swords by predicting move after move. You know, if you “really” want to get to know someone, spend some quality time playing an adversarial game like chess. When all was said and done, truth be known no one knew me as well as she did. Keep in mind there is a big difference between knowing someone well and loving someone well. Knowing is a war and loving is a battle. So, we played and played… Little did she know that I was taking away much more from those games than just the simple satisfaction of victory (when I did win) or the move or two revealed in a fluke or by chance stumbling onto a new strategy, much like I discovered Aleck’s genius. The hours spent challenging my maker contained the life lessons I, in my mother’s warped view of the world, required to win. Kind of sucks that I never told her I would have been content with just getting by. I did come out of it with a keen sense of what makes and breaks an adversary, which ultimately was a crown of thorns. Shit, I wanted a freakin hug and I got war. None the less, we loved it and I took it as it was all she could give. Poor mom… Nope.. When she wasn’t gallivanting around shaking her ass like a rigid and stiff middle finger smack dab in the face of the world, just to embarrass my father of course, she would divide and concur sad slobs. A worthy adversary she was, but in true Roman style she never let anyone forget it. Neither did Aleck. The great thing about that important function of ours called chess is that it had no schedule to speak of. Moves would sometimes take days or weeks and my mom was spending more and more time cornering the market away from home. This allowed me a schedule that was almost completely free of obligation and I loved it. What’s funny is I lied about it to all my friends’ parents. No, not so those friends could come over to my place and get away with bloody murder or anything (which of course we did), I was just plain embarrassed. Our chess games that once took a week soon turned into months which later turned into never. “An angst ridden teen boy with a aptitude for building one hell of a chess game looses his partner and seeks skillful companion who will live up to the challenge. Applicant’s ability to “beat this life” is looked at in the highest regard. All apply... Please.” I was dreaming of a newspaper classified, and then it all just fell into place. Wouldn’t you know it; I figured out that I had a peculiar disposition that was ripe for the picking. I wasn’t only an angst ridden teen with the need for a worthy adversary, bottom line I had a run of things. I could get away with anything I wanted and I knew it. All of a sudden everything tipped upside-down and right side up as I stumbled upon the need to Fuck SHIT UP! Why not? “Hi, is Aleck home?” I said in the most nauseatingly innocent voice. “Sure, hold for just a sec.” said what I presumed was his sister who was one year older than me. In case I didn’t mention it before, just about the same time I “stumbled” upon the whole fuck shit up thing, girls were all of a sudden more about pussy than holding hands and all that emotionally draining pitter patter. Bottom line is I might have wasted a good dose of the innocent voice on Aleck’s sister, but it sure as hell refreshed my memory of her at the dreadful COMPANY party. Spit!! You know, she just like most girls at the time became a target. Bulls eye. “What?” Aleck boldly blurts out in all of his self-important way, that is his way and is a shame but of course he doesn’t care. “Aleck, this is Sam. Member, you belted the shit out of me at that shithole of a party a couple of weeks ago?” “Oh, hey what can I do for you today young man? I’ll be setting up shop on the corner of 55thNE and 28th Ave at 4pm, just so you know, and today just for you chappy ole’ chap O’ mine, I’m offering a special that you won’t want to miss. I got a special for you today that will make a man of you even if you are a man’s man. You can’t pass it up lady. Only catch is, it’s take it or leave it. Only an itsy bitsy catch. You just can’t ask what, why, where, what, or by an offset turn of events who it, he or she is or are. So, you up or down? In or out? Stay or go? So?” So, I’m thinking to myself what the fuck is this guy talking about. Right? Right. Ok, he’s rehearsing for a play. He just told a joke that was way above my head. Or, he’s just a freakin cook. I typically control the words that come out of my mouth but just as I did while lying in the creek with a Gonzo Gusher an example of how little control I had around him something came out. You can guess.. How the hell do you follow up or respond to banter like Aleck here just “laid” on me. Just calling to see what the hell’s going on with you. I’ve got to admit that was a hell of a stunt that you guys pulled on me that other day. I MUST have really had that slug coming huh?” “Sammy boy. Sammo, Samster, Sam I AM. Green Legs and Sam. Keep in mind Sam, Green legs and you as long as they are not my sisters’ legs. Got it Sammy Whammy?” “OK, sure man. So, what the hell you doing? You want to meet up or something or go see a flick or some shit. You like booze? We can raid the liquor cabinet in my ole bags bar? She won’t miss it.” There I went again. Talking the Talk. Where the hell did that come from. Trying to be cool I sound like a geek. OK, sound like a geek but who gives two loads of shit, except me? Let’s get one thing straight. I know it sounds weird and all me worrying so much about how it all pans out with Aleck the sock me in the Gonzo asshole that he was, needed me in time just as I needed him. So, glad we got that straight. Aleck is, was and always will be a asshole, however great of and asshole or however vile. An asshole is still an asshole. My sad and undeniably maniacal future was dependent on Aleck. I was truly relying on him to help me figure out how to fuck shit up. Or, better yet, fuck what up and maybe, just maybe have an answer for why we fucked up what we fucked up when we get caught. “Samsky, Sammo booze is for lovers and fools silly boy. How about we go out and cause some chaos? What the hell, why not rape a few and cut em? Hey, how about looting a family owned joint. Yeah… Someplace OLD! Let’s ruin history. Why? Cause we can. Get em where it hurts. Yeah!! Sound good?” A juvenile grin so sinister that it could only be outdone by someone literally eating shit and grinning. “Sure!” I cautiously say cringing at the sound of caution in my voice. “Sam, two things. One, stop thinking about plugging my sister. Two, wonder how I know what you’re thinking? Bet, ya do.. Meet me at 55thNE and 28th Ave at 4pm when I open up shop. Oh, and by the way. Don’t waste your time trying to predict. I guarantee you have NEVER seen anything as “special” as this.. I Guarantee.” Three A look I once read a book about these Indians that lived in Mexico hundreds of years ago and how they first used the sun as a means to tell time and make dates. In the same book, a crusty historian flexing his clout and enjoying every god damn dry word after another tells of the senseless virgin sacrifices in explained in perverse detail. Senseless, hell yes!! I’m sure the Mr. Dry Historian Author/Prof. would agree, as the fact is these idiotic Indians killed perfectly untouched virgin girls. Where in the hell did they get that idea? Sure as hell wasn’t god I hope, and shit if the sun’s talking to you, you need to get the hell out of the sun. That was Mom’s book from back in college and I ended up with it. Little did she know I used to beat it to the naked sacrificial virgin from time to time. I would be willing to bet one of those virgin killing Indian Chiefs from way back made a right handed case for one of those poor UN tapped virgins, in private of course. C’mon, who am I to defy the laws of tradition? Depression is in town as I salivate in vain for the dead virgins whose lives meant just as much as their womanhood. That decides it. There is no God. I daydream about saving them by jumping into my mom’s book, all along staring at the sun. I don’t wear a watch. Strange, I much like the virgin killers have a unique talent to gauge time by the sun. It is something I have always been able to do and I don’t question it or talk about it. I know, you’re probably thinking that cloudy days are tough on the ole’ clock. That would be just about right, but funnier still I can just sort of tell. Much like anything else that you just “do” it becomes natural. Judging by the sky right about now it’s well after 4pm and no Aleck. “Sammy, what if I told you how predictable you were? Would you care? Coming from me, I mean. Definitely! Your care, judging by your need to be accepted, is worn right there on your sleeve like a bullseye. Whadda ya know, I just proved how predictable you are. Shall I continue? No? Hey, try this.. Prove me wrong? Didn’t think so.” “Where the hell were you? I’ve been waiting here for almost 45 minutes.. I thought you were going to open up “shop”?” I say with a hint of irritation in my voice aimed more at myself for waiting for Asshole Aleck. “Well Sam what time do you have? Huh? Oops, no watch huh? Well, sorry to disappoint but it’s not quite 4 yet and, hate to say it, I’m early and come to think of it, so are you.” “It’s almost 5 Aleck, stop bullshiting.” “Sammy, I would strongly advise not staring into the sun. You really could hurt yourself.” Aleck almost caringly says. “Please relax Sammy my friend, I’m just taking the ball and running with it. First thing you’ll come to find about me is that I would never pass up an opportunity to bust a little balls. S’all in good fun, ya know? And for the record I was standing behind you on the stoop the whole time..” “OK whatever, so what the hell’s up? What are we doing here?” “Sammy o pal o mine what aren’t we doing here? We’re arguing about when, what, who, where and why. Just like I promised. See? How predictable was that answer? Wait before you answer let me say just this, not half as predictable as the sun that rises and sets in the same place everyday.” All of a sudden I felt this overwhelming urge to get to the bottom of all this cat and mouse banter and decided to play a bit of chess with Aleck. Then as if time stood still we stood there glaring at one another consumed by a plethora of emotion, relative to a rivalry only capable by youngsters. Granted, Aleck’s psycho babble banter was clearly a front, yet his intellect was indeed beyond his years. In all of his fantastic self important way, he stood there vulnerable. “Battleship Mother Fucker” I not only thought but just as his first attack on that ill fated afternoon lying in the creek at the COMPANY party, the thoughts in my head became words without my will. “Aleck, listen this is getting weird. I’m not up for this shit. Let’s do something.” I rattled off. HIT Beating him at his own game, I decided to play ball right up to his ego only to win by a margin of his daft lack of attention. I saw his weakness and it was shining bright as a bulb. Predictability can be endearing by those you hold dear. Call me out, so fucking what. Vengeance on the other hand, reeks of indifference. No strategy, no check, and no mate just the simple means to an end. I win. “Sammy, I would bet my life that you were the leader in you little clique of friends, weren’t you? How did it feel to fall from grace? At this moment you are consumed by that failure, are you not? C’mon Sam I Am we're all friends here? You can tell uncle. You’re all nose and forehead boyo. This is for your own good Sammo ole’ pal.” I felt fluidity as sea and air and earth collide in my own little “you can do it” speech I felt the fearless duty that is the shit of legend. I was ready to attack without the slightest inclination of vengeance. I was about to sink his battleship when I remembered my mother and her “beat this life” theory. At that very moment I really felt alone, more all by myself than I had ever felt. I’m talking hold back the tears sit your ass down and have a good cry alone. Shit, that was really a first. Attack was eminent and so were the tears as I lunged for him in a beast like rage. My mind held no answers and to be frank I was tired of all this beat around the bush bullshit. Sometimes things work themselves out and sometimes a fist works out what the mind is just to complex to reveal. A territorial pissing such as this was by all means leading to a plain and simple brawl. There it was. The “look”.. The look that had a bit of every look in it and could be a “you’re getting your ass kicked look” but to my surprise was a “Oh, shit I’m really just a poser who got beat at my own game and now I’m about to get the bitch ass smack down of my life” look. Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that I mustered up a little look of my own and now it was my eyes that were brewing with the “look”. “Beat him at his own game. Ego, Vengeance. Attack his weakness. Win.” One thing about the way my mother would relish the win and the pride in her voice as she stared into my eyes and vindictively said “Check Mate!” is what drove me to progress and hone my skills. Yet, when I look back on my life and as I dream the lives of my children I can find the truth or dare in teacher and taught. It never stops hurting. I wish those winning words of pride she spoke were about me. I’ll never stop wishing that they were my words for me to own. Fucking shit up is highly overrated. I turned away from Aleck and walked myself home and cooked myself dinner and put on my jimmies and tucked myself in and for good measure I kissed myself goodnight and wrote a declaration to never waste another moment of my life thinking about why loneliness exists or why the hell it is so damn important to fit in somewhere. I figured ole’ Aleck had enough for both of us. It really felt good letting it go. I mean, shit you are only a kid once and it never happens again right? I’m not ready to be tired of being a kid. I guess kids are ultimately the only ones that “really” get away with fucking shit up. That said… HIT. I sunk his battleship. -Erik Sjoen 2003
Copyright © 2003 Erik Sjoen |