Phillip

Don't you think it's strange when your mind drifts off into an absent abyss only to return with a poignant message that stays in your mind for the rest of the day?

I was eating my Cheerios this morning reading the Grauniad newspaper when I came across an article about the England team’s rugby success. This led me to think about when I played rugby at middle school, where we couldn’t even afford the posts so we couldn’t ever convert tries or penalties. At the time I was a winger and was considered quite a good player. However I did face stiff competition from Philip. He was a really nice guy, and even though my memories of him are hazy I remember him being someone of integrity which was something most 12 year olds didn’t even know was a word let alone have it.

Phillip’s father was an English teacher at our school who would strike terror amongst us with his large glaring eyes and Neanderthal style beard. He was a teacher that told you if you were good but had no problem telling you if you were bad with school work and I liked that style of teaching. However, there were rumours going round at the time that he was having an affair with another teacher. Every body talked about it and the gossip was rife through class to class and year to year. We all were mesmerised with the idea that the two teachers were at it, either in the store cupboard, class room or even the headmaster’s desk. The rumours just got wilder and stupid but it was lapped up by us all. But none of us thought about Phillip.

He must have been aware of these rumours as they were soon becoming playground lore. Not once did he shout at anyone for spreading them. Not once did he break down in public over them. He didn’t even leave the school. This is something I find quite admirable, that a boy of 12 could deal with such an emotional issue so well. I don’t think many others could. I certainly couldn’t and even though I don’t know him anymore I respect him so much now.

I realised that I had my spoon dangling in the air when my mind decided to return to its head. I quickly finished up and set off to work thinking about what Phillip had to put up with and what on earth is he doing now.

I’ve managed to bash out some prose for you to dabble with if you wish.


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Charles Kennedy, stood looking at the mirror. He stared at his reflection, seeing his hair line growing perilously higher every time he saw himself. His blue eyes looked back at himself seeing his lips curling downwards. He hated himself. Not purely for the fact he had entered middle age and what he saw before him wouldn’t stir the loins of a nymphomaniac who had consumed a nets catch of oysters. He hated what was within, his angry temper, his devious mind that had been nurtured well over the years by performing a plethora of crimes ranging from stealing the hub caps of a Ford Cortina to armed robbery at various small shops and garages. He once tried to rob a bank. He was younger then, even greedier than he was today and a lot less experienced. They followed the bank manager for weeks finding out his journey home his, the route he took, how long it took and what alternative ones he used. Then one day when they were ready to rob the bank they followed him in a car and over took him and once they were on a one lane road stopped the car forcing the bank manager to stop his. Three of them put on balaclavas got out advanced on the car with shot guns pointing in his direction. They thought that was the hard part, capturing the bank manager. From there they could get the right details, force him to make the right calls and the money would be there’s. However, they didn’t consider the wiliness of this particular bank manager. Although to them he looked terrified and the urination stains on his trousers only made them think he will comply with anything. He let them easily pull him out of the car, threaten him of the consequences while shoving a gun in his mouth so far back that he started to gag. He nodded to their every demand eagerly. What they didn’t anticipate was that while they approached the car the bank manager dialled 999 on his mobile and popped it in his suit jacket pocket. They set off in their car towards the bank. The bank manager started to wail “I can’t believe you’re robbing the bank, my bank on Chester Street. Why not another, and why do you four have to bring guns with you. I just can’t believe it.”

“Shut it.” Said Charles.

“I just don’t want to die. Not like this, not here on a country road off Toddsbury.”

Charles sitting next to him grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face close to his.

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot your testicles off. Got it.”

It appeared to silence the bank manager who only nodded solemnly, Charles let him go and he turned his head forward, his body rigid.

Within five minutes the police siren sounds could be heard near by. All of them looked at each other for some sort of explanation as to why they were now being chased by the police.

Charles looked at Gregor.

“Don’t look at me for an answer. Did you frisk him? Did you check his pockets?”

Immediately Charles realised his bumbling error. How could he forget to check his pockets, even ask if he was carrying anything. Feeling embarrassed and angry with himself he lunged at the bank manager smacking him on the face with his right fist while his left hand grabbed his jacket. The mobile popped out from the pocket and landed on Charles’s lap. The 999 number illuminated in blue on the screen.

The Big Chill

It was this morning when I woke up and immediately jumped back into bed as if I was dive bombing away from an on coming vehicle. I wasn’t dodging an out of control Ford Mondeo but instead was responding to the coldness that’s suddenly dawned upon us. At first I thought it was slightly cold and the fact I had been in my warm bed was the reason for my knee-jerk reaction. However after a shower and a change I soon realised that wearing a t-shirt today wasn’t going to be enough, goose pimples were erupting all over. I quickly threw on a jumper had my breakfast and opened the door when a waft fresh morning air hit me making me shiver all over and looking like a break dancer in full body popping flow. I debated whether to put on my winter coat. I was really reluctant too as I felt putting on this coat was a confirmation that winter was really here. Even though I reckon I should of, I didn’t, and froze.

I can’t believe winter is more or less here. It’s been a crap year for weather, utterly abominable. A few sunny days here or there but nothing much else. So now I’ve got to get some gloves because I lose them every time winter ends and also a scarf. I’ve also got to get a new hat too, I’m thinking a bobble style would be pretty cool. But even with all these winter bits I know I’m going to be shuddering from now right until March. To escape the inevitable for only just a little while I thought of the idea that if I was rich I would fly to another country where it was summer while it was winter in the UK and then when winter finished I would fly back and enjoy the summer here in England. Although at this rate I’d probably be spending 11 out of 12 months out of the country. If I was rich of course.

I’ve rattled out some more progressive prose for you to view at your leisure.

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The last sentence indicated that Conrad wished to speak no more on the subject his eyes glaring at Yannish enticing him to challenge his views so that he could lash out a tirade of other reasons and examples. Yannish noticing the intensity of the stare sucks in his bottom lip as some sort of prevention technique from himself shouting out answers to Conrad’s justifications but as he inhales ready to release he bites the pink part of the lip giving him pain to shake away his thoughts and realise that it’s probably better for him not carry on with the subject or else he could be there for hours. Instead he lets go of his lip takes in another deep breath and slowly breaths out through his nostrils. He looks at Conrad’s stare and notices that the edges of his mouth are curling and his rotting brown teeth are showing again. He knew the thought process Yannish just went through before deciding not to speak anymore on the subject. It was a battle of two wills and in Conrad’s eyes he was the victorious one. Cutting down the sprouting contesting views of a young man before they were even spoken. Peter too was looking at Yannish with his hawkish eyes in his studious pose. Yannish didn’t know why Peter often stared at him like that, always starting off a conversation and then gradually commenting less and less when eventually he becomes nothing more than a silent bystander nodding occasionally or just keeping completely silent. He was glad when Peter’s hair flopped forward and he was forced to break from his stance and flick back his hair so that it wouldn’t cover his eyes.

“Yes, I’ll get it for you, 8 cans right?”
“Good man. We shall see you soon boy.”

“Right, see you soon.”

Yannish started to make his way in between the hedges along a small path created by the grass’s inability to grow round these areas. He often thought how many times had people walked along this way before him until the grass finally conceded defeat and grew around the continuous trampled areas forming the little path that he was using. Were the people garage employees before his time who like him wasn’t able to get to work easily or were they people who just hang out round these parts?

Darkness was slowly dimming the sun’s presence and it was best to get out of the grass path as soon as possible. Meeting supposed homeless men wasn’t really deemed much a threat but it was very easy for someone hide in a bush and jump him from behind. Increasing his speed Yannish soon caught sight where he’d be spending the next 5 hours and sighed as he remembered what all his other peers were up to at this moment. Sliding down through the dry mud he lands at the garage with only his trousers slightly dusty and his collar half turned up, he looks through the window to see Clarence Davidson through the window. Slightly shocked but happy it’s her there he walks in.

“Hey Clarence, how’s it going? Why are you here? Where’s Tammy?

“Hey Yannish, how are you honey? I’m doing fine. Always fine. But a little tired today, you see Tammy called in sick today and so I had to take over the late-afternoon shift as they couldn’t get anyone so now you are stuck with me this evening.”

Yannish liked Clarence. She was a middle age lady who had lived round this area for most of her life. Her round puppy fat face always had a smile or at least a grin and she had a tendency to change her hair colour. Today it was pink. Short, spikey and bright pink.

“You must be shattered. Let me just sort myself out and I’ll start the shift and you can catch a break.”

“Thank you honey, I need a break.”

Yannish walked out back. He much preferred to do a shift with Clarence than Tammy. Looking round in the staff area he saw a small pile of empty energy drinks and ripped open empty instant coffee sachets scattered in the table, probably left by Clarence to keep her awake during such a long shift. Yannish hung his coat and made his way outside.

“Right I’m ready to go, you can go take your break now.”

“I’m shattered but first I want to restock the alcohol shelf because once I sit down I don’t want to get back up.” Said Clarence.

“I can do that. Look if you want to take your break a bit later you can do so and sit by the till while I do it. You’re doing such a long shift tonight you need to reserve as much energy as possible.”

A gentle smile rose across Clarence’s face and the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes became more prominent. She was grateful.

“Thank you so much honey.” And turned away and nestled back down into her seat.

Yannish spun back around and headed towards the stock room. He switched on the light that flickered once before dully illuminating the room. He walked over to the pin board where the replenishment list was, took it down and then started collecting the alcohol he needed. The silence of the room enticed him to reflect on today’s occurrences. He remembered his debate with Keith in the pub. How he hated Keith’s views, his utter contempt for rules, his raw selfishness but deep inside Yannish also knew he was slightly jealous of these and considered them virtues when in the right context. Arguing with Keith about issues in life was a frequent occurrence but convincing him to accept you point was a less frequent one, almost seldom. He now was beginning to think he had lost the argument. Not because of his choice of words or at Keith’s great skills of oratory. It was Keith’s point. It was being lived right now by him. Here he was in a small stock room with a flickering light picking up bottles of whisky when instead he should be drinking it right now at Zaks or some other place with his friends, his comrades of exam stress his peers. He noticed he was clenching the neck of the Jack Daniels very tightly making his palm glow red. To diffuse his growing anger he tried to think of what else had happened. His daily encounter with the feisty Conrad and the observational Peter, how did Conrad always seem to flex his point across but when someone wished to challenge it he would turn his back on the idea. He thought perhaps Conrad and Keith were actually the same people or at the very least related. Tommy, his flat mate was probably at a party somewhere slumped on a couch resting his head on one of his hoodies and resting a joint on his left hand. If he had wasn’t too stone he would be attempting to chat up the nearest female within speaking range. If he considered her pretty he would try and call her to him as there was no way he would be moving from the home he created on the couch, unless of course she was stunningly beautiful and then he would shuffle along to the edge of the couch and lean over towards her. As concessions would be made in these situations. He would then ask her opinion about his blond dread locks under the guise that they were newly formed. This was a lie and he was fully aware that the combination was a rare one which would spark intrigue and questions which then would form the basis of a conversation. Yannish began to smile now as he remembered the amount of times he had been around Tommy and he had used this method to get the attention of girls and how successful he was with it apart from a few, in fact thinking about it, he could only remember one. It was Karen.