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in magnificent sweatshops this gold-plated plastic gangster
So, resenting my wasted holiday, I had invited myself round userinfoKapmandu's. Upon dragging him to the park, it soon turned out that he, Jack and Dick all had free houses this weekend, only the assholebastards were too busy doing revision to liven up my life and throw crazy Wank Parties. Still, we hung around in the park for some time and I even spent some time with the ever-radiant Catriona, Tara and Amy. I bought a foul-tasting phallic icepop and refreshingly nicely found that Milk Boy still considers me a friend. Naturally, this made me feel rather good and almost honoured like. We tried to play football, but some violent hooligan joined in and swiftly injured Mafro with his head. It was thus decided that we should patronise the off-license and I was nominated to cockily walk in with our orders while they ate chips. For some reason, I just marched in there, ordered the girl to give me beer and she did; not once did she even hesitate or look up at me. Victorious, I lugged the crate of beer out to the lads who stupidly cheered like five year olds. Old men looked on, shook their heads and quietly tutted as to the state of today's youth. Dick and co. were still shouting and they even continued to do so as our favourite German teacher, Herr Sholto Kerr, walked past and winkiesmiled when he saw the amount of alcohol we were carrying up the hill. Somehow, we weren't mugged by pikeys or police.

That evening, we ventured up to Dick's to play drinking games and pool and generally be old friends having a fun evening in. We placed the lager in the fridge (mmm, ice cold alcohol) and so, us boys sat around and enjoyed ourselves. Just don't expect me to remember any of the hilarities that ensued. Dick got horribly paranoid and sulked because he was convinced we had trashed his house despite leaving it cleaner than when we arrived. It turned out that Jack and Mafro had to leave at ten so they could wake up nice and fresh for a mammoth revision sesh, so userinfoKapmandu and I bailed and headed back to his. I laughed when I stopped by the offie again and was denied just one more bottle of beer - the woman IDed me and suddenly realised that she had already illegally served me with twenty four cans of premium lager.

At the house of userinfoKapmandu, we ate food and he hogged his pook before forcing me to watch shitty shitty Mallrats. Though, I do suppose I was rather biased due to my prejudice against anything userinfoavenant likes. Old userinfoKappers complained of tiredness and locked his PC with a zillion bolts before retiring to bed. I stayed up and watched a bastardised but still watchable version of About A Boy. And after the credits rolled to Mister Damon Gough, at 02:54, I had one of those absolutely wonderful moments when you just realise exactly what you want to do with your life. Then, as I stayed awake trying to make sense of all the confusion that's been tormenting me over the last few weeks, I realised I still had no answers to the questions that life really does pose. Maybe I only knew what I didn't want to do... As I progress, I am more and more unsure as to what is really right for me.

~

The weather is as confused as I am. Last week was boiling hot and, at userinfoSam's, we joked about snow before opening curtains to delicate white flakes. Then, much of this week it has been hotter than in Athens and my mother's holiday to Mallorca.

~

The next morning I woke to neck aches and to find userinfoKaplan had been awake since nine thirty. userinfoKappo was being gee as ever and refused to stop playing Science and Industry until he threw me out of the house on the way to work at two thirty. I got my revenge by pumping Linkin Park up real loud to embarrass him (more) in front of the neighbours. I walked myself to the park, planning to enjoy life and spend as much of the day as possible alone with the sun. It was wonderfully wonderful. The park was dotted with hundreds of picnic rugs and families out indulging in each other's company and (Easter) warmth. I had so much fun lying on a grassy knoll (no, really) to bask in the sun, read a book and listen to music in the wonderful warmth with a cool beer by my side and some ickle doodish skaters practising grinds nearby. I could have stayed there for hours.

Well, by five thirty, Milk Boy had come and gone and then returned, and I'd asked Catriona to come down and join me. I'd been unbothered by pikeys for the last few months but, just then, a group of about ten no older than us strode cockily into the fenced enclosure we were happily lazing in. The ickle skaters scarpered, hastily scattering in all directions, but the three of us remained, still in conversation, while the pikeys took up residence across the pool from us and started sizing us up and laughing at their own jokes and offensive jibes. After some perverse insults thrown toward Catriona, they began to target me with projected basketball and, before long, had got up and surrounded us. Soon, they had initiated a discussion regarding fighting and were bemused as to why anyone wouldn't take up their challenges. Now, I've encountered people like this several times before but, despite our best efforts at placating them without seeming sarcastic or wordy, they seemed intent on practising some ultraviolence. No amount of kind words were able to defuse the situation nor root out any trace of reasonability, so were hastily made our excuses and attempted to leave them be. Surely the victory of driving us out of "their" park would be enough?

Evidently not. On learning I was the oldest, their attention was immediately focussed on me. Words were twisted in an attempt to warrant or justify violence and they started pushing me around and backing me into a corner. Annoyed by their behaviour as it was, we quickly walked away without saying anything that could be deemed to be provocation and the whole group of them followed menacingly. The most vocal of the group, one with a laughably false gangsta accent, then ran up to punch me in the cheek from behind. Unfazed, we continued walking and met up with Random Dave and some other guys while they regrouped and made for us again. We sought refuge with a group of generous picnickers in their early twenties who were happy provide protection while they loitered threateningly lying in wait for us to be on our own. While the kind people jocularly mocked the pikeys for being overly reminiscent of the Blazin' Squad, I considered the reasons why these people would be so keen to start fights with completely random people, even ones they were by no means certain of winning. They certainly didn't do it to for my money or possessions but, it seems, solely to prove their masculinity and strength and for the thrill of causing pain and fear. These persistent people refused to leave without beating someone up.

The pikeys were still waiting for us, but we made a brisk walking dash for Safeway on the way home. They seemed to hang back a bit (surely they hadn't become bored?) so Milk Boy and friends walked off ahead of Catriona and I who were talking. We were about ten yards from the entrance to Safeway when suddenly, I was grabbed from behind, punched in the face again, and accosted by about five of them who had run up behind me. They began to push me about and try to snatch my bag (which I was quite worried about as it contained my camera). Just as I thought things were looking rather dodgy, a brilliant man came to our rescue from the car park demanding to know why they were being so useless. Even though this huge bloke had turned up, the pikeys wouldn't let me go for some while and even began to threaten him. It seemed that, amongst my refusals to engage in any form of violence with them, I had insulted them in the gravest possible manner and they were now all baying for my blood. As I walked on with the unharmed Catriona, they shouted after us, ensuring me that my death would occur very soon. We hid away in Safeway for a while and, despite the crowds and CCTV, the pikeys all came in to surround me until Catriona's father came to pick us up. Mobiles didn't have any reception so some kind woman let us use the Safeway telephone and we finally dived in the car to be driven away - yay, saved by Iain Banks.

That afternoon I walked back to Redhill again, slightly wary that the pikeys were still on the prowl. I remembered again how wonderful Catriona is and how much I love her for being someone who, albeit only sometimes, seems to care. And, meanwhile, I felt horribly empty and sick inside with an intense sadness and pity for those poor people - so much so that I almost wanted to cry. How the fuck does this (horrendously flawed) civilisation even have a chance of existing and almost working, let alone the wonderful infrastructure I enjoy? If only I could ignore the fucking penisfaces, these two days would have been such great experiences for me before returning to school.

~

It was quite an effort not to do this whole entry in nadsat.

    mood: irate irate
    choon: Miss Black America - Car Crash For A Soul
Comments
From: (Anonymous Coward) [.]
Posted: Sunday 30th November, 2003 at 10:34.08
 
i'm commenting on all your entrys now give me the code.
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