Stay Single And Live Forever

Secondary school.
4th year.
Rules established.
Boundaries drawn.
Cowards in a group.
Heroes on their own.
Heroes in a group.
Cowards on their own.
Monday mourn,
Black arm bands.
A chopper crushed
Fourteen and rammed.
Still wet behind the ears.
Too soon, too short of years.
Careers advice,
Follow your dad's life
Thought I was clever.
Gonna stay single,
And live Forever.

The new term started in sombre mood. I counted them out didn't always count them back in. Living through the holidays was an occupational hazard even for fourth years. There was always someone looking on the bright side. Hey, he might be dead but he's still a lucky bastard. No more lines. No more detention. No more getting the slipper. To some the lad named after Piggott would be forever young.
He was Steve McQueen.
Virgil Hilts.
He'd gone and performed the Greatest Escape.
Yet for those left behind, the Few had found power, least what they thought power was. To the rest of us it was bullying.
Boundaries drawn.
It wasn't the end.
Or the beginning of the end.
It was the end of the beginning!

Death circled above us. The old buzzard eyeing up breakfast. The dumb were finding their voice. The war was well and truly starting.
Do you wanna be in my gang. Not Gary Glitter but a number of potential Mr Big's.
Trouble was, too few bones to be had. Too many like me, who was going to boast that i was in their gang?
I started writing lyrics. I rehashed them from Disco 45.
Revolution was in the air. Certainly no bugs the nit nurse had seen to that.

Traitor on the loose. Siren's wailing. No bomb shelters. 
Teachers smug. Gangs on the run. Who's that standing in the shadows? Friend or Foe?
Trust no-one.
No-one to trust.

By November life was getting back to normal, at least a sort of normality. Ironically for a couple of months behaviour improved. Few wanted detention if it meant you were the only one. It gave chance to let rumour blossom. What better way for a traitor to be able to pass information on.

The biggest chatter concerned not only who was selling classmates to the enemy for torture and interrogation but why?

It was 72,
Form an orderly queue,
singing Metal Guru
while they're caning you.
Sex education,
self gratification,
Oral stimulation,
Bigger than the Asian.
The heat was on,
No hiding place,
Miss Griffins legs,
Stretched wider than space.
Father's advice,
Always tell the truth,
Knew I was clever,
Gonna lie everyday,
While fingering Heather

Suspicion peaked in the run up till Christmas. Since the summer a small, but significant number of misdemeanours had been committed and solved. A near hundred per cent clear up rate. No mercy shown on the culprits. Graffiti appeared on walls and alleys surrounding the school.

Thumb down to the grass/informer/collaborator
Transgressions were down. Rumours were rife. Hounds on the loose hunting any would be bad boy.
Guess the informer lists were drawn up. Me, I scored low. I sailed under the radar. Kept my head down. I wasn't part of the resistance. I was cowering in the barn. 

I was a suspect. I wasn't a suspect. No one knew who was on the list. No one knew how many were on the list. Interrogation squads were on the loose. Rumours of abductions. Torture and brutality walked thru the school hand in hand. 

Who carried out the torture?
Who was on the list?
What revelations did the torture provide?
Rumour and speculation overtook fact and proof.

One Thursday after school around Christmas I was abducted. 
My abductors were fifth years. They might as well have been ten foot aliens. Kneed in the groin/deadlegged/arm twisting.  I was 'invited' to join them the back of the bike sheds. I was hurting. I was cold. I wasn't giving them answers they were looking for. Then with things not going my way they uttered a sentence that i knew i wasn't going to like.

Seven little words.

One big problem!!!!                                                                  

Kennedy's dead
He's got a hole in the head
The Brave New World
Died shagging in Monroe's bed
Tricky Dicky lost
To a Mafia mandate
When he won he lost
That night at Watergate
We lost our innocence
Coming home to Vietnam
We ripped up the rule book
Cause we didn't give a damn
Mothers advice,
You're never too old.
Had your doses of leather
I'm gonna stay single
And live forever

'Do you want to prove your innocence?'

Tired. Cold. Fed up. "Why, can't you prove my guilt?'

They didn't laugh. They didn't speak. A knee to the groin. Me in agony. Me stifling a scream. Me being offered a lifeline.

It was three days before Miss Griffin could once again join me in my under the covers activity.

I had my orders.
I had my doubts.
Where they smoking out an informer? Where they settling old scores?
Fifth years singling out a fourth year snitch?
If rumours were true he was one hell of a spy. 
More to this than meets the eye?
I was given my orders. I had no detail. I had to make that up myself.
Conjuring up a plot to give P C his just deserts in one hand. The image of Miss Griffin in the other.
Nighty Night.

Rumours, rumours, oh yeah and more rumours.
Just about anyone who was anyone was suspected of being the grass.
Yet i'd been told it was P C. I was told he was a nailed on certainty. 
Where they lying to me? Was i the latest patsy?

I towered over the fifth years. 
I cowered under their gaze.
Pressurised to get a move on. I came up with a sort of plan. Beset with problems. No escape for yours truly. 
I was in the same class as P C and knew him fairly well though we didn't hang out together. It was possible I concluded that P C could be THE informer. He was very local, therefore he had connections with families-older brothers. He could hear some gossip that the likes of me couldn't. I couldn't see him as a Supergrass though. 

I put Operation Patsy into go mode.

It was hard to trap P C. He was on the fringes of trouble but nowhere near the real deal. More Ronnie Biggs than Bruce Reynolds.  Everything seemed too neat. Me, couldn't back out now. Me, not if i wanted to keep my balls. Me, lights, camera, action!

Teachers prowling,
Lookouts looking.
Alibi's bought/sold,
Miss Griffin *******.
Hot showers,
Towel fights.
Cold showers,
Slipper bites.
Bruises worn,
On a striped ***.
It's school uniform,
For most of the class.
Careers advice,
Take whatever you're offered.
Too lazy for endeavour,
Run from the trenches,
Cherishing my white feather.

The alarm goes off. Dad shouts. It's cold. I see my own breathe. One last attempt of pleasing Miss Griffin. Tight red skirt, showing plenty of leg encased in tights or stockings. This morning I give up frustrated. I can't hand myself pleasure. I get up. Take a ****. Go over my plan like a million times. Everything works like clockwork. Well not everything. My ex-friend hides, taking refuge in my white pants.

P C unaware of the day ahead. Me, very aware of the day ahead.

Line up of the most wanted outside head's office.

P C unaware of the day ahead. Me, very aware of the day ahead.

Double maths.
We split.
Different classes.
Me, better at maths.
Tuck shop for Mars bar.
My favourite subject.
Plenty of slipperings. All with long run up's.
Dinner time.
Sandwiches. Given away.
Tuck shop for 2 Mars bars.
It's dark. It's cold. It's raining.
Santa's packing up his slay.
Have I been a good boy.
Never since I knew Santa wasn't real.
Don't talk to strangers.
Go and sit on that old blokes lap.
Don't accept sweets from strangers.
Take that toy from that old bloke.
Thank God for history.
Homework marked.
Books handed back out.
Homework defaced with big red lines.
Replaced with message.
See me after school.
Thank God for history.
Break time.
Fifth form bullies glare.
My balls in their hands.
Other parts in Miss Griffin's hands.
Shame its not her mouth.
That damn skirt's too tight.
Humanities boring.
Staring out of the window.
Too dark to see anything but the dark.
Will miss the bus.
Will have to walk.
Will have to explain to mother.
Everything seems dark.
Everything is unavoidable.
Car crash school.
The bell rings.
For me the bell tolls.
Punishment hour-4p.m.
The sky is dark.
The lights are light.
Climbing the stairs to the punishment hour.
P C already there. Shocked to see me. I feign shock.
Mr Smiley Miley shakes his head.
Disappointed. Did you really think you'd get away with it?
P C hasn't got a clue. I feign clueless.
We get out our books.
We open our books.
Homework defaced with big red lines.
Big red letters.
See me after school.
P C clueless.
Me, feigning clueless.
Same questions.
Same answers.
Same wrong answers.
Same wrong spellings.
Only one answer matters.
Homework copied.
Who copied who?
P C clueless.
Me, feigning clueless
Mr Smiley Miley in deer stalker.
Mr Smiley Miley has all the answers.
The sky is dark.
The lights are light.
P C looks a little less clueless.
His head light getting brighter.
P C punished before. Copying history homework.
Mr Smiley Miley smiling. 
History question for P C.
What was he told last time caught copying History homework.
I resist putting my hand up. I know the answer.
P C knows the answer. P C protest's innocence.
So do I, in a fashion,
Mr Smiley Miley gripping slipper.
Mr Smiley Miley explain the threat he made last time.
P C couldn't argue. He had no answers. The reason he copied homework before.
Me first to be sprawled across the desk.
Size 10 stinging. Me wriggling.
P C next to be sprawled across desk.
Size 10 stinging 12 times.
P C wriggling and crying.
Crying and bawling like a five year old.
P C I mimed, have some dignity.
More homework.
More history homework.
Another paper to be done by the end of the week.
No cheating this time lads.
More whacks for wrong answers.
Do our own research this time.
Both given letters home.
Both knew what that would mean.
P C looked at my exercise book.
P C looked confused. 
Same questions.
Same answers.
Same wrong answers.
Same spelling mistakes.
P C clueless. Me, feigning clueless.
I couldn't have got his answers.
He knew that. I knew that.
I did get his answers.
He didn't know that. I knew that.
I handed my history book minus the homework.
I came back at dinner time and copied P C's homework.
Mr Smiley Miley was on dinner patrol.
P C left clueless. Me, I was smug.
Fifth year bullies by the gate.
Across the road.
Down the alley.
Trousers down. Slippered arse.
Fifth year bullies happy.
Hand me back my balls.

Long walk home.
Letter in hand.
Doomed feeling in my stomach.
Spanking from mom in front of coal fire.
Me, crying. Me, pushing dinner around plate. Me, sent to bed.
Freezing room.
Inferno arse.
P C got belt off his dad.

We both got slippered again for our wrong answers.
P C got another whacking also for his cheating.

I earned sore arse.
I earned respect of the bully mafia.

Christmas came and went.
Rumours died down.
Informer disappeared.
Case closed.
P C informer or smokescreen?

Got the slipper twice,
And a spanking off mom.
Thought I was clever.
Gonna stay single, (I'm married)
And live forever. (Work in progress)

petebon petebon
56-60, M
May 19, 2012