The Pain, My Mother, Sir Tiffy, Cyber Boy & Me

by Michael Gerard Bauer

  As The Pain squeezed his way through the narrow gap between the front of his car and the bike, Bodene pushed himself off the tree and turned to face him. He waited with arms folded, feet apart and every muscle on his hard, wiry body bristling and ready for action. Mum touched her fingers to her lips. Jeremy shook his head. I held my breath.

  My life was about to be wrecked beyond repair once and for all. Maybe I could have clawed my way back from both the Vomit Girl and Assault Girl scandals, but now my name was about to be forever associated with a wild brawl in the school carpark in front of nearly my entire year level. If one punch could kill, what would a dozen from Bodene do? It was going to be a bloodbath. The Pain’s blood. Bodene’s bath.

  When The Pain made it around to the other side of the car, he stopped and looked Bodene up and down. They were facing off like gunslingers, except one gunslinger had a peashooter and the other was packing a missile launcher. I’ll let you figure out which was which.

  Everyone on the steps outside the hall was glued to the unfolding drama. It was the only show in town. I saw Principal Chalmers making her way to the front. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Another ‘almost’ was coming up for me. That’s right, Maggie Butt almost had a totally brilliant time at the Year Ten Graduation Dance, but then the good old reliable, wreck-everything Pain stepped in and ruined it!

  I was praying and hoping that he would back off at the last second and leave Bodene alone.

  He didn’t.

  He took a couple of paces forward and jabbed a finger right at Bodene’s cold, sneering face.

  It looked like My Year Ten Graduation Dance Horror Story was about to begin. I buried my head in my hands. I couldn’t bear to watch.

  But I could still hear.

  ‘You …’ The Pain said loudly. My heart stopped pumping. What was the point? Waste of time. I was dead anyway.

  ‘… you’re Bodene Price.’

  I heard a pair of hands slapping together.

  ‘Ha! I knew it. I thought I recognised you. Bodene Price! That was me beeping the horn just now. Did you hear it? I knew it was you. I told ‘em. I said, you’ll probably say I’m crazy, but that guy over there looks a lot like BODENE PRICE!’

  I raised my head up over the seat back. Huh? Jeremy, Mum and I exchanged confused looks. Possibly the only one more confused was Bodene himself.

  ‘Am I right or am I right?’ The Pain said excitedly. ‘You’re him, aren’t you? Have to be. Who else could you be? You’re Bodene Price!’

  Finally Bodine responded.

  ‘You got a problem with that?’ he said, like it was a death sentence.

  ‘Problem?’ The Pain repeated, looking shocked. ‘Problem? No way. I’m a fan. Huge fan. Saw you on telly the other night when you won the big fight against … aaah … that guy … ummm … what’s his name again …’

  Bodene unfolded his arms and let his hands slip to his hips.

  ‘Vince Moraga,’ he said with a twist of his neck and just the hint of a swagger.

  ‘That’s him! That’s the guy! Vince Maranta.’

  ‘Moraga.’

  ‘Maranta, Moraga, whatever. Who cares? Yesterday’s news now, that’s for sure. Bodene Price saw to that, eh! Sent him packing quick smart, didn’t you? So awesome. What are the chances of bumping into you here of all places? Bodene Price! Saw you on the telly and now in the flesh. I can’t believe it. Hey, any more fights coming up?’

  Bodene bobbed his head up and down a bit. ‘Big one. Massive. State championships. Next month, eh.’

  ‘You don’t say? State championships? Hey, all the best with that, pal. Not that you’ll need it. You’re a certainty! Hey, look, I gotta go now, but gee it’s been really great to meet you. Really great.’

  The Pain thrust out his hand.

  A hard smile cut across Boden’s face and they shook.

  ‘I knew it was you. Straightaway. Soon as I saw you, I said to myself, self, that’s Bodene Price!’

  The Pain headed back to the car still shaking his head, but when he got to Sunny Boy he stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he turned round.

  ‘Hey, Bodene, do you think maybe you should move your bike a bit, just to be on the safe side? Mate, I’d hate to knock it trying to pull out.’

  Bodene Price, champion cage-fighter, loose nuclear warhead and psycho in waiting fixed The Pain with his cold, lifeless eyes.

  And nodded. Once.

  While Bodene moved his bike on to the grass, The Pain climbed back into the driver’s seat, closed his door and buckled up. No one in the car said a word. And no one made a sound either when The Pain gave Bodene a thumbs up and left the kerb to join the slow-moving queue of cars heading for the exit. It was only when we’d finally passed through the college gates and pulled out on to the road that The Pain broke the silence.

  ‘OH. MY. GOD,’ he said, gazing around at each of us in turn. ‘That was BODENE PRICE!’

  And the car exploded with laughter.

  40

  They’re playing our song

  All the racket that followed woke up Sir Tiffy. He started wailing and wouldn’t stop until Mum passed him over to me in the back seat. The price you pay for love!

  I thought it was only right and proper that I officially introduce him to the other rival for my affections.

  ‘Jeremy, this is Sir Tiffy,’ I said, lifting up a flattened, one-eyed face. ‘Sir Tiffy, this is Jeremy.’

  Jeremy looked a bit freaked out. Possibly not a big cat person.

  ‘Sir Tiffy?’ he said. ‘What’s that all about?’

  The reply came from the front seat.

  ‘Aaaaaah, now that’s the million-dollar question,’ The Pain said.

  To which I replied, ‘Exactly. And I’m the only one who knows the million-dollar answer.’

  In the rear vision mirror The Pain’s eyes immediately flicked up at me.

  ‘You worked it out?’

  You know how they say that knowledge is power? Well, I had some knowledge and now the time had come for me to use its power to get some payback against The Pain.

  ‘Yep. And it was right there on the registration form just as Mrs Monteith said.’

  The Pain’s forehead was as creased as a scrunched-up piece of paper. It was beautiful to see!

  ‘What? Where? I checked every word on that thing and I couldn’t find it. And what was the big joke?’

  OFFICIAL PAYBACK TIME.

  ‘You know, I’d love to tell you, but I’m just not sure whether I should or not. I mean, if Mrs Monteith didn’t tell you, then maybe I should just respect her wishes and not go blabbing it about everywhere.’

  Two eyes were now burning into me. Then they turned to my mother.

  ‘Have I ever told you that your daughter can be a real PAIN sometimes?’

  WHAT! POT/KETTLE, ANYONE?

  ‘Oh, yes, I know she can,’ my mother said, ‘and isn’t it lovely that you two have so much in common?’

  BURN, BABY, BURN! Hey, wait a minute. What did she mean, ‘in common’?

  Then Mum looked over her shoulder at me.

  ‘So, Maggie, are you going to let us all in on the secret? I’m dying to know how my genius girl managed to solve the mystery of Sir Tiffy’s name when other more feeble-minded individuals – who shall remain Danny – failed so miserably.’

  Good one, Sigourney!

  ‘Okay. If you must know, the name was there all the time, in big swirly letters, right at the top of the form. I don’t know how on earth you missed it.’

  The Pain wrinkled up his nose as if a bad smell had wafted in.

  ‘But all it said at the top was … Certificate of Registration.’

  ‘Absolutely right,’ I told him. ‘Certificate of Registration. Certificate, anyone? CER-TIFI-CATE. SIR TIFFY CAT.’

  The Pain threw his head back and shouted up to the night sky.

  ‘Gold, Mrs M! And as much as I hate to admit it, you deserve a medal for solving that one, Maggie May. Or at th
e very least a SIR TIFFY CAT of Appreciation.’

  When the groaning and laughing finally died down, I began telling Jeremy all about Sir Tiffy and his incredible journey from roadkill to recognisable life form. That’s when The Pain switched on the car radio.

  ‘Just need a bit of background music,’ he said. ‘You know, to drown out the sound of all that smooching coming from the back seat.’

  Okay, you can pull the trigger now. I’m begging you.

  But it didn’t end up being background music for long. Just moments later The Pain was grabbing for the dial and cranking up the volume.

  ‘Hey, listen. Did you hear that?’

  I’d only caught the end of what some DJ was saying. But it was enough.

  ‘… coming up right after this brief sponsor’s message I’ll be playing you Paul Young’s big hit from 1985. So whatever happens – don’t YOU go away!’

  Crazy, excited eyes were now staring back at me from the rear vision mirror. I shook my head at them.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, Maggie.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘No way.’

  ‘But you have to. They’re playing our song!’

  ‘No. I definitely do not have to and I won’t. And it isn’t our song. It’s just your stupid song.’

  Beside me Jeremy was frowning, as if he’d suddenly realised he’d caught the wrong bus and was on a one-way trip to the funny farm.

  ‘He wants us to sing this dumb song with him,’ I explained. ‘But instead of singing “a piece of me”, he sings “you take a piece of cheese with you”. Pathetic, right? Jeremy, why are you smiling?’

  ‘Ha! See!’ The Pain said, thumping the steering wheel. ‘It’s hilarious and the J-man agrees. The J-man is in the room!’

  Then Mum piped up. ‘If Jeremy’s in, then I’m in.’

  Great. Outnumbered. And The Pain wasn’t about to let up.

  ‘You can’t pike out on us, Maggie. What are the chances that we would all be in a car together when I turn the radio on and they play that song? The odds are so astronomical that this moment may never be repeated again. Ever. In the history of the entire universe!’

  ‘You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing,’ I told him.

  By now the ad on the radio was over and a tinkling piano and a soaring guitar had started up in its place. The Pain blasted me again with his crazy, excited eyes. When the singer launched into the first verse he gave the dial an extra twist and the music flooded the car.

  I looked at The Pain. He was taking a deep breath. I was holding mine. The chorus was only a heartbeat away. Our eyes were locked together. He had the same little-boy look on his face he had the night he asked Mum if Sir Tiffy could stay with us.

  ‘This is it,’ said The Pain. ‘It’s my big moment. You’re not going to ruin it for me, are you, Maggie May?’

  41

  Ba-bowwww!

  No. I wasn’t.

  When the chorus came around I waited till Mum and The Pain had finished singing the first line and then I rolled my eyes, nudged Jeremy with my elbow, and we joined them for the ‘you take a piece of cheese with you’ bit.

  The Pain let out an insane ‘WOO-HOOOOOOOO!’ and punched a clenched fist into the air.

  Each chorus after that just got louder and crazier until The Pain called for a solo from Jeremy and he responded by performing it in such a deep, operatic voice that we all fell about in hysterics.

  Mum got in on the act then by shouting, ‘Wait, wait, wait! New words! New words!’ and hit us with ‘Every time you go away, you take a cup of tea with you’. Then of course everyone had to give it a go. The Pain was first with ‘you take a Pekinese with you’ followed by Jeremy, who lived up to his reputation as the Guru of Geek by singing ‘you take a cheap PC with you’.

  That just left me.

  And I had nothing. I’d been laughing so much, my mind had gone blank. (Yes, I know what you’re thinking. What else is new, right?) I was just about to throw my hands up and admit defeat when at the last second, good old Sir Tiffy came to my rescue. From my lap he let out one of his signature wails and that provided the inspiration that saved me. I quickly held him up for everyone to see and sang, ‘Every time you go away, you take a heap of fleas with you!’

  ‘BA-BOWWWWWWWW! We have a winner,’ I told them all, ‘and her name is Maggie Butt!’

  FREEZE FRAME.

  Roll the credits.

  42

  Where I choose to stop telling it

  And that’s where my story ends.

  Or rather, where I choose to stop telling it. The budding film director in me is calling ‘cut’ right there.

  What happens next with my life is anyone’s guess. But I’m hoping that Jeremy will be a big part of it. Courtney too. And yeah, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if that arch-pest formerly known as The Pain was in the mix somewhere as well. You know, for Mum’s sake.

  Not sure if I’ll have any new SPECIFIC AND REALISTIC GOALS for the year ahead, but I know one thing. If I do, I’m going to take a leaf out of Bert Duggan’s book and not make them all about me this time. I mean, when you think about it, old Macbeth was an ‘all about me’ kind of a guy and look how well that worked out for him. Head on a stick, anyone?

  I’ve also decided to try to follow Sister Evangelista’s tapestry advice. You know, about taking a step back from the craziness of my life so I can see the big picture. As a matter of fact, I’ve been doing quite a lot of that already. Why else would I spend most of my holidays writing down all this embarrassing stuff about myself? And now that I’ve had a chance to read back over it, I think Sister was spot on about that ‘everything is connected’ idea too.

  I mean, if I started yanking out the parts of Year Ten that I hated at the time (I’m looking at you now, Porno Pig Critic!), then some of the good bits (Hey there, Jeremy!) would also begin to unravel, wouldn’t they? Come to think of it, even the horror of being Vomit Girl at the Emergency Department that night turned out pretty well for Mum in the end. Not that I’m recommending it as a course of action at all.

  Anyway, THIS (insert dramatic trumpet blast here) is my MAPLAD for the future.

  Whenever the crazy tapestry of my life begins to look horrendously and monumentally ‘mucked-up and messy’ (which at some point I’m sure it will), I will be taking a couple of giant steps back and focusing on all the good bits that are woven in there as well.

  All the small things.

  Like hiding behind blankets with Mum watching scary movies together or feeling the love from a rattly, flat-faced daemon, or being on the receiving end of someone’s crooked smile.

  And the big things.

  Like that Saturday morning following my week of detentions when (with Jeremy’s expert help) we set up a Skype session on Evensong’s big television and the staff and residents clapped and cheered and Bert Duggan’s eyes overflowed with happy tears as all the beautiful children from the New Hope Orphanage in Cambodia appeared on the screen madly waving their handmade ‘We love Bert’ signs and dancing around in front of a massive, decorated banner that read ‘Thank You, Mr Duggan – Our Hero!’

  And who knows? If I’m really lucky, I might even have another one of those special, rock-your-world-a-little, happy-ending kind of moments to focus on as well.

  Like the night of the St Brenda’s Year Ten Graduation Dance when two silver spaceships piloted by the nicest and most glitteringly fabulous spacemen in the entire universe appeared like magic at my door. The night that secrets were shared and Bodene Price (OMG! IT’S BODENE PRICE!) met his match. The night that, despite some astronomical odds, we all somehow ended up together – The Pain, my mother, Sir Tiffy, Cyber Boy and me – joking and laughing as we barrelled down the road in a yellow bomb called Sunny Boy.

  Yep, that night.

  That special, rock-your-world-a-little, happy-ending kind of night, when Maggie Butt finally stopped worrying about The Pain.

  And sang her heart out.

&nb
sp; (Figuratively speaking, of course.)

  ~ end ~

  About the author

  Michael Gerard Bauer was born and grew up in Brisbane. As a young boy he dreamed of being a samurai. If that failed, his backup plan was to be a ninja. Later on, as a music-loving, guitar-playing teenager, he dreamed of becoming a famous singer-songwriter. He ended up as a high school teacher of English and Economics. As you do. But in 2000 he resigned from his full-time teaching job to chase an even crazier dream – that of becoming an author.

  Michael’s first novel The Running Man was published in 2004 and won the 2005 Children’s Book Council of Australia’s Book of the Year award for Older Readers.

  His other works include the very funny and popular Ishmael trilogy, Just a Dog, and Dinosaur Knights.

  His recent publications for younger readers, the Eric Vale series and the Secret Agent Derek ‘Danger’ Dale series, are fully illustrated by Michael’s film-maker son, Joe Bauer.

  These days Michael is a full-time writer who is in high demand for talks at schools and festivals around Australia.

  His books, which are regularly set as school texts, are currently translated into twelve languages and will soon be available in over forty countries.

  Michael is still trying to figure out how it all happened.

  michaelgerardbauer.com

  Facebook: Michael Gerard Bauer Author;

  Don’t call Me Ishmael! – Michael Gerard Bauer

  Also by Michael Gerard Bauer

  The Running Man

  The Ishmael books:

  Don’t Call Me Ishmael!

  Ishmael and the Return of the Dugongs

  Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel

  For younger readers:

  The Eric Vale and Secret Agent Derek ‘Danger’ Dale series illustrated by Joe Bauer

  Just a Dog

  You Turkeys! illustrated by Nahum Ziersch

  Dinosaur Knights