The Internet is a Playground
Page 10
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww
Can you just please take the reward bit off altogether? I have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to make photocopies of it.
From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 12:56 p.m.
To: Shannon Walkley
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww
From: Shannon Walkley
Date: Monday 21 June 2010 1:03 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Awww
Fine. That will have to do.
Hello, my name is Mark, and I have head lice
When I was a schoolboy, every month the school nurse would have the children line up for a hair check. Many of my classmates were apprehensive of being found to have headlice, but the day the nurse declared, “Mark, you have headlice,” I felt elated and excited by the idea of living beings choosing me as their provider and calling my hair home. I felt as if I had won a prize. I had never been allowed to have pets at home. My mother, who suffered from a compulsive disorder forcing her to clean, forbade any animals in the house. Unbeknownst to my mother, every night I would water the soil outside my bedroom window and play with the worms that would emerge. That afternoon when I rushed home and told my mother that I had been chosen, her reaction was not that which I had expected, and I was forced to wash my hair with KP24, a product designed to kill those that had chosen me. I learned to hate my mother that day and never forgave her. Fifteen years later, on the night she died, I leaned over and whispered into her ear that the same product she had used to perform genocide on my headlice was what was in her cup of tea.
Many people feel that headlice are of a sign of dirty or unhealthy hair, but this is simply not the case. Like those little fish that live under sharks or those tiny birds that clean alligator teeth, my headlice serve a double role of not only cleaning my scalp but also keeping me company. Often, I talk to my headlice or play them tunes on my acoustic guitar. Sometimes when it is very quiet and I concentrate very hard, I think that I can hear them talking to each other, and once, I am pretty sure I heard my name mentioned.
A few months ago, I was at the hardware store buying a grass trimmer and stopped at the sausage sizzle to purchase a snack. While I was waiting, I bought a raffle ticket that boasted three nights in Bali as first prize. I forgot about the ticket until last week when I found it in one of my old copies of Nit Weekly while looking for an article I had seen on headlice as an alternative fuel source. I called the number on the ticket—and I had won. While I was in Bali, I met a native girl and we fell in love. Returning home two nights later, I found that I had pubic lice. I was in the middle of feeding my new friends when my headlice formed a concentrated group and attacked the newcomers, leaving everyone dead. I believe, in protecting me from what they perceived as a threat, they displayed an obvious sign of love.
Another time, when I was canoeing on the river and had to jump out due to seeing a spider in the canoe with me, I forgot I could not swim and was going under, when each headlice held onto an individual hair and swam for the surface.
Raising headlice as pets can be a very rewarding experience. Your headlice will provide you with many years of having something to do with your hands and a great deal of satisfaction knowing you helped to establish and build a community. As their host, it is important to provide them with the necessities of life. Once a week I give my hair a light spray with chicken stock. In summer I do this daily. On Easter weekend I add a small of amount of chocolate to the mixture, and at Christmas time I make them small presents using tweezers and a magnifying glass.
I have found that, with great care, your headlice community will thrive and is even transferable to other parts of your body. I currently have my hair buddies, as I like to call them, living not only on my head but also in my eyebrows, eyelashes, and armpits. When I am at the movie theater, I like to pick headlice out of my hair and place them onto the heads of people in front of me, thus helping my headlice colonize new territories.
Strata rules exist for the benefit of all residents
If I had a large backyard, I would probably have about a thousand dogs, but as my apartment is very small, I cannot have any due to both the Strata agreement and the fact that they would need to be taken for walks every day, and I am too lazy for that. There is a park across the road from us, but the last time I went there I was offered money to provide a sexual act, which was flattering, but I told them that I was late for a meeting, which was a lie, as I think I just played Unreal Tournament the rest of that day.
I did have a goldfish named (posthumously) Stinky who lived in a vase with a plant. When he died I figured it would be nice to leave him there so that his body would break down and fertilize the plant, but after a few weeks, the smell was so bad I could not enter the apartment without a towel wrapped around my face. My first thought was to take him to work and hide him in my bosses car, but out of respect Seb and I gave him a Viking’s funeral instead.
From: David Thorne
Date: Thursday 21 May 2009 10:16 a.m.
To: Helen Bailey
Subject: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
Thank you for your letter concerning pets in my apartment. I understand that having dogs in the apartment is a violation of the agreement due to the comfort and well-being of my neighbors, and I am currently soundproofing my apartment with egg cartons because I realize my dogs can cause quite a bit of noise. Especially during feeding time, when I release live rabbits.
Regards, David
From: Helen Bailey
Date: Thursday 21 May 2009 11:18 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Pets in the building
Hello David
I’ve received your e-mail and wish to remind you that the agreement states that no animals are allowed in the building regardless of if your apartment is soundproof. How many dogs do you have at the premises?
Helen
From: David Thorne
Date: Thursday 21 May 2009 1:52 p.m.
To: Helen Bailey
Subject: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
Currently I have only eight dogs, but one is expecting puppies, and I am very excited by this. I am hoping for a litter of at least ten, as this is the number required to participate in dogsled racing. I have read every Jack London novel in preparation and have constructed my own sled from timber I borrowed from the construction site across the road during the night. I have devised a plan that I feel will ensure me taking first place in the next national dogsled championships. For the first year of the puppies’ lives I intend to say the word “Mush!” and then chase them violently around the apartment while yelling and hitting saucepan lids together. I have estimated that the soundproofing of my apartment should block out at least 60 percent of the noise, and the dogs will learn to associate the word “mush” with great fear, so when I yell it on race day, the panic, and released adrenaline, will spur them on to being winners. I am so confident of this being a foolproof plan that I intend to sell all my furniture the day before the race and bet the proceeds on coming in first place.
Regards, David
From: Helen Bailey
Date: Friday 22 May 2009 9:43 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
David, I’m unsure what to make of your e-mail. Do you have pets in the apartment or not?
Helen
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 22 May 2009 11:27 a.m.
To: Helen Bailey
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
No. I have a goldfish, but due to the air conditioner in my apartment being stuck on a constant two degrees Celsius, the water in its bowl is iced over and he has not moved for a while, so I do not think he is capable of disturbing the neighbors. The ducks in the bathr
oom are not mine. The noise that my neighbors possibly mistook for a dog in the apartment is just the looping tape I have of dogs barking, which I play at high volume while I am at work to deter potential burglars from breaking in and stealing my Tupperware. I need it to keep food fresh. Once I ate leftover Chinese that had been kept in an unsealed container, and I experienced complete awareness. The next night I tried eating it again but experienced only chest pains and diarrhea.
Regards, David
From: Helen Bailey
Date: Friday 22 May 2009 1:46 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Hello David
You cannot play sounds of dogs or any noise at a volume that disturbs others. I am sure you can appreciate that these rules are for the benefit of all residents of the building. Fish are fine. You cannot have ducks in the apartment though. If it was small birds that would be ok.
Helen
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 22 May 2009 2:18 p.m.
To: Helen Bailey
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
They are very small ducks.
Regards, David
From: Helen Bailey
Date: Friday 22 May 2009 4:06 p.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
David, under section 4 of the Strata Residency Agreement it states that you cannot have pets. You agreed to these rules when you signed the forms. These rules are set out to benefit everyone in the building including yourself. Do you have a telephone number I can call you on to discuss?
Helen
From: David Thorne
Date: Friday 22 May 2009 5:02 p.m.
To: Helen Bailey
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
Dear Helen,
The ducks will no doubt be flying south for the winter soon, so it will not be an issue. It is probably for the best, as they are not getting along very well with my seventeen cats, anyway.
Regards, David
From: Helen Bailey
Date: Monday 25 May 2009 9:22 a.m.
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Pets in the building
David, I am just going to write on the forms that we have investigated and you do not have any pets.
Helen
Hello, my name is Lucius, and I’d like you to sign here, please
I am probably the best courier in the world. If you have a box and you want it to go somewhere, I will come and get it and take it there instead of you having to do it yourself. You have to pay me to do it, but it saves you time, so it is worth it. It doesn’t matter what kind of box—once I delivered a box full of bolts, which was really heavy. I am very strong, though. They were saying, “Wow, that box looks heavy,” and I replied, “No, it’s light for me.”
PICKUP & DELIVERY LOG
8:30 a.m.
The first pickup and delivery of the day is always the best. When I am driving to collect the first box of the day, I try to guess what color it will be and what will be in it. If the tape on the box is the kind you can lift and put back, I have a look. Sometimes there is food in there. I don’t eat it, though, as that would be against the Courier Code. Once, there was a whole box of sandwiches to be delivered to a work function, and they wouldn’t have noticed if I had eaten one, but I didn’t. I took a little bite out of each one, but that is allowed.
9:45 a.m.
YES! It was a brown box! I knew it would be a brown box. I have definitely got psychotic powers. I have guessed the box would be brown eight hundred and forty times in a row, which proves my powers are probably the most powerful in the world. I have to keep my powers a secret, though, as the government would want to control someone as powerful as I probably am. I would have to live my life on the run, never settling down in one place for long. The government would probably hunt me down and fifty of them would point their guns at me, and I would concentrate, and the guns would float up in the air or turn into sticks, and the men would say, “He is more powerful than we thought possible.” I pulled up around the corner to have a look inside the box, but it was just books, which was disappointing.
10:30 a.m.
I delivered the box, and the girl in the front foyer signed and printed her name. Her name is Kate, and I could tell by the sexy way she signed that she thought I was one of the top five best lookingest guys in Adelaide and wished I were her boyfriend. I was telling her about my psychotic powers and was going to ask her out, but she said she was really busy and had to get back to work. I will see her again later today, though, as they are regular clients. I will write her a poem during my lunch break. On the way out the door I took a couple of photos of her on my camera phone. She looks a bit surprised in the first photo and blurry in the second, as she was getting out of her chair as the door closed. I will use the flash next time. It is somewhere in Settings. When anyone has a problem with their phone they always get me to fix it because I am like a computer genius. I am probably the biggest computer genius in the world; I just can’t be bothered learning all that stuff.
11:15 a.m.
Stuck in traffic on my way to the next box pickup. I feel it might be brown. I like to listen to music while I am waiting and have all the best albums recorded onto TDK Cassette, including Arrival, Super Trouper, and Warterloo. When I make the final payment on my delivery van in fourteen years, I am going to have a CD player installed. I saw them at Kmart for only $49.95, so am saving for one. When I am waiting in traffic I turn the music up as loud as it will go, and all the rattles in the van vibrate along to it; it is like my van is dancing. Sometimes I become lost in the beat and imagine that I am Paula Abdul, dancing with the cartoon cat on the stairs in that music clip where she dances with the cartoon cat on the stairs. I am also probably one of the best singers in the world, and when my friend Jedd is in the van, I say to him, “Make me that beat already so I can destroy it with my unstoppable flows,” and he does.
12:45 p.m.
Eight hundred and forty-one! It is a big box too. Priority pickup from one hospital to another. I should not have looked inside that one. I will deliver it after I finish my lunch break and sponge wash. I always keep a wet sponge in the back, and I park the van, undress, and sponge myself down so that I am clean and refreshed for the rest of the day. I stopped off at Target and bought cologne and a suit I am going to wear for Kate. I have also written her a poem:
“Kate” By Lucius
I delivered you a box today
It was brown with clear tape wrapped around it.
I am in the back of my van looking at photos of you
Imagining you opening the box
Wondering what is in it, because I didn’t look.
The tape was like that when I picked it up.
3:20 p.m.
I have just left the hospital; they were quite rude. A nurse said that she was going to ring my boss, and I told her, “He might be the boss of me, but I am the boss of my life,” which was obviously too philosophical for her, because she just stood there looking at me. She was completely porned. If I were a Transformer she would be so sorry. I took a whole bunch of latex gloves while she was not looking and am on my way to pick up a box to be delivered to the company that Kate works for. I have a strong feeling that this box will be brown, and I will drive really fast to get it to her quickly so she sees how professional and efficient I am. I am probably the best driver in the world, and if I were a racing car driver I would be world champion.
3:50 p.m.
Eight hundred and forty-two! I had to climb six flights of stairs to collect the box, but I am very fit and athletic as I own a trampoline and do four hours of air running every night. Air running is where you jump really high and then run as fast as you can in the air. It is very good for the vascular system, and often my neighbors will come out to
watch me. If it were a team sport I would be captain. I am on my way to deliver the box to Kate. I can’t wait to see her, and I bet she is as excited as I am. I have changed into my suit and put on cologne. I will stand very close to her so that she can smell it. I have cleaned the van up a little bit, as I will ask her to come for a ride. Also, I read somewhere that girls like it when you ask them about themselves, so in addition to the poem, I have compiled a list of questions for her to fill out about where she lives and what she does.
5:10 p.m.
I am on my way back to the depot because my boss rang and said he needs to see me immediately. Probably to give me a raise or promotion. I delivered the box and Kate absolutely loved her poem; I read it out to her and she was speechless. There were tears in her eyes, and she was shaking, so I could tell she was overcome with emotion. She couldn’t come for a ride in my van because she had a dentist appointment, but I could tell she wanted to. She asked me my full name and then repeated it to someone on the phone, so I know she feels the same way I do if she is telling her friends about our love. I will buy her lunch tomorrow and surprise her by taking it in and eating it there with her. I will say, “Special delivery,” and when she asks what it is, I will say, “Me. And a Subway footlong.”