Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel

by Michael Gerard Bauer

Theodore’s face remained unchanged.

  ‘Anyway, Bunga, enough of this idle chit-chat. We’re looking for a lead singer for our heavy metal, punk rock band and I reckon you’ve got “it”. I know you’re in the choir like Billy here, so how’s about belting out the first verse of the college song for us?’

  Theodore’s head remained still but his dark eyes moved to each of us at the table.

  ‘I will sing for you,’ he said.

  He did. He sang the first verse of ‘Men of St Daniel’s’ in a voice that was high and pure and perfect.

  When he’d finished Razz gave his verdict.

  ‘Bunga, this has got nothing to do with any of that cannibal crap of Wallace’s, but I think you might have swallowed an angel, dude. That was rigidly beautiful, man. Which means, of course, you failed the audition miserably. Best I can offer you is the job of backup singer and roadie along with Bilbo here.’

  Theodore looked at Bill and gave one of his rare smiles. ‘I will take it,’ he said and wandered off.

  ‘Man,’ Razz said stirring his hair up into a frenzy, ‘we’re soooooo close. We just gotta find someone who’s more out there. Someone who could …’

  A throat-shredding cry ripped across the school yard. It was followed by a few wild yelps. Over on the tennis courts Melvin Yip was thrashing his racquet around like a weapon and attacking each shot from his opponent as if his, and every member of his family’s life, depended on it. As we watched, Melvin leapt into the air to take a high bouncing return. At the peak of his leap, he shrieked like a mountain lion, performed a wild scissor kick and smashed the ball over three tennis courts and on to the roof of the science block.

  Razz snapped his fingers. His face was invaded by mad scientist eyes and a wide, mad scientist grin.

  ‘Time to unleash Mel!’ he said.

  24.

  SPAWN Of BJORN

  After a bit of shouting and waving Razz managed to get Melvin Yip’s attention and he jogged over to us.

  ‘Yippy, I need you to sing the first verse of the college song and I want you to give it everything you got, man. Imagine you’re singing it for all your awesome ninja bros ’cause you’re all about to go out and do all this awesome ninja-ing stuff.’

  The scary thing was that Melvin didn’t even bother to ask why he was doing it – he just agreed straightaway. And it was quite a performance. It went a bit like this:

  Into battle (fierce grimace plus flashing hands and wild karate kicking) proudly (hand beating on chest) we go (fist punched into air plus bloodthirsty shout)

  Facing (chin and bottom lip thrust out) every fear (disturbingly horrified expression) and foe (tongue out and face like a demented zombie)

  All men (grabbing and shaking groin) of St Daniel’s know (jabbing index finger where brain is located in other people)

  We will fight (more fierce grimaces plus extended version of flashing hands and karate kicks) for justice (recap of highlights from above, all ending in an enthusiastic but painfully awkward attempt at the splits).

  Yippy got the gig.

  ‘Bingo!’ Razz said as Melvin sprinted his way, ninja-like, back to the tennis court. ‘The last piece of the puzzle falls into place, gentlemen. Now comes the most important part. The name. We need something that sort of sums us up. Any ideas? What about you, Scobes? You’re good with words.’

  ‘How about the Debaters?’

  ‘Well, your High and Mighty-ness, I wouldn’t say that was the worst band name I’ve ever heard … No, wait on, you know I actually would. That’s the worst band name I’ve ever heard.’

  Scobie narrowed his eyes at Razz but said nothing.

  ‘What about you, Iggy? You must have something rattling around that massive cranium of yours that could help us out. We’re a heavy metal, punk rock band, man. We need something that says “energy”.’

  Prindabel’s brow knotted with concentration. Then it slowly relaxed.

  ‘What about the Islets of Langerhans?’

  Razz spoke behind his hand to Scobie. ‘Hold the presses, Herr Scobmeister, I think you may have just been pushed out of top spot in the worst-band-name-ever rankings.’

  Then he turned back to Ignatius.

  ‘The Instep of Wanker what, Prindabel?’

  ‘The Islets of Langerhans.’

  ‘OK,’ Razz said, shaking his head, ‘I’ll bite. Why?’

  ‘You wanted something that said energy.’

  ‘Yeeeeeeeees.’

  ‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? The Islets of Langerhans are regions of the pancreas responsible for the secretion of insulin. When glucose levels rise they produce more of it. Insulin makes us store glucose as an energy supply in our cells. Other parts of the Islets produce glucagon, which releases this energy supply back into our blood. You wanted something that said energy. The Islets of Langerhans are all about energy.’

  ‘Well, thanks for that, P-bud. I’ll certainly give your suggestion serious consideration, just as soon as someone puts a rocket launcher to my head.’

  Razz patted me on the shoulder. ‘What about you, Ishmael? I realise the standard of competition is incredibly high, but would you like to have a go at naming the band?’

  ‘Well, I did have one idea. You said the name should say something about us and I was thinking how we’re all friends and everything, so I thought it could just be “friends”, but we could spell it F-R-E-N-Z.’

  ‘Wow,’ Razz said like he was in shock. I knew straightaway I was in trouble. ‘You don’t think that might be a bit too edgy, man? You know, a bit too controversial? We wouldn’t want to fall foul of the spelling police.’

  Razz didn’t say any more. He just squeezed his eyes shut for a couple of seconds then snapped them open.

  ‘OK, Bill. I’m ready. I can take it. What’s your suggestion? ABBArama? ABBA Dabba Doo? Spawn of Bjorn?’ Razz stopped. ‘Actually, Spawn of Bjorn’s not bad. We’ll put that one aside. Come on, big guy. What have you got? Maybe something with a hoop theme?’

  Bill shifted uneasily in his seat.

  ‘Well, actually … I have got a hoop theme one, but you’ll probably hate it and think it’s crap.’

  ‘Yes, of course I will, but that hasn’t stopped anyone else, has it?’

  Bill took a deep breath and went on.

  ‘OK then. You remember that Hamlet oral I did last year?’

  ‘What, you mean the one where I tried to stop you from coming out but just ended up making a complete idiot of myself in Mr Slattery’s English class and getting ten whole days of afternoon detentions from Mr Barker? No, can’t say I do.’

  ‘Well, anyway, there’s this bit in that Polonius speech I thought we could use because, like Ishmael said, it’s about being friends. You know that bit that goes, “Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel”?’

  Razz grimaced and put his arm around Bill’s broad shoulders.

  ‘Nice try, Hoop Boy, but it’s not exactly punchy, is it? I mean we might have a bit of trouble fitting it all on the front of the drum kit, don’t you think?’

  ‘I didn’t mean we’d use it all. Just the end part. You know, the “hoops of steel” bit. That’s what I thought the band could be called. The Hoops of Steel.’

  Nobody said anything for a moment. We were all running the name through our brains trying to find some reason to reject it. Finally Razz spoke.

  ‘You know, I actually think that’s pretty cool. Yeah, the Hoops of Steel, man. That’s awesome. Whataya reckon, Scobes?’

  ‘You can’t beat the Bard,’ James said.

  ‘Ishmael?’

  ‘I like it.’

  ‘P-buddy?’

  ‘Well, apart from the point I made last year about the relative strength of steel as opposed to carbon nanotubes, I’m happy with it.’

  ‘Cool!’ Razz said. ‘Then I officially announce that the Hoops of Steel are set to rock the house!’

  I looked from Razz to Bill, Scobie and Ignatius.<
br />
  ‘What, so we’re really going to do this?’ I said, hoping it might still turn out to be just some kind of hidden camera stunt. ‘In twelve days we’re going to get up and play as a heavy metal punk rock group in front of actual people?’

  Razz didn’t answer me but turned to Ignatius instead.

  ‘P-buddy, how important is it for Charlton to win Battle of the Bands?’

  ‘Well, if Creswell does better than us they’ll increase their lead on the overall points table. If they do that, then as far as us winning the cup is concerned, it’s all over.’

  ‘And let me remind you, Ishmael,’ Razz said, ‘Creswell at the moment has two bands down to play compared to our one and both their bands are pretty good, plus they’re gonna play stuff Crazy Eddie might actually like.’

  ‘He might like a bit of country and western too?’

  ‘Ishmael, the Filthy Pigs’ last CD was called Dog’s Vomit Soup. Eddie wrote its big hit, “You taste like chicken”. Do you really think that “down on the faaaaaarm” kind of crap that Dusty Roads play is going to appeal to him?’

  ‘Yeah, well, OK … but even if we have a band, what would we play?’

  ‘Ah, good question. And here’s another bit of my brillo master plan. You get points for originality. Bands that play their own stuff always do better. At least, that’s one thing the Dusties have going for them. So we definitely have to play an original song.’

  ‘What! We’ve got twelve days before the competition, we’ve never even played together as a band and now we have to write an entire song as well?’

  ‘No, not an entire song, Ishmael. You see, that’s the real genius of my brillo master plan. The words are already written, man. They’re done and dusted. We just have to add some pretty basic music and I’m thinking your dad could help us with that.’

  ‘What words are you talking about?’

  Razz pulled something from his top pocket, unfolded it and slapped it dramatically on the table.

  ‘These words.’

  I could see a few verses typed on an A4 page. But it was the title printed in bold capital letters at the top that sent a deathly chill through my veins.

  HOT OR WHAT!

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding?’

  I couldn’t believe it. It was Razz’s old love sonnet from Year Ten. The one he’d wanted me to give to Kelly Faulkner. The one Ignatius described as ‘fourteen lines of crap’ and that even Scobie crowned the ‘crème de la crap’. I thought I’d got rid of it, but it kept coming back like a bad case of head lice!

  ‘Yeah, it’s pretty awesome, isn’t it? I thought you’d gone and lost it on me. Lucky I made a copy, hey?’

  ‘Yeah, think I’ll buy a lottery ticket,’ I said.

  Scobie’s mouth was smudged to one side. He returned it to a central position and picked up the sheet. He read the first verse.

  ‘Like a microwave on high – you’re hot!

  Some chicks think they are – they’re not!

  They haven’t got the bod you’ve got!

  Man! Are you a total babe – or what?’

  ‘Ah, the memories!’ Scobie sighed then looked at the rest of us. ‘Poetry? – doubtful. Heavy metal, punk lyrics? – just maybe.’

  ‘I’m telling you, Scobes, it’ll rock big time. I reckon it sounds even better than when I first wrote it. Must’ve matured with age or something.’

  ‘A bit like cheese?’ Ignatius suggested helpfully. ‘Well, it definitely has something in common with a vintage blue vein, anyway.’

  ‘Hey, thanks, Prindabuddy! I knew you’d eventually come around. So it’s all settled then. The Hoops of Steel will debut at the St Daniel’s Battle of the Bands performing their original composition, “Hot or what!”. Are we all in?’

  Razz placed his hand palm down on the table. Here we go again. Scobie laid his hand on top. Bill and Ignatius looked at each other and shrugged in synch. Two more hands joined the stack. Everyone’s eyes moved to me.

  ‘It’s for Miss Tarango, dude,’ Razz said.

  I said once before that for Miss Tarango we’d coat ourselves in honey and dance in front of a pack of bears. But I never thought we’d do anything this crazy.

  Reluctantly I lowered my hand to complete the pile.

  25.

  HOT GEEK CHICKS

  Just as we were unstacking our hands, Miss Tarango herself came bustling in. She was carrying a big bunch of manila folders and struggling to hold some sheets of paper in her hand.

  ‘A bit of marking to do there, miss?’

  ‘Unfortunately, just the tip of the iceberg, Orazio, and I’m way behind. Here, boys, take one of these forms before I drop the lot. It’s for the formal. Only a few weeks away now, and I really need to get table arrangements finalised. Here’s the deal. You can have up to six couples at your table but no more. If you need a partner just indicate that on the sheet in the space provided. You must have that form completed and back to me by Monday at the latest, OK? Don’t forget. Ciao.’

  After a quick flash of the dimples Miss Tarango bustled off.

  ‘Man, Miss needs to chill a bit,’ Razz said. ‘I reckon it’s definitely time I started working on getting her and Woody together.’

  ‘I think she’d be happier if you just filled out that formal thing,’ I told him.

  ‘Luckily, the Razzman can multi-task,’ he said, dragging the sheet in front of him and pulling a pen from Prindabel’s top pocket. There were spaces for six couples. Razz wrote his name in the first one and added Sally’s beside it.

  ‘So Scobes, you’re all fixed up with Prudles, right? And Ishmael, you’re set with the Kelster?’

  We both nodded happily and Razz added the four of us.

  ‘Prindabuddy, you’re still tight with Good Lordy Miss Maudie, aren’t you?’

  ‘Ah, actually, no,’ Ignatius said. ‘We’ve just broken up.’

  ‘Bummer, man! Got dumped, hey, dude? Did she catch you sending suggestive texts to your laptop or did she just get stronger glasses?’

  ‘No, I broke off with her.’

  ‘What! Are you mad? You actually had a chick who was willing to be seen in public with you. What are the chances of that ever repeating itself? What happened, man?’

  ‘We didn’t have much in common.’

  ‘You can not be serious. You guys were like two nerds in a pod.’

  ‘Not really,’ Ignatius said. ‘She was more into physics and chemistry and I’m more into maths and biology.’

  ‘Those mixed marriages never work,’ Razz said. ‘So, I’ll put you down as needing a partner then.’

  ‘No. I’ve already asked someone else.’

  Razz clutched at his heart.

  ‘What? Who? How?’

  ‘Her name’s Lily Nguyen. I met her at the Science Expo last term.’

  ‘P-buddy, you’re a chick electro-magnet! Now I know why you’re so keen on all those nerdy seminar things. You just go there to pick up hot geek chicks.’

  A crooked smile slid on to Prindabel’s face. ‘No,’ he said as he straightened his tie, ‘the hot geek chicks go there to pick me up.’

  Prindabel hissed out a jerky laughing fit and there were high fives all round.

  ‘All right, that’s enough hilarity for one day,’ Razz said, returning to the Formal sheet. ‘Billy Boy, I’m adding your name down at number five on this list, man. No arguments, pal. You’re coming. You can’t pike out on us like last year. The Fab Five gotta be together for our Senior Formal. Miss Tarango can hook you up with a token partner for the night.’

  Bill agreed without much enthusiasm.

  ‘Did you ever get around to having that talk with your father, Bill?’ Scobie asked. It was a question I’d wanted to put to Bill for a while but had never found the right time.

  Bill shook his head. ‘He’s been overseas for ages. Only made a couple of quick trips home. He’s back in about a month and then he’s here for a while. I’ll speak to him then. Definitely.’

  ‘Don’t sup
pose you had anyone you wanted to bring to the Formal anyway, Bilbo,’ Razz said.

  Bill took a moment to respond.

  ‘I did, actually.’

  ‘Really?’ Razz said leaning in. ‘Anyone we know?’

  Bill nodded again.

  Razz leant further. ‘Really? What, so you mean it’s someone here at St Daniel’s? Someone in Year Twelve?’

  ‘Yes,’ Bill said.

  Razz’s eyes grew large. ‘Really? Who?’

  Bill shrugged. ‘What does it matter? I can’t go with them anyway.’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  Everyone turned and looked at Scobie.

  ‘Why not?’ he repeated. ‘You should be able to bring whoever you want – same as everyone else. If you like, I’ll go with you and we’ll see Brother Jerome about it.’

  ‘Yeah, Billy Boy. We’ll all back you up, man. And I reckon Ms Heckenvaal, Miss Tarango and Mr G would be on your side too. And if they don’t let you take who you want I’ll chain myself to the flagpole! Just like all those old Suffering Jets dudettes did.’

  ‘Thanks, Razz,’ Bill said, ‘but even if Brother Jerome was OK with it, there’d be heaps of people – other Year Twelves and teachers and parents – who wouldn’t be. And someone’d kick up a stink and cause a lot of trouble and I don’t want to do that to the school.’

  ‘Man, it’s so stupid,’ Razz said shaking his head, ‘but you’re right, Bilbo. Same thing happened with Sal’s formal. There were these two chicks, one from Year Twelve and one from Yearr Eleven, who wanted to go together and there was all this crap about it. Even made the news. In the end those two chicks just had a gutful and pulled out. Didn’t go at all. Sal was really pissed that her friend from Year Twelve missed out on going to her own Formal. She reckoned …’

  Razz froze as if his power source had just shut down. Then he gazed about like he was in The Matrix and the world around him was finally revealing itself.

  ‘Well, I’ve got it, haven’t I?’ he said as a disturbing smile stretched across his face. ‘I’ve figured it out and it’s beautiful, man. It’s beyond genius. I am donating my brain to science. It would be a crime against humanity if I didn’t.’