Spud

by Unknown

  Soon all the lights were on and half the house had gathered to see the moose. Pike tried to steal the head but Mad Dog pulled out his knife and threatened to ‘gut him like a shark’. Instead Pike jumped on Thinny, put the wildebeest head on the poor guy’s head and pretended he was humping the creature. We stared at Pike in utter silence, watching him humping Thinny and shouting, ‘Ride me, horsey! Ride me!’ Eventually he must have realized that he was looking like an idiot so he started abusing Barryl instead. Barryl didn’t seem to be offended (even when Pike called him Monkey Man) and stood stock-still like a soldier. Then Pike pulled out his willy and tried to piss on Runt’s duvet. He ended up having a problem with stage fright and hurled Runt’s bedding out the window instead.

  After all the excitement I returned to my bed and tried to sleep. After a while I heard furious snuffling and gasping noises coming from the direction of Vern’s bed. I could see Vern’s duvet bouncing up and down in the moonlight. I didn’t have to call the others because Vern was making so much noise that they’d all gathered around anyway. Even Roger popped his head out of the underpants drawer to see what all the noise was about.

  Boggo ripped off Vern’s duvet and Rain Man was caught red handed. Vern blushed and tried to cover his very early morning glory and hide the picture of Anneline Kriel at the same time.

  I lay awake for hours – definitely a little unnerved by Vern’s wanking and the disturbing pervert noises he makes. I feel sorry for the girl who ever has the extreme misfortune to sleep with him.

  Tuesday 30th July

  The school gave Vern the ‘wanker chant’ at breakfast. Vern blushed blood red and chose that moment to stick a whole vienna sausage in his mouth. Everyone roared and banged their cutlery on the tables. Julian came down from the top table and asked Vern if he was right handed. Vern nodded so Julian shook his left hand.

  After some cunning detective work Boggo and Fatty have got the low-down on the missing Darryl. Turns out that Darryl the third told his mom that he would commit suicide if he had to return to school. Thinny also told Fatty that the missing Darryl used to wet his pants whenever Mad Dog or Rambo entered the dormitory.

  Sparerib called me in to his office after breakfast and asked if I had come to my senses and chosen science for matric. I told him I wasn’t changing anything and then took great pleasure in watching his wonky eye dart from side to side in a worried manner. He told me I could still change my mind before the end of the year. I just smiled and then he congratulated me on the Alan Paton merit certificate. All this attention for a merit award makes me embarrassed – at least if they had only announced a top three I could have convinced myself that I’d come fourth.

  Wednesday 31st July

  TEACHERS FOR THE REST OF MY SCHOOLDAYS

  ENGLISH THE GUV (Wicked)

  AFRIKAANS MONGREL (Could turn nasty)

  MATHS MRS BISHOP (Wife of our deranged chaplain)

  DRAMA VIKING (The resident school Hitler)

  GEOGRAPHY MR ERASMUS (No nickname, but sneaky, sly and scary)

  HISTORY LENNOX (Brilliant)

  It’s great to have The Guv back as our English teacher. Within minutes he had a huge debate about school violence flying around the classroom. The Guv reckoned he was all for a bit of violence and said it gave you something to tell your grandchildren about. He then made me read out my merit award Alan Paton essay to the class. Everyone clapped after I was finished. I could also hear Rambo and Boggo making loud suction noises from the back of the classroom.

  Friday 2nd August

  I got called up in assembly to shake The Glock’s hand and receive my merit award for the Alan Paton writing competition. The applause ran out of steam before I even reached the stage! Wish people would stop talking about it – if it was actually any good I would have made the top ten.

  They spelt my name wrong on the certificate. It reads J Multan. (How can these Alan Paton people take themselves seriously if they can’t even spell Milton properly?)

  After I’d sat down The Glock handed out a few ties before getting a bit carried away in his annual speech about discipline. He shouted on about the third term being called the ‘silly season’. He then glared at us like he was sucking a lemon and said that over ninety per cent of school expulsions happen in the third term. He then stared at some poor first year in the front row and said, ‘Go ahead, those of you who want to test me…’ He paused and continued staring daggers at the first year who’d sunk low into his seat, before continuing in a deadly whisper, ‘… for my response will be swift and brutal.’ You could have heard a pin drop. The Glock showed us his big white teeth in a hideous smile and then, with a wild swish of his academic gown, the giant vampire bat left the great hall.

  The Crazy Eight has developed what we call ‘The Glock Radar’. If our lunatic headmaster rolls his Rrrrs when he speaks, he is considered armed and dangerous. This means The Glock is loaded and ready to fire!

  Saturday 3rd August

  ATHLETICS TRIALS

  It seems a complete waste of time doing track and field trials every year. I know I’m never going to make the school team because I’m smaller, slower and weaker than just about everyone in my age group.

  Fatty frantically dug around in his locker looking for his doctor’s slip that says he has a peptic heart murmur. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find it, had a panic attack, and then sprinted off to the san like Carl Lewis. Further bad news for Fatty was that Sister Collins was off duty and a dodgy looking matric boy with acne and greasy hair had been left in charge.

  The matric boy told Fatty he had to prove to him that he had a peptic heart murmur. Fatty tore back to the house and then dragged me to the san, with Vern and Runt following behind convinced that there was some sort of emergency. We all arrived at the san huffing and puffing to find the matric boy lounging around with his feet on Sister Collins’ desk. Fatty took some time to find his breath before he said, ‘This is Spud Milton. He’s my witness.’ The matric boy looked me up and down and said:

  MATRIC You’rethe fag from the play last year.

  FATTY He was Oliver.

  MATRIC Blind.

  FATTY He only looked like a fag because he had to perm his hair.

  MATRIC Nah-nah-nah… he looked like a sheep because he permed his hair. He looks like a fag full stop.

  FATTY Okay, he looks a bit like a fag… but he scores a surprising amount of chicks.

  MATRIC Hot chicks or growlers?

  FATTY His last chick had huge tits.

  I tried to jump into the conversation at this point but the matric told me to shut up.

  MATRIC How big?

  FATTY I dunno… a grapefruit?

  I suddenly had an image of Mermaid’s grapefruit and started feeling a little unsteady on my feet.

  MATRIC What’s he got – a huge dick?

  FATTY Nah, his balls haven’t even properly dropped yet.

  MATRIC Blind.

  By now I was getting ready to stab someone with a medical instrument. The matric boy lounged back in his chair and gave a huge sigh and then looked me up and down.

  MATRIC You the oke who kept jumping up and down singing solos in chapel last year?

  FATTY That was him. But he’s stopped doing all that now.

  MATRIC Jeez, he really is a fag, hey?’

  The matric let out another huge sigh and opened a packet of jelly babies. He stuffed a handful in his mouth and then chewed for about five minutes. Poor Fatty started salivating and staring longingly at the jelly babies. The matric didn’t offer us any and leaned even further back in his chair like he owned the place.

  MATRIC Look, Fatty, I’d like to help you and fag boy here, but while this san is under my control I won’t be handing out any off-sport slips. So good luck for the 400 metre hurdles.

  I decided that I couldn’t leave without saying something.

  SPUD Are you doing athletics trials?

  MATRIC You mad, fag boy?

  SPUD Why not?

  MATRIC
Cause I got an off-sport slip.

  He smiled and waved a blue slip at us.

  MATRIC Now piss off and go and shit on someone else’s parade.

  Poor Fatty started sobbing on the bench outside the san. I tried to cheer him up but he reckoned that if he was forced to run more than fifty metres he would have a massive brain aneurysm, his head would explode and he would be left to die on the athletics track in complete agony and torment. He pointed at his massive stomach and said, ‘Look at me, Spud. Does it look like I’m built for sprints?’ I shook my head. He nodded back at me and looked angry. ‘I mean, my parents are paying twenty grand a year to send me here so that I get a good education, not to break the flippin’ four minute mile.’

  Boggo appeared out of the morning mist dressed in tiny running shorts that made him look like giant mosquito with long white hairy legs. He nodded at us and said, ‘The second worst day of the year.’ I asked him what the worst day was. He looked up towards Hell’s View and said, ‘Cross country trials. And guess what – that’s next weekend.’ Boggo threw a thumb at the san and said, ‘You’re wasting your time trying the san while Bernard Duffus is on duty. His nickname’s Red Tape.’ According to Boggo, Red Tape has never issued an off-sport slip on his watch. Apparently, the highlight of his sanatorium assistant career was forcing a first year with a broken foot to climb Inhlazane last year.

  Fatty, Boggo and I made our way to the long jump pit where Mongrel was repeatedly firing his starting pistol into the air and shouting: ‘Run, you bloody monkey naaiers!’

  LONG JUMP

  Vern’s first attempt at long jump saw him diving head first into the pit and then noisily chewing sand while people were trying to focus on their run ups. Fatty’s first jump fell well short of the long jump pit and he spent the next ten minutes furiously rubbing his knee under a tree. Simon won the long jump.

  HIGH JUMP

  Boggo’s the only person who does the scissors jump. With his long woolly legs it’s hilarious to watch. Fatty mistimed his acrobatic lunge quite badly and flattened the entire high jump apparatus. Mad Dog dived over the bar head first and managed to clear one and a half metres. Rambo won the high jump.

  JAVELIN

  Mad Dog was the best in the school last year in our age group. He can throw a javelin miles! My throw was embarrassingly short and Vern nearly killed a small boy running the 200 metres in lane 6 when he hurled his javelin sideways. Winner: Mad Dog.

  SHOT PUT

  Fatty won the shot put! I was second worst but only because Boggo fell over on all three throws and was disqualified.

  HURDLES

  Rambo beat us all by about twenty metres. Vern ran straight through the hurdles without jumping and Fatty was disqualified for running around the hurdles and pushing them over from the side.

  100 METRE SPRINT

  My time was 13.45 seconds which made me fourth, although Boggo reckons he should have beaten me but Vern kept running in his lane and making Darth Vader noises. Rambo clocked 11.8 which is point three seconds off the school record for the under sixteen age group.

  Mad Dog won the 200m, 400m and 800m. Rambo said that if he didn’t smoke he would have won the 200m. After our trials Fatty got a savage thrashing by Mongrel with a loose piece of hurdle. It turns out that Fatty had only run to the first corner of the 800m before diving down and hiding behind the high jump mats. He then joined the group on the second lap. Bad news for Fatty was that a large crowd of people had gathered especially to watch him in case he vomited, exploded or had a heart attack.

  After his thrashing poor Fatty limped back to the house looking like he did after being stuck in the chapel window last year.

  Mental Note: Never begin athletics season without an off-sport slip.

  Sunday 4th August

  The Crazy Eight spent the afternoon attempting to stick the wildebeest head up in the Mad House. It took about two hours because Mad Dog and Rambo kept trying to creep up on us and give us frights with it. Also Fatty’s plan of sticking the head to the tree with a combination of Prestik and chewing gum wasn’t as clever as it sounded last night.

  The Mad House is looking fantastic. It’s now big enough for everyone, it has a real Persian oriental carpet, and what with the wildebeest head wired to the tree trunk it makes it look like a hunter’s hideaway. Rambo says he is still trying to think of a way to pump electricity into the tree so that he can bring his bar fridge to school. Mad Dog said he would try and build a wind generator. Fatty said if there was a way of catching his natural gas it could provide electricity to the whole of Natal. Fatty then spent the afternoon trying to fart into bottles. At one stage Fatty reckoned he had turned a bottle of dam water into soda water but nobody was brave enough to take a sip.

  16:30 We found Runt snooping around in the bushes near the Mad House. Rambo was furious and demanded to know what he’d seen. Runt didn’t answer and tried to make a break for it but Mad Dog flattened him with a vicious rugby tackle. He reckons that Runt knows too much and carried him down the bank and tried to drown him in the bog stream.

  19:00 AA meeting turned a little nasty when Linton Austin and Luthuli almost punched each other’s lights out. It all started when Lennox showed us a video interview with Desmond Tutu (Anglican archbishop and nemesis of my father). Tutu called South Africa the Rainbow Nation and said we have to celebrate our different colours together as one ray of beautiful light. Linton Austin, with his foot up on Lennox’s coffee table, said Tutu was a deluded fool and that the real revolution was a class revolution. Luthuli rounded angrily on Austin and told him that apartheid has created a class divide on racial lines and race still means everything in South Africa. Linton called Luthuli ‘simple’, and said that in thirty years’ time socialists will look back and say the revolution was wasted on petty racial squabbles and not on creating a communistic state. Luthuli then called Linton a racist. Linton picked up his spectacles and his notebook and stormed out of Lennox’s house without uttering a word. I kept my mouth shut the entire night but even still it was the most riveting AA meeting of the year.

  23:10 After the fiery AA meeting I headed back towards the house with my ears stinging from cold and my heart beating abnormally fast. For some reason the lights in the cloisters weren’t on and neither was Pissing Pete dribbling any water into the fountain. I marched down a dark passageway that runs behind West House and tripped over what felt like a pile of books and files. I then heard a deep booming voice that shouted, ‘Stop! Who goes there?’ I turned slowly and saw a figure holding a lantern at the end of the corridor. I felt a bit terrified so I thought I’d better answer straight away. I told the figure my name, but simultaneously had a loud knackjump that echoed around the corridor. The figure strode towards me looking distinctly like a stick insect. I recognised the blue and red sheepskin slippers. It was The Guv. He told me he couldn’t sleep so he thought he would take a stroll and look for Macarthur. I didn’t know if he was being serious or not so I nodded as if it was a normal thing for a teacher to be doing at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night. ‘Walk with me, Milton,’ he said. ‘There’s more than one that drifts these halls.’

  The Guv and I must have covered the whole school. We didn’t see any ghosts but I did manage to tell him all about the Milton England adventure. We found ourselves on the under 14 cricket field where I played last year. In the moonlight it looked much smaller than I remember it. We stood chatting on the pitch and it was only after some time that I realized The Guv was quoting Macbeth while taking a pee. He says it’s good luck for the coming season. When he had finished he said, ‘To bed at once, young man! This late revelry leaves an old man’s bones dead to the marrow.’ He then waved his walking stick and cried, ‘Exit! Pursued by a bear!’

  I sprinted back to the house with the wind screaming in my ears and the freezing night air biting at my face.

  Monday 5th August

  WELCOME TO AUSCHWITZ!

  06:30 Vern shook my hand at roll call and said it was the 1st of August.
He then shouted ‘Oi!’ at Spike who was running along the cloisters with three cups of tea.

  Spike didn’t stop or listen. I took a look at the misery that surrounded me – everyone lined up in their trench coats, clutching at mugs of tea and breathing waves of steam into the freezing morning gloom.

  Anderson kicked Barryl in the bum for being late and Emberton kicked Thinny in the knee for not showering. Anderson then moved along the line-up looking for trouble. He soon discovered that one of the Darryls was missing a shoelace. He seemed to take this personally and picked the Darryl off the ground with one hand while Emberton kneed him in the nuts. Anderson then dropped him in the gutter and moved on to JR Ewing’s haircut. Mad Dog nudged me in the ribs and pointed at his right shoe, saying, ‘Check, Spuddo, guess whose shoelace?’ Boggo turned to Fatty and said he was amazed that Anderson and Emberton could get away with concentration camp violence in the main quad. He then spread his arms and said, ‘Welcome to Auschwitz!’ Emberton overheard him and called him a mommy’s boy before thumping his head into the gutter. Boggo screamed like he had been shot and collapsed onto the floor like Diego Maradona (it’s a plastic gutter). For some reason Mad Dog saw red and grabbed Emberton by the lapels of his trench coat and head butted him straight between the eyes. (It sounded like two planks of wood being smashed together.) Emberton reeled back with blood pouring out his nose.

  Anderson immediately cancelled roll call and he, Pike and Death Breath dragged Mad Dog up to Anderson’s room while Emberton was led off to the sanatorium with a battered face. Julian also went to the san because he said he needed treatment for shock.