* I’ve always assumed I was a
romantic. I gave her flowers, I gave her chocolates…I gave her my car on weekends. The thing is, and this
is going to sound abysmal, I’m not even married
to this woman and yet I do so much for her. Damn it, she still demands more!
They say greed is poison and quite honestly I beg to differ! Huh! It’s cold-hearted, life-sucking, back-stabbing,
murder-attempting love! Oh, yeah! Nah, I’m joking about the
murder-attempting part, but the rest is one hundred percent true! Anyway, why
am I boring you with my sadistic love life? The name’s Mike, Mike Carter. And right now, I’m being released from prison. *
Mike Carter smoothly strolls out of the prison gates, looking rather
worn out and well…rusty. His short,
brown hair looked the same as it always did…um, short…and brown..Yeah. He had the look of an innocent man
that had recently endured a lifetime of indecent memories. What did he go to
prison for? Ask his mates when they’re released next
week. Oh, sorry, I forgot you can’t do that. Well,
you see Mike and his pals Richie, Amanda, Novak and Peter have started their
own web-based show entitled, “Blow Your Manhole”. It’s basically a show
about pranksters which has obviously been done before in other shows, but this
one was slightly different. In the fourth episode, something went horribly
wrong.
* Okay, let’s get started.
Firstly I’m going to present my memoir
in a fashion that represents what I was thinking at the time. I am now much
older than when these events occurred. I am a human being, unique like you, but
totally better. I’d like to see you
spend a whole week in jail, putting up with guys hitting on you or trying to
take off your clothes. So now I’m a free man.
Hooray. Yippee. Wow. What the hell am I going to do? Rightfully, I should pick
up the damn phone and tell my parents to add another disappointment to the
hierarchy of my life. Steph will probably never speak to me again, as in EVER.
I personally think she’s overreacting, I
mean I only blew up her house, it’s not like anyone
was killed or anything. Goes to show, it just takes one little fuck-up to fuck
everything else up. Well, that’s it. The whole
show is history. Over. Done. Finito…or finite.
Whatever, it just became a rocket that missed its target and hit a village
somewhere. Some people just don’t catch a break.
It took me a while to get into my new everyday routine, which is:
Get up, brush my teeth, take a shower, make some coffee and head out to
do some job hunting. I usually forget to do the second and third things, which
should explain those bizarre expressions on the faces of those morons who were
interviewing me. It goes to show, experience isn’t everything, even a lukewarm smile won’t even get you far. I’m 20 by the way,
well at this point in time I was 20. So I’m 20 years old and
you might be thinking that I couldn’t possibly have a
remote idea as to what life experience is. Well, fortunately I do, probably
more than the average human, including you. Yes, you!
Had a shave, hit the gym. Good times. At the gym, you are bound to run
into some pathetic, muscular, weight-lifting, steroid-addicted, unloved losers,
who prance around like they own the place. So I do the natural thing, I take my
shirt off to show off my ‘goods’. It’s not much…yet, but I like showing these posers just how much
potential I have. Let me not get started on these women here. I try talking to
them, mostly get ignored and I start to feel like some cheap-shit loser, after
which I say some pretty nasty things to them, purely for my enjoyment. I could
have fought fire with fire and ignored them completely, but you know what they
say…opposites attract.
My life is falling apart. Even my horoscope isn’t saying anything positive. I bought a fortune cookie
and guess what? There was nothing in it! I was robbed by a fortune cookie!
Great! An all-time low! I needed something to feel good about so I went by the
shop at around 4.pm. Every day, there is a blind lady sitting outside with a
guide dog. I took whatever spare change I had and tossed it into her money jar.
There! At least I got to make someone else happy! Now, as usual, I sit back and
wait for my luck to change.
It’s not gonna happen, is it? I’m just wasting my time on something that’s not gonna fucking happen! I give up! I’m giving up! Seriously! And as these train wrecks for
thoughts wallow through my brain, my pocket vibrates. I take out my phone and
see that Fiona has sent me a text message. It says: “Hey! Where the hell are you? I’ve been waiting here for over an hour!”
You can imagine how my mind hit a sudden and surprising stop. How could
I forget about my date!? HOW-!? I’m sorry, but I had to stop complaining and get over
there fast! We met at a nice little restaurant, nothing too fancy, but nothing
that would suggest that I’m poor. Now before
you start telling me what a jackass I am, let me say that this was a blind
date, I have never seen this woman before, my buddy Novak set us up, gave her
my number and everything, but you have to understand that I’m very bad when it comes to first impressions. So I
walked into this restaurant and as my eyes scouted the room, I spotted a beautiful
woman sitting by herself, sipping wine. So in my brain, I was thinking that she
might be drinking the wine, coz she might be under the impression that I stood
her up, so therefore this royal beauty has to, hopefully be Fiona. Desperation
is a sad, sad thing. What would a smooth entrance be? Should I pull up the
chair, sit down and introduce myself in a suave manner? Or should I say hello
from afar, then sit down and start to chat? Hmm…………
You obviously don’t know me very well
if you think I’m doing the second thing!
Hahaha! I couldn’t resist the ‘fun’ factor that
comprised the first idea. So I did as I’ve written above. I
was so cool! I wish you could’ve been there to
witness my magnificence! As soon as I sat down, I stared into those beautifully
blue, yet presently disturbed eyes. Her mouth opened ever so slowly and her
first words were:
“Who the bloody hell are you!?”
This is where my confusion kicked in.
“Fiona?”
“No. Isabelle. Are you Mason?”
Oh my god. This shit only happens to me. I’ve stumbled into somebody else’s blind date.
“Gotta go. Sorry.”
I got up and got the hell out of there. It was only when I looked at the
restaurant’s name had I realized I was at
the wrong one. Shit.
So when I eventually got to the right restaurant, I expected Fiona to be
furious and boy, was I ready to endure her wrath. The only woman in this place
was sitting alone, but suddenly a smile had appeared on her face and I thought
to myself ‘Well this can’t be Fiona? She looks happy to see me.’
She raised her right hand and said:
“Mike! Over here!”
She wasn’t as pretty as my Isabelle,
but she’ll do for now.
“Sorry for being late. Traffic.
Anyway, My name’s Mike Carter…or, um, ‘Sexy Michael’ to the ladies.”
She laughed at this. Surprising. All I usually get is a middle finger.
“I’m Fiona. Novak’s told me an awful
lot about you. I hear you’re quite the
intriguing ‘specimen’.”
“Like I haven’t heard that one before!”
We laughed well together. Good rhythm. Me likey.
“So Fi, can I call you ’Fi‘?”
“Sure. All my friends do.”
“Ooh, well we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
“I hope not.”
Wait a minute! ‘I hope not’? There is a double meaning to that. Better pick up
the pace.
“So Fiona, what do you do for a
living?”
“I’m an accountant.”
“Ooh, now that’s a sexy profession!”
She laughed harder. Good sign.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Growing up, I had all
these fantasies about female accountants. Let me tell you, they were
breathtaking!”
“And what do you do?”
Oh no. The answer to this question could be detrimental to her
attraction to me.
“I’m, uh, I work. Yes, uh, with Novak and a few of my
other friends who have landed themselves behind bars, so I’m jobless right now.”
Whoever said that the truth shall set you free had something stuck up
his ass. The truth relieves you on the inside, but exiles you to suffer even
more formidable consequences than guilt. I know what she was thinking: ‘What a loser!’ Believe me, I
would think this too if I were here with me. Then the strangest thing happened.
She put her hand on mine and with the kindest, most sincere smile, she said:
“Well I’m sure you’ll get back on your
feet, soon enough.”
Merci! I think I’m in love. Somebody
pinch me…or rather, don’t.
“I had no idea you were this
nice. Thank god, I didn’t use my usual
introductory line.”
“And what would that be?”
“Do you seriously want to ruin
a good time? And no, that’s not the line.”
“Come on! It can’t be that bad!”
“Okay. Hey there, pretty lady.
My girlfriends call me Mike, but my flings call me Mr. Carter. Which one would
you prefer to be?”
She and I burst out laughing. I didn’t realize how
amusing that line was! Glad it had came in handy and for the right reasons. We
finished our dinner an hour after its arrival. I was brimming with confidence
and joy, hopefully she was too.
“Fiona, would you like to take
a stroll with me in the park?”
She didn’t look too convinced. Maybe I
came off too strong.
“Um, okay. Why not? I had a
nice time tonight. Did you?”
“Spectacular. Maybe we can do
this again sometime?”
“Sure. You have my details. It
might be a bit too early to ask, but what do you want to do next time?”
“Surprise me.”
I said that line with all the focus, mystery and honesty it deserved.
Ah, what a spectacular night it was, horrendous at first, but immaculate,
wonderful and magical at the finish.
