Praying for Boredom
We were bored. So I tried to save the night by asking a question I had not asked in ten years: “who wants to play 40/40?”. A couple of friends laughed, but I was serious. With confidence I asked them the same question. With a shrug and sigh we began to play in the dark solitude of the night.
Nostalgia had won. Immediately my girlfriend and I carefully trod the same skipping steps we had taken as toddlers. With childish frenzy I launched myself in to a bush, but it was no use- we could not hide there. Eventually we found a forest of mounds, and hid there like escaped convicts: if our life depended on it we were not going to be caught! So we had to sit patiently, waiting for generations and millenniums to pass in the bitter cold. That was until Lizzie broke old time and complained ‘my arse is numb’. I laughed so loudly, the sleeping birds shook from the trees. Damn it! I had blown our cover- we had to run- now!
We scrambled towards the base and to our disappointment everyone had returned before we did. But, something was wrong. Our friends’ faces and clothes had changed: fashionable Primark was replaced by puma tracksuit bottoms and the girls had lost their sex and their hair, except one. Once my eyes stopped flowing over with frost, I soon realised these people were not our friends. We had been ambushed.
They surrounded Foxy and our valuables. It became clear that this was not a game anymore. You don’t play ‘marco polo’ in a fish tank full of piranhas, so cautiously I made conversation with them. After a couple of false starts, I got to know one of them and he was quite polite. But I was still concerned for Lizzie’s safety, and walked her back to the Safe Zone. Foxy was left on his own; he was pregnant with fear. I didn’t know him, but he could not be left on his own; he might be torn to pieces.
I found his friend Horny and explained the whole situation. It seems no-one knew what going on- everyone was in the dark, literally. Once he was enlightened, we both went back to defend his friend against the hounds. For a while silence dominated the night- not a snap or a howl could be heard. But, they were merely procrastinating- the feast would come.
With a trumpet of ‘he says he fancies you’, the ceremony began. The only girl responded in harmony ‘I’ve got a boyfriend’ and then bang! The fireworks went off. The silence had split with the rage of thumping fists. Two guys pinned me, the smallest prey there was, to the ground. I tried to fight back and escape but I was in chains. Soon I didn’t know where I was- all I could do is cover my temples, as the boxers do.
Just stay conscious. Just stay conscious. Just stay conscious! No not like this. Not like this! Cried my monologues which wept in my tears. This man, this boy, I don’t know, is mistaken. He kept pummelling me as if I had murdered his family and then torched his house. What was going through his head- I can’t describe it- try describing sound. But, I imagine I was just another faceless punch bag which squeezed out all of his frustrations and anguish. If that was the case, he had a lifetime of pain because he never stopped. He wanted me dead.
A conscience pricked and stopped the proceedings. The polite guy I spoke to before saved me; he seemed to have authority in the group and with a word the hungry psychopath had finished. I survived and ran and stumbled and ran to safety. Dazed and confused I saw the night flash with sirens.