Hard nuts and soft centres

Remember that awkward time at school when you trealised there was more going on than someone trying to teach you Newton's Third Law of Motion ? Footnote: ASBO = antisocial behavioural order - a non-custodial restriction involving curfews for offenders

Hi everybody, glad you could all make it to our first school reunion. And just to put your minds at ease – this isn’t a knee-jerk reaction to being excluded from the bigger bash staged in June. But it was kind of strange how us remedials never got invites.

 

Firstly, I would like to offer a special thanks to Mr Scrase for making the effort of coming. Who could forget his chemistry classes or his encyclopaedic knowledge of the politics of the mid-twentieth century? And then there were the chocolates that you gave us at the end of each lesson. Truth be known, we all suspected they were a bribe to keep us quiet, sir. That said, few teachers have touched our lives like you have.

 

We have some apologies for absence: Isobel Parker unfortunately wasn’t given bail following the baby-snatch fiasco, I trust you’ve all seen the media circus; and, Max Scaynes is still sore after the op, or should I now call him Charity?

 

At the back you’ll find Anna Tarrant who has some useful info should any of you be interested in fostering; apparently it’s an easier process than seeking adoption.

 

I would also like to draw your attention to the books of condolences, I’m sure you were sickened as much as I, at the brutal way in which the Campbell brothers were mown down by armed police when they did over the local Barclays. They were good boys really and always eager to lend a hand when I had to extract some spare change from the chess club. They’ll be sorely missed.

 

On a brighter note, though, Timmy Tailor’s wife is expecting her third, any day now. I know hard to believe, innit? Didn’t know the sap had it in him. Nice chap – always handed over his sweets without any protests. I’m sure all of you, especially Mr Scrase, will want to wish him and his family all the best.

 

I’m afraid I have to announce that I too will not be able to stay long, other commitments, so to cut to the chase I’d thought I’d bring you all up to speed on what’s happening in my life. I’m now on my fifth divorce and studying a degree. I’ve finally realised that the bad-boy image no longer holds water. It’s hard to play gangster when your loaded weapon only fires blanks.

 

It’s at the bad times that you look back to your happiest memories and for me it was school: drubbing someone over for a packet of f**s; giving the snots a damn good wedgie; and, the fumbles behind the bike sheds, thanks Katherine. And who could forget them chocolates at the end of double chemistry? So I just had to follow in Mr Scrase’s footsteps. No don’t worry, I’m not going to start wearing corduroy or support the local cricket team but I have rekindled my love-affair with Bunsen burners.

 

But when I got my correspondence course bumf, I found a familiar name on the reading list – a certain Mr Scrase. At first I thought that it couldn’t be but it was true enough. The sly old dog had kept quiet about being a professor.

 

What’s the matter Mr Scrase? You’re looking a bit pale; you might want to sit down for this next bit.

 

Anyway, it’s this paper on eugenics and the failures in the comprehensive school system. I’ll spare you all the boring details. Yet some of you will have already discovered that all of us numbheads share something in common - none of us has kids. In fact, none of us ever can!

 

Except for Timmy Tailor!

 

So I started thinking - how come?

Had fortune favoured the cowardly?

Is a yellow streak down your back a mark of increased testosterone?

 

No!

Good old Scrasey had poisoned us with those bloody chocolates - chemical castration for the ASBO generation. God forbid that in sixteen years time the old man would have to teach the über-deviant offspring of Remedial One.

 

And Timmy’s generosity doubled my dose. Why couldn’t the little sod have stood up for himself?

 

So ladies, gents, raise your glasses to Mr Scrase’s legacy – the end of our genes and the butt of everyone’s jokes.

 

Ah, what’s the matter, sir?

Feeling a little woozy are we?

Don’t worry Mr Scrase the Rohypnol will wear off…

 

…eventually.

 

Reviews

[jmt8921]

That was really cool. It was kinda hard to figure out what was going on at first, but that made it more interesting. I'm not sure I liked the way the story was told, just jumping into the speech. You might want to consider setting the scene, not much, just one paragraph or so to give us a little bit more of a picture, so we know what's going on, even though we don't know what the guy's really talking about. That way the reader could focus more on the words and what they mean, instead of wondering if he missed a pargraph somewhere or is just dumb for not understanding. Write more cool stuff like this. It reminds me of Chuck Palahnuik.

[Rhan F. Sydney]

This is very nice...I enjoyed it very much..Thank you for sharing.

[Indigoshadows]

Very well written. I hope you are happy with this piece, because I really like it. After I read it, I had to read again to fully enjoy all the little hints the narrator gives. It's definitely "something I haven't read before". I hope I can come up with some ideas as original as yours.