Stanley

That was the boy ok, stood on your fingers when you went to retrieve your marble.  Everyone laughed at once when he slipped on the hamburger, red sauce covered his backside and shirt.  No girl was safe from a hair pull, some days he couldn’t talk through a mouth stuffed with all sorts of tooth rotting fodder.  He was fond of this diet so usually he was left waving his podgy hands showing whatever he had to say.  One sock remained lowered permanently revealing a cut scabby shin.  Sure he had some friends, of the same skulking ilk.  If a window was broke or cat injured you could bet your life savings this crew would have a grubby hand in it.  Etchings and dried snot adorned his desk. Yeah he was the school girls’ prayer!

Believe it or not Stanley survived to puberty and wowed the females with his elite skills at popping face spots.  Of course he had every new fangled gadget and game that existed. And still He couldn’t put a tie on properly.  The rotund corker wasted the bank reserves equivalent of New Guinea with useless mobile phone calls.  The only class he could find was the detention room.  His parents loved the little blighter to the extent of believing their little love could never do wrong.  So naturally the teacher and governors relationship was stretched to its outer limits.

Stanley wasted no time in accumulating as much havoc as he could on leaving day.  Eyes were poked, girls slobbered over and teachers verbally abused.  A cloud of relief came over the building as he showed his heel for the last time at the school gate, then in to the waiting gleaming Bentley.  Young Stan jettisoned his worthless school report to the scrapping gulls.  Pedestrians were eye balled and Lord help any being less than perfect, they were subjected to mega views of a distorted pop and chocolate smudged gremlin.

Time waits for no one and Stan was no exception, His poor stricken father was the victim of wasted ventures for the lad, borrowings, let downs, the dad tried it all to get the young man started on anything, or at least getting out of his silk lined sheets before Midday.  Stan’s mother passed away at rather an early age and this hit our bugger lugs pretty badly.  The referee between the men was there no more, so naturally the house became an arena of masculine pursuit.  Pop had no back up so one booze fuelled evening a row started over would you believe a CD and the right to play the damn thing.  Stanley’s inexperience with the drink and emerging manhood got the better of him and He pushed his aging father over.

 The young man never meant to do any wrong. It was just that He wanted to be a man in his drink fuelled frenzy.  Poor dad cracked his head on the solid oak table and whizzed pole axed onto the carpet.  Stan had seen the look in his father’s eyes month’s before on Mother. Stan hugged his one and only friend, ‘please! Dad no! What have I done?’  Stan looked around stunned and horrified with fear and anger.  He screamed and cried, ‘my lovely dad, my lovely dad.’  He kicked the CD player to pieces, ‘You, You, You,’ He screamed.  Through the alcoholic nightmare sense began to emerge and he tapped in his mobile 999.  ‘I’ve killed dad He sobbed ‘An ambulance arrived, say what you will for some reason Stan prayed for His pop.  ‘Stan’ said the paramedic ‘he’ll be ok, take it easy son. He’s come round now.’  Stan kissed his dad and hugged him so hard he made him cough. Dad spluttered, ‘Stan best friends forever eh?’ Dad recovered and soon came home, if only to escape Stan’s visits.  From this day the two were the best of chums. Stan got a good business started and met a girl. She gifted Him a lovely son and daughter.  Stan doted on his girl friend and children.  They soon grew up and were sent to school.  One hot summers’ day Stan picked up the phone and the teacher said ‘hey Stan, it’s about Stan junior’ Stan Senior tensed and waited. ‘Just to say your boy is doing well and passed his exams.’

Kevin John Humphreys

08 12 2004