2025-07-13, 05:02 PM
A young boy discovers who he is.
You can't ever let people know that you don't know. You understand? Everybody understands that. It's rule number one. Otherwise you look completely stupid. The last thing you want, is to look like an idiot. That's the worst, because then you'll be the nerd on the outside. It's a question of survival.
I don't need to tell you how something gets to be — the thing of the moment. Sometimes it's really insane, but everybody's doing it. And if everybody's doing it, you join in. Even if it's stupid.
Homo — everybody was a homo. The teachers were all homos. Anybody you wanted to insult, was definitely a homo. Even if you just wanted to piss someone off, they were a homo.
First time I heard it, 'homo', I didn't know what it meant. I just kept thinking, 'homosapiens.' Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me, that was idiotic. It was good I kept quiet. Well, when you don't know, you don't open your mouth. That's rule number two — staying silent.
During break I decided I'd ask Michael. I'd be kind of casual. Of course, I don't need to tell you that either. I'm not going to come straight out and ask, am I? Michael was a mate, but still, you don't want your mates looking at you like your a dumbnut. I picked my moment, nobody else was around. That was good, don't need others joining in. Don't need anybody thinking I don't know.
"Mike, hey," I said, all very casual. "How's it going?"
"Oh hi, Davey," he replied, "yeah, good, you?"
All my mates called me Davey. It was okay, I guess, better than David. David was reserved for my parents. My brother used Dave. Davey, David, Dave, I didn't like any of them. Don't know why my parents chose that name?
I asked my mum that question once. You know what she said? She said we wanted to give you and your brother names that couldn't be shortened. Your dad and I didn't want you being called by a nickname. Well they named my brother Paul, so I guess they got it half right!
Anyway, where was I. Oh yeah, talking to Michael, my mate Michael. I don't know why nobody else called him, Mike, or Micky, or Mikey. That's weird, isn't it? So, I asked Michael, "What's with all this 'homo' stuff?"
"Dun know," he replied. "Everybody's calling everyone a 'homo'."
Well I knew that. I wasn't getting any closer to discovering what it meant, 'homo.' I had to think what to say next. I needed more information. Then it came to me, just like that.
"But nobody really is a 'homo', are they?"
I hoped I hadn't put my foot in it. He didn't answer immediately. 'Shit,' I thought, I shouldn't have said anything. Jesus it's like riding a roller coaster. One false move, lean out too far, and wham! You fall out, then it's a hell of a long climb back up.
"Nah," he replied finally. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Well Jenkins could be. He looks like a homosexual."
Lucky break or what? 'Homo', homosexual, not homosapien. But maybe they're connected. Never mind, that was all I needed to know. For now.
*****
My dad was never around very much. It's for that I was always a bit scared of him. Because I didn't know him so well. That and because I was always with my mum or nan. Always, I mean, whenever I was at home with an adult. Yeah, it was not knowing him too well, but maybe it was also because when I really misbehaved, my mum would say "Wait till your father gets home."
Nothing more than being told off by him ever happened. Still, I was always careful when he was there. Thinking about it, I was often such a little shit to my mum that I deserved a good spanking to put me in my place.
She'd read a book by some 'expert', on how to raise your kids. Can you believe that? I had parents that needed to study about bringing up their children. That book said you shouldn't hit your kids. I suppose I should be grateful to whoever that guy was who wrote that book. I know if I was the parent I would have ignored the book.
My best friend Ryan, we'd known each other since we were seven. Ryan was not so lucky. I mean he had a great dad. I really liked Ryan's dad. Ryan's dad built him a fantastic 'go-kart' when we were young. It was like the formula one of go-karts. A crate for the seat, on a thick plank of wood. It had big wheels and even a steering wheel.
Ryan was Irish, and Catholic, the two things pretty much go together. I'm not saying that had anything to do with anything. Ryan's mum ruled their house. Yeah, one day I was round there, we used to always be in and out of each other's houses. Well, he'd done something he shouldn't have. I can't remember what exactly. But his mum got real angry. She took a stick from the cupboard and chased him down the hall trying to whack his arse.
He'd never talked about that. I saw it though, so after that I knew he got whacked if he did something wrong. I never bothered him by talking about it. He'd never said anything, so I was not gonna embarrass him. But I did see things a bit different after that.
So, yeah, um… getting back to my dad. Like I said I was careful around him, but that didn't mean I couldn't talk to him. Well, this time he was home, he'd finished his supper. My dad never ate with us, he had his own meal when he got in. On a tray, in front of the tele. Perfect time I thought, so I said, "Dad, can I ask you something?"
"Yes, what is it son?"
You can't ever let people know that you don't know. You understand? Everybody understands that. It's rule number one. Otherwise you look completely stupid. The last thing you want, is to look like an idiot. That's the worst, because then you'll be the nerd on the outside. It's a question of survival.
I don't need to tell you how something gets to be — the thing of the moment. Sometimes it's really insane, but everybody's doing it. And if everybody's doing it, you join in. Even if it's stupid.
Homo — everybody was a homo. The teachers were all homos. Anybody you wanted to insult, was definitely a homo. Even if you just wanted to piss someone off, they were a homo.
First time I heard it, 'homo', I didn't know what it meant. I just kept thinking, 'homosapiens.' Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me, that was idiotic. It was good I kept quiet. Well, when you don't know, you don't open your mouth. That's rule number two — staying silent.
During break I decided I'd ask Michael. I'd be kind of casual. Of course, I don't need to tell you that either. I'm not going to come straight out and ask, am I? Michael was a mate, but still, you don't want your mates looking at you like your a dumbnut. I picked my moment, nobody else was around. That was good, don't need others joining in. Don't need anybody thinking I don't know.
"Mike, hey," I said, all very casual. "How's it going?"
"Oh hi, Davey," he replied, "yeah, good, you?"
All my mates called me Davey. It was okay, I guess, better than David. David was reserved for my parents. My brother used Dave. Davey, David, Dave, I didn't like any of them. Don't know why my parents chose that name?
I asked my mum that question once. You know what she said? She said we wanted to give you and your brother names that couldn't be shortened. Your dad and I didn't want you being called by a nickname. Well they named my brother Paul, so I guess they got it half right!
Anyway, where was I. Oh yeah, talking to Michael, my mate Michael. I don't know why nobody else called him, Mike, or Micky, or Mikey. That's weird, isn't it? So, I asked Michael, "What's with all this 'homo' stuff?"
"Dun know," he replied. "Everybody's calling everyone a 'homo'."
Well I knew that. I wasn't getting any closer to discovering what it meant, 'homo.' I had to think what to say next. I needed more information. Then it came to me, just like that.
"But nobody really is a 'homo', are they?"
I hoped I hadn't put my foot in it. He didn't answer immediately. 'Shit,' I thought, I shouldn't have said anything. Jesus it's like riding a roller coaster. One false move, lean out too far, and wham! You fall out, then it's a hell of a long climb back up.
"Nah," he replied finally. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Well Jenkins could be. He looks like a homosexual."
Lucky break or what? 'Homo', homosexual, not homosapien. But maybe they're connected. Never mind, that was all I needed to know. For now.
*****
My dad was never around very much. It's for that I was always a bit scared of him. Because I didn't know him so well. That and because I was always with my mum or nan. Always, I mean, whenever I was at home with an adult. Yeah, it was not knowing him too well, but maybe it was also because when I really misbehaved, my mum would say "Wait till your father gets home."
Nothing more than being told off by him ever happened. Still, I was always careful when he was there. Thinking about it, I was often such a little shit to my mum that I deserved a good spanking to put me in my place.
She'd read a book by some 'expert', on how to raise your kids. Can you believe that? I had parents that needed to study about bringing up their children. That book said you shouldn't hit your kids. I suppose I should be grateful to whoever that guy was who wrote that book. I know if I was the parent I would have ignored the book.
My best friend Ryan, we'd known each other since we were seven. Ryan was not so lucky. I mean he had a great dad. I really liked Ryan's dad. Ryan's dad built him a fantastic 'go-kart' when we were young. It was like the formula one of go-karts. A crate for the seat, on a thick plank of wood. It had big wheels and even a steering wheel.
Ryan was Irish, and Catholic, the two things pretty much go together. I'm not saying that had anything to do with anything. Ryan's mum ruled their house. Yeah, one day I was round there, we used to always be in and out of each other's houses. Well, he'd done something he shouldn't have. I can't remember what exactly. But his mum got real angry. She took a stick from the cupboard and chased him down the hall trying to whack his arse.
He'd never talked about that. I saw it though, so after that I knew he got whacked if he did something wrong. I never bothered him by talking about it. He'd never said anything, so I was not gonna embarrass him. But I did see things a bit different after that.
So, yeah, um… getting back to my dad. Like I said I was careful around him, but that didn't mean I couldn't talk to him. Well, this time he was home, he'd finished his supper. My dad never ate with us, he had his own meal when he got in. On a tray, in front of the tele. Perfect time I thought, so I said, "Dad, can I ask you something?"
"Yes, what is it son?"