To each his own
Billy Backwater
The alarm clock shrilled in Real's ear followed by
the piercing screech of his mother.
"Out of bed, Real. It's eight o'clock and Uncle
Billy is expecting us for brunch. Now get a move on."
Real grunted and beat the clock into submission.
"Only had a couple of hours," he muttered from under his pillow.
"Real? Your father is busy loading the car so you
had better shake a leg."
"Okay, okay," Real slurred, throwing back the covers and tottering to
the bathroom in his boxers.
"Just look at the state of you. Hope you didn't stay up all night playing
with that Pony thing?"
"Sony, Mum, Sony." Through bleary eyes his mother looked even more
like Marge Simpson than usual.
"That's what I said."
Real threw his hands into the air and shuffled to the toilet.
"Just have a quick shower. You'll have to settle for cereal, there isn't
time to cook."
"Mmmmm," Real grumbled over the hiss of the
water. "Can't I stay home, I don't feel very well." He screwed his
eyes up and cringed for his mother's response.
"I'm not even going to answer that. Now hurry up." She banged on the
door.
Real didn't answer, resigning to the inevitable.
"Real..Real? Are you ready?"
"Won't be a minute." He rolled his eyes and
shook his head. After 15 years he still winced at his name. Although he was
never really teased at school, it grated him.
Why, he wondered, couldn't he have an ordinary name? But no, Mum and Dad had to
be different. Real might mean Royal in Spanish, but in English it sounds
stupid, we're not even Spanish. He sighed and gelled
his hair in the mirror. Looking sharp, my boy, even with a
dumb name.
"Real."
"Coming, Mother dearest."
"Don't get cocky with me, my boy." She clipped his ear.
"Mum?" He protested, "The hair." He ducked to the closest
mirror to check the spikes were still in place.
"You're such a drama Queen," his younger sister pouted over her
coffee at him.
"Oh excuse me and you're so perfect."
"That will be enough from you two," their mother intervened. "We
don't need your carrying on today, thank you."
Dernier gave her brother a withering look, enhanced
by black rings of morbid eyeliner.
"Right, everyone in the car," their father called from the driveway.
"Going out, Mr. Chance?"
"Ahh. Morning Mrs. Naidoo,
just off to visit my sister in Rugwaarts for the
day."
"Rugwaarts, hey?" Mrs Naidoo's head
bobbed back and forth behind the garden fence. "That's a sweet little
town. I have family there, too."
"You don't say." Ernie Chance pretended it was the first time Mrs Naidoo had mentioned the fact. "That's very nice.
Would you like us to drop something off for you?"
"Why thank you Mr. Chance. I'll be back in a minute."
He watched her disappear in a flurry of colour, her sari swirling about her as
he whispered. "It is only a few samoosa's, but
they do love them," he imitated her Indian accent.
"Here you are, Mr. Chance." She bustled from the neighbouring back
door. "It's only a few samoosa's . . . , oh
hello, Mrs Chance, nice day for a trip to the country."
Rose Chance waved in acknowledgement as she expelled Mr Bigglesworth
the cat and locked the front door.
Mrs Naidoo, still clutching the container of samoosa's, turned back to the task at hand. "As I say
Mr. Chance it's only a few samoosa's."
Ernie Chance interrupted once more. "Don't tell me, they
do love them?"
"Well. yes Mr Chance, they do." She
looked at him a little affronted but recovered immediately. "It's very
kind of you. Shall I give you their address?"
"Not to worry, I remember from the last time and the time before
that."
Mrs Naidoo feigned embarrassment "Oh, Mr. Chance
you are such a tease, have a lovely journey." She waved flamboyantly and
disappeared indoors.
"Why can't we have normal neighbours? This lot are psychotic."
"Now now, not in front of the children, she is
really very sweet and means well." Rose clipped her seat belt in and
donned a pair of hip sunglasses.
Ernie harrumphed and started the BMW.
The modern architecture of
Farm stalls sold produce ranging from fresh vegetables to home-made jams and
pickles. 'Konfyt and blaatjang
te koop,'
signs hand painted in whitewash beckoned passers-by.
"Why do we have to visit the Backwater's today?" Dernier
huffed in the back seat.
"Don't start, dear. You know very well its Aunt Tina's birthday."
"I know, but I hate visiting them."
"Me too."
"Thanks for your input, Real. A real help you are."
"That's not funny."
"Sorry, my boy, it wasn't meant to come out like that. Besides you two
always complain, yet end up enjoying yourselves once you're there."
Dernier crossed her arms and looked out of the
window, her tongue playing with the stud in her lip.
Real, sat back and plugged in his IPod. He couldn't
understand why Uncle Billy insisted on living in small towns where nothing ever
happened.
'Welcome to the farming community of RUGWAARTS'. The bright orange words
emblazoned on the side of an enormous corn silo greeted the family.
"You wouldn't imagine this place is only an hour from the city," Dernier sniffed, "Feels like another dimension."
"You are a ball of fun today, aren't you?" Ernie glanced into the
review mirror at his two teenagers. "We're here now; let's make it a nice
day for Auntie Tina, please."
In place of car dealerships and mall's, combine harvesters and tractors
modelled on forecourts while independent shops exhibited their wares on the
pavements. At the towns only intersection the local constable dozed beneath the
shade of a purple bloom Jacaranda where he protected his vehicle from the
elements.
"Talk about dumb names," Real scoffed under his breath, "Rugwaarts. Why would anyone call a town Backwards?"
Dernier couldn't stop a smile. "Duh.
Just take a look around you."
Ernie nodded and raised his shoulders. "It's the sort of place you Uncle
Billy likes. He says it suits him better."
Ernie crossed his eyes and pulled a face.
"There's no need for that. He's married to your sister after all."
Rose Chance gave a disapproving stare.
"Well that's her fault, isn't it? I warned her years ago." Ernie bit
his lip.
"That may be so, but it doesn't altar the fact now does it?
"Suppose not."
"Oh come on, we'll have a lovely day."
"You're right sweetheart." He lifted his designer sunglasses onto his
head and smiled.
James Tobias
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|
Name |
Comment |
Date |
|
Louis Harris |
Any story that leaves a good
feeling smile on my face deserves a perfect score. I laughed at times and got
serious at times. A good mix of emotion. The descriptions are strong
and the images very real. The characters are believable and drawn well.
I don't think fiction gets better than this. Points 5 - Perfect! This piece of writing, in my opinion, cannot be
improved! |
2008-02-15 |
|
Ron Smerczak |
I want more. What a great family.
Loved it. Please another episode. "That may be so, but it doesn't altar
the fact now does it? "alter/altar??? On
purpose? If so a bit twee but made me laugh. I am
amazed how you have managed in such a short story to build such amazing
characters. Maybe that's me reading into what you've written. Gann for it! Points 4 - Pretty close to perfect. I was captivated |
2008-02-16 |
|
Sasha |
Real. I liked the choice of
names in this and the play on names. You sort of smack us in the face with
your lovely words to start with, but then it calms down. I also feel it
is unfinished and where is the Uncle and the Aunty? And do the kids end up
liking being there in spite of themselves... having a parent's opinion on
their stays with aunty isn’t the same as having Real and his sister evaluate
the place/experience when they are left to themselves and forget to perform
in front of parents. What would they appreciate in this place and why? Points 3 - Very promising piece of writing |
2008-02-17 |
|
Ginny Swart |
Lovely bit of writing, great
images all over the place - but it's not finished! We need to know more!
Bring in Auntie Tina as well. This family is very real and the characters
just jump off the page... Points 4 - Pretty close to perfect. I was captivated |
2008-02-17 |