Hold On To Your Hamsters

 

It’s de first day but I wish it wus de one hundred and first day, or even de twenty first day – would it be askin too much of de genie fur it to be de last?  I tink so.  Ye hafta get dese first ones over wit to become a man. 

De world’s upside down from today it appears by de shapes of de bigger lads in de school.  Ye see dem around town all de time but ye pay no heed cause yer not in der space.  Now here ye are: yer wearing de same grey trousers and blazer and blue jumper and passing troo de same halls and breeding in de same musty oxygen.  

De 6^th years are all dead tall wit floppy hair and Teenage Fanclub written on der bags.  I thought dey’d be too old fur joinin fanclubs but dere ye go.  I’m in a fan club meself – de Jackie Chan fanclub – but someting tells me it’s not de type of fanclub dese ones are into.  Dey all tink der Jim Morrison.  Too many Jim Morrisons around dese days, if ye ask me.  Whut about de rest of de band?  Where are dey hidin?

De metallers are all de same size, maybe all in de same year.  3^rd years, 5^th years?  I don’t know.  Ye can tell by de long hair and combat jackets wit badges sewn into dem.  And de big Doc Marten boots.  I wonder if dere’ll ever come a day when I can fit into a pair a dem.  I don’t tink so. 

Ye can’t be sure who de ravers among dem are.  But up close a single ear-ring gives dem away.  And dey’re spottier dan de rest too and spit when dey talk and suck really hard on der cigarettes, way too hard.

In de future, if I ever become like one of dese lads, I’d be happy wit being one part metaller, one part floppy, and zero part raver.  Ye’ll never catch me wearing joolry.  No rings, no cigs.  I’ll take de better parts of metaller and de better parts of floppy and play off both sides.  Spots are inevitable, I’ve heard, so maybe some ravers will warm to me regardless. 

I thought cause I’m such a clever clogs I would have ended up in de top class but I oweny made it into 1D which is neither de highest nor de lowest class – it’s somewhere in de middle.  It turns out I’m owney as smart as McGurk cause he’s in 1D too.  Shur dey may have judged me wrongly, but at least it means I’m not alone in dis class on de first day.  De world’s just partly upside down now.

De floors are slippery when ye go inside de school – have de teachers wet dem to make us all slip up before we have a chance in life to do annyting or be annybody?  I don’t know but dere’s someting in der faces has me tinking it’s all bin planned out dat way.  Our first teacher in de morning is Miss. Downey and ye’d tink she’d be all smiles it being our first day but no – smiles are against de secondary school teacher mandate.  She has a long bony face like a ghost in a fillum and I see McGurk already has his jotter open and is sketching out his new masterwork.  

--Don’t be getting us into trouble on de first day, I whisper to him.

He gets her just right though.

It’s good to have McGurk sitting beside me.  If he wusn’t dere, I’d be all alone.  I don’t know anny of dese udder boys.  It’s too bad Dixon isn’t here either.  But his fadder wouldn’t let him take de test to get in.  Dixon’s a smart one – I’d say he would have got into one of de higher classes if he’d taken de test, maybe not de top one, but somewhere in de middle, like me and McGurk.  He’d probly be in de same class as us actually. 

Out in de schoolyard during break, we can see a huge Satanic star painted on de ground wit de name of a metal band – Deicide – over it.  But cause I’m smart, I’m able to tell McGurk dat it’s not really a Satanic star. 

--Why not? he says.  Ah yes, it’s supposed to be upside down, isnit?

--No, it’s not dat.  Dis is a hexagram, not a pentagram.  It’s de Star of David.  More Jewish dan it is Satan. 

--Must have bin one of dose metallers, says McGurk.  Gobshites.  Still, I have to give it to dem.  Dey might not know der symbols, but dey got some balls.  Imagine sneaking into de school wit a bucket of paint in de middle of night and painting all over de yard.  Hafta do dat some night.

--Are ye mad?  Whut would ye draw?

--Miss. Downey.  A massive Miss. Downey from de basketball net right down to de sheds.  Wit huge knockers on her.

--Whut if she tinks yer in love wit her?

--Why would she tink dat? 

--Fur drawing pictures of her.  And making her diddies huge.

--Okay, I won’t make dem dat big.

De next teacher we have after break is Mr. Anderson teaching us Maths.  He’s short and chubby and his face is flat and wide like a pie.  I’m terrified of him.  I’m terrified of Maths.  Mr. O’Hare in de primary could be scary alright.  But in de end we all knew it wus rumours and oweny dat.  Dis man Anderson looks psycho guaranteed.  It goes to show it doesn’t matter whut ye look like, even if yer short and chubby, Maths still make ye psycho.   

Maths.  Will dey ever have der way and be done wit me?

I turn and see McGurk’s drawing again.

Mr. Anderson’s drawing too.  Tables.  Mathematic symbols.  All dat shite.  Everytime he turns his head away from de board, McGurk memorises de face of him and when Anderson turns back, dere’s an explosion of art happens in de classroom as McGurk’s pen does its best to get de round head and jaw right.  All de art starts to infect me so I start trying to draw me own version of Mr. Anderson even though I’m crap at art.  Mr. Anderson sort of looks like a hamster to me so I just draw a hamster wit a big belly and whiskers and teet.  I’ll get no award fur drawing Mr. Anderson but if dere wus an award goin fur a picture of a hamster I just might be in wit a chance of winning.  I tink it’s de best picture I’ve ever drawn.  But not a patch on whut McGurk does.  He’s got de face exactly right.  De little eyes.  And fluffy ears.  But dere’s a little extra in de picture. Dere’s a dick in Anderson’s mout.  It’s a big dick.

--Whose dick is it? I whisper to McGurk.

--Whut?

He stops to tink fur a bit.  He didn’t tink about de owner of de dick.  So he starts drawing again.  He fills out de body dat owns de dick in Anderson’s mout and it’s a shock when de face on dat body turns out to be Miss. Downey’s.  He’s combined de picture of Miss. Downey from earlier wit de picture of Mr. Anderson.  A true artist.  Her diddies aren’t big, but her dick is. 

I den show McGurk de drawing I did of de hamster and he sniggers and says it’s good.  I’m so wrapped up in de pride of it all dat I don’t realise Mr. Anderson has spotted us up de front.

--YOU TWO! he shouts.

He strides down to us wit his chalk aimed like a .44 Magnum.  McGurk’s quick.  He’s used to concealing his artworks fast when he’s caught.  De paper wit his picture on it just seems to disappear as if by magic.  Where did it go?  Is it in his bag?  I don’t understand magic tricks.  Dere’s no point in worrying about it now though cause Anderson has his eyes locked on de last ting he saw us looking at: my drawing.  I try to cover de copybook as best I can wit me Maths book but it’s no use cause he’s on it like a falcon and whips it off de desk.  

--Who drew this? he says slowly.

--Me, suh, I say.

--This isn’t art class.

--Yes, suh.

He looks closer at de picture.  He’s inspectin it hard and next ting his face is going all red.

--Drawing pictures of your teachers is a serious offence in this institution, he says.

--It’s not one of de teachers, suh.

--Clearly it is a rendering of my good self.

--It’s not you, Suh, it’s a hamster.

--Don’t play games with me, boy.  Stand up.

I stand up.  He gives me back de copybook and says, I want you take this rubbish to Brother Frederick’s office and show it to him.  He’ll deal with you.

--Yes, suh.

I start making my way to de classroom door.

McGurk doesn’t say a ting.  I can see him sitting dere holding in laughter as I’m headin out of de room.  Bastid!

Brudder Fred’s de principal.  I haven’t got to meet him yet.  He doesn’t sound as mean as de udder brudders I’ve met.  On de way to his office, I look down at me hamster and tink about whut I’m going to say to Brudder Fred.  It really looks like a hamster to me, not at all like Mr. Anderson.  He saw it differently. I wus tinkin I might have a future in hamsters but I’m obviously not equipped yet to portray dem accurately. 

I hafta wait outside de office when I get dere cause de secretary tells me dere’s someone else in dere.  So I stand wit de copybook in me hand and consider whut future lies ahead of me in dis life.  First day.  Already in de shit. 

After a while, de door of Brudder Frederick’s office opens.  I’m shocked to see Dixon walk out.  His auntie is dere wit him and she’s shaking hands wit Brudder Fred.  Dixon comes rushing out to me.

--I got in, he says.

--Whut?  Ye got into de school.

--Yeah, he says.  Me auntie fixed it.  Dey put me in de lowest class.

I notice he has a folded up piece of paper in his hand.

--Whut’s dat?

--It’s a report card. 

--Whut...dey put ye on report on yer very first day?

--Yep.  To check up on me.

--Until when?

--Til whenever, I dunno.

 

Dixon walks off down de hallway wit his auntie.  He looks really happy even though dey have him in de lowest class and on report until whenever.  I wonder if Dixon’s auntie paid Brudder Fred to let him in to de school.  Who knows?  Fair play to her if she did.  It’s great dat Dixon’s in de big school now.  Didn’t tink he’d make it but he landed on his...knees.  But at least it’s a start.  Me and McGurk will hafta keep an eye on him though cause he might end up a raver.  Dixon has de makings of a raver, I tink. 

Den a voice --ENTER.  It’s Brudder Fred.  It’s time fur me to face de music.  I didn’t tink I’d be getting lashed on me first day.  Take it like a man.  Get troo dis first day and first lash and I’m a man.

--It’s a hamster, Brudder Frederick, I tell him when he looks at de drawing.

--A hamster, really? says Brudder Fred.  He rubs his baldy head.  He’s baldier and older dan de udder brudders I’ve seen.  

--Yeah, just a hamster.

--Are you sure it’s not Mr. Anderson now?  It looks like him.

--Dat’s whut he said too, Brudder.  But I swear I wus just drawing a hamster.

--Right.

--I’m not very good at drawing.

He shakes his head.

--It’s not bad now, he says.

Brudder Frederick den goes troo some papers on his desk.  He takes out an A4 and folds it in half and starts writing someting on it.  Den he hands it to me and says, Take this with you.

I take de piece of paper.  It’s a report card just like whut Dixon had.

--You need to leave that with each of your teachers and at the end of each class they will sign it.

--Alright, Brudder Frederick. 

--Hold on to your hamsters until art class.  You can draw as many as you want in there.  Well, as many as is within reason.

And he smiles.

Holy shit.  No lash wit de metre stick.  And a smile.  Fuckinell.  Times have changed.

Brudder Fred gives me my copybook back and I leave his office and start walking back to class.  I walk very slowly.  Cause I know dere’s oweny a few minutes left before de bell fur lunchtime.  Very slowly.  I’m tinking dat might be de last hamster I ever draw.  Slow.  Well, apart from in art class.  I’ll perfect dem in dere.  Slowly does it.  Hurry up, bell.  I hope I’m not on report fur de rest of me life.  People always checkin on me.  Always up me hole.  It didn’t take de bastids long to get me.  And Dixon too.  McGurk always gets off, de prick.  So whut if I wusn’t battered wit de metre stick.  So whut!  Dey always have ya somehow.  No matter whut dey say, dey always have yer future in der hands.  Yer own future.  Maybe I should rip dis fuckin report card up.  Yeah.  Dat’d teach dem.  Hold me down fur a hamster?  No.  Slow.  Near back at de class.  Come on, bell.  Slow.

Slowly.

Slow.