Sharkboy

Allan had been hiding as far as he could under the rock formation. Drying blood all over his face and clothes. He heard the first scream, turned around and was sprayed by Carl’s blood. It was grotesque. His body was still standing, the right arm was gone, blood shooting in every direction. His first instinct was to go to his help and try to stop the blood flow. As he made a move towards Carl, John grabbed him by the shoulder and told him to run and hide, it was too late to help. Allan fought him for a few seconds and realized why John was urging him to run, there was no way they could help Carl anymore who was just standing there incredulous. The last thing Allan saw before darting away was Carl falling on his back as his feet flew from under him. Something went flying into the trees.

As Allan ran and scanned the path for the best place to hide, he saw the rocks and darted for that direction. There was just enough room, he slid feet first under the largest boulder and turned to lie on his stomach side to keep and eye in the direction of the path. He was out of breath and was trying so hard to not make any sounds. He felt nauseous, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t hold it anymore, it was too much trying not to breathe and trying to make sense of what he had just seen… he vomited on the ground ahead of him… he wiped his mouth and listened for any noise, there was nothing at all.

He couldn’t make sense of this at all. The three of them were just trying to find Philip who had run ahead to hide and scare them when they came nearby. It was not a game they enjoyed, especially in a foreign place like this. There was enough mysteries in the jungle without having one of your best friend pull silly pranks on you. As the they walked the path, Allan told John just ahead of him that he though he could see Philip hiding on a large branch of a tree just ahead…

If Carl would’ve known that morning before getting dressed that this was going to be his last day alive, he certainly wouldn’t have worn these boots. He hated the way they’d always hurt his feet from the moment he was coaxed into buying them by Allan. He didn’t like the way they felt, he didn’t like their weight, he didn’t even like the colour, but Allan said they’d be perfect for the jungle walks they were all looking forward to and so he bought them. He went on a couple of walks to try to break them in before the trip. In fact, he even wore them the night the four of them went to Mrs Salonga, the future reader.

Carl always said he wanted to die in style. Torn to pieces while screaming until your last breath was definitely not the style he had in mind. Nor those boots.

Allan was still in the shower when the phone rang at 7:13am. Carl answered. It was Philip advising that the driver had just called and would be ready to pick them up in the hotel lobby at 7:30.

After hanging up, Carl walked in the bathroom, told Allan to hurry up and looked through his toiletries’ bag to find some aspirins. They had all drank way too much the night before and he wanted the hangover to go away, he wanted to be in a better shape for the long walk ahead. He was already dressed, he was wearing a green polo shirt, beige cargo shorts and a pair of running shoes. Still, he opened the closet door and saw his boots. He hesitated for a second, knowing Allan would insist he wore them, especially today and wanting to avoid the argument, he picked them up off the closet floor.

Allan was still whistling “Together, Wherever We Go” from Gypsy as he turned the shower tap off. He definitely could get dressed and make his way to the lobby withing 15 minutes.

TO BE CONTINUED…

He wasn’t laughing anymore.
He had laughed about it all day, but now that it was really happening, he wasn’t laughing anymore.

Who would’ve thought that what she “saw” in the tea leaves was really going to come to life? He certainly didn’t.

He thought the whole thing about paying someone to tell your future was just a big joke and he only went along with the other guys to stop them from carrying on. She predicted amazing weather on the tropical island, she predicted the good food and drinks. She also predicted that two of them would never return alive. She urged him to reconsider and cancel the trip all together. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to believe her. He couldn’t believe her. She was just a fraud.

As he hid high on the tree branch, trying so hard not to breathe for fear of giving away his location, something was definitely moving down on the ground next to Carl’s lifeless body. He had no idea yet what had happened. He had just heard the scream and then a sort of swoosh sound. Shortly after, in a spray of blood, he saw the boot landing close to him. Carl’s boot. With his foot still in it. Another scream. It had been Carl’s last one.

TO BE CONTINUED…

APPEAL

In my new work, I am faced with legal matters constantly. One of the area I help is the Information Desk as I replace the regular person during the breaks and lunch period.

This Information Desk is there solely to greet people as they arrive, found out why they are coming and direct them accordingly. Each guest is given a number with a code letter depending on the reason of their visit. Some want to pay fines, some want to take a ticket to court, some want to see why their license is suspended, some want to see a prosecutor and see if they can plea guilty with an explanation and get a reduced charge, etc. One of the things we do not do at our office is take care of Appeals, these matters can only be heard at Old City Hall, where the courts are located for the downtown area.

Now I’m still new at this function as it is part of the duties I am still being accustomed to. One of the first warnings I received was to always dig further when people said they want an Appeal as they very often do not need it and are just looking for something else, like setting a court date. Of course it is in my nature to get to the bottom of things, it’s almost like they are being cross-examined.

So the other day, a person who wasn’t born in Canada but now lives in Canada, coming from, say, the Far East, landed at my Information Desk asking for an Appeal:

Guest: I need appeal
Me: Sir, may I ask what it’s regarding as we do not hear Appeals at this location
Guest: I need appeal folm
Me: Do you have the ticket the officer gave you, I’ll take a quick look in our system
Guest: no, no ticket, I need appeal (then pointing to a stack of forms to my side), that one
Me: (looking at a possible 25 forms he might have been pointing at, not really getting him) Sir, do you have your driver’s license, I could take a look at your file
Guest: no, no dlivel ricense, appeal, I’m agent, need folm (pointing again this time I see which one he means)
Me: (picking up the form) This one?
Guest: yeah, yeah, this one
Me: Sir, this is not an Appeal form, it’s a Notice of Intention to Appear in court
Guest: yeah, yeah, appeal
Me: (giving form and number coded for court date notices) Next.

Although it’s a word I rarely use myself, it always makes me laugh when I hear it:

RETARD

It’s funny to me, used in any way.

What’s even more amusing though is how people disguise the word in these politically correct times. Recently I was attending a work function and the speaker used “Developly Delayed” to speak of a kid was mentally challenged. It must have looked like I was really paying attention when I started taking notes during his speech, but all I really wanted to do was to write down this impossibly retarded new expression: Developly Delayed… I’m French, I can’t be 100% sure, but isn’t Developly not even a word?

On the other hand, a very intelligent and very beautiful young woman I work with made a silly mistake the other day and referred to herself as a Retardo Barbie, which made me laugh out loud.

If you’re going to make up a word nowadays, Retardo is definitely a winner over Developly.

Your assignment is to use the word RETARD in a comment. If you must call me one, make it funny, I’m developly sensitive.