Summer Solstice
Waxing Gibbous
Like most of my stories this one needs a little background, in this case a small summary of my school years. Nightmare. Too short? Okies, a nightmare of beatings, abuse, beatings, mental torture, beatings and trying to ignore the pain of bruise upon bruise. Highlights include being pushed onto train tracks in front of fast approaching trains, circular saw blades used as shuriken for those dance! sissy boy! dance! moments and the always delightful discovery that someone has pissed upon on you or your property. I think that's a clear enough mental image for you without changing the subject.
And as if it has all been just dream we find ourselves back in the present day without the unpleasant special fx that show a flash back is occurring on television. A strangely compelling short film is being broadcast, detailing the bullying and subsequent suicide of a teen, all taped in obsessive detail by the obsessive teen, the mother of the victim views the tapes that document the bullying and finally death by gunshot with her stiffening son in her arms. The by now slightly deranged mom discovers it's parents night tonight and decides to attend, not forgetting to put on a nice face, choose a demure ensemble without unpleasant blood stains and or course the gun her son had so recently used to end his own life.
After a suitably hallucinogenic beginning to the evening, mom first shows the tape of the suicide to the headmaster before questioning him live on film and finally executing him, the parents of all the children who tormented her boy are next, hunted down in a blacked out hall as the pale light of a view screen illuminates her determined expression and then, at last the arch bully is gunned down, his crimes paid for in an inevitable ignominious death. Finally as the credits roll we see the by now well cracked mother rocking gently with her dead son in her arms. Fabulous suspense, incredible camera work and a marvellous plot twist.
So why am I so tickled pink with this little film? It was shot in the same school I attended, when she's stalking the corridor with a loaded gun it was the same corridor I ran down in terror chased by a gang armed with bats. The hall which ends up blood stained and horrific, stalked by an avenging angel of death is the same hall where bitter childhood defeats were inflicted upon me. You have no idea what a vicarious thrill I got out of seeing this film and I can assure I needed absolutely no help setting the scene.
Strange, I seem to have had a great weight lifted from my shoulders, there's nothing quite like seeing everyone you ever hated slaughtered then settling down to write a nice daylog about it, maybe chat with a few friends and check on the doings of others, without of course having to go to prison, actually kill anybody or do anything other than enjoy the slowly dawning realisation that I will never again be bothered by thoughts of school days.