Post by Henry Spearman on May 5, 2016 8:04:07 GMT -5
The Book Of Neforian
1.1
A young man sits alone in his cubicle, staring at the wall in front of him. Lost in a world of daydream. Brown bagged lunch sits half eaten next to him and mindless babble is heard faintly in the distance as coworkers gossip idly. Pages of data sit on both the man’s desk and computer screen.
“Henry! I need those reports by 4 today. Henry, are you even paying attention?!”
Waking up
“Oh ah ah yes. Yes I’m paying attention. Sorry. You’ll have them”
“Ugh, do your job for once” Henry heard her whisper under her breathe as she walked away
Henry hated his job. It was boring at best and downright awful at worst. Data entry, data entry and more data entry was the name of the game. The boss brings in the numbers, Henry makes it a report, the boss picks up the report. That was life for Henry, day after day after day.
Of course, it wasn’t ALL bad he told himself. He got a paycheck every week. His work allowed him to make all his bill payments on time and life was generally pretty ok. For a small town guy this was life. You wake up, you go to work, you come home and you do it all again the next day.
Henry disliked his job, sure, but so do most people. What Henry REALLY hated were the people.
“Look at them, its no different than middle school. No different than high school. Its all gossip all the time.”
Henry hated gossip. Henry hated people who talked about other people behind their backs. Henry especially hated people who thought they were better than others because they were different.
“Breathe bud, just breathe through it, and get the report done. Youll be home soon enough” He told himself.
A few hours of mindless keystrokes and Henry walked slowly to the boss’s office. Knocking and entering he placed the stack of reports on her desk.
“All finished up. Sorted by value top to bottom. Weeks one through seven”
Without even acknowledging that he was even in the room she simply nodded her head and continued on with her work. Henry noticed that her work looked an awful lot like solitaire. He turned and left the office. Grabbing his jacket, he shut down his computer and headed for the door. Quitting time was his favorite time lately. Passing the break room on his way out he could hear the giggles of the people he worked with. He walked in to get his can of pepsi from the fridge.
“Sh Sh Shhh….Hi Henry”
“Oh ahhh have a good one Henry. See you tomorrow”
The feeling of awkwardness filled the room
“Yea…you too”
Heading for the door Henry could hear them laugh in the breakroom.
Something was building inside him..........
___________________
The scene opens into darkness. Somewhere, the dripping of a water faucet can be heard. There is the faint sound of the inhaling and exhaling of breathe. A single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling sparks into existence. On the wall appears a silhouette, a shadow of a man seated in a chair. His voice is clear and crisp
When we are children we know only excitement.
We know only joy.
These are emotions we are born to feel and experience. These are things that we hope will never fade…never vanish…never be taken....
I remember my childhood keenly. I was happy. In the morning Mom would make us Eggos and wrap a warm blanket around us. I loved that blanket fresh out of the dryer. I loved my eggos and syrup, the aunt Jemima kind, Fuck the real kind. I could have spent all day under that blanket if I wanted to. Sometimes I even did. Those were different times though. Before I went to school.
I found that school was a place so different than home. So much colder. So much meaner. So much more exclusive. Mom did what she could to include me in things. She put me in little league, football, chorus……Boy Scouts………
There is a long silence before the shadow speaks again
It was supposed to be such a great experience for me. I loved the outdoors. I loved to learn and I wanted so desperately to make friends. I remember getting out of Moms van that day and walking in to the building. I was flying high, surely this would be different than baseball I thought. I just wasn’t coordinated enough to play baseball. This is different though. This is camping and rock climbing, I loved those things. I could be accepted here….included.
The scout leaders name was Dennis. He was an older man with a mustache. “I wonder what a mustache feels like” I thought to myself as he ushered me into the room to meet the other scouts. Dennis must have had about 5 of his own kids in the troop. They didn’t look like him at all but he was always giving them hugs and they always got to do the cool stuff that I wished I could do.
I loved scouts so much. I felt free learning about all the cool things that Dennis had to share with us. I didn’t have a Dad, maybe Dennis could teach me things that men do.
Another pause. A faint sigh
But it was all a dream….a facade…a joke. I would soon learn that the scouts were even more exclusive than my school.
You know, for an organization that prides itself on teaching kids that importance of good values and hard work it is full of men who know nothing of the sort.
No girls, no gays, no cripples, no freaks
Send us perfect little boys with their rosy red cheeks
Send us your athletes, your studs and your stars.
With Mommies and Daddies with fancy new cars.
But send us your children who are shy and are meak
And we will terrorize and ridicule and make them feel weak
You’re not welcome here Henry they said with a grin
Where’s your daddy oh Henry?
“His mom lives in sin!”
Henry spits the last verse of his poem with fire on his tongue. The camera pans around and we finally see the face of the shadow. The man is handsome with piercing blue eyes. He is imperfect though as the slightest hint of a cleft pallet is visible. Clearly fixed surgically at some point but the slight scar remains
Stuart, for a man as resourceful as yourself you have a clouded mind. You look at the boy scouts and you see a wonderful organization that builds good moral men don’t you? You see it as a place for young children to go to be built into upstanding citizens.
You are blinded by the same thing that Dennis was blinded by. You are as blind as every other scout or scout master who gets just a little to touchy feely with his scouts. “Climb that rock, don’t worry my hand is right here on your butt” They say.
And the boys you lead…the “Men” You are building are the epitome of exclusion and bullying. God forbid a young child is scared of heights or cant start a campfire or looks a little bit differently or heaven have mercy has no father!
They torment and terrorize. They make every effort NOT to include you, to NOT have to talk to you and absolutely not to have to work with you in a group.
Do you know how many times I slept in a tent alone Stu? Do you know how many camping trips I was left behind on? How many times the troop moved on without me because they didn’t even realize I was gone? And why? Why was I so forgetful? Why was I so much different than every other boy there? Why was it just so easy for grown men to leave me behind in the woods to find my own way back home?
Because I was different. And people are always afraid of what’s different.
I remember you Stuart Slane…
Everything about you…
You haven’t changed at all…
But I have…..I am no longer that child. I am no longer that Henry.
I am Neforian
Neforian reaches up and pulls the light string and plunges the room into darkness
1.1
A young man sits alone in his cubicle, staring at the wall in front of him. Lost in a world of daydream. Brown bagged lunch sits half eaten next to him and mindless babble is heard faintly in the distance as coworkers gossip idly. Pages of data sit on both the man’s desk and computer screen.
“Henry! I need those reports by 4 today. Henry, are you even paying attention?!”
Waking up
“Oh ah ah yes. Yes I’m paying attention. Sorry. You’ll have them”
“Ugh, do your job for once” Henry heard her whisper under her breathe as she walked away
Henry hated his job. It was boring at best and downright awful at worst. Data entry, data entry and more data entry was the name of the game. The boss brings in the numbers, Henry makes it a report, the boss picks up the report. That was life for Henry, day after day after day.
Of course, it wasn’t ALL bad he told himself. He got a paycheck every week. His work allowed him to make all his bill payments on time and life was generally pretty ok. For a small town guy this was life. You wake up, you go to work, you come home and you do it all again the next day.
Henry disliked his job, sure, but so do most people. What Henry REALLY hated were the people.
“Look at them, its no different than middle school. No different than high school. Its all gossip all the time.”
Henry hated gossip. Henry hated people who talked about other people behind their backs. Henry especially hated people who thought they were better than others because they were different.
“Breathe bud, just breathe through it, and get the report done. Youll be home soon enough” He told himself.
A few hours of mindless keystrokes and Henry walked slowly to the boss’s office. Knocking and entering he placed the stack of reports on her desk.
“All finished up. Sorted by value top to bottom. Weeks one through seven”
Without even acknowledging that he was even in the room she simply nodded her head and continued on with her work. Henry noticed that her work looked an awful lot like solitaire. He turned and left the office. Grabbing his jacket, he shut down his computer and headed for the door. Quitting time was his favorite time lately. Passing the break room on his way out he could hear the giggles of the people he worked with. He walked in to get his can of pepsi from the fridge.
“Sh Sh Shhh….Hi Henry”
“Oh ahhh have a good one Henry. See you tomorrow”
The feeling of awkwardness filled the room
“Yea…you too”
Heading for the door Henry could hear them laugh in the breakroom.
Something was building inside him..........
___________________
The scene opens into darkness. Somewhere, the dripping of a water faucet can be heard. There is the faint sound of the inhaling and exhaling of breathe. A single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling sparks into existence. On the wall appears a silhouette, a shadow of a man seated in a chair. His voice is clear and crisp
When we are children we know only excitement.
We know only joy.
These are emotions we are born to feel and experience. These are things that we hope will never fade…never vanish…never be taken....
I remember my childhood keenly. I was happy. In the morning Mom would make us Eggos and wrap a warm blanket around us. I loved that blanket fresh out of the dryer. I loved my eggos and syrup, the aunt Jemima kind, Fuck the real kind. I could have spent all day under that blanket if I wanted to. Sometimes I even did. Those were different times though. Before I went to school.
I found that school was a place so different than home. So much colder. So much meaner. So much more exclusive. Mom did what she could to include me in things. She put me in little league, football, chorus……Boy Scouts………
There is a long silence before the shadow speaks again
It was supposed to be such a great experience for me. I loved the outdoors. I loved to learn and I wanted so desperately to make friends. I remember getting out of Moms van that day and walking in to the building. I was flying high, surely this would be different than baseball I thought. I just wasn’t coordinated enough to play baseball. This is different though. This is camping and rock climbing, I loved those things. I could be accepted here….included.
The scout leaders name was Dennis. He was an older man with a mustache. “I wonder what a mustache feels like” I thought to myself as he ushered me into the room to meet the other scouts. Dennis must have had about 5 of his own kids in the troop. They didn’t look like him at all but he was always giving them hugs and they always got to do the cool stuff that I wished I could do.
I loved scouts so much. I felt free learning about all the cool things that Dennis had to share with us. I didn’t have a Dad, maybe Dennis could teach me things that men do.
Another pause. A faint sigh
But it was all a dream….a facade…a joke. I would soon learn that the scouts were even more exclusive than my school.
You know, for an organization that prides itself on teaching kids that importance of good values and hard work it is full of men who know nothing of the sort.
No girls, no gays, no cripples, no freaks
Send us perfect little boys with their rosy red cheeks
Send us your athletes, your studs and your stars.
With Mommies and Daddies with fancy new cars.
But send us your children who are shy and are meak
And we will terrorize and ridicule and make them feel weak
You’re not welcome here Henry they said with a grin
Where’s your daddy oh Henry?
“His mom lives in sin!”
Henry spits the last verse of his poem with fire on his tongue. The camera pans around and we finally see the face of the shadow. The man is handsome with piercing blue eyes. He is imperfect though as the slightest hint of a cleft pallet is visible. Clearly fixed surgically at some point but the slight scar remains
Stuart, for a man as resourceful as yourself you have a clouded mind. You look at the boy scouts and you see a wonderful organization that builds good moral men don’t you? You see it as a place for young children to go to be built into upstanding citizens.
You are blinded by the same thing that Dennis was blinded by. You are as blind as every other scout or scout master who gets just a little to touchy feely with his scouts. “Climb that rock, don’t worry my hand is right here on your butt” They say.
And the boys you lead…the “Men” You are building are the epitome of exclusion and bullying. God forbid a young child is scared of heights or cant start a campfire or looks a little bit differently or heaven have mercy has no father!
They torment and terrorize. They make every effort NOT to include you, to NOT have to talk to you and absolutely not to have to work with you in a group.
Do you know how many times I slept in a tent alone Stu? Do you know how many camping trips I was left behind on? How many times the troop moved on without me because they didn’t even realize I was gone? And why? Why was I so forgetful? Why was I so much different than every other boy there? Why was it just so easy for grown men to leave me behind in the woods to find my own way back home?
Because I was different. And people are always afraid of what’s different.
I remember you Stuart Slane…
Everything about you…
You haven’t changed at all…
But I have…..I am no longer that child. I am no longer that Henry.
I am Neforian
Neforian reaches up and pulls the light string and plunges the room into darkness
