Post by Jack of Blades on Mar 27, 2006 12:28:11 GMT -5
(It's the same set of conditions as the first Origins promo.)
Jack of Blades: I will explain my actions later. The anorexic can wait. Meanwhile, I will explain my history and you will listen bemused by this tale of decadent debauchery and indolent innocence.
As you know, 'Charlie' was not having a very good time at his first place of education. He was taunted by his classmates for his household income and the astute lad had always noticed the teachers staring at him when he had submitted a piece of work.
I would return home from St. Augustine's each day with a face as ugly as the worst sin. My despondency apparent to all but the blind and the ignorant. My parents were the latter. My mother was too busy pulling double shift acting as the proverbial eunuch to her employers. My father as well was working more due to the hiring of a female floorman or floorwoman or floorperson who had forced them to expand their shifts.
Although I would have preferred to have been left to my own devices, my Mother's innate inability to be satisfied with her child's safety forced her to beg and plead for me to be taken to her workplace after school so that I could watch her squalor in affluent effluence and clear up chianti stains off the leather ottoman.
It was here that my friendship with 'him' began. I had noticed him in the school playground on the adjacent bench to me. Alone like me. However at that point in time I was no where near as charismatic and so decided that we would both languish in isolation rather than form some sort of society for the socially retarded.
I had heard his father was the wealthiest of all the students at St. Augustine's but because his wealth had come through familial ties he had been bullied by the offspring of executives and stock marketers. We were polar opposites. The thesis and the antithesis but shared the ubiquitous trait of being rejected by the student body. One because they were impoverished and the other because they were caught in opulence. Both the result of our families. And, little did Charlie know that the families of these two would be the catalyst for their friendship.
I had known my mother's occupation previous to my rendezvous at the 'palace.' Even if I was not comfortable with it. She had made constant attempts to distance me from such epistemic relationships. As if her bosses had installed this hatred for non-graduates in herself. A pre-requisite for the job.
At my first visit to see Jenette Blaine Nolan at work it was then that I released that the adjacent stranger was having my mother tend to him as a surrogate mother. His true mother, if you can call her that, placed me and her child in his bedroom. She was the kind of woman that called stigmata when ever she was cut. She praised 'JC' with zeal. And hated my mother for her conniving method of getting me into my place of education. Feigning religious belief.
Our first meetings were tenuous. We barely uttered a word except for our names. He was christened after some long dead aristocratic relative and carried a number suggesting previous incarnations. I was carrying a name that showed me as a hybrid of races, a bastard of Irish and English.
It got better. At the decimate visit, he asked whether I attended St Augustine's. I replied in the affirmative. He followed this up by asking whether I was religious. I answered in the negative. He said neither was he and that he hated God. I said I also hated God. Our shared nihilism became our introductory common grounds.
In future visits, we would align ourselves as friends. The spunky heir of billions and the quirky herald of nothing. I would do his homework and then we would play Nintendo until my mother had finished her penance for the day. We would become inseperable, constantly laughing at the mock frightenings of impetuous tutors.
The most prominent visit to the heir's mansion or at least the most memorable came when we went paddling in their spare olympic sized swimming pool. The inquisitive heir tampered with the pool's temperature controls and encouraged me to dive in. Wishing to retain 'face', I jumped in and just as quickly sank. My somewhat underprivillaged existence had prevented me from certain childhood basics such as riding a bike or in this instance,
learning how to swim.
The heir called in his father who fished me out while my mother remained quiet as to not distress her mistress. She remained quiet on the matter refusing to tell my father. However, the father is omnipotent and omniscient to his child and events meant that he learnt of my underwater attempts.
I soon started to develop breathing difficulties along with a plethoric amount of other symptoms. It was diagnosed that I had caught pneumonia and that the damage it would do would be rapid and horrific. At this point, St Augustine developed an empty chair as I became a long standing absentee due to my illness. So long that upon my return I was moved into the lower year; the year of the heir.
My mother and father would both take time off of their busy schedules to tend to me. My mother claiming that with signs of improvement I could visit my social better of a friend. My father constantly name-dropping his floorwoman. They would argue about matters I was not privy to. But they would return to their silent disdain after what all couples do. During one of these sporadic events of passion, my younger sister was conceived. But she is a non-factor to these events.
The illness caused severe scarring in the lungs which meant that I was never to be without prescribed mild steroids to remedy breathlessness. The prognosis was that almost any form of dynamic exercise would leave me without breath. I would become an invalid, dependant on those pretty pink tablets. But then again, I would not be the only one to be completely reliant on such medicines.
After about two months, I was able to return to the heir as was my mother to her job. Her 'owners' were worried that they could be handed a process of litigation due to the accent so allowed her an extended vocation to care for me. The heir also showed signs of guilt and had secured me a Nintendo off the constant pestering of his father. He told me to practice in my spare time. I did.
I returned again to challenge him on some sort of marital arts game. The heir was ever-competitive willing to gloat in victory and scowl in defeat. At one visit, he had played his father in a half-assed attempt to make up for missed birthdays with which the older family member won. My friend refused to speak in his loss. However, upon my return, I defeated him in a grizzly and gore filled death sequence. He just smiled and congratulated me. My first victory and my only victory for a while.
I returned to St. Augustine's now as a part of the heir's year. We would continue our friendship throughout the remaining school. He played the acerbic underacheiver whereas I played the subtle introvert. We shared common interests: X-Men comics, computer games and the like. He would always supply them due to the minute wages my parents earned.
I made an attempt to introduce him to another love of mine: professional wrestling. This interest started when my father took me to see a local indie federation. He had free tickets given to him for optimum performance in his job by his boss otherwise he would not have gone. It entertained me completely. I returned to the heir and told him of the spandex wonders but he refuted my passion saying it was artificial.
I rarely saw my father during my tenure at St. Augustine's but I remember at one occasion when he and my mother visited me at school. They and I had been called into to see the Reverend headmaster. Concerns of inherited dyslexia (from my father) filled their minds. Something lighter was revealed. I was said to be a child prodigy maintaining an 'Intelligence Quotient' at three standard deviations above the average. They suggested that my parents send me to a specialised boarding school for the gifted but even with the scholarships available, we could not afford such a luxury.
Meanwhile, the heir's family were concerned with his refusal to apply himself and as a consequence were researching future places of education that carried a reputation for teaching gifted students. The same place that was recommended to treat me. Although he did not carry such degrees of academia as I, with a trust fund and a series of donations, he was accepted while I was sent to a close-to-dilapidated state school. Unfortunately, God's followers don't care much for secondary school education.
We were seperated and would not see each other again for another five years. All ties were severed when my mother was made redundant due to the realisation that the heir's absence will lead to her presence as unnecessary.
And yet, this schism in our relationship would be remedied.
Jack of Blades: I will explain my actions later. The anorexic can wait. Meanwhile, I will explain my history and you will listen bemused by this tale of decadent debauchery and indolent innocence.
As you know, 'Charlie' was not having a very good time at his first place of education. He was taunted by his classmates for his household income and the astute lad had always noticed the teachers staring at him when he had submitted a piece of work.
I would return home from St. Augustine's each day with a face as ugly as the worst sin. My despondency apparent to all but the blind and the ignorant. My parents were the latter. My mother was too busy pulling double shift acting as the proverbial eunuch to her employers. My father as well was working more due to the hiring of a female floorman or floorwoman or floorperson who had forced them to expand their shifts.
Although I would have preferred to have been left to my own devices, my Mother's innate inability to be satisfied with her child's safety forced her to beg and plead for me to be taken to her workplace after school so that I could watch her squalor in affluent effluence and clear up chianti stains off the leather ottoman.
It was here that my friendship with 'him' began. I had noticed him in the school playground on the adjacent bench to me. Alone like me. However at that point in time I was no where near as charismatic and so decided that we would both languish in isolation rather than form some sort of society for the socially retarded.
I had heard his father was the wealthiest of all the students at St. Augustine's but because his wealth had come through familial ties he had been bullied by the offspring of executives and stock marketers. We were polar opposites. The thesis and the antithesis but shared the ubiquitous trait of being rejected by the student body. One because they were impoverished and the other because they were caught in opulence. Both the result of our families. And, little did Charlie know that the families of these two would be the catalyst for their friendship.
I had known my mother's occupation previous to my rendezvous at the 'palace.' Even if I was not comfortable with it. She had made constant attempts to distance me from such epistemic relationships. As if her bosses had installed this hatred for non-graduates in herself. A pre-requisite for the job.
At my first visit to see Jenette Blaine Nolan at work it was then that I released that the adjacent stranger was having my mother tend to him as a surrogate mother. His true mother, if you can call her that, placed me and her child in his bedroom. She was the kind of woman that called stigmata when ever she was cut. She praised 'JC' with zeal. And hated my mother for her conniving method of getting me into my place of education. Feigning religious belief.
Our first meetings were tenuous. We barely uttered a word except for our names. He was christened after some long dead aristocratic relative and carried a number suggesting previous incarnations. I was carrying a name that showed me as a hybrid of races, a bastard of Irish and English.
It got better. At the decimate visit, he asked whether I attended St Augustine's. I replied in the affirmative. He followed this up by asking whether I was religious. I answered in the negative. He said neither was he and that he hated God. I said I also hated God. Our shared nihilism became our introductory common grounds.
In future visits, we would align ourselves as friends. The spunky heir of billions and the quirky herald of nothing. I would do his homework and then we would play Nintendo until my mother had finished her penance for the day. We would become inseperable, constantly laughing at the mock frightenings of impetuous tutors.
The most prominent visit to the heir's mansion or at least the most memorable came when we went paddling in their spare olympic sized swimming pool. The inquisitive heir tampered with the pool's temperature controls and encouraged me to dive in. Wishing to retain 'face', I jumped in and just as quickly sank. My somewhat underprivillaged existence had prevented me from certain childhood basics such as riding a bike or in this instance,
learning how to swim.
The heir called in his father who fished me out while my mother remained quiet as to not distress her mistress. She remained quiet on the matter refusing to tell my father. However, the father is omnipotent and omniscient to his child and events meant that he learnt of my underwater attempts.
I soon started to develop breathing difficulties along with a plethoric amount of other symptoms. It was diagnosed that I had caught pneumonia and that the damage it would do would be rapid and horrific. At this point, St Augustine developed an empty chair as I became a long standing absentee due to my illness. So long that upon my return I was moved into the lower year; the year of the heir.
My mother and father would both take time off of their busy schedules to tend to me. My mother claiming that with signs of improvement I could visit my social better of a friend. My father constantly name-dropping his floorwoman. They would argue about matters I was not privy to. But they would return to their silent disdain after what all couples do. During one of these sporadic events of passion, my younger sister was conceived. But she is a non-factor to these events.
The illness caused severe scarring in the lungs which meant that I was never to be without prescribed mild steroids to remedy breathlessness. The prognosis was that almost any form of dynamic exercise would leave me without breath. I would become an invalid, dependant on those pretty pink tablets. But then again, I would not be the only one to be completely reliant on such medicines.
After about two months, I was able to return to the heir as was my mother to her job. Her 'owners' were worried that they could be handed a process of litigation due to the accent so allowed her an extended vocation to care for me. The heir also showed signs of guilt and had secured me a Nintendo off the constant pestering of his father. He told me to practice in my spare time. I did.
I returned again to challenge him on some sort of marital arts game. The heir was ever-competitive willing to gloat in victory and scowl in defeat. At one visit, he had played his father in a half-assed attempt to make up for missed birthdays with which the older family member won. My friend refused to speak in his loss. However, upon my return, I defeated him in a grizzly and gore filled death sequence. He just smiled and congratulated me. My first victory and my only victory for a while.
I returned to St. Augustine's now as a part of the heir's year. We would continue our friendship throughout the remaining school. He played the acerbic underacheiver whereas I played the subtle introvert. We shared common interests: X-Men comics, computer games and the like. He would always supply them due to the minute wages my parents earned.
I made an attempt to introduce him to another love of mine: professional wrestling. This interest started when my father took me to see a local indie federation. He had free tickets given to him for optimum performance in his job by his boss otherwise he would not have gone. It entertained me completely. I returned to the heir and told him of the spandex wonders but he refuted my passion saying it was artificial.
I rarely saw my father during my tenure at St. Augustine's but I remember at one occasion when he and my mother visited me at school. They and I had been called into to see the Reverend headmaster. Concerns of inherited dyslexia (from my father) filled their minds. Something lighter was revealed. I was said to be a child prodigy maintaining an 'Intelligence Quotient' at three standard deviations above the average. They suggested that my parents send me to a specialised boarding school for the gifted but even with the scholarships available, we could not afford such a luxury.
Meanwhile, the heir's family were concerned with his refusal to apply himself and as a consequence were researching future places of education that carried a reputation for teaching gifted students. The same place that was recommended to treat me. Although he did not carry such degrees of academia as I, with a trust fund and a series of donations, he was accepted while I was sent to a close-to-dilapidated state school. Unfortunately, God's followers don't care much for secondary school education.
We were seperated and would not see each other again for another five years. All ties were severed when my mother was made redundant due to the realisation that the heir's absence will lead to her presence as unnecessary.
And yet, this schism in our relationship would be remedied.
