The Contemplations of a Nobody

By Sid Wright

This book at it's core is a collection of 6 short stories. The book also contains sections such as 'Quotes from a 14 year old' and 'Adult Translations'. Sid put together a team of 10 artists (including himself) to illustrate the book. Its adult nonsense for those who like to giggle. The book was written to raise money for the charity Road Peace in memory of Nicholas and Christian Townend, two lads from Cockermouth, who died December 2010 in a road accident. All profits from sales are being donated to Road Peace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Sep 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479707478

Sid Wright

RGT Guitar and Ukulele Tutor. Creator of Strumpluck. International singer/songwriter. Cartoonist. Illustrator. Author

Book preview

The Contemplations  

 of a Nobody

Sid Wright

Copyright © 2012 by Sid Wright.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

0-800-644-6988

www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk

[e-mail]

304715

Contents

Strawberry Tart

The Adventures of James Pattinson

Adult  

 Translations

Nobin Gob

The  

 Murders  

 Of  

 Music

Bog Rolls,  

 Beakers and Bins

The Trials and Tribulations of Stanley Clarke

Baby H

Katrina  

 The  

 Teenage  

 Bitch

Quotes from  

 a 14 year old…

The Memoirs  

 of  

 Reg Wetherby

Bitter Sweet

Todd and Neville

Growbag

Strawberry Tart

You can’t put a price on friendship

It’s just a weight limit over time

A better eye you get for spotting the anchors

A better ear for the words people mime

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Illustrated by Chris Nelson

The Adventures of James Pattinson

Part 1: The Fall

Illustrated by Sid Wright

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. . . Every so often someone in England will travel

too far north, follow this with travelling too far to the west and you’ll end up somewhere unimaginable. Whether

by mistake or under some form of punishment the reasons are never crystal clear as to why people have settled there. Old folklore tells of such a place where criminals would be sent for the remainder of their days with only the most heinous crimes earning such a resolution. Over hundreds

of years one town was held in deep infamy. In present

day this is where our story begins . . .

A pane of glass separated a face from the world beyond home. Rain plummeted against the thin sheet of fused sand, soda and lime keeping the face blurred looking in from the outside. From the inside you would see a small room cold in colours and lacking any form of character but for a bed, a wardrobe and a small window with a decrepit chair facing it. Worn into this chair rests our everyday hero.

3.tif

Breathing so relaxed you could easily have thought death had found our protagonist if it weren’t for the faint sound of cogs working within his skull. Starting from the floor, clean socks hid small feet and tight jeans, minus a belt, take us to his waist. From there a petite, plain, pastel t-shirt covered his childlike upper half. One arm was bent with a weak hand holding a sporadically stubbled chin, similar to an infant unable to keep the crayon within the set lines. Shoulder length curls hung from a high hair line adding to an already overtly feminine appearance. I wish I could have described someone more fitting to the title of hero. I wish I could go on to talk of someone that actually resembled a man performing great deeds of biblical proportions but this is who we are stuck with and for that, I apologise.

Although this cadaverous, dishevelled and inexcusable excuse of a human is borderline cruel on the eyes, he is as already mentioned a thinker and thinkers don’t always have to look a treat or even presentable enough for mating rights. On either side of his, shall we say chunky nose, are two deep set eyes fixed forward overlooking the town’s main street. Slight wrinkles on his brow add mystery to thoughts tucked away.

Just then, a door on the ground floor explodes open and footsteps are heard halfway up the stairs.

‘JAMES PATTINSON GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!’ the words came bellowing up the remainder of the carpeted steps. Past has proved that James shouldn’t keep his mother waiting and breaking all train of thought he gets to his feet, exiting the room. En route to the stairs he passes another three rooms. Room one is the bathroom and room two is a room that always has the door shut, a room which James may never enter and since birth has never been in, his mother’s room. Finally, room three is his sister’s room. The biggest room in the house with the door always open as if on purpose to remind James of his social standing. The room is filled with colour, life and expensive items and gifts that no one could possibly have actual need for. He carries on walking overhearing a large plasma TV with bad reception. Even plodding downstairs James can’t escape judgement as the walls are littered with photographs of his family all appearing to be sneering and daring to be glaring, silently mocking his existence. A lifetime passes and he’s reached the door.

4.tif

Chores, demands and sentences are placed on James’ shoulders daily and with rise from child to adulthood he is increasingly expected to complete jobs far outside his comfort zones. Today’s task would take place, unsurprisingly, outside among the rain.

While pushing the zip of his jacket all the way to the top James is forced back a little as the wind finds ease at pushing the door open now with the handle pointing to the ground. Pulling his hood right over his head he embarks outside heading for the shed.

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After fumbling with the bolt covered in cancerous rust, he peels the wooden door open all the while fighting the wind. Lying on the floor to his right, underneath his sister’s bicycle, her wrapped up and deflated paddling pool and her table and four chairs for when friends are visiting, rested a wooden ladder. A quick struggle and he’s back outside before he knows it dragging the ladder along the ground unable to carry it against the strength of the wind. Back at the house he takes time propping the ladder before making his ascent. On the first step up, the rung snaps instantly under his foot. Take two and he has to jump up just to get going. By the fourth take he’s made it and precariously, caring little for time, makes his way to the top, clinging onto the gutter as soon as it’s in reach.

Heaving himself up, he rolls onto the roof desperately searching for something to hold on to. The wind was now pounding into James with the force of a champion boxer. His eyes were squinting through the rain