Yodelling for Mars

By Josh Perry

Yodelling for Mars
presents a strange hodgepodge of original stories arranged in an overarching manner. Each story represents an aspect of an abstract model for experiencing grief and bereavement. The title is a reference to an essay written by author Josh Perry, which stated, “Sometimes, the process of loss itself may feel as hopeless as yodelling at Mars for an Internet connection.” These stories are self-contained narratives representing a larger part of the collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483432014

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PERRY

Copyright © 2015 Josh Perry.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3202-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3201-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908115

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 6/10/2015

This book will be eternally dedicated to

My mother,

My brother,

My wonderful friends and family,

For all the experiences I’ve been lucky to have.

CONTENTS

Closure

Sea

Drawn Out

Why and Behind the Path Less Taken

A Lusty Midsummer’s Night Dream

CLOSURE

DAY 1

"S ometimes it’s hard to say what stops people from being strong. Is it themselves? The weight of the world? Are some just doomed to fault at the hands of chance? What events are there that lead us to finding our strengths and weaknesses? Must we lose to cherish victory? Is there gain on a flat plain?" Chris bucked his head back against the log wall. A dull thunk wafted around the cabin. His eyes swirled around in his head like he could cut patterns into the ceiling, and he exhaled deeply.

Fuck if I know, man. What’s with you and all this yammering on about life and shit? There’s better things to be fucking thinking ’bout, like that sweet piece of ass across the lake there, right? Phillip, a new counsellor at Our Lady of Hope, always had his mind on the female counsellors. Linda or something, right? He rested his arm against the wall, looking out the window across the lake. Christ Almighty, I swear to you holy as hell and all that if you give me a chance, I’ll never go making no silly jokes ’bout my momma no more, no sonny, no, just for a chance at that Linda.

I’d found Phillip to be annoying the entire week he had been there. He never shut up and never changed topics. It was like he was a bundle of wet sticks tied to a microphone that somehow gained the ability to speak; he was thick and loud.

Phillip, shut up, man. It’s like I’m talking to a fucking cock half the time. When’s your group of kids getting here?

Phillip turned from the window and looked over at me, frustrated for a second, but then he was back to his generally obnoxious and absent mannerisms.

Shit, Mikey, they get here at like 8:30 or something. Why don’t all the kids come in at the same time fer Christsakes? Chris pushed himself off the bed he was resting on and started to organize some books and pamphlets he had printed off for his group of kids.

Because, Phillip, not all the kids who come here are as lucky to have their parents drive them here. Ours are arriving from a youth club by bus. It takes a bit longer, Chris said, rolling his eyes at him. How about you, Mikey? What time are yours supposed to get here?

I shrugged, pushing my lips to the side of my mouth in a little collection.

Ehhh … I’m pretty sure they are supposed to be coming in around seven.

Chris looked at me with a raised eyebrow, pointing towards the clock we had posted on the wall above the door. It read 7:15.

Oh …

Phillip laughed to himself a bit. I pushed open the door and ran off down the path towards the main hall, where I could already see a large yellow bus had been parked and emptied.

I had been there for four weeks now. It was my third year as a counsellor there. Things were always changing—the activities, the kids, the owners, and the cooks. It seemed sometimes the only thing that remained the same each year was me. Chris had joined the year after my first. We had gone to the same high school a few years back. I’d never really known too much about him, past that he took courses in philosophy and his dad kicked him out of the house for it, which ended with him working summers at a youth camp though, so maybe his dad had the right idea.

I passed the sign as I walked towards the main hall. Posted right up front on the archway of the entrance was Our Lady of Peace. The name was fine, and it got a lot of parents to trust the place. To be completely honest though, for a camp that featured half-baked counsellors banging each other every chance they had and a small operating staff that seemed to have come straight off death row, we got along pretty well.

As I popped through the main entrance, I saw the grand counsellor greeting the group’s organizer, who was basically a fill-in parent for the entire group of kids and stayed with them during their weeklong visit. I ran up to join them.

Oh, Mikey. It’s about time you got here. Forgot where you were for the day? the grand counsellor challenged.

I stuttered in my space for a second, shifting my feet back and forth before obtaining a scattering eye contact with her.

Sorry, Grand Counsellor Mary. I was helping Chris fix up some of his pamphlets. You know how he likes to print those out for his kids. I smiled slightly, half focusing on the group of five kids behind her. It seemed I had been given the 11- to 12-year-old demographic. They were usually some of the loudest, but at least I didn’t need to worry about them sneaking off at night to have sex in the washrooms—usually anyways. The group’s organizer looked up at me with a coy smile.

Did you print out pamphlets for us as well? She seemed very hopeful in the way she let her words create themselves. There was a positive note to them. She was someone who was made to deal with kids but probably shit herself at the idea of an adult relationship. I made an apologetic smile towards her.

No, I don’t have those. I kinda like to give all my information verbally. You know, talk to the kids and breed … I stopped myself and laughed with only hard breath. "Erm, forge a strong relationship from the start. Who wants to force kids to read at a camp, right?" I laughed a bit. The slight social stress in my head expressed itself in a single bead of sweat caught up in the hair on the back of my neck.

The grand counsellor nodded her head and went off to greet a new arrival of kids coming through the door. I readjusted my eyes to meet the group organizer’s. So, before we head over to your group, ahh, what’s your name?

She smiled slightly at me, crooking her head a small amount as she did so.

I’m Tracey. Almost at the moment she closed her lips, she grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me over towards the group of kids. They all snapped to attention as she came closer to them. Smiling again in absence of a hello, she said, All right, everyone, this here is Mikey. He’s going to be our camp guide for this week. She bent down slightly and pumped her fists into the air in some sort of excited expression. I stood next to Tracey with what could be conceived as a depressed look in comparison to hers. Tuning in and out of her extravagant introduction, I heard her say, So, Mikey, what is the first thing we are going to be doing? She smiled at me with intrigued eyes and pulled a bit of the black bang hanging in front of her face back around her ear.

I puffed my chest out slightly and let warm breath out loudly.

Well, first, everyone, get yer little butts over here and form a straight line in front of me.

The kids popped up off their seats, ran towards me, and formed the line. Little eyes showed they were attentive to what I was saying. I motioned for Tracey to go stand at the end of the line with the kids. All right. So, one by one, I want you all to tell me your names and something that’s really important to you and why. I’ll start. Clearing my throat a little bit, I glared at my shoes for a moment. My name is Mikey. You can also call me Sprout.

A few kids giggled a little bit. One of the most important things in the world to me is nature. I think it’s really important that we don’t forget about Mother Earth. I want her to be here for years and years after I have my kids and they have kids. I nodded my head towards the first camper.

Well, my name is Jack. The thing that is important-est to me is video games. He smiled up towards me.

Tracey jumped at the chance to speak and looked over at him.

Well, Jack, why are video games important to you?

Because they have cool things I can do and I like them. The explanation was expository.

Over the years of volunteering at the camp, I had