Control Zed

By Vasilis Kampouris

Thomas Jumpler is a good person; much like you. No matter how you behave though, there’s something in this world that will mock you, dance on your face, grab you by the collar, toy around with you and pummel you; at your weakest moment, it will let you think that it cares and, provided all this happens, and if it happens well, a guy like you is expected to turn the other cheek.
Even so, how much can a good person take? How much time is needed for someone’s mind to be poisoned after all? “Control Zed” is a novel about guilt. It’s the thought that happens the moment when the decisions have already been taken (willingly or unwillingly), while things should have happened the other way around.
It is a book about the ghosts of the mind, for the minds of ghosts, as well as for the human relationships that ceased to be humane.
Thomas Jumpler is the guy next door.
Do you dare ring his doorbell?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781312616837

Book preview

Sober

VASILIS KAMPOURIS

CONTROL ZED

2015

ΤHE BOOK

CONTROL ZED

BY VASILIS KAMPOURIS

LAYOUT DESIGN THANOS GIONIS

COVER DESIGN MΑRIA KARYDI

PORTRAIT JIMI DROSINOS

EDITING ANATOLIE FITOPOULOU

www.controlzedbook.com

ISBN: 978-1-312-61683-7

I dedicate this book,

First of all, to my precious friends, who were next to me and taught me everything that I know: Sean Greene, Panos Albanis, Foteini Vergidou, Dimitris Koutsis, Despoina Pappa, Iasonas Ziogas, Ioannis Pinis, Ioannis Petris, Irianna Dimitriou, Alex Greene, Aristotelis Poulais, Sebastien Nikolaou, Thanos Koutoulas, Victor De Broca, Ilianna Stamatelopoulou, Georgia Saltouridou, Anna Pantoulas, Antonis Droulias, Kostas Zoumpoulis, John Daskalis.

To my family, without them I wouldn’t be able to complete anything: Mother (Anthippi Mixeli), Chara Kampouri, Vangelis Avanidis, Christina Avanidi, George Kampouris.

And to those who worked with me to complete it: Anatolie Fitopoulou, Maria Karidi, Ilias Chatzichristodoulou, Thanos Gionis.

Thank you.

I can’t stop thinking.

How can anyone?

It’s like writer’s block. Your mind is swirling in a merry dance inside your head.

Nah. Of course it’s not that simple.

It’s something more than ‘I can’t do anything other than think about past situations. Think about older mess-ups. Think about all the mistakes.’

I think it’s because I’m alone.

Then again, I have always been alone, even in the wildest crowds.

Look at me. I’m not making sense. Forgive me. I haven’t done this before.

Let’s see… How to start?

There are stacks of paper in front of me. I am holding my pen. A good pen, not one of those cheap ones. I am sitting at my wooden desk. I sigh.

And I start writing.

My name is Thomas Jumpler.

I haven’t done this before.

Writing this way, I mean.

And for that, I apologize in advance.

I understand how unaccustomed I am to matters of fiction. I chuckle, and the sound is alien to me.

I crumple the sheet and grab a new one. I place it on the desk and start over. Hmm. Now I think I know how to go on…

I feel the muscles in my cheeks pulling back into a wretched smile.

‘The show is on, motherfucker,’ I dully note and my hand makes small movements, barely letting the ink drip onto the white material.

Hi.

My name is Tom.

And this is my story.

Chapter 1

Normal Person

You know, now that I think about it, everything started on a normal day. Did you ever have one of those? The setup is simple. You do absolutely nothing substantial. Nothing. From brushing your teeth in the morning, to taking the train to work and then working until you go back home… As I said, nothing substantial. You call your friends to go out for a quick drink in the evening and everyone has already made plans with some other ‘friends’ that you barely know, and it’s a bit late to call people from your past without sounding really desperate.

One of those days. The normal ones. The boring ones. You’re standing in the middle of the metro car, with earpieces hanging from your ears, always listening to your favourite music and trying not to sound like your mother, trying not to ask yourself, ‘What are you doing with your life?’ And you know! Of course, you refuse to reply.

A normal day. I worked overtime, as always, and got home after the sun had already set. I was thinking that I could become a bit more fashionable on the off chance that I might become a tad more attractive, so I would update my Facebook status and I would watch a monkey smell his own ass on YouTube and things like that. I would pretend I gave a damn and surely I would reach the point where I would shout out to the world, Hey, assholes, I’m right here.

Deep down, you know who you are.

I unlocked my door, entered my small apartment, tossed my rucksack aside, walked to my downtrodden sofa and there I collapsed.

I did whatever every person does after work. I sighed, mustered my courage, turned on my laptop, typed in my password. Just a little while after the logo appeared, I found myself perusing my screen thoughtfully. The folders were the following: ‘Movies’, ‘Music’ and ‘Work’. I picked ‘Movies’ and found a small folder named ‘lol’. It was full of funny pictures and videos which would make my day; OK, I admit it, it was full of porn. I smiled upon seeing the folder.

Walk up to any guy –and I mean any guy, I dare you, I double dare you- and ask him if he has a hard drive with porn in his computer. He will respond with a resounding ‘no’ and a hint of panic, but you will know the truth, won’t you? A guy with free time is a guy with porn on his hard drive, or at least he’s that guy who visits websites for that specific kind of... And in all fairness, it’s just a matter of time for him to admit it.

As I was saying then, I was tired from work, I was in no mood to read any book at all, I only wanted to let go, so say what you will, but yes, I opened my porn folder. In a matter of milliseconds, I was in the stash with the ‘stuff’, which I had sworn to erase as soon as a girl crossed my path. But not sooner. I looked up and down a couple of times, until my eyes caught a film featuring one of the best porn stars. You know which one I’m talking about… And I shouldn’t forget to mention: the film had a plot. Hm…

A plot! Frankly, I have no idea what it was about. I’m one of those people who skip to the ‘good’ parts, if you know what I mean… And this time I got in the mood almost immediately.

How long since the last time that… Honestly, I don’t even remember any more, which depresses me. But, there you go, that thought only lasted a second, as I had more important things to deal with, like the movie for example.

What happened next has registered in my memory as one of the scariest moments I have ever experienced in my entire life. I was watching and simultaneously ‘following’ with devotion that scene where the guy is ready to ejaculate on his sexual partner. I remember I even turned the volume down, so that the couple next door wouldn’t hear the moans. No need to make fools of ourselves. I recall perfectly well that I pressed pause in order to get some tissue, pulling it with force from the top of the coffee table…

And suddenly, I saw him. He was a massive guy, a beast of a man, dressed in black. It wasn’t his clothes… nor the fact that he had the body type of a thug… nor the fact that somehow he was in my flat that scared me. It was the fact that he had a knife about the same size as my kitchen knife in his hand, and that he was wearing one of those S&M masks with a zipper on his mouth forming a smile, and all I could see was the zipper and his eyes. Bright blue eyes, menacingly overflowing with malice and hatred.

I did what every rational human being would have done in my place. I grabbed the tissue box and threw it at his face. It hit him with a soft thud. All the while, I was busy trying to pull up my pants which were down round my ankles. Unfortunately, that didn’t work. I fell flat on the floor and could hear myself groaning in pain. In the back of my mind, I realized that my ass was showing and I was trying to avoid an even weirder scenario, even weirder than the one where a guy materializes in my living room that is, which may have derived from the position I was in at the time.

God, I thought, let me survive this and I won’t touch my penis for anything other than pissing.

Behind me, I could hear him breathing heavily as he walked slowly towards me, which intensified my desire to distance myself from that particular place; a task which, believe me, was harder than you can imagine.

Finally, I managed to get up and run, realizing that I was screaming like a little girl. I literally landed face-first on the door. I started struggling with the doorknob, and after a COME ON NOW! muttered through clenched teeth, I finally managed to open the door and run outside the room. But even there I was confronted by the opposite wall. Fuck! My last hope of salvation was utterly dashed, as I landed on the floor again. With my sixth sense, I could feel the guy standing over me, and as he raised his hand ready to thrust, I realized how much the knife shone under the light of the cheap corridor lamps.

Is this how I’m going to die? Pants down and ready to pee on myself in terror? Please let a miracle happen…

Hey, Mr J! I heard someone shouting my name. Alright, not my name, but the name she had made up for me. There was only one person who called me that, by that name I mean…

Christine! Run! I yelled, He has a knife!

My shouts made her stop. It was the girl next door. She’s a very sweet girl of twenty-four. Long brown hair, and at that moment, she was wearing red hot pants, complimenting her ass, and a tank top which brought out the best in her boobs. Lovely firm boobs, I have to say.

She stood over me with perplexed brown eyes gazing at me and spoke in a calm tone, trying to hide her concern, Are you high, Mr J? Are you alright?

I pointed towards my killer, He’s there! Watch out! He has a knife. My last words were followed by a short pause and some bewilderment, as nobody was standing where my right index finger was pointing. No one. The guy seemed to have disappeared into thin air, as if he had turned into smoke.

For some inexplicable reason, I had been expecting something like that to happen. I was lying down in the middle of a dirty corridor; my neighbours were shouting at me to shut up, joined by voices that were cursing me, and despite my daze, I realized they had something to do with oedipal complexes and homosexuality. Yeah, OK, you got an idea of what they were saying, and, no less, I had embarrassed myself in front of Christine.

Ah! Let’s not forget. My pants were still down round my ankles.

As I said, Christine was standing over me and was looking down at me with curiosity in those scrutinizing brown eyes of hers. How certain she was of her assumptions about my state.

Are you on something, Mr Thomas? she repeated, more loudly this time, as if she were talking to a retard, allowing, at the same time, a faint smile to linger on the edge of her lips, obviously in an effort to make me not feel bad.

I prefer Tom, I said with a bit of humour, trying not to offend her as I was finally pulling up my pants and doing up my zipper. I have no idea what it was that attacked me before, I admitted, leaving pretences behind, I could have sworn there was someone there.

She smiled. Again. As if her smile would not fade away one day. Yes, that has happened to me as well Mr J.

Is it so hard for her to call me Tom? I wonder and try to maintain my calm.

Anyway, there has to be someone there, next to you whenever you. … ya know… do that, she said in a conspiring tone.

Yes, I suppose so, I admitted. What else could I say? So, ehm… I cleared my throat, what’s up?

Ah she exclaimed at first and then after some thought said, nothing much. I just got home, heard you screaming and came by to see what was happening.

Thanks, I replied earnestly, putting a smile on my lips this time. It’s always nice to have someone looking out for you for a change. Most people, in a similar situation, could not have cared less. My eyes immediately sought the open door to my flat and Christine’s curiosity led her to do exactly the same.

The sound of awkwardness was deafening. And, from the little I know her, Christine is never quiet.

Do you see anything? she asked abruptly, startling me.

No, I can’t see anything, I responded just as abruptly.

Inside my flat, one could see my laptop which had fallen off the table, and it wasn’t just that. The room was illuminated by the dim light emanating from the screen which was still playing the porn flick!

Should I be seeing something? she asked. Man, she said and started laughing, you must have taken something really strong, she kept on teasing, punching my arm playfully. Next time, I’m keepin’ ya company if you wanna do your stuff. Deal?

Bless you Christine, whatever you say, my voice betrayed my deep emotion and as for her, for some inexplicable reason, she found all that cute and started laughing once more, at me.

Once, I saw spiders, she admitted abruptly, winking at me, intensifying her conspiratorial attitude, the I-know-cos-I’ve -been-there attitude. I didn’t comment. Encouraged, she went on, I’m telling you, I was in the shit.

I sighed, trying to hold back and not show my annoyance. All these accusations had started to really get on my nerves.

"Christine, honestly, I’m not high. Honestly."

Sure, sure, she pretended to agree, making a face of disbelief, which, between you and me, she made no effort to hide, I for one told you, next time, given that there is a next time, it would be good to follow my advice and make sure to have someone with you. You’ll kill yourself one day if you keep acting like this.

I was so desperate that for a split second I believed that she was hinting at something else, that her words were leading to a different kind of proposal… Whatever the meaning of her words may have been, though, I just shrugged my shoulders and gave her another smile. Yes, you’re right, thank you again, I said politely.

You wanna go inside? she asked, reaching for my hand. It felt nice. She smelled like cherry bubble-gum and another sweet scent that I couldn’t quite name.

Yes… I said as if drunk. She was almost dragging me along and I just let her guide me into my own flat like a big mesmerized baby, which, to be perfectly honest, was exactly how I was feeling after my ordeal.

Fuck, it had indeed been a hallucination.

I had seen something that hadn’t been there. That’s how it was, right? I saw something that can easily reach your eyes and stand there when you’re tired or affected. A something that gives birth to moving shadows.

Yes, it had to be something like that….

We entered my small flat together. Rather, let’s call things by their real name: my little studio, which means a room and a miniscule bathroom. I don’t know whether I should feel bad that my house is so small or that my entire life’s treasures fit into it. In reality, the only thing that kept me from blushing in shame was that I knew that Christine lived in a place as equally tiny as mine. It was a pyrrhic victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I tried to tidy up the mess in the room and sweep everything under the rug, so to speak. And now that I mention it, the only rug that was worth anything at all in my house was the one decorating my bathroom. A Tom and Jerry bathmat. That’s what’s important to me. Hesitantly, I decided to stop the porn movie that was still on. Thankfully, Christine wasn’t paying much attention to my movements. She seemed to be fascinated by my fridge magnets, which was very convenient for me, as her