Man of Our Times: A Modern Comedy

By Anthony North

When his actions had consequences Wayne was shocked. His life was so easy - 'do what I want and to hell with the consequences' - but that belly kept on getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony North
• Release date: Apr 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005542887

Anthony North

Thinker & Storyteller****7,453 Words to Save the UK and I,Writer are now FREE. Scroll down to find them.*****1955 (Yorkshire, England) – I am born (Damn! Already been done). ‘Twas the best of times ... (Oh well).I was actually born in the year of Einstein's death, close to Scrooge's Counting House. It doesn't mean anything but it sounds good. As for my education, I left school at 15 and have had no formal education since. Hence, I'm self-taught.****From a family of newsagents, at 18 I did a Dick Whittington and went off to London, only to return to pretend to be Charlie and work in a chocolate factory.When I was ten I was asked what I wanted to be. I said soldier, writer and Dad. I never thought of it for years – having too much fun, such as a time as lead guitarist in a local rock band – but I served nine years in the RAF, got married and had seven kids. I realized my words had been precognitive when, at age 27, I came down with M.E. – a condition I’ve suffered ever since – and turned my attention to writing.Indeed, as I realized that no expert could tell me what was wrong with me, I began my quest to find out why. Little did I realize it would last decades and take me through the entire history of knowledge, leaving me with the certainty that our knowledge systems are inadequate.****My non-fiction is based on P-ology, a thought process I devised to work with patterns of knowledge, and designed to be a bedfellow to specialization. A form of Rational Holism, it seeks out areas the specialist may have missed. I work from encyclopaedias and introductory volumes in order to gain a grasp of many subjects and am not an expert in anything, but those patterns keep forming. Hence, I do not deal in truth, but ideas, and cover everything from politics to the paranormal.When reading my work I ask only: do I make sense? Of course, an expert would say: a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. I agree. And an expert has so little knowledge of everything.I also write novels and Flash Fiction in all genres.

Book preview

Man of Our Times:

A Modern Comedy

By Anthony North

Copyright: Anthony North 2021

Cover image copyright: Hayley North, 2021

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission

Other books by Anthony North

In 2019 I began publishing 14 volumes of my fiction, inc 7 novels in most genres, & 21 works of non-fiction covering cults, politics, conspiracies, religion, disasters, science, philosophy, warfare, crime, psychology, new age, green issues & all areas of the unexplained, inc ufology, lost worlds and the paranormal. Hopefully appearing at the rate of one a month, check out the latest launch at my bookstore at http://anthonynorth.com or buy direct from Smashwords for all devices at: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/anthonynorth

In addition to the above, you may like my ‘I’ Series – 8 volumes of flash fiction (horror, sci fi, romance, adventure, crime), 4 volumes of poetry & 5 volumes of short essays from politics to the unexplained. Available from same links as above. Also check out my bookstore for news of my books out in paperback.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

About the Author

Connect With Anthony

Chapter One

We were leant against the wall outside the club. I said:

'Fuck.'

'Yes. Please,' she said.

'No. '

'What!!?'

'No ... I mean ... can't get it out the packet.'

'Oh.'

'Got it.'

'Get it on. Quick. I want it.'

'Okay.'

'Quick!!'

'Right. I'm ready.'

'Ooohh, yes. Really do it.'

'I am.'

'Ooohh, yes.'

'Aaahh.'

'mmm.'

'Thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

'Oh shit!'

'What?'

'It's burst.'

The story of my life. That's what it is. The story of my life. You know. Cock ups; if you'll excuse the pun. I reckon, when I was born, some Cosmic Joker - you know, the old fella in the sky - pasted a label on me saying: 'At every opportunity, cock this little runt up.' And at every opportunity, he's been true to his word.

Of course, immediately afterwards I never thought much about it. After all, who bothers about fathering the odd little one nowadays. No big deal. And anyway, she'd be bound to take the morning after pill tomorrow, if she wasn't already on the pill. Who isn't, I say, who bloody isn't. Great, ain't it!

Anyway, she scored nine out of ten, bearing in mind the limitations; the hard wall, the cold night; trying not to get my trousers in the puddle. And seeing she scored so well, I thought it only right to introduce myself as we walked back into the club.

'I'm Wayne,' I' said, my hand around her waist.

She looked at me in a suspicious sort of way. Eventually, she said: 'Tracy.'

So this was Tracy. Tracy who? I had no idea. But who cares, other than the doc, or social security, or whatever. Last names are to do with families, and what the hell are they for.

Tracy was a cool chick; I could tell that straight away.

About my height - short - with a slim body just bordering on anorexic. Her hair was dark brown and she had beautiful pale brown eyes. I'd remember Tracy, that's for sure - a good memory.

Dave came over as we went back into the club. Big Dave. Six foot Dave. Six pack Dave, size 13 feet with a big mouth, little cock and even smaller brain.

'Where you been?' he said, ignoring the girl.

'Ah, well,' I said.

'Yea?’

The music was loud, just as I liked it. I turned to Tracy. 'That's Dave,' I said, 'my friend.'

'Nice,' she said. Then: 'Let's dance.'

Dave would have to wait to learn where I'd been. He really should have paid more attention to 'Those Lessons' at school.

'You gave her one,' said Dave, 'didn't you.' He had a big, thick smile on his face.

'Yea, Dave, you guessed it.'

Tracy had dissolved into the crowd half an hour after - you know - and a couple of bottles later Big Dave and I left. Now, we walked down the road, a bag of chips in hand, heading for his place, some music, even a smoke of weed.

I liked that - cleared the head. I kept off all the other stuff. After all, I had to prove those pricks wrong - the ones who said it was the route to the hard stuff. Bollocks! That's what I say. Couldn't they get it in their heads there was a difference between the occasional relief and being constantly stoned.

'Was she good?' asked Dave. Not that he would have any standard to test her by. The nearest Dave had got to sex was a grope; and that was in his dreams.

It wasn't for a lack of trying. It's just that some blokes just haven't got what it takes - which left me to do all the shagging while my good mate Dave was around to bounce off the punches the occasional time I got another blokes girl.

'Well? Was she?'

'Yea, Dave. She was great.'

'Tell me about it, Wayne.'

'What'cha wanna know? '

'Did she snog nice?'

'Yea, Dave, she snogged great. Tongues an all.'

'And what about her, you know?' He held his hands up to his chest.

'What? Her tits? Just the right size. Firm.'

'And her ...'

'Her fanny, Dave?'

'Yea, her ...'

'Just right.'

That was Dave and me all over. Inseparable. I couldn't do without him to bounce my ego off. And he couldn't do without me for excitement. I suppose it’s a kind of love. And that night, thinking about me and Tracy, he'd make his kind of love. By proxy.

Tracy stayed on my mind. Don't ask me why. Maybe it was the hair. You know, dark and all. It made her stand out from the crowd. Most girls wore their individuality with standard blonde curls. But Tracy? She'd shunned the individual look. Chose to be different. I guess that's why I gave her my mobile number. Just in case she wanted a re-match.

Oh, it's a great life I lead. Do as I want, get up when I want, shag when I want, with whoever I want. The old sops keep telling me about duty and outdated crap like that. I tell them to die off, quick, we're living in another world. What the hell is duty, anyway? All it does is stop you having fun. Well you can take duty and stick it up yer arse. I'm not interested in duty. I'm only interested in fun. That's what I'm built for - fun, and plenty of shags.

Of course, the first time was the best. They say that - the first one, when you lose your virginity. It has something special about it; nostalgic. Like a rite of passage. You know. Birth. First fag. First shag. Death.

Mine is a hazy memory of pure pleasure. I was fifteen and she was much older - more than twice my age. I never appreciated it at the time, but thinking back, I go hard thinking about the slight blubbery feel of the older woman. Girls my own age just don't feel like that. They feel trim, with bone always threatening to break through. But the older woman, the feel of them, the texture.

And the experience.

Wow! did she move. Did she moan and groan as she rode me, teased me, taught me.

I think it would have gone on forever if Dave hadn't suddenly come back, shouted 'mom, I'm home,' from the bottom of the stairs.

Chapter Two

'You screwed my mom,' Dave said after that.

Actually, it was the other way round, but it didn't stop the tear forming in his eye.

I said: 'Live with it, Dave. It's only a mother, after all. Once you've popped out and been weaned, what are they for?'

Dave muttered something about cuddles and smiles and encouragement; not that I'd know about that.

'Promise me you won't do it again.'

'Why?'

‘‘cos I don't want you to.'

'But you're always to do what adults say.'

'Mom wouldn't say.'

'Of course not.'

'She wouldn't.'

'Yea. Right.'

As it is, I didn't. She never offered again. Maybe that's why it's such a cherished memory; never got time to get bored of her.

Enough of that thinking back. It's all crap, anyway; history.

Life's for living, and living is now. I really hate all these people - especially at school, when I occasionally went - who told me about remembering the past:

'Remember the past,' they'd say, 'and you'll learn lessons for the future.'

Crap! Bunkum! Shit! Forget the past, I say; make all the mistakes anew; stop the boredom of life creeping up on you.

'I'm never bored,' said Dave.

We were walking into town on a normal day. God, I hate normality. Tracy was still on my mind, but I could feel the impression weakening.

'You're never bored 'cos you don't think,' I said.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'There you go. Can't work it out for yourself.

Dave thought a moment. I suppose he was thinking he’d be proving me wrong. Eventually, he said: 'Why are you always nasty to me?’

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