Frank

By Jarra Freehart

Have you ever thought about the life you have lived? The person you have become and what you had to go through to get there? Well, Jarra Freehart has and it wasn’t all good. I can tell you that. Horrific might be a good description. Attempting to destroy yourself is one thing. But equally effective is destroying other people’s trust and confidence in you along the way. Fancy having to admit something like that. Self-awareness can be very elusive. Jarra had his hands on it several times. But it always slipped away. The only thing he’d ever really achieved was not dying along the way. He came close a few times. He had to write this book. While there was still time. He had to empty his head before he could develop any further and maybe become a better person. Although he would never consider himself a bad person. Just lost in a world that no one else was allowed into. His own private world. Visitors were not welcome at all. Not ever.
Jarra Freehart didn’t find this laborious task easy, you know. It was hard work. That’s for sure. But he’s so glad he eventually did it. Because now, his new life could begin. But that’s another story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398469402

Jarra Freehart

Jarra Freehart had no chance to be a normal kid. He was a different kind of kid. Right from the start. Slightly dyslexic. An undiagnosed epileptic. Bullied mercilessly at school. Couldn’t express himself verbally. A confused misfit in an alien world. Part of a large family but all alone until he discovered drugs and alcohol at 14. That changed everything. A new Jarra emerged. Full of confidence. Life of the party. Feared nothing. Indulged in all life’s pleasures. What a blast! Until he crashed and burned at nineteen. How he’s still alive is a mystery!

Book preview

About the Author

Jarra Freehart had no chance to be a normal kid. He was a different kind of kid. Right from the start. Slightly dyslexic. An undiagnosed epileptic. Bullied mercilessly at school. Couldn’t express himself verbally. A confused misfit in an alien world. Part of a large family but all alone until he discovered drugs and alcohol at 14. That changed everything. A new Jarra emerged. Full of confidence. Life of the party. Feared nothing. Indulged in all life’s pleasures. What a blast! Until he crashed and burned at nineteen. How he’s still alive is a mystery!

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Jarra Freehart’s mother. His long-suffering, very brave and selfless mother. She really loved Jarra. She couldn’t tell him that, till her dying days. But she did tell him and that’s the main thing.

Copyright Information ©

Jarra Freehart 2022

The right of Jarra Freehart to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398469396 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398469402 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

There are many individuals who would prove worthy of being acknowledged in regards to their contribution to this life story. And to the personal growth and development and eventual emergence of Jarra Freehart. They are all in there. But will never be openly acknowledged. Not by Jarra anyway. This is not out of any kind of negative attitude or unkindness. Or preference of one compared to any others. Because they all had a significant impact in one way or another. They were all contributors. Some far more than others, that is true.

Jarra gradually became an unaware collector and a hoarder. Of all the influences made available to him. Whether the contributors were aware or not, of how much influence they were actual having, is still a mixture of varying levels of understanding and misunderstanding.

And this is why he has decided to leave it up to others, in deciding who deserves more acknowledgement. Or less acknowledgement. The only thing that is fully understood by him, is the continual struggle to become the individual he never was in the beginning. And he has all the contributors to acknowledge for that.

Of course, there are the girls from the magic café. And what wonderful girls they all are. They acknowledged Jarra, from his very first visit to the café. Their caring words and warm smiles, gradually penetrated the crusty exterior. Their youthful enthusiasm and generosity of spirit, gave him strength and brought out the best in him. They knew exactly what they were doing. They seemed to know him better than he knew himself. If it wasn’t for them, it’s unlikely this book would ever have been written.

And now there is a special place for all of them, in his rejuvenated old heart.

Synopsis

True Story

Set in Industrial city, Newcastle. NSW. Australia. Suburb of Mayfield. Beginning early to mid-1960s. Relevance to mid-1970s. References up till around 2010.

Related Themes

A different kind of child. Mildly dyslexic. Epileptic. Not with it. Always off with the fairies? Dreaming. Always dreaming, man. (Mental illness?) One of 11 children. (Catholics)

Bullied mercilessly. Laughed at. Ridiculed. Primary school. Daily. No assistance. Other childhood traumas. Shingles. Fits. Comas. Hospitals. Nurses. Catholic schools. No advantage. That’s for sure. (Voices in the head) No sex education. No nothing for this kid. But discrimination. Misunderstandings. Lived in make believe. Own fortress in the head. It got him into all kinds of trouble.

Sexual abuse. Domestic violence. Misogyny. No connection with anyone. Mother hardly knew he existed. Until the idiot came home after long absence. Threw Father out of house. Took over. Before he went mad. Drugs. Alcohol addictions. Gambling. Pubs. Drug parties. Sexual experiences with girls. Always open to interpretation?

Ended up a champion bullshit artist. Believed everything he heard. Made them his thoughts and actions. Always called stupid. Always called an idiot. Taken advantage of. All his life. Went through stages of positive development. His life was more like a series of episodes.

Always ended up the stupid idiot. Eventually went crazy, with all the other idiots. It was his only friend? Except for the dero, of course?

Lots of swearing in parts. Sorry about that. That was the reality. Accuracy, you know. Way I wrote this. Just the way it came out.

Do you know what happened?

Do you know where you are?

Do you know who you are?

Another one of them fits called epilepsy. They happened all the time. In hospital again. A nurse, asking the usual questions. Nearly the same questions every time. But hospitals were good. The food was good. Better than he got at home. Everyone was nice and friendly. Especially the nurses. He could never hate nurses. He didn’t feel like talking. He never felt like talking.

Okay then! Try and get some rest. We can talk later if you like. Are you hungry? Would you like a drink of water? No? Okay then. I’ll come back later and see how you’re going.

Just lying there, thinking about the old dero. He was probably dead by now. He was really old. He lived in a cardboard castle. There was a bridge and he lived sort of under the bridge, right next to the railway lines. He was always getting cardboard boxes from this place that sold clotheslines. They were big boxes. So funny watching him drag them across the railway lines. Sometimes he would almost fall over. He could have been run over by a train and killed or something. Always remembered him. Especially when lying in hospital. After another blackout. That’s what everyone called them. Blackouts.

The dero told him lots of stuff. He was good to him. He didn’t yell at him. He didn’t trick him or lie to him. He told him some really bad things. Sometimes, he still sees him.

There was someone else here. He knew there was someone else there. No one else was ever there. But there was someone else there. He knew there was.

It’s just me!

What? Who’s me anyway? He had no idea who me was. There was no way to explain the sudden appearance of me either. Me was just there.

Yes, I’m here all right and I’m talking to you. We can be friends if you want.

He didn’t have any friends. He didn’t want any friends. Go away.

Okay then. If that’s what you want. I thought we could be friends.

He had always wanted a friend. That’s for sure. Someone to do stuff with. Like a normal kid. But he wasn’t a normal kid. He knew that and everyone else knew that too.

He’s really tired right now. He’s got a headache. He said he’ll think about having a friend. You can come back later.

He should have told him then, to get lost and never come back. But he didn’t, did he?

His mother was always telling the girls to stay away from strangers. Especially old deros. But they never saw the old dero. Or at least, they never said they did. His mother was always talking to the girls about all sorts of stuff. Like cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, sewing and knitting and a whole bunch of other girl stuff. There were lots of dirty nappies to change on the youngest kids. The older girls were expert nappy changers. There were ten kids all together. When a new kid came along, all the girls were like mothers for a while. One day, they would all get married and have their own kids to look after. They talked about that stuff all the time.

The boys were kind of not noticed. Their father was not home that much. When he was there, he was most of the time drunk. He was always yelling.

Telling the kids to shut up. Do as you are told or else. Hating him was easy. But he never yelled at one of the kids. One of the oldest ones. He hated her too. He stopped listening to anything his father said. He had a way of just shutting down. He became very good at shutting down. Especially when his father was around. His father was such an idiot. His mother didn’t talk to him much. So, he didn’t bother trying to talk to her either. He stopped trying to talk to everyone. He felt like some kind of ghost. Living in this house with a whole bunch of strangers who he didn’t even know.

Sounds like he needs a friend!

That’s it again. Maybe it’s right. Maybe he does need a friend.

No one else would be his friend. No one was ever nice to him. Except nurses. He didn’t hate nurses.

Of course, he needs a friend. Everyone needs a friend.

Okay then. You can be his friend.

It was very convincing. Very persuasive. Got him, all right. If only he’d known.

When they were walking to school, it was always a bit behind. Looking at everything. The birds picking in the park. The little fish swimming in the creek. There were lots of lizards crawling along the bricks on the bridge. Trying to catch them was hard. They were so quick. Being late for school was normal. Always in trouble was normal too. Especially when it was there. The Catholic nuns hated him. Just like everyone else. From the bridge, the dero’s castle was about three of four metres straight down. You wouldn’t even notice, unless you looked really hard. He looked down there every day. On the way to school and on the way home, sometimes he saw the dero and sometimes he didn’t.

Why do you keep trying to see that dero for anyway? He’s dirty and he stinks and he drinks metho!

That was it. His only friend. He didn’t like it saying all that about the dero. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t. That’s all. Didn’t matter anyway. It was his only friend. It was there a lot now. Sometimes it made him do naughty things. Got him into heaps of trouble with the Big One. But it was his only friend. The only friend he was ever likely to have. He knew that. That’s what the head kept telling him. If only he’d known.

Kids could walk to school back then. There was nothing to worry about. Except strangers and cars on the roads. The older kids took charge when they crossed at the traffic lights. Didn’t matter who the kids were. Whether they were your friends or not. But none of them were his friends, so he never thought about that. All the kids just crowded together pushing each other out of the way. Pushing the button was the big deal and they all wanted to push the button. There was power to be had by pushing that button that changed the lights. They all knew that.

Go on! Push it! Push in and push the button! Go on! What’s wrong with you? Have some fun! Go on! Push in and press that button! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrrr!

That was it again. It was always telling him to have some fun. Telling him what to do. He didn’t really know why but he always did what it said. It wouldn’t shut up, till he did what it said anyway. So, he just did what it said.

They always ran across the road laughing. It loved laughing but not him. It always said not to be so miserable all the time.

Sometimes, it would make him chase lizards for too long. Then, make him run across the road between the cars, after the lights changed. It knew he just hated running. It was probably trying to kill him or something. It always just laughed. It laughed at everything. But it was his only friend. So, he just put up with it. That’s just what friends did. He was sure about that. That’s what the head kept telling him.

Come on, you chicken! You’re too scared to do anything. Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat!

It was always calling him names now. Very loudly. He got really bad headaches when this happened. But there was no use complaining. It never listened anyway. It kind of frightened him now. Maybe having this friend was a big mistake. That idea was in the head all the time. Get rid of it. Just get rid of it. That’s what the head was telling him. He should have listened. Yes, he should have got rid of it. He knew that. But it was his only friend. He knew that too.

Being a different kind of kid, was what this old lady said. She came to the school to talk to him. She and the nuns must have forgotten about him even being there. They just blabbered on about kids and normal behaviour. A whole lot of other stuff as well. Made no sense to him at all. The know-it-all adults thought they knew everything about everything. There was no point saying anything. He knew that. So, he just sat there. Nodding his head up and down. Saying yes, every now and then, kept them happy enough. He hated adults, except nurses. There was some talk about a special school. But nothing ever happened about that. So, that was probably a good thing.

You belong in a special school, because you’re an idiot! Why don’t you just tell them that? Go on! You won’t, will you? Because you’re a chicken! Chicken! Chicken! You’re really stupid, you know! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrr!

That was it again. Always calling him a chicken. Its favourite word. But it was right. He knew that. Anyway, lots of other kids were chicken and stupid, when he was one. He didn’t like it anymore. Wished it wasn’t his friend.

Wish all you like stupid! We’re friends now! Friends forever! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrr!

He didn’t like the sound of that at all. That’s for sure.

No, I didn’t like the sound of it either. But it never listened to me and it still doesn’t. No one ever listens to me. Ever.

There were some kids older than him in the family. He knew lots about kids and what they were like. Some of the younger ones were pretty sneaky. The older girls tricked him all the time. They laughed at him all the time. A bit slow at everything. That’s why. He just hated them for that. Hated them for a long time. That’s for sure.

You’re not only slow, you’re stupid as well! You’re just an idiot! You don’t know anything! You’re never going to know anything! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! That’s what you are! But we’re friends forever now! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrr! You’ll never get rid of me now! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrr!

It was right again. Slow and stupid. That was him, all right. It said friends forever again. He didn’t like hearing that. Stupid was its favourite word now. And that laugh. Sent shivers up his spine, all right.

Not talking much. Not answering any questions in class. That’s why everyone called him stupid. They were right. He just hated all those smart aleck kids. The ones who knew all the answers. They were the teacher’s pets. They were always girls. He just hated all of them. That’s for sure.

He hates the girls! He hates the girls! He just hates everyone! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrrr!

It said lots of things he didn’t like. Sometimes, the idea of telling it to just shut up and go away was in the head. That happened one day in class. All the other kids just looked at him and started laughing. Really loud laughing.

Shut up! Just shut up! Just shut up and leave me alone! Go away! You’re not my friend anymore! Get lost!

That’s what he yelled at it. The big, fat, ugly nun even laughed at him. She pointed to the door. Everyone knew what that meant.

Don’t tell me to shut up, you idiot! Kicked out of class again! Ha, ha, harrrrrrr! You idiot! Ha, ha, harrrrrrr! Teach you to get smart! Ha, ha, harrrrrrr! Ha, ha, harrrrrrr!

Yeah, he knew. Should have known better. Didn’t really matter anyway. He was used to being kicked out of class because of it. There was stuff going on inside the head, all right. Just talking was the problem. Nothing came out right. All just got mixed up. It was laughing at him again now. Just like everyone else. He really hated how it laughed.

The head was telling him to never try and talk again. Not ever. Especially in class. This was kind of the first time that he realised the head was talking to him. So, he had to try and listen to what the head was saying. But he was never good at listening. He knew that. The head knew that too.

Sometimes, on the way to school, the kids saw some other kids. They went to the public school further up the road. They were not friendly kids. They always yelled out: Catholics, Catholics go to hell, while the Protestants ring the bell. No one knew what that meant. One of the kids, asked a nun.

Don’t worry about what those kids say. They don’t know what they’re talking about! Just ignore them! That’s the best thing to do!

Yeah, she said something like that.

Don’t know what that meant! Don’t know what that meant! You don’t know anything! Because you’re stupid! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrr!

At school in the mornings, there were always bottles of ice, cold milk. Drinking them too quick caused really bad headaches. The nuns must have known that some of the kids never had any breakfast. The tops of the bottles were made of some kind of soft tin. If you were careful, they stayed in shape when you twisted them off. Some kids put the edge of the top between two fingers and flicked them. These tops could spin for a long way, if you flicked them properly. The other kids were expert flickers. But they just laughed at him all the time. His tops always spun straight to the ground.

You’re just so hopeless at everything! Hopeless! Hopeless! Hopeless! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrr!

He just pretended not to hear it. That was the best thing to do. It hated him for doing that. But that was its bad luck. Although he still liked the idea of having a friend, it was not a good friend. He knew that, all right. He was sure about that now. More than ever. Too late but, eh. He knew that too. If only he’d known.

Yes, tell me about it. Too late for him and too late for me too.

After guzzling down a bottle, some of the kids threw the empty bottle over the school roof. Then, ran through the corridor that ran through the middle of the school. Watching them smash on the tarred playground on the other side was great fun. Really exciting. The bigger boys usually did all the throwing. But he was always wanting to do what they did. Just to be a normal kid. Like all the other kids. That was in the head all the time. Never ever worked out that way.

Made no difference what he did. They still just made fun of him. Laughed at him. Made him feel very sad. One morning, after guzzling down a bottle. All the kids guzzled down the milk. There was always a contest on. To see who could guzzle the quickest. Anyway, on this particular morning, it kept pestering him.

Go on! Throw the bottle! You weak chicken! Throw the bottle over the roof! Go on! You’re such a good thrower! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrr! Everyone else is! Go on! I dare you! I double dare you! Ha, ha, harrrrrr!

It wouldn’t shut up. Kept on and on. He threw the bottle, didn’t he?

Went straight over the roof. First time ever. What a big surprise that was, eh. Reaching the end of the corridor excited him, all right. Got there just in time to see the bottle smash against the brick wall. Right next to the wooden gate. Best throw ever. This gate led to where the fat priest lived. The fat priest was there, closing the gate. The bottle just missed his head, before smashing against the wall.

Run! Just run, you idiot! Just run! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrr! Just run!

For once, it helped him. Stopped him from getting into trouble. After running back through the corridor, it told him to go and sit on his school port.

Just sit there and don’t move, you idiot! If you sit there and don’t move, you won’t get into trouble!

Wasn’t time to argue with it. Just did what it said. He never argued with it. Not yet anyway.

This other kid was the worst bully at the school. He was just about to throw his empty bottle. The fat priest came running out of the corridor. Huffing and puffing like crazy. But he still yelled out.

Don’t you throw that bottle! You stupid, stupid boy!

The fat priest went up to this kid, took the bottle off him, started yelling some more, couldn’t hear what he said but. One of the dizzy spells started. The pain in the head was really bad when this happened. The headaches made him cry. Falling asleep was the next thing that always happened. Sometimes, he was found wandering around the playground. Not knowing what was going on. Just not there. It wasn’t there either. A real friend would have been there. But it wasn’t a real friend. He already knew that. If it was there, it never said anything. It would have said something, if it was there.

Well, I wasn’t feeling too good about all this, was I? Whenever the idiot had one of his episodes. But no one ever asks me anything, do they? I mean, I’ve got feelings too, you know.

Later that morning, the Big One made the bully boy kid stand up in front of the whole class. He hated having to say sorry for doing such a stupid thing. The fat priest was there as well. He had a real strange look on his face. The stupid bully had to sweep up the whole playground. Watching him do that was the best thing ever. This rotten bully was a real smartarse. He picked on all the smaller kids. He got what he deserved but not enough, eh. The idiot just hated him, all right. That’s for sure. From that day on, there was no more milk at the school.

Why don’t you fight back, you weaky! Just go and punch him in the head! Go on! Just go and punch him! Go on! Go and punch him in the head! Go on! Punch him! Go and punch him in the head! You big chicken!

The next day, the idiot went up to the bully and punched him. Right on the nose. Shocked him, all right. But a very bad idea. Worst thing ever. This bully was much bigger and stronger. His mates grabbed hold of the stupid idiot. The bully punched the shit out of him, didn’t he?

When he finished belting him, his mates threw him on the ground. They just walked off. Blood everywhere, man. On the clothes. On the face. In the hair. On the ground. Just everywhere. The whole body was in pain. Real pain. Head was spinning. Dizzy spell on the way for sure. Headaches were starting. Oh shit. Here he goes again.

Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrrr! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrr! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrrr!

Do you know what happened?

Do you know where you are?

Do you know who you are?

In hospital again. Laying there. Head banging. A nurse asking the usual questions. He knew what happened, all right. Didn’t tell her that. Wasn’t telling anyone anything. He’d already learnt to keep his mouth shut. Better that way. That’s for sure.

Well, just try and relax then. You’ve had a bad turn. Try and get some sleep. Press the button there if you need anything. Okay!

She was nice, that nurse. Yeah, couldn’t hate nurses. That’s for sure.

Ha, ha, harrrrrrrr! You’re just so hopeless! So useless! Didn’t even fight back! You’re just so weak and hopeless! You’re always going to be weak and hopeless! Weak and hopeless! Always! Ha, ha, harrrrrr!

What’s that? Not it again. What’s it doing here? It’s never there in an episode. Not for a while anyway. The idiot just hated it even more now. Getting him into trouble. Putting him in hospital again. Some friend it turned out to be, eh. Should have got rid of it. He knew that. The head knew too. If only he’d known.

The thought of learning how to fight was in the head. That idea didn’t last long. The bully got belted up himself a few years later, at a high school. The brothers who ran this school were even bigger bullies. They knew everything and loved hurting kids. Even it said so.

The years in primary school taught the idiot how cruel other kids could be. Being laughed at, pushed over, called nasty names was no fun, man. Not for the idiot anyway. The dizzy spells, wandering around in nowhere land, falling asleep at his desk was no fun either. Then, the idea came into the head. Just stop trying to do what the other kids did. Stay away from all of them. What a great idea, eh. He’d already stopped talking to anyone else, unless he was forced to. Yeah, started working straightaway. Things were better, all right. Staring at the nuns in the classroom was something they didn’t like at all. But he felt good, watching them squirm. No one ever said anything. So, he just kept staring and everyone just kept ignoring him. Yeah, only talking to himself and the head was the best thing to do, all right. He knew that now, more than ever. It butted in all the time. Couldn’t help itself, could it?

The idiot was fourteen when the dero turned up the first time. Seemed like the same one. The one he always saw. The primary school dero. But he could have been another one. The idiot was never real sure about that. The head wasn’t too sure either.

Why do you talk to that dirty, smelly old dero for anyway? He’s no good! Why do you talk to him all the time for? He’s not your friend! I’m your only friend! Remember! Ha, ha, harrrrrrr!

Well, this dero you refer to could possibly be a substitute father figure. Apparently, you have somewhat of a fractured relationship with your own father. Do you not? It’s not unusual for a lonely, confused boy to form a relationship with alternative father figures! That could very well be the case here!

What? That wasn’t me who said that. There’s someone else in here. He seems to know a lot about you and your father. How he knows about all that stuff is anyone’s guess.

It always hated the dero, right from the start. The idiot didn’t. That’s for sure. It was right but. The dero did smell really bad. He was always looking around for cigarette butts. There were lots of empty bottles lying around his castle. But the idiot always liked having him there. That’s for sure.

School was just somewhere kids went in the daytime. They still do. Some kids just don’t see the relevance of being there. But they usually learn more that they realise. True, some kids just don’t fit in. Regardless of how hard they try. But that’s just part of the growing and learning process. Not liking everyone you meet is normal too. Especially people in authority. Occasionally, they get a little carried away with themselves. Over inflate their own knowledge and importance. That fat priest you mentioned could fit into this category. Or, the Big One maybe. Apparently, that fat priest never molested any kids, did he? Has his name ever been mentioned as a paedophile priest? I don’t think so! Not like many other priests. So, maybe that fat priest was okay. You should be grateful for that!

Teachers are more aware now of the kids who struggle, for various reasons. There are measures in place to support them. There were a lot of cracks in the Catholic system. The institution was a moral minefield, all right. Maybe still is! You don’t like the Big One, do you? She calls you the scum of the earth, doesn’t she? That must have hurt! But let’s face facts! You can be a rather recalcitrant child. She was a miserable, bossy, cold old thing, wasn’t she? A real monster, all right! Big One was a good nickname for her. That’s for sure! She was probably just a frustrated old lesbian. The convents were full of sour old lesbians. Everyone knew that! You just need to be patient! Your school days will be over before you realise. I’ve been through the whole experience. I survived well enough and so will you!

What the—? That’s him again. He seems to know a lot, eh. He could be one of them teachers. They think they know everything about everything. He knows about your father. He sure does talk a lot. It couldn’t possibly be it. It’s not smart enough to talk like that. It doesn’t know anything anyway. Thinks it does but it doesn’t. The idiot got too confused to understand most of what he said anyway.

Yes, you’re right. I did make reference to his father. But don’t worry about anything! I’ll drop in for a chat, occasionally. Answer all your questions! Please, just ask me anything and all your troubles will be over. Trust me! I know what I’m talking about!

Always welcome! Answer all your questions! Oh, please! What a joke! What a smartarse! Thinks he knows everything! Don’t trust him, whatever you do! Don’t trust him! He’s just a wanker!

No, he’s not. He sounds really smart. He knows lots of stuff. Anyway, the idiot likes him. He talks nice. He didn’t know what a wanker was either. The head was confused, all right. He knows about his father.

He knows nothing about anything! You stupid idiot!

He’s the oracle, man! He knows everything, man! He’s the oracle! Listen to the oracle, man! Ha! Ha! Ha!

What the hell. Now there’s an oracle on the loose. Whatever that is.

Yes, that’s what I’d like to know. But no one ever tells me anything.

Yeah, her nickname was the Big One, all right. But she never knew that, eh. Could have called her the Huge One. Or, the Gigantic One. Even the Enormous One. But the Big One sounded okay. So, that’s what she got stuck with. The idiot didn’t know those other words, anyway.

Why didn’t you tell her that, you big chicken?

Because he didn’t want to. That’s why. Stop calling him a chicken all the time. Ignoring it doesn’t work. It didn’t frighten him anymore.

That’s why he tried to ignore it.

Yeah, hating the Big One was so easy to do. But hating is not good. That old lady told him that once. She said bad habits are hard to break. Whatever that meant. She didn’t tell him how not to hate or anything. She just said not to hate because hating always leads to trouble. Listening to her was hard. She was old. She had these big glasses on the end of her nose. She looked like she was crazy or something. Anyway, she was an adult. He hated her.

Do you know what happened?

Do you know where you are?

Do you know who you are?

Oh no, not again.

Hello there! And what’s your name?

The idiot didn’t like this one straightaway. He’s not saying anything. No, he didn’t like this one at all. She didn’t talk nice. Tell her nothing, was in the head. First nurse he didn’t like. Told her nothing.

Okay then! Someone found you on the footpath. Near your school. You were unconscious! Do you remember what happened? How you got there? That’s a nasty lump you have there. Right in the middle of your forehead.

Yeah, he already knew that.

You may have hit your head on the gutter. On the way down!

Don’t think so. Crashing into that pole is what happened.

Right then! Maybe we can talk a bit later. When you’re feeling better. Okay?

Yeah, right.

The head was pounding, man. Would have been pounding anyway. If they caught him first. The bullies were chasing him all around the playground. Taking off down the street seemed like a good idea. That pole was just there, eh. Bang. Couldn’t miss. The idiot always hated running. That nurse was kind, all right. He knew that. All the nurses were like that. Even the old ones. He didn’t hate any of them. Just didn’t talk to them. He didn’t really hate this one either. But that’s what came into the head. So, he hated her, eh.

Should have been watching where you were going, you flip! Too bad they didn’t catch you! Ha, ha, harrrrrrrrrrr!

It again. He hated it being there after an episode. When he wasn’t thinking straight. Right now, he wasn’t thinking at all. The head was killing him, man.

Oh, that’s right. The primary school years. Difficult years, all right. Remembering everything would be a real problem, eh. After this latest episode, different stuff was in the head. Too many painful memories, man. Too many to remember. But they were years out of his control, eh. After all, school wasn’t his idea, you know. Them adults. They made kids do everything. He hated all of them.

You probably already know that, eh. Blocking all that crazy school stuff out works for a while. Always comes back but. Especially, when you’re not ready. Being relaxed was impossible.

"Well, excessive use of drugs and alcohol. Along with compulsive gambling, will eventually destroy anyone. Especially, young people! Some of them just have to learn the hard way. Unfortunately, you are one of those people! Of course, there are various negative side effects, from decades of continual abuse. Memory loss is a common one! Short-term memory in particular! Long-term memory can be a fifty/fifty proposition or worse. Depending on the