stories from times when i was thin

this is a story (all about how my life got flipped, turned upside-down) that i wrote as part of an english class. it pretty retarded like the basis of the whole story and that but i think for how long ago it was written i showed somewhat of a talent. pity its all now diminished.its a whopping 1806 words long so get ready for a read

Did you know? rocks are hard! Ah but they’re not, well it was my twelfth birthday party nobody there just me and my family. There I was looking in the bathroom mirror me with y slightly over the top human league haircut the dark brown quif peering over my pre-teen face. I slid on my t-shirt over boney shoulders and slipped on my doc martens, no socks. I looked like a misfit from an 80’s tv convention. “Perry” my mum squealed
“What, mum?” I yelled down the two flocks of stairs
“Hurry you’ve got one present left and your dad’s waiting at the restaurant”. My parents had divorced two years ago I would have had a decent present off my dad if my mum hadn’t been stealing all his money saying she needed it to feed me when she clearly didn’t. I galloped downstairs. One more present I wondered what it is.
“Honey, get in the car” she squawked as I tripped on the fifth step
“What about my present” I enquired
“You can open it in front of your dad” she answered. It probably didn’t exist. She would have made it up just to make me dart down the stairs extra fast. I climbed in the front seat of the rusty red mondeao. The MacDonald’s drinks cup lay on the floor from two days earlier, my mum she said it was a special treat ‘for my birthday’. My mum appeared from the front door in a rather sparkly purple dress. She never wore dresses and the time she did was my birthday and it was a purple sparkly one with sequins all over. Something’s going on. 30 minutes later we arrived in the car park of the most expensive pub in town ‘the worlds end‘. My dad’s special treat. My dad was standing at the entrance, holding a half empty pint glass in one hand and a nearly finished cigarette in the other. He swung his arms around me; I felt his finger tap the back of my head as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. He let me go and took a step back and took an extremely large swig the pint glass the announced
“happy birthday, son”. I followed him inside the pub; I smelt the same smell I had smelt outside. I realized it was not the outside that had a musky drunkard’s smell it was my dad.
A familiar jingle came from in my pocket. I fetched my new mobile phone. I stared into the screen. I’d received a text from Vodafone advertising their new call and text package, I must have looked like Vodafone was my only friend, but I was true I had o friends. Mum and dad were yapping only pausing to look at me messing around with the camera on my new phone. My mum presented it, my one last present, it existed. It was wrapped in happy birthday wrapping paper. She planted it on the table next to my dad’s larger
“Well go on then, open it son” he croaked. It stood there just being stared at blankly until my mum grabbed it and thrusted it towards me. I ripped at the paper to reveal a cardboard box with the words PET ROCK printed on the side. I’d asked my mum to get me one two weeks before and had doubted she would have got me one I removed the instruction leaflet that lay on top of a piece of straw. Berried amongst the straw was a grey quartz pebble it came with a birth certificate. I named it Pucka.
That evening I was lying on my bed wearing my George@asda PJ’s I had folded and cut the box of my pet rock into a kennel. I sat pucka on my pillow and turned around to face the wall. For some reason my dad had come to stay in the guest room. I heard a voice I thought it was my dad’s but it was less musky it said it over and over
“Perry I’m here to help you” it said
“What, dad?” I enquired
“Perry I’m here to help you” it repeated. I looked towards my pillow. He was gone pucka was gone.
“Perry I’m here to help you” there it was a rock talking to me. I must have gone loopy. But I was true. There he was on the corner of my desk with a slight deformity on his front opening and closing blurting out
“Perry I’m here to help you”
“What” I shouted as its continuous groan was keeping me awake
“Oh, thank god” it replied in a rather sarcastic Irish accent “I nearly jumped down to check for a pulse, well with you acting all dead and unresponsive” I shuffled back and pronounced a shhhhhh sound
“Be quite, my mum might hear” I worried
“Ahh don’t worry your little cotton socks” he was even louder now “well its sorted you see, she can’t hear me she’ll hear you though”. I threw it under my pillow, I couldn’t stand it. I blocked out its irritating noise and went to sleep.
The next morning, I looked at pucka tapped him on the top and sighed saying under my breath “it must have been a dream”
“Eh kid, whydah wake me up so early” I nearly screamed throwing myself halfway across the room. My dad burst in saying
“Are you ok son?” his musky voice reminded me of the ‘Perry I’m here to help you’ incident from the night before.
“Yeah I’m ok” I said as I clambered to my feet. I slid into the same stuff I had worn the evening before as I picked up my new mobile I slid pucka into my pocket both these items weighed my trousers down a little more than I wanted them to. As I swiftly glided down the stairs I heard my parents talking
“I’m sure that kid was talking to himself last night”
“there’s no need to worry Rachel if it makes you feel better I’ll talk to him later today”. At that moment I walked in. my mum and my dad were hugging but I carried on as normal getting my cereal ready. They immediately stopped hugging and my dad approached me.
“How you doing son” I didn’t look at him. He had his hand on my shoulder but I was concentrating on pouring the milk onto my cereal, I simply replied with a “what” finished pouring the milk, shrugged his hand off my shoulder and shuffled over to the dining table. I’d guessed this was one of the attempts to ‘talk to me’ well it had failed.
“son after you’ve finished that get your coat on and get in the car” I was starting to hate my dad calling me son all of the time
“where are we going?” in reply my dad just tapped the side of his nose. I climbed into the passenger seat of the car I ignored my dad’s warning to get my coat on. I could see mum and dad talking in the wing mirror. I delved deep into my pocket and pulled out pucka “what should I do pucka”
“You gotta get outta here kid you’ve gotta run free, now watch out” as I was about to ask what for my dad got into the car
“I see you’ve brought your new friend”
“Uhh” pucka knew I didn’t want to spend the day with my dad tapping the side of his nose.
We pulled up. I got out of my dad’s car and looked at the sign ‘Mr. Machina 3000’ it was a local electrical store. It had a rather annoying but catchy jingle on the radio. Me and my dad walked into the store he said
“Choose one thing, anything and that’s your birthday present”. Even though I could choose anything I was draw straight towards the dark TV section of the store. I pulled pucka from deep in my jeans
“What do you mean get outta here?”
“Run kid”
“From what?” I was rather annoyed at the fact that half the store was staring at me at this time
“Your dad, he’s trying to get back with your mum”
“I know but what am I gonna do about it”
“Run kid run” by this time I was already bearing at the exit at about four hundred miles per hour. I skidded out of the exit and powered round the corner of the building. Now I was on my own that night was hard and so were the three after if I hadn’t of had pucka it would have been ten times harder. The fifth day was the hardest.
“Perry, Perry son is that you” . I immediately got to my feet and powered the opposite way to the voice I ran flat into a wall.
The next few hours were the worst. There I was sat in the dining room my dad giving me the usual malarkey.
“Where were you, I was worrying my head off”
“I’ve been searching high and low”
“We’ve had the police out”
“You’ve had your Nan worried your mum worried your auntie and the rest of the family” pucka was sitting on the table he was much more exciting to listen to that dad he said
“Look kid there’s a knife” I was completely oblivious to what my dad was doing and I whispered
“What”
My dad finished talking mid-sentence it was the first time I’d spoken since I’d got home
“Look kid you have to get rid of him”
“Are you mental?” I shouted my dad look at me funnily
“What son?” he asked I eyed up the knife
“Ok, what do I do” I asked pucka
“When he’s not looking get the knife and hide it then pounce on him” I decided to start talking to my dad
“Umm-dad I-I-I ran away be-…”
“Yes I know you ran away son but why”
“Be-because I was scared dad, I don’t know” he put his hand on his head and shook it. He was covering his eyes. I grabbed the knife and settled it on my lap my dad drifted towards the door the perfect position. A bead of sweat dribbled down my nose and flopped off the end and I heard I smash down on the table just as I could hear my heart beating in my head. The pressure was building the rock making me act
the next thing I remember is silence then a crushing pain in my chest. I opened my eyes to see a policeman keeling on me snarling my rights to me. I looked to my right to see my dad lying down flat on a stretcher screaming his head off with the bread knife STILL in his shoulder.
I went quietly.