The most important thing in the world is really the most important thing to you. There is no one universal important person that everyone would take a bullet for or one sensation that is preferred to all others, a sensation anyone would sacrifice a hot meal for, or a newborn child. In reality everyone has his or her own poison. Yours may be a time of day, when the sun is just setting and the air is thick after a storm. It could be a t-shirt that you wore when you first came inside a girl or a bank account that ensures your child gets into a respectable college. Yesterday, for me, the most important thing in the world was the newest episode of Lost.
My brother and I travelled through town to Ian’s house. It’s a journey we seldom take, as we both dislike the city. Traffic was ominously bad with long queues of frustrated parents and drug dealers, office workers going home after a long day and night workers just beginning. Desperation turned the atmosphere sticky, clogging the vital blood supply to the brains of those with a deadline to meet. All the way to Ian’s house, we were met with cars swerving to avoid abandoned prams and the bodies of those who died on their journey home the previous night. The city gives no forgiveness, especially to those who beg for it.
But for this tale to continue, I must hand you over to Dr. Gunter Fuller who will explain an important, how will I say, aspect of my personality. Doctor.
Thank you my good fellow. You see dear readers; Robert suffers from an undesirable attraction to loneliness, which has cost him dearly in situations of severe social interaction. When presented with unexpected persons in a situation where said persons should not have been, Robert looses control of himself and becomes loud, obnoxious and, according to some reports, violently annoying. This is especially true around females. The effect can then carry over into any subsequent conversations he may find himself a party to in the immediate hours following the incident.
Back to you.
Thank you doctor.
Parked outside Ian's neighbours house, I yammer nervously to my brother as Ian won't answer his phone and there are three people standing outside his front door. In my mind I had envisaged an altogether different, more simple scenario obviously devoid of any realism. It played out thusly: Ian stands in his door, quite possibly in his socks and sucking on an ice cream. I stand in front of him, handsome and suave. He hands me the disk and I leave. God is obviously a better writer than I, understanding that the best drama comes from conflict and in my life there isn't any conflict until there are pretty girls on stage.
Cue the pretty girls.
I brave my way to his front door and stammer out my line of dialogue.
"Hello. Hi… um, is Ian here?"
"Aw yes. Ian, your friend is here. Go on through."
His mother leads me to my next mark inside his kitchen where Ian and several hot girls were doing grown up things, such a cooking and chatting about stock levels. I recognise one girl as his girlfriend but the other was strange to me, strangely alluring. Both were wearing skirts and smiling even though they were now in my presence. Obviously Ian is more charming that I had previously suspected to have the ability to keep girls entertained in extreme circumstances such as this. I can feel my face contorting with fear and automatic embarrassment and I grab his arm tightly, so tight I imagine I might have stopped the blood flow.
"Get me out of here!" I slice through clenched teeth.
He becomes alert, aware that I am tortured in his kitchen and dashes me away from his sexy friends with the ease of a professional magician. Up in his room he prepares his laptop to spit out Lost. The good Doctor will explain what I was doing.
Robert preformed the classic steps of the Freak Out, so named after Dr. Johan Freak, a renouned philanthropist and slave driver and also the first victim of this unfortunate socially afflicting disease. The sufferer begins by spinning in circles and waving his arms like a bird taking to flight, which usually results in damage to surrounding decorative items.
If I may interject Doctor, I would like to add that at this point I would have said: "Nice broken vase Ian, weeeeeeee!"
The next step involves the sufferer reciting at speed the cause of his Freak Out to whoever is nearby. This step has been known to cause inner ear damage to elderly dogs in the close vicinity, similar to the damage caused by inserting a banana in the animals ear.
And the final step simply is an uncontrollable fit of laughter followed by self-loathing and abuse.
Back to you.
Thank you doctor.
"Here, play with my sword…" suggests Ian, handing me his replica broad sword sheathed in leather, hoping it would calm me.
"Your friends are sexy Ian. Why do you have sexy friends? Why don't I have sexy friends Ian? Can I have your sexy friends Ian?"
Ian works quickly on his laptop, his fingers turning a similar shade of red to the Ferrari that is his desktop background. Practiced, he ejects the CD with one hand, picks a CD case out of the air, it seems, and places them into my shuddering hands.
"We had better get you out of here. Before you explode over my excellent room."
He leads me from his house, Lost in hand, avoiding his sexy friends and in course any upsetting episodes.
In my brothers car, I recount to him what just happened:
"… And then I tried to walk away from his door normally you know, so I wouldn't look like an idiot, but when I thought I was behind a bush and they couldn't see me I did a little hop and then RAN."
My brother looks embarrassed for me.
"… But the thing is, I think they saw the hop."