THE NOTE FROM MUM

By HENDRE ROELINK

Dedicated to my mum who couldwrite wicked notes

COVER ILLUSTRATION BY

BEN TIMMERMANNS

Power Point Copyright Hendre Roelink 2014

Revised edition 2014

The Note From Mum.

I’m sitting here in my cell and I’m gazing out the window at the free world outside. I can see a kid riding his bike, and I wish I was out there, but I’m stuck in here, and it’s all because of a dumb note from mum. I guess you’re wondering how a note from mum could get me into so much trouble, and seeing that I’ve got all this time up my sleeve, I may as well tell you. You see, my name’s Ben Russell, and I live with my mum in an ordinary suburb. We don’t have much money, but I guess we get by and life’s not too bad. Anyway, one morning I woke up, stared at the clock radio and jumped in fright. The stupid clock said 8:49 and I panicked. I was going to be late, and I tell you I didn’t want to be late. My teacher Mrs. Quewish, is a dragon, a dead set dragon. She’s got claws on her feet and scales all over her, and her breath’s like garlic-infested fire. She is a shocker I tell you, and she hates my guts.

2 I reckon her greatest delight is giving me a detention. She lives for it.

She gives detention for anything- For not doing a project. For talking in class. For dropping papers in the yard. For fighting. For picking your nose. For making gross noises. For rude gestures. For not knowing answers. For forgetting your sports uniform and for being late.

I tell you she’d give you a detention for just being a kid if she could get away with it!“I think it’s detention for you!”

She says to me and then smiles at me this sick evil smile that makes me shudder. Anyway, I took one look at the clock and ran headlong into mum’s room, and sure enough mum had slept in too. (You see mum always wakes me up on time.)

“Mum, mum!” I screamed. “You’ve slept in. I’m gonna be late for school, wake up will you!?”

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But the lump in the bed that was mum just groaned at me. So I jumped on the bed and pulled back the covers. What I saw was not a pretty sight. My mum looked like a human phlegm factory.

I tell you, snot was encrusted around her nose. Her skin was all puffy and bloochy and her eyes were all weepy and bloodshot. She looked like a mess, and she must have felt even worse because all she did was yank the blankets back over her head and moan.

“Just leave me alone and let me die, will you?”

“But mum!” I screamed. “I’m gonna be late, I’m gonna be in stacks of trouble!”

“I don’t care,” cried mum. “Just go to school and leave me alone.”

“What if I stay home and look after you?” I asked hopefully.

“No way.” Mum grumbled. “I’m not having you banging around the house all day. All I want is peace and quiet so go to school.”

4 “Alright, I’ll go.” I said. “But at least you can write me a note, can’t you?”

“No I can’t.” Groaned mum. “Just leave me alone.”

I don’t think I’d ever seen my mum so crook with the flu in all my life, and I didn’t want to bother her.

So reluctantly I got dressed. I didn’t even worry about breakfast. I just bolted straight out the door.

Anyway I sprinted down the street, hoping like hell that my clock was fast, and that I could still get to school on time.

Suddenly a little old lady came out of her gate and I bowled her over. Her purse fell to the ground and the stuff in it went all over the place.

I helped her up, and apologised like crazy. Then I picked up all her stuff and asked her if she was alright.

Then she looked at me with her little grey old lady eyes and said really kindly.

“Oh, I’m alright I wasn’t really looking where I was going, was I silly me?”

I felt really guilty then, so I said. “Well really, I was running too fast, so it’s my fault. I’m just glad you’re okay!”

Then she said, “You’re a nice young lad helping an old lady and if there’s ever anything I can do for you, then just let me know!”

Well I would have stopped to talk to her because ever since my grandma died, I’ve had a soft spot for old people. But I was frantic about being late for school, so I mumbled something like.

“The only thing I need right now is a note from my mum I’m late for school.”

The old lady must have heard or something, because as I started running off, she pressed a piece of paper into my hand and said, “This will do the trick I think. Just show it to your teacher!”

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At the time I didn’t really think much of it. I just stuck the note in my pocket, but now that I think about it. I’m almost certain that when she gave me the note she gave me a cheeky wink as well.

Anyway, I sprinted in the direction of school and ten minutes later I stormed up the corridor. It was only then that I realised I’d left my bag at home.

So there I was, a couple of minutes late for school, with no bag, no lunch and no homework and I was about to confront the teacher from hell.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. I tell you, I wasn’t disappointed about the reaction I got. It was even worse than I had expected.

There she was, sitting at her desk glaring at me. Her shark like eyes were preparing to devour me. Her red hair looked like the flames of hell. Her white teeth reminded me of a ravenous crocodile.

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My teacher was a predator, a velociraptor. And I had just given her all the excuses she needed to make me her next meal.“You’re late,” She screeched. “And of course you don’t have a note, do you?”“I’m sorry, Mrs. Quewish.” I grimaced. “But you see...”She cut me short.“No excuses,” she cried. “This is the fifteenth time this year that you have been late. The fifteenth time, that’s the world record Ben. You’re a champion. A champion at being late. I take my hat off to you. No one in my grade has ever dared to be late as often as you. I don’t scare you do I? You have absolutely no fear of me at all do you?”

At that moment she took a breath and I was about to inform her that she needn’t worry about being scary because she was as scary as a werewolf having a bad hair day. But before I could she continued her rant.

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“I think I’ll give you a special reward Ben. Let’s see, what reward do you deserve ? Oh, I know I think you deserve the worst punishment that any child in my grade has ever had. I think that’s only fair don’t you?”

“Well actually.” I said hopefully but she cut me off again.

“No Ben, don’t say a word. No need to thank me,” she said sarcastically.

“Not until after you’ve found out what your punishment is. Now what can we think up? Oh I know first of all, it’s lunchtime detention for the week. Then bin duty for at least a month. Actually I think you can also fill the bins as well as empty them. Oh yes, and of course you’ll miss inter-school sports. Not to mention the excursion to Rollerama, and of course you can’t come on our end of year camp. Oh and last but not least, I don’t think you’re suitable to be our representative in the Cyber World Computer Game Champ Quest!”

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I stood there listening to all of this as if I was paralysed. I knew it was happening but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. It was like my whole life had steered me towards this day.“Now,” she crowed ecstatically. “Go to your place and from now on remember the rules of my class. Never be late. Always do your homework unless of course you have a note.”

At that precise moment my hand made its way into my pocket and I felt the paper that the old lady had given me. Now I don’t know why I did it or what I was hoping would happen, but I took the note out of my pocket and held it up to her.

“But Mrs. Quewish,” I said. “I do have a note.” “A note!” she cried. She sounded as if someone had just punched her in

the throat. “You have a note.”

I thought she was going to collapse from anguish.

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“Give me that!” she wailed. “You choose today of all days to have a note. The very day that I have you right where I want you. Well lets just see what this note says then shall we?”

Well I tell you I held my breath in anticipation.

Mrs. Quewish clutched the note in her talon-like fingers, unfolded it and read it out aloud.

This is what it said:

Dear Mrs She Devil Quewish,

Please excuse Ben for being late for school. You see, last night I fell asleep on our outside toilet, and as we had a severe frost, I was frozen solid to the seat. So poor Ben spent the better part of last night defrosting me with an oxy torch!

Yours sincerely,

The Little Welder’s Mum.

Well I tell you by the time she had finished reading the note the whole class

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was in an uproar. All the kids were killing themselves laughing.

I tensed myself for Mrs. Quewish’s reaction I mean the note was so ridiculous that I was sure she wouldn’t wear it. But instead of going off her tree, she looked at me with loving concern in her eyes.

“Oh your dear sweet mother!” she blurted. “I hope she’s alright!”

“Oh, she is!” I reassured her. “She’s just got a few chilblains on her.” I pointed discreetly at my backside.

“Well, give her my best,” she said. “And I guess we’ll forget about all those detentions and things. It sounds like you’re a great help to your mother.”

“Thank you Mrs. Quewish,” I said, amazed, and then something even more astounding happened. Mrs. Quewish handed the note back to me, and I looked at both sides of it, and guess what?

I couldn’t find writing on it at all. I tell you the note was blank.

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Well, I quickly folded the note up, put it in my pocket. Walked up to my place. Sat down. Got out my books and started doing my work.

Every now and then I stopped and sneaked a peek at Mrs. Quewish. She seemed normal enough. Well, normal for her, anyway. But instead of her usual scowl, she wore a far more sunny expression on her face.

It was all a bit too weird, but I didn’t make a fuss about it. I just did my work and didn’t say a word.

About ten minutes later there was an announcement over the loudspeaker.

“Would Ben Russell please come to the office?”

I tell you I nearly jumped out of my skin. I guess I was still a bit nervy, because of what happened with the note, but I quickly calmed myself down and looked at Mrs. Quewish.

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She glanced at me and said, “What are you waiting for? Away you go!”

Well, I walked out the door, wondering like crazy why the office wanted me. I hoped that it was for raffle tickets or something. But as I got near the office desk, it dawned on me. I hadn’t seen the principal after school yesterday like he’d wanted me to. I’d missed my “Appointment”.

It’s about here where I should tell you about the principal. His way of dealing with kids is completely different from Mrs. Quewish. He tries to reason with us rather than chew our ears off. It’s a bit sickening, really. He’s always saying stuff like, “And how does that make you feel?” and “I think we should discuss it, and see if we can come to some compromise.”

Sometimes all this discussing when I’ve done something wrong is a real pain. Sometimes I wish he’d just punish me, and then leave me alone.

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I’m starting to think I’m his pet project. You know like I’m a challenge or

something, and he wants to straighten me out. Anyway, I walked up to the desk, but I wasn’t worried. I’d learned ages ago

how to get around the principal.“Excuse me.” I said politely to the school secretary. “I’m here to see Mr. Walker.” Before she could answer me a door opened behind me. And I heard Mr Walker’s voice.“ Ah Ben please come into my office.”

I walked into Mr. Walker’s office and sat down. “Now Ben.” Said Mr. Walker, as he followed me in. “I thought we’d made a

deal?”“I’m sorry, Mr. Walker.” I said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “I couldn’t come last night. You see my mum’s not well.”

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“Well you could have told the office or let Mrs Quewish know.” he said.

“I thought we were really getting somewhere Ben, and you didn’t even bother to tell me you couldn’t make it. I’m committed to helping you Ben. I’m on your side you know? But how can I help you if you won’t even meet me half way? I just want a bit of effort from you. Is that asking too much?”

I tell you all this concern for me was driving me crazy. Why couldn’t he see that I didn’t really want his dumb help. But I didn’t tell him that though. I mean, at least he was, like he said, on my side, and I needed him to get me out of the trouble that Mrs. Quewish was getting me into. So I said.

“Sorry, Mr. Walker, I’ll remember to tell you next time, I promise!”

“That’s okay,” he said kindly. “I know it’s hard to apologise, and I appreciate it. I think it was good of you to rush home and look after your mum. Now I was thinking

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that maybe we could meet at lunchtime, and after school. That will give us enough time to catch up. What do you say? There’s a lot of issues that I want to go over with you. I know you’ve never had a real dad. You know, someone to be a positive male role model, and I’d like us to discuss how you feel about that.”

Well, I tell you the thought of me and Mr. Walker spending the whole of lunchtime, and an hour after school discussing how I hated my dad because he didn’t give a damn about me, and watching Mr Walker trying to be a “positive male role model.” Made me have a panic attack.

I tell you I would rather have asked Mrs. Quewish to marry me than put up with that. So I scrambled through my brain trying to think of a way of getting out of it.

Then I remembered the note. I remembered what had happened with Mrs. Quewish. I remembered that the note was blank, but that Mrs. Quewish had actually read it as if my mum had really written

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something on it. So I thought using it on Mr. Walker was worth a try. If Mr. Walker couldn’t see any writing on the note all I’d have to say was “Oh, sorry, Mr Walker wrong note” And then pretend to search through my pockets looking for another note,

and then all I’d have had to say was. “Oh no I think I’ve lost it”. So I took the note out of my pocket and said. “Well I really would like an

appointment Mr. Walker, but I can’t because...well, here’s a note from my mum. It will explain everything” Mr. Walker took the note, unfolded it and read it aloud. This is what it said:

Dear Mr. Do Goodie Pain,Please excuse Ben for the rest of the day, because I am sick, and

my witch doctor has told me I need a special broth. It’s made out of ox tongue, sauerkraut and sheep brains, mixed with a seaweed and

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duck liver pate sauce. I am hoping you will allow Ben to go to the supermarket to buy the ingredients, and then to come home, so that he can save my life.Yours in pain and suffering, The Little Rascal’s Mum.

As he read it, I was looking at the floor, trying not to react. At first I felt embarrassed. Then I felt an uncontrollable urge to laugh. But I

sort of put my hand over my mouth to stifle any unwanted sounds. For a moment or two Mr. Walker studied the note. I wandered if he was going to be any brighter than Mrs. Quewish and see how stupid It was.

But I needn’t have worried, because finally he nodded his head, gave the note back to me and said.

“I think your mother is very wise. Alternative medicine is the way of the future Ben. You see I take a number of herbal preparations myself, and I’m in splendid condition for a man my age.

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This medicinal preparation sounds very impressive. I tell you what Ben I’m going to drive you to the shops, and then I’ll drive you home as well. How would that be?” Well, what could I say? I just turned bright red, swallowed my stomach, which had leapt into my throat and for a split second I thought of using the note on him a second time but I’m too smart for that. I mean what if it only works once on each person and if he read nothing on it the second time he might get suspicious about the first time.

So in the end I just said. “Um, great, Mr. Walker, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” he said. “Let’s go.” Then he got up grabbed his car keys and jacket, and we walked out the

door. All the way to the supermarket I was thinking of a way of making sure that

Mr. Walker didn’t come into my house. My mind was spinning so fast I couldn’t think clearly. It was like things were happening, but I wasn’t really aware of it. Like I was in a trance or something.

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Anyway Mr Walker pulled into a parking spot outside the supermarket, and we made our way inside. I grabbed a trolley and we started moving up and down the aisles.

To tell the truth, I had forgotten what ingredients Mr Walker had said when he read the note, and I didn’t want Mr. Walker to re-read the note, just in case he realised that it was really blank. So I just wheeled the trolley slowly down the aisles, looking left and right, pretending I was searching for some ingredients.

When we were about half way through the supermarket Mr. Walker stopped and said. “I think we should ask for some help! Give me that note, will you?”

Well, my heart sank. I started patting my pockets frantically, pretending to be looking for the note.

“I’m sure I put it in my pockets.” I said. “Well, one of them, anyway.”

I kept patting and searching my pockets. I could feel Mr. Walker getting impatient.

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“Look, don’t worry about it,” he said in an irritated voice. “I’m sure I can remember them.”

“Excuse me!” He said to a teenager stocking shelves. “I was wondering if you can help me? Could you please tell me where the ox tongues and sheep brains are kept?”

I tell you, the look on the shelf stacker’s face was a classic. I don’t think anyone had ever asked him about anything like that before. He had a look on his face that said.

“Who is this weirdo!?”

But he was good at his job. He didn’t even really smile he just led us to the meat section and pointed to a huge fridge.

“There you go!” he said.

About twenty minutes later we had all the stuff and we were in the checkout queue. I was still stalling, because I didn’t want Mr. Walker going to my house.

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Anyway, as the cashier girl was about to put the stuff through the electronic beeper, Mr. Walker’s mobile phone rang.

He took it out of his pocket and started talking into it.

“Hello,” he said. “Yes, I’m at the supermarket. Young Terry did what? I can’t believe it! You’re telling me he’s got his feet stuck in the toilet. How did he do that? He blocked the toilet with toilet paper! I don’t get it! Oh! He was trying to push the paper down the toilet with his feet.”

Then he said

“The fire Brigade whose idea was it to call the fire brigade?”

Then he said. “Of course I’m busy, but I I’ll have to come back now, won’t I? Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes!!”

Mr Walker put the phone away and looked at me. I tell you he looked stressed. I think being a principal was starting to get to him I even saw his eye twitching. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

23 “I’ve got to get back to school.” He said, “Will you be alright?”

I nodded my head, trying not to look too eager.“I’ll go straight home,” I told him. “It’s not that far.”“Good Ben.” said Mr. Walker. “Give my regards to your mum.”

As I watched him go through the sliding doors, I suddenly had an idea.“I’m sorry,” I said to the checkout girl. “I think I’ve got the wrong stuff!”

I turned my trolley around and headed back towards the aisles. I put back all those gross items and then I started loading up the trolley with Cheezles, chips, Mars Bars and lollies. Then I went back to the checkout.

When it came time to pay I said. “I’m sorry I don’t have any money on me.” “Well I’m sorry too,” said the girl. “But I’m afraid we don’t give credit.” “Oh,” I said. “But you see, I’ve got a note here from my mum. It explains

everything.”

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“I’ll read it.” Said the girl apologetically.

“But it won’t change anything, I’m afraid.” The girl unfolded the note and read it aloud.

This is what it said

Dear Get A Real Job Checkout Person,

Please give my son all the items in his shopping trolley. For you see, he has a medical condition, and he requires a constant supply of junk food like chips, Twisties, chocolate bars and lollies.

If he fails to eat the required amounts of such foods he will break out in a purple rash. Start talking gibberish. Wet his pants. Make whoopee cushion noises and become so violently ill that he’ll probably throw up all over your cash register.

I’m broke at the moment, but I’ll bring the money in on pension day.

Signed,

The Little Junk Food Addict’s Mum.

Well, I was pretty confident that the note would work, and it did.

The cashier looked at me and she said. “Look, I’ll put the

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money in out of my own purse, and your mum can pay me back Okay? I’d feel terrible if you had an attack of something in the supermarket.”

Now I bet you’re thinking that I was going to rip the girl off, right? Well, I tell you, I might be a bit of a rascal, but I’m not a thief. I was going to pay her back alright!!!

Look, I had some birthday money stashed away okay, but I couldn’t go home and get it, not during school time, could I? So I was going to bring the money in the next day. No Problem!

Anyway, five minutes later I was

walking down the street towards the old bridge across the creek. There’s a bit of a cubby house/secret hideout under it and I was going to spend the day there stuffing my face.

But I never made it because suddenly someone stepped out of the bushes beside me, and I nearly had a heart attack.

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It was Crusher. Well, his name is really Trevor, but we call him Crusher. He is a huge, gross, fierce and merciless bully. I tell you he’s a brute with no brains and a ton of brawn. We call him Crusher because his favourite form of torture is throwing people on the ground and sitting on them. When he does it to you, you feel like a grape being crushed. Get it grape crusher.

Well Crusher and I weren’t friends. In fact he hated me like the plague. It all started when he pushed me off my bike one day, and I decided to get him back.

You want to know what I did?

I got a pair of bolt cutters, and I chopped every second spoke out of the back wheel of his bike, and the next time he rode it, the wheel collapsed, and he totalled his bike.

I don’t know how he figured out it was me who did it, but he did figure it out, and ever since then, I’ve been avoiding him.

You don’t blame me do you?

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Anyway Crusher looked at me with a evil scowl on his face that was hideous to behold. He looked meaner & nastier than John Cena would look if someone put two starving ferrets down his wrestling tights.

“You little mongrel.” He growled. “I’m gonna rip your head off and use it as a bowling ball!”

Guess what I did? If you said drop my two bags of goodies and run for my life, then you get the

prize - you’re a winner. You see I thought that dropping the bags would be like dropping a T-bone

steak, if you’re being chased by a Rottweiler. You know the Rottweiler will stop to eat the steak while you escape.

So my idea was for Crusher to stop and eat the junk food while I got the hell out of there.

But I under estimated Crusher’s reflexes. That evil dude swooped onto the bags like a

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vulture. In a flash he grabbed them and then he started chasing after me.

I tell you, I have never run so fast in all my life. My lungs started burning, and my legs felt like cooking spaghetti. They were getting wobblier by the second. I thought that Crusher wouldn’t be as fit as I was, because he looked like a sumo wrestler, but I was wrong. Maybe it was his hatred for me that kept him going. I just couldn’t get rid of him.

Finally I hurt so much I stopped running and slid to the ground next to a shop wall. I was gasping for breath like I was going to die, and let’s face it. I was about to die! Yet strangely I didn’t care anymore.

Crusher slowed down when he saw me slumped on the footpath, and he began gasping large deep breaths.

“At least he’s puffed too!” I thought.

“I’m not that easy to shake off, am I?” He said with an evil grin on his face.

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Then he carefully placed the shopping bags up against the wall beside me grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and slowly dragged me to my feet.

“I’ve got to discuss something with you.” He said politely, but there was a vicious menace in his voice.

“It seems you know something about the sabotage of my bike!”

“Not really.” I told him, but I didn’t sound very convincing.

“I think you’d better tell me!” He said. “Because either way I’m going to beat you up. But I’m really angry now because I know you did it, but you won’t admit it. If you tell me you did it, I won’t hurt you as much. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I tell you my knees went weak because I knew exactly what he was saying.

I realised for the first time that there was absolutely

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no way out of it. Crusher was going to beat me up!

Crusher started getting impatient at this stage. It seemed to me that it didn’t take very long for him to lose his patience.

Anyway, he began banging my head against the wall yelling, “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!!” in my ear.

While this was going on, I stuck my hand in my pocket and grabbed the note. I was desperate, and I thought that maybe it might work on him.

“I’ve got a note here.” I screamed at him. “A note from my mum. It’ll tell you about it!”

“About what?” He drawled at me.

“Your bike!” I told him. “It’s about who did it!”

Crusher wrenched the note from me and began unfolding it.

“A note from mummy.” He said sarcastically. “Well, let’s see what mummy has to say.”

31 He read it out aloud to me in a mocking voice.

It said: Dear Brain Dead Gorilla.

Please do not beat up my son. I know that he is a cheeky little dipstick, and when you finally catch up with him. He whimpers and whines like a cowardly mangy dog, which makes you feel like belting him even more.

But he’s the only son I’ve got, and if you beat him up, he’ll come home bawling and sobbing, and he won’t stop crying all night, and I won’t get any sleep. So please have mercy on him, and take the shopping with my compliments.

I hope that eating all the junk food will help you get over the loss of your bike.

Signed, The Little Dork’s Mum.

As Crusher finished reading the note, I looked at his face and I was astounded.

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I swear I saw a tear in his eye. A dead set tear. Crusher slowly folded up the note and gave it back to me.

“Say thanks to your mum for the stuff.” He said with a sob.Then he picked up the bags and began to walk away slowly with his head bowed.For about a minute I watched him. I just stared. I had witnessed a miracle.

Then I looked at the note and kissed it. It was awesome. It was all powerful. I felt ecstatic. That note was my ticket to freedom. It could get me out of anything. Gleefully I put the note back in my pocket, and swaggered off down the road. I even whistled.Suddenly I remembered that I didn’t have the chips and stuff anymore and that I’d still have to pay for them. For a second I felt lousy, but then I told myself that to have Crusher off my back was worth a lot more than two bags of junk food, and I was cheerful again.

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Five minutes later as I was walking down the street without a care in the world when I saw a police car pull into a parking spot just in front of me.

I tell you I jumped in fright. My heart started pounding and my throat went dry.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against cops. I mean they do a hard and rotten job, like that time they helped my mum when my dad came over and went off. But every time they talk to me, they ask me awkward questions, and they make me feel like I’m a criminal, and I hate it.

Plus, I had heard from a mate that the police were cracking down on kids skipping school, because houses were getting broken into, and there was a lot of tagging going on.

So I knew that they would most likely question me, so I walked into the nearest shop. I wasn’t even aware of which shop I was going into, I just pushed my way in.

Guess which shop it was?

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Well, I tell you it’s the last place a kid would go if he didn’t want the cops to find him.

I walked into an amusement arcade, you know like Timezone, except our one is called CyberWorld.

You know sometimes I feel like nothing is ever going to go right. Can you imagine the police having a meeting and the sergeant goes.

“I want you to crack down on kids skipping school!”

And all the police men and women go “Where should we start looking?”

And we all know what the sergeant would say next, don’t we?

He’d say “C_ _ _ _ W_ _ _ _”

You fill it in.

So there I was standing in Cyber World, hiding from the police in the first place they’d look, and I couldn’t even play a game while I waited for them to cart me off, because I didn’t have a cent on me.

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Well, I walked right up to the back corner and stood there looking into the screen of one of the machines, trying to look as cool and as calm as possible.

Every now and then I took a glimpse at the door and held my breath, but the police didn’t come in. I eventually saw them standing in front of the shop eating pies. I gave a sigh of relief, but they sure picked a great spot to eat their lunch I was trapped. All I could do was wait there until they moved on. Suddenly a voice behind me said. “Are you going to play a game or not?”

I turned around and looked at an old grey haired man behind me. He looked like a mummified corpse that had had the bandages removed. At first my heart leapt, but I quickly calmed myself. I didn’t want to make him suspicious.“I can’t play a game.” I told him. “I don’t have any money.”

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“Then you’ll have to move on.” He said. “I don’t like kids just hanging around!”

“I can’t.” I said instinctively, but then I wished I hadn’t said it, because he looked at me suspiciously and said.

“Why not?”

Well a thought came to me very quickly, and I handed him the note and said.

“This note will explain everything. It’s from my mum.”

The old man took the note from me, and began to slowly unfold it. The whole time he watched me warily. It was obvious that he didn’t trust me. He read the note slowly staring at me the whole time I tell you he gave me the creeps. The note said.

Dear Old Geezer,

Please allow my son Ben to spend the day in your arcade, because last night a freak windstorm blew the roof off our house. (We suspect the wind came from the man next door. He has severe bouts of gas due to

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his diet of baked beans, onion and cabbage sandwiches, but we can’t prove it.) As I have to work today and Ben has a curriculum day,

he needs somewhere safe and warm to stay until 3.30 p.m.

Yours, hoping that my son won’t freeze to death,

The Cyber World Parasite’s Mum.

Of course the note worked and when he had finished reading it the old man looked at me like a doting granddad.

“That’s bad news.” He said to me in a sympathetic voice. “Your mum must be pretty upset.”

“Yeah, at first she really freaked out!” I lied. “But she rang the insurance up early this morning and they’re already hard at work fixing the roof. It’ll be like new in a couple of weeks. I can’t stay there though it’s way to dangerous. We’re going to stay at at my Grandma’s tonight. So everything will be alright.”

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“I’m glad to hear that!” said the old man. “You can stay here as long as you like, and here, have a free game.”He tossed me a $2 coin.“Thanks.” I said, but he’d already

disappeared back into the rear of the shop. I walked up to my favourite game. It was a new one called “Intergalactic Star

Warrior”. It’s a space Star Wars type stimulation game. And I’m ace at it.You remember at the start of this story when I was telling you about all those punishments that Dragon Woman Quewish was going to give me? And you remember that one of the punishments was not being allowed to be the school representative in the CyberWorld Computer Game Champ Quest?

Well, that punishment would have been the school’s loss, because when it comes to “Intergalactic Star Warrior” I reckon I’d be the world champion.

I’ve destroyed the “Galaxy Destroyer” which is near the end of the game three times. And twice I nearly got to the end of it, which is capturing the Imperial President.

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So there I was playing my favourite game. I had the whole day to play it. I had no one hassling me, and if I bombed out, it was the only game I was going to get. So, I played like a kid possessed. I don’t think I’ve ever played better. I was switched on.

I was focused. I was humming and I was racking up points like you wouldn’t believe. In fact I was racking them up so quickly, that I thought the electronic counter was going to have a melt down.It was awesome. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to play as well as I did that day.

It was like I was having an out of body experience. I felt like I was infallible, like I couldn’t die. All the moves came so easily. It was like everything on the screen was happening in slow motion, but I was in hyperdrive. I couldn’t miss.

About an hour later I still hadn’t lost a life and I was getting to the centre of the president’s headquarters on the Asteroid Vega, when the machine went crazy.

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At first I thought I’d blown it up or something, but then the screen started flashing “Winner, Winner,” and then bells and sirens went off. I couldn’t understand what was happening. I just stood there, stunned.

The next thing I knew the old man appeared beside me, and I panicked.

“I was just playing it!” I yelled at him excitedly. “I didn’t harm it or anything it just went crazy for no reason honest!”

“Don’t worry, “ He yelled back at me over the noise. “You’re a winner son. You’ve clocked the machine. You’re a very lucky boy!”

Suddenly the noise stopped, and the old man continued.

“You’ve won the Cyber World promotion. We’ve had the contest going for five weeks didn’t you read the sign?” Then he pointed to the wall behind the machine and sure enough there it was “Clock the machine win the ultimate prize!”

“Wicked!” I said. “So what’s the prize?” I asked happily.

41 “Well son.” He said “Whoever’s first to clock the machine gets a load of

prizes, including two years worth of free games, a Nintendo DS, an MP3 player and an interview on TV with the current affairs program Frontline. I rung them from the back of the shop as soon as I heard the bells go off. And guess what? They’re in the area. So they’ll be here any minute. You’re going to be on telly son!”

How do you think I took that news? If you said I wasn’t too rapt then you’re right. I was freaking out. I had a

vision of everyone ringing my mum and telling her they’d seen me on telly, and then my mum realising that I must’ve skipped school, and then her killing me slowly by doing body piercing on me with her knitting needles.

“I don’t think I can hang around here anymore.” I told him as I made for the door.

“I’ve been here long enough!” “But it’s not 3.30 yet.” He called after me. “Don’t you want the prizes?”

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“It was your money.” I yelled back. “You keep them!”

But as I opened the door to escape, a film crew stormed through the door like a herd of thirsty wildebeest heading for the waterhole. I tried to get past them but they just carried me back inside with them. There was nothing I could do about it.

“Is this him?” Asked this pushy female reporter, looking at the old dude, but pointing at me.

“That’s him!” said the old man. “But he’s a bit shy though. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of being interviewed.”

The lady turned to me, and I could see by the look on her face that she was trying to seem concerned and understanding but it was fake.

“I can understand you being nervous.” she said in a reassuring voice.

“I used to be overawed by the thought of being on TV too. But it’s easy really. You’re going to be famous, young man. Surely you like the idea of that?”

43 “Look, I’m sorry.” I said. “But I can’t do interviews on the T.V. I just can’t.” “Why not?” She asked in a very curious voice. “Oh no!” I thought. “She’s sniffing a story.”

You see I know that reporters don’t care about embarrassing anyone or blowing the whistle on them. And I figured that if they found out that I was skipping school, they’d love it! They’d just end up adding it to the story. So I quickly took out the note I mean really what else could I do.Then I handed her the note and said.

“I can’t do interviews, and this note will explain why.”The reporter lady looked at me sceptically and said “My, my you actually carry a note around with you just to get you out of interviews do you? How odd!”

Then she opened the note and read it this is what it said.

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Dear Nosey Reporter,

Please do not interview my son and put his face on TV, for you see appearing on television is against our religion. Our guru, “Do-yah Own-a-Lott-I-want-it,” has taught us that if we are seen on TV our souls will be trapped in the electronic flux of the universe, and we will never be able to add to his enormous bank account ever again.

Yours In Perpetual Brainwash-induced Bliss.

The Little Blasphemer’s Mum.

I looked at the lady reporter, Tracey I think her name was, and her reaction was extraordinary. I thought that the letter would have gotten her really excited. I mean, you know how reporters love exposing weird cults and stuff, so I thought she’d start asking

millions of questions like. “Who’s this Jonah person?” and “What other strange beliefs does your guru teach you?”

But she didn’t.

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Instead she looked at me with these sad puppy dog eyes and said. “Well we can’t go against your religion. That wouldn’t be right, but I fear you and your mother may have been brainwashed. I think you should talk to some social workers from protective services to see if you’re a child in crisis.”

As she said it, I blinked and shook my head a couple of times to make sure I was hearing what I thought I was hearing. But it was true. That crazy lady reporter was talking about sending for social workers.

“I can’t talk to social workers!” I screamed. But it was too late, Tracey or whatever her name was, was already

punching numbers into her mobile phone. “Hello, Community Services?” she said. “This is Tracey Nuncio from Frontline. We’ve got a child here

who belongs to some strange cultish group, and we think he may be a child in danger. Could you please come and see him? We’re at the CyberWorld Amusement Arcade.”

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Then she said “Yes, yes” a few times. I stood there mesmerised.

My mind felt like a mass of scrambled eggs. I couldn’t think straight.

What could I do? I fought with my mind, forcing it to think of something, and then I realised that they didn’t really know who I was. All I had to do was escape. So I ran for the door. But then I heard Tracey say,

“Sure, we’ll make sure he stays here until you arrive.”

When she hung up the phone and saw me bolting for the door and yelled at her crew.

“Get him, he’s going for the door.”

I tell you, one of those TV guys must have been a cousin of Usain Bolt or something, because I wasn’t even half way to the door before someone grabbed me.

“Hey!” I screamed, as he dragged me back. “I’ll have you charged with assault. Let me go!”

But he didn’t listen. “They told us to keep you here, kid!”

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He said matter-of-factly. “This is for your own good whether you like it or not!”

Well, they held me there until the social workers arrived. And the whole time I felt sick. I was so agitated that I felt like I was going to throw up any minute.

The reporters saw my reaction and they kept saying things like. “They must have really done a good job on the brainwashing him. He really believes we’re his enemy or something.”

When the social workers walked through the door, I didn’t need a formal introduction. I knew it was them.

There were two of them, a man and a lady. They both wore casual almost hippie looking type gear, and they both had these smiling “Oh we care so much looks on their faces.”

But I knew they were trouble. In fact, the only difference between the two of them was that the guy wore a pair of faded jeans that looked like they were in fashion ten years ago, and the lady had these huge black

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ancient temple looking earrings hanging from bungy cords that were threatening to rip her ears right off.

The lady social worker introduced herself to Tracey.

“Hi. I’m Nina Rossi.” she said, taking out her ID and this is Mark Eadie.”

They all shook hands. Then that Nina lady looked at me and smiled warmly.

“And this young man must be our friend in need.” she said. “Hi, I’m Nina. What’s your name?”

“I forget.” I told her.

“Oh, ok.” She said, shaking her head as she walked over to the current affairs crew.

Then she took the reporter lady aside and said really quietly but I heard it.

“I think he may be a little bit intimidated by everyone being here. I think I should have a talk to him alone. Do you mind leaving?” She asked.

“Not at all,” said Tracey. “We’ve got another story to cover anyway.”

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Next Tracey looked at her crew and said

“Right we’re out of here.”

With that the reporters packed up their gear and left.

I tell you the social worker watched them go with an amazed look on her face. I don’t think she’d ever met reporters who were so easy to get rid of. I could have told her it was the note that had affected them, but I had another idea.

The social worker lady looked back at me and said.

“Look I can understand why you don’t want to talk to me, and that you might be frightened, but we really are here to help you, you know? You see we want to help you and your mum.”

I tell you when I heard the word mum I froze. You see my mum is a single mum right, so she’s always thinking that people are watching her and judging her and thinking that she’s an unfit parent so me arriving at our house with social workers would be the world’s greatest disaster. Dude I’m telling it would get nasty, really nasty.

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So man I didn’t answer. I just sat there with this stubborn look on my face, waiting for a chance to escape.

For the next five minutes she kept asking questions like,

“Where do you live?” and “Do you go to school?”

But I didn’t say a word.

Finally, I think she got a bit ticked off with my attitude, because she looked at the male social worker and said,

“Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Let’s search him for some ID”

The guy walked up to me and held my arms gently but firmly, while the lady patted my pockets. I think she was searching for a wallet or something.

I don’t know why she expected a kid like me to have a wallet, but she searched me anyway. She didn’t seem to notice that I had the note in my pocket, and I didn’t tell her about it either. You see I didn’t really feel like using it anymore.

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Let’s face it, it was still working, but for some strange reason it was always getting me deeper into trouble. So I just let them search me. I was sure that I didn’t have any ID and that sooner or later they’d slip up and I’d be able to make a break for it.

Little did I know, however, that I was wrong about not having ID, because they found some. Guess where?

If you said, “The tag of my windcheater,” then you win again. You see my mum has this annoying habit of sewing these personalised name and address tags on all my clothes, including my underpants.

“You could leave them at the pool,” She says. “And they cost money to replace, money we don’t have.”

Well, eventually the guy said, “Ah ha!” because he saw the tag hanging out of my jumper. He read it and said, “Here it is. His name’s Ben Russell, and he lives at 35 Mountain Road, Brookhurst.”

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“Okay, young man.” the lady said to me. “Let’s take you home and talk to your mum.”

I tell you I felt lousy. I was a dead duck, and I had only one possible way out of this situation, and against my better judgement, I took out the note.

“You can’t come to my house.” I stated.

“Oh? And why not?” She asked me sharply.

“Because I’ve got a note here!” I said as I handed it to her. Quickly she grabbed it and read it out aloud.

This is what it said:

Dear Painful Person,

Do not - repeat – DO NOT DARE! come anywhere near my house. I am fed up with people interfering in my life. I have an arsenal of weapons, including automatic assault rifles, stun grenades, tear gas canisters, and crate loads of ammunition. If anyone from the government comes within

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a metre of my house I will use all available force to protect myself and my family.

Signed,

The Little Terrorist’s Mother.

I tell you, the social worker’s eyes bulged out of her head as she read the note. You could see she was getting really anxious.

I watched in horror as she pressed triple zero into her mobile phone and said. “This is Nina Rossi from Community Services. Get me the police!”

It took her about thirty seconds to destroy my life, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Even before I knew what was happening, she had organised for a SWAT team to surround my house. I nearly fainted from the stress of it.

The next thing I knew, they were leading me to their car.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked in dazed voice. I was still overcome by the thought of what was happening.

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“We’re taking you to a refuge.” The lady told me earnestly. “A place where you’ll be safe until we’ve sorted this out.”

Well, those words really stung me. The thought of going to a refuge terrified me, and I totally lost it.

“I want to go home!” I screamed, and then I wrenched myself free from the male social worker’s grasp.

I think I caught him off guard. Maybe my lack of resistance up till then had made him complacent and loosen his grip, because I got away from him pretty easily.

Anyway I started running up the road in the direction of my house. Behind me I could hear the social workers calling me. At first I think the guy started chasing me, but I guess he wasn’t very fit. Either that, or he had an asthma attack, because after a short while I looked back and I wasn’t being followed anymore. So I slowed down to a gentle jog.

Ten minutes later I got to my street, and I shuddered at what I saw.

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Police had blocked off both ends of my street and in the distance I could see police cars on our nature strip with their blue and red lights flashing. Policemen and women in flak jackets and helmets were crouching behind their cars.

Some of them had shotguns, and others had guns that looked like the ones that snipers would use. You know, with powerful scopes on them.One of the policemen had a loudhailer and he was calling out to my house. “This is Captain Bradley,” He said in a very stern voice. “I want everyone in the house to come out with their hands on their heads. If you do as I ask no one will get hurt.”

Well I tell you I knew I had to think fast. For a second I thought I should go up to the roadblock and tell them that I wanted to talk to mum. But then I realised that the social worker’s car (with the social workers sitting in it) was parked near the police.

“Damn!” I thought “They must have suspected I’d head home.”

56 Straight away I knew why they were there, they were there to take me

straight to that refuge place. So I decided that the first person I should talk to was that Captain Bradley bloke.

It looked like he was running the show so I thought he would be the only one that could stop what was happening.So I went into commando mode, and I used my local knowledge. I ran down past my street, and jumped over the fence of the first house and crept through their backyard.

Then one by one I jumped over every fence and ran through every backyard on the way to my place. In one backyard I nearly jumped onto “Rufus’ the nasty old Rottweiler dog that scares me senseless when he barks without warning, but luckily for me he was asleep, and by the time he woke up, I was already climbing the fence on the other side.

Eventually I peered over the fence of my next door neighbour’s place.

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I saw police on the other side of the backyard looking over the fence at my house. Their backs were turned to me, so I dropped quietly over the fence, and crept along the side of my neighbour’s house.

When I reached the front garden, I pushed myself under the bushes and crawled on my hands and knees towards my letter box which was on the wall in the corner of our front yard.When I got there, I peered over the fence. In front of me I could see the police. They were only four or five metres away. They were all staring at my house. They seemed edgy and nervous, but I didn’t hesitate, I just stood up slowly and said.

“Excuse me “I need to talk to Captain Bradley.”Well I tell you, you should have seen the reaction. In a split second, all those tough looking cops nearly jumped out of their skins. I think I gave them all the greatest shock of their lives because they all jolted

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with surprise and then they whirled round, and pointed their guns at me. I knew I didn’t have much time, so I dragged the note out of my pocket and held it up. Now I know you’re probably thinking that I was going to say something like.

“Don’t stake out my house. I’ve got a note from my mum.”

But I didn’t do that. No way! I was becoming frightened of that note. It was too powerful, and it had the nasty habit of fixing one problem, but then immediately afterwards creating an even worse one.

I tell you I had a vision of the note getting the police to leave, but then them sending in a stealth bomber to nuke my house. No, I’d decided it was time for honesty. It’d all gone far enough.

“My mum’s not a terrorist or a mad cultist,” I yelled urgently. “She’s just an ordinary working mum with the flu. It’s all my fault. I’ve been forging notes. I’ve been forging notes from my mum!”

59 Then I tore the note up and threw the pieces in the air.

Captain Bradley pointed the loudhailer at me and said, “Put your hands where I can see them son and then slowly walk over here!”I climbed out of the garden and walked to the police car. I tell you I felt like a refugee from a lethal weapon movie.As I walked over, I kept saying, “I was faking the notes, I was faking the notes. You have to believe me.”When I got to the police car they made me put my hands on the bonnet, and a policeman frisked me.“He’s clean!” he said.

I felt like saying. “Of course I am! I had a shower last night!” But I didn’t think that they’d appreciate my sense of humour. So I just

stood there! And for once in my life I kept my big mouth shut.

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Captain Bradley walked up to me and said.

“What’s this about you forging notes?”

“I’m skipping school.” I told him.

“I forged that note about my mum being a terrorist to stop the social workers from coming to my house. Because if my mum finds out that I’ve skipped school, I’ll be in heaps of trouble.”

“Well, son.” He said sternly. “If what you’re saying is true, then I think you’ll find that you’re in a bit more trouble than you’ve bargained for.”

Then he thought for a second and said.

“Well, if your mum’s so innocent, then why hasn’t she come out?”

“She’s got the flu. She’s most likely so fast asleep that she doesn’t even know you’re out here!” I said frantically. “If you want, I’ll go inside and wake her up.”

The captain pondered on that for quite along time, and then he said.

“I believe you son. Go inside and get your mum.”

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Then he turned to the other police.

“Keep your heads down.” He said to them. “But put your guns down too!”

Well quietly I walked up to the house, took the key out from under the mat, unlocked the front door, and walked inside.

I knew that mum wore earplugs when she slept during the day after working a night shift. So there was no use calling out to her. I just crept into her room, sat on the edge of the bed and shook her softly.

Eventually she started murmuring and blinked open her bleary eyes. Then she took out her earplugs and looked at me.

“You’re home already!” She said. “I must have slept all day!”

“We’ve got a problem.” I told her. “There are police outside!”

“Well, ask them what they want, and then tell them I’m sick, will you?” She said as her head fell back onto the pillow.

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“I don’t think they’re going to go away until you talk to them.” I said. “It seems there’s been a mix up, and they think this is a terrorist’s house.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Was all mum could groan.

“But Mum.” I said urgently. “You’ve got to get up. They’ve got guns and everything. They’re really serious.”

At the word guns, my mum sat bolt upright.

“Guns!” She said. “What are they doing with guns?”

“I told you.” I said firmly. “They think we’re terrorists!”

“What rubbish!” She said indignantly.

Immediately she climbed out of bed and put on her dressing gown. I tell you when my mum gets an attack of the aggros, watch out! And I could tell she was angry, very angry, she was fuming!

She stormed through the house and out onto the driveway.

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“What’s all this about then?” She demanded, waving her finger at the police.

“We suspect this house belongs to terrorists.” Captain Bradley yelled back at her. “Well it doesn’t, so go away!” Mum ordered.

“We’ll have to search the house for guns first.” He said.“Go ahead then!” She said angrily. “But don’t make a mess!” Captain Bradley sent a policeman, with a sniffer dog, and a policewoman

into the house. A few minutes later, they came back out.“There’s no weapons in there!” The policewoman told Captain Bradley.

Captain Bradley nodded his head and then turned to the other police and told them to pack up and leave.

Then he walked up to my mum and said. “It seems that all this has been your son’s fault. He tells me that he’s skipped school,

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and then he’s been faking notes from you. He gave a note to a couple of social workers and it said you were a terrorist. I guess he thought it would stop them from coming here and telling you that he hadn’t gone to school.”

Well you should have seen my mum’s face. She turned to me and gave me the filthiest look I’ve ever seen. If looks could kill, I‘d have been deader than sushi.

“Is that true?” she said menacingly.

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded.

“Your son will have to come down to the station for questioning.” Said Captain Bradley. “We might have to charge him with giving false information to police. You’ll have to come down to the station too, he’ll need you there when we question him because he’s a minor.”

My mum just stood there with her arms folded, taking all this in, and then she said.

“Just hang on a second. I’ve got a better idea, wait here for a moment.”

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Mum walked back inside. About a minute later she came back out with a piece of paper in her hand.

“Here!” She said to Captain Bradley. “This is a real note from his mum. It’ll tell you exactly what you can do with the rotten little sod!”

Captain Bradley read the note, and then without saying a word to me or my mum he led me to his police car. Then he sat me in the back seat, and we drove off. I tell you I didn’t have a clue what was going on. I looked back at my mum, but she wasn’t waving, she wasn’t even looking at the police car, she was just walking back into the house. I tell you I was feeling like my life had come to an end. All of my nerves were jangling. I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened in my life. Captain Bradley looked at me through the rear view mirror. “Do you want to know what the note says?” He asked me.

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“I may as well!” I said dejectedly.Captain Bradley handed the note to the policewoman who was sitting in the front passenger seat. I had been so out of it that I hadn’t even noticed that she was in the car. She took the note and read it out to me.

Dear Swat Captain,Please take my son away and never bring him back. I’m sorry, but I can’t cope with him any longer. He’s far too much trouble, and he is continually getting worse. I have no option but to give him up. Maybe some foster family will have more success with him than me.

Yours Sincerely, The Little Delinquent’s Mother.

I was devastated. My eye’s filled with tears and I started sobbing my heart out. I cried and cried. I felt empty, like my very soul had been sucked out. It was the worst feeling I have ever had.

67 I must have looked pathetic, because the policewoman turned side on,

and she held my hand. I think she felt sorry for me. “There’s a PS on the note. Would you like to read it?” She asked kindly. I wiped the tears from my eyes and I sniffed. Then I took the note.

“The PS is there.” She said pointing on the note.I read where she pointed.It said:

PS Just kidding! Gotcha! Mum.

Suddenly I felt a wave of relief come over my body. It was like I’d been suffocating, and I could suddenly breathe again.

I sighed out loud and my sobs subsided. I looked at the note again and re-read the PS just to make sure it was really there. I turned the note over and there was another PS on the back. (Actually it was a PPS)

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This is what it said:

PPS When the police are finished with you and you come home, you’re grounded. grounded for the rest of your life. Your room, which will from now on be known as your cell awaits your return.

I read it and I smiled.

THE END