I’ve always been a helper. From assisting in my own birth (people often discount the baby’s efforts) onwards, I’ve always felt that my role is to help others. The name ‘Jesus Christ’ is often mentioned around me, but I reject the comparison – there are no three- to four-day gaps in my resume. Here are two examples of my deeds.
My early memories are hazy like seafoam, but I remember at age five hearing an argument between two people who I think are my parents. “A fair!” my mother is saying. “You had no right to go [can’t remember exact words] a fair!” There’s sobbing, but I tone it down so I can hear the argument. “It’s because of the kid!” my father calmly shouts. Interesting, I think. That Renaissance fair Dad took me to 18 months ago must have had a baby goat (aka kid) that he wanted to surprise Mum with, hence the secrecy.
As sure as two plus two (as I would find out at age 17) equals four, I knew what I had to do. I snuck downstairs, snuck Dad’s wallet and watch, and snuck down to the local petting zoo. Although it was closed due to the 2am-ness of the hour, I persuaded the adjacent-caraven-dwelling owner to wake up. With some light cajoling and heavy haggling, I persuaded him to take the wallet and watch in exchange for one of his petiter goats, one with a kid-like intensity.
When I presented it to my parents, a look of acceptance crossed my mother’s face. “You’re right,” she said to my father. I had done it! Coincidentally, they then enlisted me in the Children’s Navy and I was shipped off to the Gulf.
Navy life in the Middle East really ages you. I came out of my 10-year stint 18 years older, but it was great to see all the amazing help we were perpetrating on the people there. My navy tenure didn’t necessarily end because I’d achieved my career goals, but rather because I fell in love. My first kiss came early, at age 23, but that didn’t make it any less significant, and I fell hard.
t was odd, because it was someone I thought didn’t like me much. But then one day, as we were bareknuckle boxing, he leaned his head back and swung it towards mine as hard as he could. Admittedly, it was mostly forehead-to-forehead contact, but our lips brushed briefly, and I understood his intent. After all, headbutting was expressly not permitted in boxing, so why else would he do it?
If you’re anything like me, being in love is a lot like being concussed – in that you need medical treatment for concussion when you fall in love. Since I knew my suitor was a bit shy, I decided to take the initiative. My love strategy is to immolate the target in a maelstrom of kind gestures, so I set about writing letters, scattering petals, and obtaining young goats (old habits).
Late one night, Mr Right came to my bunk to speak to me. He explained that my actions had helped him to see that there was something flawed to Western capitalist democracies, if people like me were the product. He thanked me for the realisation, and defected to our enemy nation-state (I’ve forgotten the name).
By H E Matheson
The Coburg Meddler 