Choose Your Own Adventure

1

You are Action Man. The original by Palitoy, not one of the 1993 Hasbro range – you are very particular about this. That is, you would like to be, but if someone gets it wrong, you tend not to bother correcting them.

You are working in an army surplus store near the Seven Dials in the London Borough of Westminster. Your supervisor is in the midst of selling a Hungarian canvas rucksack with leather straps to a student for £19, even though the price on the tag said £12.

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” said the supervisor. “I mean, we get a lot of cool stuff here, but this is really cute. Oh, look. I’m sorry – I can’t let it go for £12. I’m sorry – that was a mistake. It’s Action Man putting the wrong label on things. Tch. I can’t even legally do this,” (he says, scribbling out the ‘£12’) “but I’ve got to, really. I’ll give him a bollocking in a mo.”

It is more or less the end of your shift. Do you:

Make like a tree and pretend you didn’t overhear him? Turn to 2.

Wait for your supervisor to discipline you? Turn to 3.

2

It is raining a fine mist. You notice in a shop window that your flocked fibre hair is speckled with tiny stars. As you are admiring this effect, you are overcome with the suspicion that you didn’t close the door to your flat properly this morning. It is a Yale lock – normally, you slam it, and it is secure. But you were in such a rush, having dithered over whether or not to take an umbrella. Do you:

Take the bus back (it’s quicker)? Turn to 6.

Stroll back idly? After all, you’re probably just being paranoid. Turn to 7.

3

“Come on, Action Man. Come on,” says your supervisor.

He is a mathematics graduate called Adam. He is bisexual (60/40 in favour of women, he says) and has a skin condition called Keratosis Pilaris that affects his right shoulder and the right side of his neck. He often grips a hook of torn-off nail between his teeth like a toothpick or grenade pin. He is thrilled when a consortium of medic bags arrives with the bandages, salves, sticking plasters and ointments still untouched inside them. This is the only thing the two of your have in common.

“Fucking pay attention to what you’re doing,” he says.

Your politeness is rated 9. Roll two die against your politeness. If the number is more than 9, go to 4. If the number is less and or equal to 9, go to 5.

4

You try to sound apologetic, but come across as insincere, bored.

“Hey, I’m serious,” says Adam. “Better get it into that moulded vinyl head of yours, sunbeam, because I don’t want to have to deal with an attitude. Clear?”

You agree that it is clear, and he lets you leave.

Knock 2 off your confidence rating. Now go to 2.

5

You say something to disarm and placate Adam. He’s convinced you’re genuinely remorseful. He tells you, ‘Take it easy mate’, and sends you on your way.

Go to 2.

6

The bus driver plays Galaxian with pedestrians. If one of them dashes out in front of the bus, his horn blurts only once – a precise shot, sending the enemy scurrying back to the pavement. If a party of them attempt to cross, he lets forth a salvo of bleats, strafing them, and they scatter.

You sit on the top deck, at the front. From here, you can survey the street with your eagle eyes and feel, for a brief period, like nothing is expected of you.

You think of the consortium of medical bags that came in the other day, fully stocked with the original quota of bandages, salves and sticking plasters. You like the idea of becoming a medic.

Go to 10.

7

While you are passing Boggi’s sandwich bar, you cross paths with Tom and Etsu. You are surprised to see them together. Etsu, a redhead who wears outsized jumpers and outsized earrings, has a reputation for being easy. She was once overheard shouting to someone over the phone: “Are you saying I’m a dirty bitch, girlfriend? I’ll come round there with my razor and cut your clit off.” Tom thinks Etsu is a gypsy. He once said he wouldn’t shag her without wearing at least ten condoms.

You have a soft spot for Etsu. You suspect that if the rumours are true, it’s because she is unhappy. Tom is probably not the right person to make her less unhappy.

“Hullo!” says Tom.

“Hullo!” “Hullo!”

Your confidence is rated 6 (unless it has been reduced). Roll two die against it. If the number is higher than your confidence rating, go to 8. If the number is equal to or lower than your confidence rating, go to 9.

8

You ask how they’re doing. They say fine. You feel uncomfortable, and the conversation is over with fairly quickly. Their body language neither confirms nor denies a burgeoning relationship.

Once they are gone, you remember that you’re wearing your dog tags, and this talisman gives you some hope for future encounters.

Add 1 to your confidence rating. Now go to 10.

9

You make a witty remark. Tom replies with a better one. Tom once told you that you don’t need to roll against your confidence – all you need to do is not give a shit what other people think or feel. Etsu plays with a pendant round her neck. You compare this ornament to your dog tags, which makes her giggle. Boldly, you tell them you’re going to Torture Garden in two weeks, half-pitching it as an invite, adding that you’re going to wear your Captain Zargon: Space Pirate outfit. You figure Etsu might be up for it. She says as much.

Your eagle eyes move, but don’t shine – they’re machine-painted, after all – but that livid scar on your cheek is supposed to be sexy. Never mind that you were made with it. Etsu is admiring you and you feel up to the challenge.

Tom jerks her shoulder amiably and says they’d better be off.

Add 2 to your confidence rating. Now go to 10.

10

When you arrive back at your flat, you are relieved to find that the door is firmly shut. None of your flatmates are at home. You go to your own room, which is cramped, strewn with plastic accessories and hot as a reptile house.

You take your shirt off and look at yourself in the mirror.

You are sculpted enough, but your arms are weedy, and the metal screws at your joints are a turn-off. Your lack of body hair has always worried you, and now you find the blue paint on one of your eagle eyes is chipped. No, scuffed. You are not sure how it happened.

Ever since the G. I. Joe sea adventurer had a leading role in that pirate film, you’ve been thinking of getting a flock fibre beard to go with your hair. You’re still unsure. What if it looked ridiculous?

It occurs to you that you are a nobody in your own eyes. Thousands of Action Man dolls were produced in the 1970’s and 80’s, and you cannot distinguish yourself from any of them. What’s more, you realise that there were no ‘key points’ or landmarks on your road to becoming a nobody. It cannot be summarised as a series of ever-more-unfortunate incidents. If you were to draw a graph, the descent would be a perfect quarter circle.

You lean forward and scratch your back where the following words are etched:

“Made In England By Palitoy Under Licence From Hasbro ® 1964.”

The rain has stopped. Do you:

Brew a cup of Fairtrade tea and sit by the window, searching the sky for early swifts?

Take out the rubbish, clean the kitchen, try to fix the brakes on your bike?

Read another chapter of The English Patient, then fall asleep in the fishing chair you won when you were salesman of the month at your last job?