What if?

What if? What if I'm not me? Ye' that's a thought. What if I've never really existed and all I am is just a figment of my own imagination. Ye' right! What if I don't look a bit like I think I do? Ye', I'm really like some large jellyfish but I'm so revolting that I have to make everyone think I look like me. Hang on, if I make them think I look like me then what do I look like in the first place? What if I finish reading "Anna Karenina" and find out at the end that I enjoyed it? Ye' right! What if I can't ever stop thinking about girls, and my best mate Mark's mum?

Tadge sits on his bed and stares at the apple. It's just an ordinary apple; red and yellow and slightly old. Its skin is a little wrinkled, like his Nan's, but in a nicer way. There were other apples in the fruit bowl but he felt sorry for this one; bought twoo weeks ago and forgotten. Rubbing it against his jumper it starts to shine. Right! Why had he never noticed before just how beautiful a red apple can be? But he's hungry and yet the apple looks great. What if he bit into it? Then you'd make a dirty great hole in all that beauty, dah! But he want's to eat the apple. So eat it!

Oh shit! A voice from downstairs shouts up to him about his homework; it's his mum. His mum is his conscience and she works overtime. What if I never do my nomework ever again? Would it be such a sin? Would I be consigned forever to the outer reaches of Hades? Na, it'd be against my human rights. What if I could select which homework I did? Now, that's a thought. Well, whose wuold I pick? No contest! Miss Matthews's homework would always be done just to keep her sweet and smiling. Oh big shit! Miss Matthews is the one teacher in the whole school with nice legs; and Miss Matthews always wears s skirt and sways her hps as she walks between the desks. That's why i fight with Shaun Baxter to sit in the aisle desk just so I can watch her walk past. Oh, bigger shit! The other day she had heals on, really high heals, and her legs looked even better. Oh, even bigger shit! Why is it that legs look so great in heals, even the not so great ones?
He'd never thought his mum had decent legs until the other day when she went out for a meal with Phil, her new bloke, and she wore heals and he realised that his mother had quite nice legs. Now, that had come as a shock.
Miss Matthews has really nice legs that are nice all the way up. Martin Wittering says she's got no tits worth mentioning but that's just Martin Wittering. If a girl doesn't have what he calls decent tits then he isn't interested. What are decent tits anyway? Surely tits are tits; but apparently not according to Wittering. He rates them by numbers from one to ten. Miss Matthews rates only a three.
What would Mark's mum rate, eh? She's got very decent tits. Not only are her tits decent but she always wears tight jeans and tight jeans on a slim body like hers are a wicked combination. Besides, once the jeans are on then its an obligation to look at the bum and Mark's mum has a really nice bum. He's getting an embarrassing problem just thinking about Mark's mum.

What if the world started to spin the other way? Would left become right and right become left? Would you start writing the other way round or speak back to front? That'd be great, or would it? Perhaps girls would do all the chasing and the boys would have the babies? Na, not that, it's stupid! Holy shit! The thought of boys having the babies was daft! Boys weren't built to have babies not unless they became girls and just 'cos the world spun the other way wouldn't change how you looked, dah! But days would go backwards wouldn't they? The sun would rise in the West and set in the East and.... Miss Matthews wuold still have great legs and Mark's mum would still look cool in a pair of tight jeans. Oh, secular shit!

What if he didn't get his maths homework in on time? It'd be late, dah! And being late wasn't an option, not this time. He'd been alte with the last lot and "Donger" Bell wasn't a happy bunny. Come on, Mr. Bell never was a happy bunny, so what was new? No but, there were degrees of unhappy bunniness. And was he bothered? Yes, eh shitting-well was! Mark Wittering said that "Donger" Bell used to cane boys if they handed in their homework late. He said his dad'd told him all about it from when he was at the school and his dad should know 'cos he never got his homework in on time. Martin Wittering said his dad skived off and played in a rock band, as if!
Still, the maths homework had to be done if only he could remember how to use the calculator to prove the equation. What a pity he'd been so interested in Julie Sommerfield's bra strap at the crucial bit of "Donger's" lesson. Treble shit, what a cow Julie was.... not a bad-looking cow, a hot cow if you really wanted the truth but a beguiling and devious cow none-the=less. She always wore her school shirt open just low enough for you to see the top of her cleavage. Though Wittering rated her nothing more than a two and half or so there was still something very erotic about her. Not like Chrissie who was prudish but Wittering rated her a six. Chrissie was nice and you could talk with her, sensibly. The only thing was that if you did that then some nosy plonker would start spreading rumours. He wasn't ready forrumours just yet. But he had to confess that he liked the way Chrissie blushed if their names were linked.
Oh, October Revolution shit! why hadn't he bothered to listen? He could see his future sinking slowly down the loo pan and all because he couldn't keep his eyes off Julie bloody Sommerfield.

Go to Mark's says his mum. He dare not tell her why he missed the vital instructions. Mark's your best mate she says, and he'll share his notes with you, won't he? Of course he will. Mark'll share his last Rollo with him. Well, go on then, says his mum as if it's that easy. White Christmas shit! It'll mean Mark's mum and her tight trousers. If your worried that he might be out then give him a ring why don't you. His mum is so shittingly practical in her Marks & Sparks and her flat shoes; always has an answer for everything. Yes, Mark is in says Mark's mum, and he'll be only too happy to help. Treble bonus points shit!

Mark's mum isn't wearing tight jeans and Tadge is most disappointed. She has on one of those long, light-blue denim dresses that seem to have a mind of their own. Tadge feels cheated until she moves and he can see the shape of Mark's mum's bum underneath the material. Oh, Mr, Darcy shit! Is that really how women move? Why is it that a dress that hangs so loosely can be oh so revealing?

It's when she brushes past him carrying a plate of biscuits to the front room that he catches a whiff of hre perfume and sees that she's not wearing a bra. Oh, double bonus points and triple jeopardy shit! A trip to the downstairs loo become essential but he has to move quickly before she sees the reason why.
"Are you alright in there?" Mark's mum is standing outside the loo door and talking to him in that soft voice of hers, just when he was doing...... Beavis shit! Just as he was about to...... it is all so shitting-well unfair!
"I'm fine, thank you." His voice sounds strained. Oh, what the hell, she'll just have to think his voice is breaking, again.

How can she smile like that? Does she know? What if she knows? Oh, Butthead shit! Disaster and profound embarrassment all round. Shit, shit, shit and Orwellian double shit!
Mark is his usual helpful self and the homework's done in hardly any time at all. How come I worried so much about something so simple? Mark makes it all sound so easy. That's because he listens you fool, and doesn't dream about fondling Julie Sommerfield. Why can't "Donger" explain things like Mark, eh? It's all so piece-of-cake-easy-peasie when you come down to it. There it is; as neatly written up as his sprawling spider-writing will allow but the answer is in its rightful place and the proof is all neat and tidy.... sorted! Now for the leave-taking. Mark's mum is all sweetness and light but she's still smiling that knowing smile of hers. It's evening-chill cold outside and she's standing on the doorstep and everyone in the whole world can see her nipples growing, like studs on a football boot. Oh, a ton-full of shit as anothre embarrassment grows!

Weekends come round on a regular basis and Mark's invited me round for a sleep-over. I ask you; a shitty sleep-over at my age? But there'll be his mum there. No, be strong and put the devil behind you! Where's that come from? Must be subconsciously absorbing the RE lessons when I think I'm really passing notes to Chrissie.
Last time, after the nipples-on-the-doorstep incident my embarrassment lasted all the way home. Boy, did it hurt! Surely it's time to be more mature and think of higher things? What if I distract myself with quadratic equations or French irregular verbs? The world won't come to an end, will it? There, I'm reciting Trench verbs under my breath and the sun is still up in the sky and the birds are still feeding from my mum's bird table. Yep, the world is safe for a little longer and there's a car alarm going off to prove it. But what if I run out of French verbs? Will the darker thoughts return? Think instead about something else; the new history topic, that'll do. Queen Elizabeth the First.... the Virgin Queen. Do I think Chrissie is still a virgin. Surely she must be though Wittering rates her a six and winks when he says it. Chrissie, dressed in Mark's mum's long, denim dress; now, there's a thought.