Hi People, It's Me!! (Waits for applause - not a sausage - dammit!)
The Old Boy's not here, he's tired. So, I'm going to tell you my story.
There are a million stories in the world; hundreds of millions of them. There's a story for every person, and more than that even. This one is mine.
This is my story, but I'll share it with you. You can read it if you want to - or not. I don't really care; I'm telling it anyway. Suppose I was to drop dead tomorrow - unlikely, I know, but it could happen.
It happened to Ray Tampion. He dropped dead. Sixteen years old, he was. He had a blood-clot. No-one knew about it, but it was there, moving around inside him. One day it moved into his brain and he dropped dead - just like that. Scary.
I don't think that's going to happen to me. I hope not! But, you never know, it could happen - just like that. If it did, I'd be gone and there'd be much weeping and wailing.
Well, I hope there would. (There bloody should be!) But, even so, who could honestly say that they knew me - really knew me that is? Nobody, that's who.
Nobody really could say that they knew me unless they read my story. So - this is it. You can read it if you want to, and then you'll know me.
Who am I? Virgil Cain is my name. Stoopid name isn't it? But that's what my mother called me. What was she thinking? I dunno, maybe she just hated me as soon as she saw me. There's love at first sight; maybe there's hate at first sight too. I mean, when you think about it, it's really not the best way to meet somebody, is it? All that pain and mess and stuff and out pops a brand-new person, screaming his head off! Anyway, she had her revenge - she named me Virgil. Of course, no-one ever calls me that, except for my mum and my gran. Everyone else calls me 'Virgin'. Hah! It's not true anyway. I'm not a virgin, not any more, so don't call me that. My name is Virgil - dammit! My second name is almost as bad. Almost but not quite. No name is as bad as Virgil.
Anyway, my other name is Chevy - Virgil Chevy Cain. Know where that came from? You won't if I don't tell you.
She called me Chevy because that is where I was conceived, on the back seat of a chevy - a 1964 Chevrolet. All class eh? Not! (I think that my mother was a bit of a slapper really).
Well, she was only 14 at the time.
I'm older than that already. I'm 15 now and I don't think I'm old enough to be a parent - not that that's likely to happen. I'm gay, aren't I? You didn't know that? Well now you do - told you that you'd know me if you read my story. See? Already you know something that most people don't.
I was born in a small town, a very small town. I'm not telling you where it was, it doesn't matter anyway. Small towns are all much the same wherever you go - boring! Anyway, we don't live there now. We moved, to another small town. Dammit! Now we live in Tiroroa. My mum's a teacher at the school there. She teaches woodwork and metalwork at the Tiroroa High School. That's pretty cool really - not the normal sort of job for someone's mother, but that's my mum. No-one ever said that she was normal.
She's got a boyfriend too. He's 18 and, eww! It's all legal and everything, but a couple of years ago he was a student in one of her classes. I don't like to think about it. So I won't.
It's not her story anyway, it's mine.
I don't have a boyfriend, not any more. I used to, but not now - he dumped me. The Swine! I heard a song once, it said, "I was making love but you were making believe."
Something like that. That was us, apparently. Just my luck; I fell in love with someone who didn't love me back.
He's got a girlfriend now. I hope she makes him happy. She'd better, because if she doesn't, he'll dump her and I know what that's like - it's not nice. It's a shame really because I did love him. I still do, but I'm not telling him that. Once was enough.
It was easier when we lived in Christchurch, in the good old days. I was just a kid then. I went to Shirley Intermediate School and I was quite happy there, thank you very much.
But, that was too good to last. My mum graduated from Teachers' Training College, applied for and landed the job here in Tiroroa, and so we had to move. I had to leave my friends and the only life I'd known and come to live here. Dammit! We didn't quite leave everything behind - my gran came with us and she lives here too, sometimes. My gran lives in a house-truck and, when the mood takes her, she goes off, tripping around the country. She's often gone for months at a time and we never know where she's going to turn up. Crazy old lady.
If you think my mum's different, you should see my gran.
Gran's a great gardener. She's got a garden in her house-truck, hydroponically. She grows tomatoes, lettuces, puha, (that's a sort of water-cress), and marijuana - heaps of marijuana. One day, she's going to get busted - again.
She doesn't sell it or anything, just grows it for her own use. Mum has some, sometimes, but I don't touch the stuff. I don't want to turn out to be a crazy old druggie like my gran.
I suppose that she's not that old really. She's 44. I know that because I looked at her driver's licence. That's right - I'm 15, my mum is 29 and my gran is 44. I think that I come from a long line of slappers.
They are all the family that I've got. I suppose that I have got a father somewhere, a grandfather too, probably. I wouldn't know, I've never met them. There's just us - me, my mum and, sometimes, my gran.
I'd just turned 13 when they wrecked my life and we had to move here, to Tiroroa. I was not impressed, but I had no choice. At least there'd be no more bus rides to school. Our new house was a school-house and it was right across the road from the main entrance. I wouldn't have to get out of bed at 6.30am anymore. Now I could lie in bed until 5 minutes before school-time and still get there on time.
What else was good about being here? Bloody nothing - that's what! I knew she hated me.
What d'you think of my story so far? That's all you're getting, for now. I'm getting tired too, and there's school tomorrow. It's not easy cutting school when your mum's a teacher there. I'll write some more tomorrow, if I've got nothing better to do. 'Bye.