the ballad of alan borky 2.3

7/28/2019 The Ballad of Alan Borky 2.3

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The thing was itd been perfectly obvious from the start the best way tove dealt with

whatever the hell was going on wouldve been to just do what I always did confronted

by the apparently insoluble namely have a rock because that way things always

seemed to reveal their secrets of their own accord yet shortly after I got in and started

acquiring a taste for being Dark Alan somethingd seemed to warn me taking that

routed ultimately cost me all my favourite little things like rocking and tea yet the

ecstasy inducing prospect of permanent release from the burden of being human and

the exhilarating possibility nothingd any longer be beyond med proved so

overwhelmingly attractive I simply couldnt resist hence even now all but right back

to being crappy ol normal Everyday Al the possibility rocking might kill off a last

minute rally by Dark Al seemed good enough reason to go along with the idea now

coming to me maybe it was time to give up rocking altogether.

Yet even as I sat there basking in the hypothetical glow a lifelong era rocking chairs

to bitsd finally come to an end I now abruptly warped into this sort of Hulk mad!

Hulk smash! routine normally associated with Adrian losing on the horses hence my

balled up fists now came down to all but shatter the arms of my chair simultaneously

launching me in the air with the conscious intention of using my full body weight to

deliberately shatter my own feet only to land at the last moment in a sort of crouched

superhero shaking with indignation type pose my furiously quivering fists curled

menacingly in towards my maniacally gurning face as I now emitted an infuriated

semi-strangled lung-busting roar followed by a sort of frustrated crushed whimper

causing me Mum to briefly glance up with an arched eyebrow and glazed eyes before

returning to her impression of a mercury bird scanning Agatha Christie and Julie to

inquire everythingalright? to which I could only respond in a sort of


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clenched jaw grunt ant talkgoing doomkeep pointmentternity as I

flounced out the room for the parlour.

goes doom never looks that good on the ol CV Julie cheerily called after me

keeps appointments looks BETTER! not so keen on with Eternity though

And I mightve found quite funny if I hadnt been so determined to be in such a bad

mood with whatever the hell was making me rock hence I now sought to impress it

with just how severely pissed off with it I was by picking up and slamming down the

phone as it started ringing only to suffer a momentary pang of guilt at effectively

blaming Sarah or indeed the phone for my woes even as another upsurge of rage now

had me rather snazzily pivoting on my heel to boot the poor parlour door through

which in my head was go'n'o look kind o cool in a theatrical Starsky and Hutch bun

fight pantomime kind o way except it turned out the parlour door wasnt just the

most solid thing in the house but the one door without a dodgy catch hence the pain

now shooting through my foot also signalled the spine of the shoe on it'd snapped the

net result being almost before I knew what I was doing I was infuriatedly doing my

best impression of Quasimodo lurching across the carpet dragging a foot along behind

me by way of keeping the shoe on not quite sure whether it was out of laziness or

bloodymindedness before ramming my poor huge chunky padded earphones on my

head with such force I all but lost an ear then deliberately leaping up in the air TV

wrestler style to ensure my favourite armchaird receive the full weight of my arse as

I crashed down with a flop of such vehemence I actually felt something inside the

poor bastarding thing go only to mask my momentary spasm of conscience with a

contemptuous supervillainous fake laugh then crank up the radio so loud my teeth


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were set juddering in their gums as I now whisper roared through teeth so clenched

they were practically horizontal Go on then SHOW ME!

Only nothing happened.

Oh I could hear the radio alright but the binary pulse thing which did all the actual

rocking seemed tove deserted me asd all the formerly incessant pulsating -cum-

scintillating videos nor did mechanically rocking backwards and forwards have any

effect other than to severely distress the fabric of the chair and make my back and

neck ache.

Meanwhile I was becoming more and more aware something akin to a vertical cast-

iron battering ram was periodically tryno pound its way up through the centre of me

the apparent source of all the insanely spastic surges of momentarily unbridled rage I

kept having leaving me half convinced I was on the verge of both a heart attack and

an aneurism until something seemed to tell me all that was needed was for me to calm

down and go about things the way I normally would.

Of course I thought Im still wearing my Clark Kent operating in the outside world

uniform whereas what I really needs my Superman operating in the inside world

uniform hence I now headed straight for the little room at the back of the house where

all our junk invariably ended propping myself up against the doorway to delicately

but painfully tease my longsuffering shoes off giving them a kiss of gratitude for the

mistreatment theyd received as well as an apology for almost certainly never wearing

them again then lobbing them straight out o sight behind the old mattress at the back.


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Meanwhile gazing down at severely mangled looking feet with blisters the size of

new potatoes peeping out sports socks glued rigid with blood and serum I now noticed

me Dad over the sink peeling onions struggling not to sniff while craning his neck to

squint through glasses frames with only one butter smudged lens intact at various

tabloid horse racing guides strewn haphazardly across the countertop opposite in

between snatching his favourite obviously very hot cracked discoloured cup out the

bubbling saucepan it was noisily rattling away in and very pronouncedly slurping

mouthfuls of very strong almost condensed milky coffee from it.

Dad in between your jaunts to the bookies can you do us a favour and start bringing

us cups of tea while Im having a rock in the parlour? Ive got this big indescribable

thing playing on me mind and the more I can just concentrate on going over it instead

of nipping in and out for tea the more likely Ill be able to get some sort of handle on

itjust onething though and he now cleared his throat as he always did when

about to speak and in a very deep and rich plummy public schoolboy type accent

betraying no hint of his Bristolian origins said Yes Ill remember to wash the onion

off my hands.

Good ta youre the best. Oh and theres no particular need to rush the mo cause its

gono take me ages just gettin up and down the stairs with me feet like this and I

started very gingerly making my way upstairs before perching on the edge of the bath

and soaking my feet for several extremely excruciatingly painful minutes periodically

tugging at various parts of the socks to test whether they were sufficiently unglued to

be finally removed.


5/8

By the time Id finally changed back into the threadbare beachshorts Id been rocking

in so long they no longer had a crotch and my similarly tissue thin soled dilapidated

white trainers I realised I was finally starting to feel like myself again because not

only did Dark Alan no longer hold any attraction for me anymore but I was even

contemplating using apologising for slamming the phone down as an excuse to phone

Sarah though something seemed to insist I mustnt any longer delay getting to grips

with whatever the helld been happening today but because I could also now feel all

my old normal enthusiasm to have a rock returning to me again I could only agree

finally confirming I was now back to something like my old self.

So I started dialling up and down the stations searching for stuff with driving beats or

stirring tunes though not to listen to but to intensify my ability to get to wherever it

was I went whenever I was rocking but Id forgotten back then Saturday afternoons

were an absolute desert for any kind of music never mind the rock indie or dance kind

of stuff useful for my purposes and on the rare occasions I did actually tune in

anything half decent not onlyd it be just finishing but the DJd be talking over it with

local phone-in football fans and while in comparison with the commercial stations

Radio 1 was a veritable oasis back then there was still far too much discussion about

record making at that time of day and not enough actual record playing meaning just

as Id be homing in on some key insight my concentrationd keep getting interrupted

by having to find replacements for the likes of Kate Bushs The Sensual World to stir

up and enflame my emotions into the equivalent of rocket fuel or Little Louis French

Kiss to hypnotically invoke sections of video to arise and imprint themselves on the

air before me or the Felly version of Technotronics Pump Up the Jam to overdrive


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my consumption of larger and larger volumes of data whichs probably why I ended

up simply turning the radio off and just rocking.

And the first thing that concerned me was why Id used the front door instead of the

backyard because the feeling lingered I hadnt been acting entirely under my own

volition which really bugged me.

Of course my surprise at the complete absence of the hordes of highly aggressive

youths who normally spent their entire existence spread all over our front area like

wan'obe gargoyles mayve played a part in my change of mind but then there were the

facts I didnt have a key the weather was appalling and my mob hated answering

doors.

Yet as I sat there rocking and watching Julie answer the door over and over again I

was struck by how hurriedly I kept rushing in almost as if something was alarming

me.

And when something now tried to fob me off with the idea Id probably just noticed

some of the Gargoyle Brothers coming down the street I sensed maybe now I was

really starting to get to the crux of the matter so began rocking that bit more intensely

playing over and over the period between first arriving at the door and Julie finally

opening it and there it was that flash not so much of lightbut of what? Vividness?

Intensity?


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And what was that presence I kept sensing standing over me somewhere just to the

right of and slightly behind my shoulder? Maybe if Idve turned to look back I might

evenve caught a glimpse of it but each time whatever it was kept seeming to start

telling me somethingd just been done to me my initial feelings of elation kept quickly

turning to feelings of alarm and dread then relief whenever Julie arrived.

Yet why? And for that matter whyd I been so keen to quickly block the whole thing

out my mind?

What seemed to make the whole thing all the more mystifying was the reason Julied

had to let me in in the first place.

As a teenager in the Seventies Id developed a deep aversion to keys after being

inspired by the metal bending antics of Uri Geller to start rubbing a Yale brass door

key between my palms only to find I couldnt any longer pull them apart at which

point the bastarding thing seemed to explode melt then come alive in my hands

wriggling just like a much larger much heavier molten hot metallically dense eel as

my entire body was set resonating like an insane dinner gong when the bastarding

thing now emitted what I can only describe as this hideous blood-curdling silent

metallic scream before finally swooning to a dead faint and snapping back like elastic

to its original unalive dimensions allowing my hands to finally burst apart and the

now visibly v-shaped key to plop to the floor leaving me with the deeply unpleasant

sense Id just been guilty of raping a key.


8/8

So here was I a guy who once raped a key and a key remember which came alive in

my hands yet because I got flashed on the doorstep and told Id been irrevocably

changed somehow I was now suddenly shitting me pants?

Pff!

And then there was that other thing bugging the hell out me because it also smacked

of me not operating under me own aegis the fact I hadnt come down Gladstone Road

or as I could even clearly remember deciding to Wavertree Road butd somehow

ended up heading down Plimsoll Street instead and this in spite of the known danger

of landing right in the lap of all the wanobe gargoyles parked all over our front area

just waiting for an opportunity to impress their peers taking turns squaring up to me.

I mean how could Ive been so stupid or so bewildered to make a mistake like that

and not even notice meself doing it?

And come to think of it how the hell did I cover all that ground between the top of

London Road and Plimsoll Street in such an impossibly short time?

the ballad of alan borky 2.3

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