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Walks with Norman

May 3, 2008

I called home to see what my parents were up to. Only dad was home. He sounded very sad, but didn’t mention why. He asked what I had been up to and kept asking if I was okay. I told him I was fine. He said he’d bought some cheap CDs and gone for walks with Norman.
When I hung up it was time for school. I had to walk over to the music department of Kaikorai Valley so it was a bit further than the other blocks. As I was walking down the path people kept giving me dirty looks. Mr Hastie met me at the door and wanted to talk to me in the corridor.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked nervously.
“Yeah, every-thing’s going great,” I replied.
“What about with your father?”
“What about him? I talked to him today and he seemed fine.”
I looked outside; Mt Fuji was really clear and close.
“I really like the view from here,” I explained, “can you climb the mountains around here?”
“With mountain experience you can…look Orr,” his tone changed to a straightforward ‘you’ve-done-something-wrong’ one, “I know what you’ve done to try and make your father and I hate each other.”
“Don’t deny it Orr, you’ve been doing some pretty bad shit and you’ve got some nerve turning up here and flouting it in our face”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father and I were getting along pretty well until you started doing this stuff, and I don’t think…”
He stopped and looked over at the outside doors. Borat was coming up the path. He broke into a smile as Borat opened the door. I yelled at Borat, “NOT NOW!” and he turned away and walked towards D block.
Mr Hastie said to me, “Now look what you’ve done. That could have been really brilliant and you’ve ruined it.” He ran after Borat and I heard him say, “What do you want me to do this time. I love being funny for you.”

I decided to go inside and sit at my desk. Everyone turned and stared at me. They all had the most hateful looks I have ever received. I thought it was just because everybody was in fancy dress except me, but it was a bit much for that. Scott, who was dressed as Groucho, grabbed me by the arm and led me down the rows to our desks (which were Star Trek type computers).
“You’re pretty brave coming here with all the crap going down,” he said sympathetically.
“What crap?” I asked, “what’s going on?
“Just look,” he said and turned on the Sci-fi-esque computer to a news report about me. It talked about all of the dirty things I had done since I’d been in Japan (of which I hadn’t done any); molesting girls, burning effigies of my family, streaking, stabbing people, and many other violent and sexual crimes that I hadn’t done were written on-line in a virtual newspaper.
“And everybody believes this?” I asked Scott/Groucho.
“A lot of people do,” he replied.
As I started to explain that I was innocent by teaching everybody the alphabet they all fell asleep. Everybody nuzzled into each others’ laps.

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