Chapter Nine Useless Lump #3
I also know that Jack once beat the crap out of a bloke who assaulted his little sister in a nightclub.
But I don’t want to go to a bloody doctor!
I try to rise again, but this time it’s Leo who pushes me back.
Now . . .
I’m fairly sure I could have Leo in a fight, but what would that do to him? He’s terrified of violence as it is. I doubt one of his best friends giving him a clock around the ear would improve matters.
I’m trapped.
Bloody hellfire and buckets. I’m trapped.
‘I don’t want to see a bloody doctor,’ I hiss, looking daggers at them both.
‘Well, I didn’t want to get pushed out of a limo on Dartmoor,’ Jack explains, ‘but sometimes these things happen to us, and we just have to put up with them.’
‘Oh, I see. This is about revenge!’
‘No,’ Leo snaps. ‘It’s about you clearly having a very serious problem that you don’t want to face properly, and the people who love you most in the world trying to do something about it!’
I point an angry finger at him. ‘Don’t you do that!’
‘Do what?’
‘Try to appeal to my emotional side! It won’t work!’
‘Won’t it?’
‘No! I want to get out of this bloody taxi!’ I lean forward again. ‘Driver! Pull over! I want to get out!’
The guy snaps his head round to see what the hell is going on.
‘Ignore him!’ Jack shouts. ‘We’re doing this for his own good!’
‘No, you’re not!’ I exclaim, and try to get up again.
This time, both of my so called ‘friends’ jump up to stop me from escaping. Jack grabs me in a bear hug, and pushes me back into the seat, while Leo somewhat inexplicably goes for my legs, wrapping them both tight in his arms.
‘Aaaargh! Let me go, you bastards!’ I screech, now completely pinned.
‘No! This is for your own good!’ Leo says, trying to avoid my flailing knees.
‘We want what’s best for you!’ Jack agrees.
‘What’s best for me?!’ I snap. ‘You’re restraining me!’
‘Damn right we are!’
‘Is he going to poo himself?!’
The three of us all freeze and turn our heads to look at the Uber driver, who is now frantically looking at us in the rearview mirror.
‘Is he going to what?’ Jack asks, incredulous.
‘Poo himself!’ the driver repeats, flicking his eyes back and forth between the road and our reflection. ‘Only, I’ve just had the seats dry-cleaned because somebody else pooed themselves, and I don’t want to have to do that again.’
I lift my arse up from the seat. ‘Oh God!’ I wail, now fully aware that I am being restrained on a seat that someone has had a poo on.
‘How did the poo get on the seat?’ Leo asks. ‘Weren’t they wearing any pants or trousers?’
‘This is hardly the time for questions like that!’ I screech at him.
‘She was very drunk!’ the driver says, by way of horrifying explanation. His face takes on a look of abject misery. ‘Please do not let your friend poo on my seat. It is hell to get out of the stitching!’
‘Oh, for the love of God!’ I snap. ‘This is ridiculous! You don’t have to do this, you bloody muppets!’
Jack’s grip grows a little firmer again, now we’ve established more details than any of us would have liked about how poo got on the seat I’m currently trapped on. ‘Yes, we do!’ he says. ‘If for no other reason than we want to stop you trying to “help” us again.’
‘I can’t take any more help, Charlie!’ Leo pipes up. ‘My nerves and bowels can’t take it!’
‘Please do not poo yourself!’ our panicked driver cries.
‘Nobody is going to poo themselves!’ Jack snaps. ‘Just keep driving! I said I’ll throw in an extra twenty!’
‘Make it forty.’
‘Alright!’
This mollifies the guy somewhat, but he still continues to flick his eyes back at our reflection, his eyes wild.
‘I’m not going to try to help you anymore!’ I protest.
‘Yes, you bloody are!’ Jack growls. ‘I know you, Charlie! We all know you very well! And I’d rather give you a black eye today so that we get you to a doctor if I have to, than find myself upside down in a vat of yoghurt, or something similar!’
‘I can’t take a vat of yoghurt!’ Leo cries in horror. ‘I’m lactose intolerant!’
‘There’s no vat of yoghurt!’ I squeal.
‘No, but there will be bloody something!’ Jack says – and in my heart of hearts, I know he’s right. I just can’t let a problem go once I’ve got my teeth into it. I have to sort it out. I have to take control!
I need to take control of this situation right now.
Time for some grotesque theatrics.
‘Oh no!’ I wail at the top of my voice. ‘I think I’m going to poo myself!’
This has the desired effect. The driver’s eyes turn into saucers. ‘No! No! Please, no!’ he cries in a panic. ‘You get out of here now! The address you want is just up the road! Do not poo! Do not POO!’
The Uber comes to a screeching halt, throwing the three of us forward. This loosens the grip my two friends have on me, allowing me to wriggle free.
Sort of.
Jack’s grip actually loosens more than Leo’s, thanks to the fact he bangs painfully into the glass partition between us and our terrified driver. This appears to knock him silly for a moment.
This allows me to pull myself towards the sliding car door, and wrench it open.
Unfortunately, Leo has an absolute death grip on my lower half.
This means that I fall out of the car headfirst, narrowly avoiding a nasty crack on the top of the head by mere centimetres.
‘You’re not going anywhere!’ Leo roars.
‘Yes, I bloody am!’ I counter.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure hurrying towards us down the pavement.
It’s Annie.
Annie is here to help usher me into a doctor’s office, along with my two treacherous mates.
God damn it all to hell!
‘No! No!’ I howl, and push myself back against the sides of the car, trying to break free of the surprisingly strong grip Leo has on my legs.
This works. My legs start to come free!
Sadly, my jeans do not.
Oh shit.
I should probably just cave in here and let the inevitable happen. The world does not need to see my SpongeBob SquarePants boxer shorts.
Don’t look at me like that.
The washing hasn’t been done yet, which meant I had no decent boxers to put on this morning. I had to resort to one of the novelty Christmas pairs I keep getting bought every year, and it was either SpongeBob or the elephant posing pouch.
To hell with it!
I push back against the car even harder, and feel fresh air on my legs as my jeans slither off completely, taking my Adidas trainers with them. I think Leo is one part boa constrictor, given how hard his grip is.
But I’m free of it now, with my SpongeBob exposed to the bloody world.
‘Charlie! Stop!’ Annie exclaims.
‘Don’t be an idiot!’ Jacks says, pulling himself forward out of the car.
Leo is still gripping on to my jeans for dear life, for some reason.
Bugger all of this for a game of soldiers. ‘I’m not going to see a bloody doctor! I don’t want to see a sodding doctor!’
And with that, I’m off.
Slapping down the pavement in my Primark socks, with SpongeBob blowing in the wind.
Thankfully, I know exactly where I am. Our local doctor’s surgery is sat on the edge of Planter’s Park. I can lose my pursuers in there, I have no doubt about it.
Planter’s Park is something of an overgrown mess in many places, thanks to the unique and special way the council is funded. The last time it had a good cut back, SpongeBob SquarePants was probably a brand-new TV show.
I hang a left and run straight through the wrought-iron gates.
My socks are now soaking wet thanks to the rain that fell this morning, so I slap down the steps beyond the gates, and sprint right towards the big collection of bushes and trees that runs down almost the entire left-hand side of the park.
That’ll do nicely.
I’ve got enough of a lead on my pursuers to be able to jump into the bushy mass before they have chance to see where I’ve gone.
Paying no heed to potential splinters in my feet, I push my way between two wildly overgrown shrubs and make for a hiding place deeper in the thicket.
Aha! Behind that stubby oak tree will do very nicely!
I squat behind the tree, and try to remain as silent as I possibly can.
With any luck, my evil pursuers will search in vain for me for a while, before giving up on their hunt, and leaving me the hell alone. Then I can—
Then I can do what, exactly? Carve a new life out for myself behind this stubby oak tree? Become the mad old man of Planter’s Park, who occasionally jumps out to scare the children by showing them his SpongeBob?
No matter. What’s important is not being forced to go to the doctor today. Anything else is immaterial right now. I must just stay here quietly.
I must remain hidden.
I must—
‘What the actual fuck are you doing?’ I hear Jack say from behind me.
I whirl around in horror – to discover that my super-secret hiding place behind the stubby oak tree is actually about four feet from the park’s iron fence, and that I am completely exposed to the road beyond it.
‘Go away!’ I hiss, waving my hands about in a hectic fashion.
‘Leave me alone! Get away from me!’ I’m still crouched down behind the tree, and am now covered in leaves, dirt and small sticks.
If you’ve ever wondered what Gollum would look like in SpongeBob SquarePants novelty Christmas boxer shorts, you now have your answer.
‘No,’ Jack says. ‘You’ve clearly lost your bloody mind.’
Jack is joined by Leo, who is still clutching my jeans.
He sees me amongst the undergrowth and his eyes go wide.
He then drops my jeans, and slowly reaches into his pocket for his mobile phone.
With a continued look of horrified fascination on his face, he brings the phone up, and I hear the digital click of the camera go off.
Bastard.
‘Enough of that, Annie’s coming,’ Jack tells Leo. ‘You’d better bloody send me that later, though,’ he adds.
‘For God’s sakes, Charlie, what are you doing?!’ Annie cries as she reaches the fence and grips on to it.
Now it feels like I’m a caged animal in a zoo, being watched by fascinated tourists.
Maybe I’ll start flinging my poo at the three of them.
‘Just leave me alone!’ I snap at her. This is clearly all her fault. My two idiot mates would have had to be put up to this.
‘No! You need to come with us!’ she orders. ‘You’re going to catch your death.’
‘I’m not going to a bloody doctor!’ I roar.
‘Why?!’ the three of them all bark at me at exactly the same time.
I don’t think this is rehearsed. It’s just a natural coincidence, but its impact is enormous.
I stare at the three of them in silence for a moment, before my lip starts to tremble. ‘I don’t bloody know!’ I confess, with a rage and frustration that comes from somewhere deep inside me.
Behind Annie, Jack and Leo, the Uber cab screeches to a halt, and the driver leans out of the window. He sees me crouching behind my tree and his eyes go wide again.
‘Has he pooed himself yet?’ he asks, staring at me like I’m a firework about to go off.
The Uber guy – whose name is Majad, by the way. Very nice chap, it turns out – agrees to drive us all home, on the proviso I am fully clothed and sitting on two plastic bags.
There’s not much talking done in the back of the car.
I doubt any of them know what to say to me. I have clearly gone completely off the bloody rails. Nothing else could be the case, given that I’ve just run down a high street in my boxer shorts, just to avoid a doctor’s appointment.
I have no idea why it’s got this bad.
I cannot comprehend why I am still so adamant that I don’t want to seek out the help of a professional.
But I am adamant. Still. Even after this idiotic escapade.
It just feels . . . wrong.
Every fibre of my being is telling me that to capitulate to what my two best friends and my girlfriend want would be a very bad idea. It would make things worse, not better.
They might think they have my best interests at heart, but pushing me into doing something I am so dead set against would only be a bad thing.
I do forgive them for trying to physically force me into doing it – after all, I’m not above forcing people into doing things myself, but if I’m willing to show my SpongeBob to the entire world to avoid a confrontation that fills me with dread, then surely that has to be an end to it.
Surely?
That’s why it’s so quiet in the cab. You can tell one of them dearly wants to ask me why I’m being so obstinate, but doesn’t want to risk it, for fear of me jumping out of the window, and running off to hide in the nearest skip.
Besides, I have no idea what I’d say my reasons are. I don’t know.
I just know it’s the wrong thing.
But that begs the question – what the hell is the right thing?
What does Charlie King do now?