Thursday, 28 July 2011

the continuous story of mister BooHoo, chapter 3

The third chapter of the story of Mister BooHoo was written this morning in the previously mentioned notebook. If it the first time you are visiting this blog I would advise you to scroll down and start from the beginning.

Chapter £ (3) Distress

Mr BooHoo was feeling uncomfortable. He had found himself in a tight spot. Something had gone further wrong. What was worst was that he was not sure if he could fix it and he didn't have anyone to ask either. He was sitting with a friend, taking small ships of some transparent liquid from a very small glass, when his phone rung. It was his father.

Like most creatures Mr BooHoo has a father. He is also a BooHoo. Sometimes Mr BooHoo wondered if he would be less of a BooHoo had his father been a different person. Mr BooHoo had grown to accept the fact that this was who his father was and there were little he could do about it. They did not talk or meet that often , anyway. So the opportunities offered to Mr BooHoo's father to make him feel like boohooing were, luckily, limited. Occasionally, Mr BooHoo would think of all the times he had felt that his father had lied to him, insulted him and caused him harm in various ways but he had made an agreement with himself not to get too beaten up over it, neither to think that this was the source of all his problems. Since he had come to this conclusion he was feeling slightly better.

Most of the times Mr BooHoo could tolerate his father all right. Also, he seldom shared his thoughts with him (his father had told him that he made him feel bored because he talked too much when he was little and after that Mr BooHoo kept all his thoughts for himself when he was around him. Now that he was a grown up he did speak a little bit more, though.) Yet, something came to him and he explained his situation. His father responded with vulgar language, telling Mr BooHoo that he was pretty much ....ucked.  This came as a surprise. Mr BooHoo had the tendency of thinking of the worst case scenario but being told the above without any further explanation of what would be the consequences and the course of action broke him. He thought things were about to get better, not worse. Big, salty tears filled his eyes and then they started running on his cheeks and he was ashamed to be crying among all those people and he made a nearby napkin soaking wet. He panicked. He did not breath properly or think clearly. He felt very much like looking for shelter in a closet.

When Mr BooHoo was small he had a brilliant idea. He wished he could shrink on demand. Then he would not need money, as his clothes and food would cost nothing and definitely somebody would like such a sophisticated pet. If only he could become small enough so as to fit in a pocket. But this was only wishful thinking...

Mr BooHoo experienced all these situations as personal failure. Apparently he had failed to fit in the grown up world. He kept changing. He constantly changed houses, friends, places, underwear (this was a good thing). Having spent the first seventeen years of his life in a more or less stable environment, the next ten years of constant flux had start getting on his nerves. A routine is what he looked for. A routine where the changes would come from inside, as choices, because it seemed that lately they were just imposed on him. Further on, whenever things did not go as smoothly as he would like them to, he felt like the biggest looser due to his incompetence to cope. It has been mentioned that Mr BooHoo was not stupid. It was confidence he lacked and not wit. So, panicking over things brought shame upon him. Mr BooHoo needed help. He wished he died and re-incarnated as a dog. Perhaps his dog-loving friend would adopt him.

Mr BooHoo stopped crying after some time. Discussing about his feelings had helped him slightly. Also the bottle that contained the transparent liquid had turned dry and he was slightly numb, that was an improvement. At home his nice bed would wait for him. A rather scary day had come to an end. He would be safe for a little while, he might even dream of something nice. His eyes eventually closed and the morning would be there in a few hours. Things always looked better in the morning.  


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