The Hanover Papers: Installment VI

You know the drill. Click here to read previous Installment.

The Hanover Papers:

Installment VI

by Jeffrey Hollar 

Alright people. Everybody please take your seats and insure that all items are securely stored in either the overhead compartments or underneath your seats and that…Aww to hell with it!! Just sit down and shut the hell up and let’s get this show on the road. Since, once again, you worthless idiots got me off of topic last time; we have a lot of ground to cover. I should have come to expect as much by now.  Anyway, I have a poker game in a coupla hours that I do not intend to miss on your accounts. Malt liquor and microwaveable foods do not pay for themselves so thus the need to go shear some sheep at the tables. You can wish me luck if it will make you feel better, but I cheat whenever the opportunity arises, so luck is not really a factor. Okay Fuzzy. Focus boy, focus!

So there I was, standing on my back porch and staring out at the tranquil yard. I remember thinking, Wow, this ain’t so bad. For the record, I do think that those are five of the most stupid words that I have spoken in my entire life. And I have been known to say some pretty stupid shit so keep that in mind over the next few minutes of the story. Let’s clear up one other thing before we dive in here because there really won’t be time once the story begins. A lot of what I am about to relate to you I have little conscious recollection of. It was passed on to me via an audiovisual recording and I was able to assimilate it all a lot better after the fact. That being said, here goes nothin’. 

Standing on that small porch, I gazed out at the world around me. To recap, it was a clear, cloudless day and bright sunlight streamed down. There was a light breeze that caused me to shiver in the shadowed place where I stood.  I grasped my pen and pad firmly in hand and started down the three steps to the yard proper. As my feet left the steps, I stood on smooth paving stones and once again looked around skeptically. No, there were still no threats of any kind to be seen, just the grass and hedges and stuff one would normally associate with a nicely-maintained yard. So, with a deep breath, I summoned up my courage and stepped out of the shade and in to the morning sun. 

Now this is where it gets firmly in to the realm of mega-freakin’, holy crap, yowza man weird!  Looking back on the recordings after the fact, I am fairly amazed that I survived the experience at all.  As I stepped forward and left the shade, all hell broke loose. Literally…seriously folks, all hell literally broke loose. The jeans and tee shirt that I was wearing were shredded to rags and my faithful old sneakers literally exploded off of my feet. A primal scream burst forth from me, rattling the house’s windows with its sheer force. And thus, the transformation began. Yeah, you read it right. Transformation. Now, if you shut the fuck up and just munch on your popcorn and sugary beverages quietly, I won’t have to go off on you. Consider yourselves warned!

For convenience and to remain orderly, I will describe what took place next in as ordered a fashion as possible. It was as if my entire body had been doused in a particularly nasty blend of flaming gasoline, thermite, sulfuric acid and rusty razor blade fragments. Oww! Yeah, I know how fun that sounds to you guys. Simply put, it wasn’t.  I fell to my hands and knees on the soft grass, alternately howling and groaning loudly. It seemed as if my bone structure and my skin had become oddly fluid and malleable. The pain was beyond anything I can possibly describe to you. So, I ain’t even gonna try. As much as I know you fucks were looking forward to taking joy in my misery…not happening today. 

From my forehead, bony protrusions burst. They grew in both length and thickness and then curled backward to form a pair of very respectable ram’s horns. My forehead swelled and ridges of bone pushed forward, forming plates of armor that served as protection for my eyes. My jaws stretched and elongated. I could feel my teeth becoming longer and sharper and it felt like there were far more of them than I had had just moments before. I could feel that two of my teeth had reformed themselves to become fangs that would have shamed the proudest saber-toothed tiger ever. My ears swelled in size and shape and came to most closely resemble those of an enormous bat. The changes to my head and face were only the beginning of the process. 

The skin on my entire body continued to flow and writhe becoming something other than what it had been. My skin was harder, thicker…redder. All of my muscles seemed to grow and swell until it seemed impossible that I could be any more muscular and still move. Sharp spikes of bone formed at my shoulders and sprang up along my forearms. My fingers became longer and thicker and resolved themselves with razor-sharp claws.  My feet became broader and my largest and smallest toes grew to become brutal claws. At my heels, a single thick spur of bone formed talons.  There was an inexplicably odd sensation in my hindquarters that was, in fact, explained seconds later as my long, sinewy tail lashed menacingly about. The spiked ball at the end of the tail glistened with what I could only assume was venom. The molten burning sensation faded to a dull glow as the physical transformation ended. 

I felt, at once, immensely powerful and yet oddly weakened. The process had been exceptionally intense and I am not sure that my body much liked it. I staggered unsteadily to my feet, trying to resolve all of the changes in to something my mind could grasp.  As if some unheard alarm had been triggered by my ability to rise, the next stage began.

If I thought I had experienced pain at this point, boy was I in for a fuckin’ nasty surprise!  In the blink of an eye it seemed as if my head exploded. I know I previously touched on the various aspects of Demonborn sight. Experiencing it for the first time was too surreal for me to put in to words.  While not previously mentioned, ALL of my senses are either modified or enhanced by virtue of my demonic heritage. My nose, while having broadened and flattened to my face, was assaulted by half a thousand different scents and odors of varying degrees of acceptability. Please do not force me to reminisce about the smells. Wow!! My newly formed ears were overwhelmed by a gamut of sounds both natural and man-made that most New Yorkers take for granted and ignore. However, when your ears have never heard such sounds before and said ears are immeasurably more sensitive than any mortal creature, it is pretty fuckin’ daunting.  My tongue flicked across my lips as if sucking odd flavors and tastes from the very air itself. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, the various affronts seem to lessen in intensity. My senses dazed, my body violated, I simply wanted to get back to the familiar safety of the house. Not only had I lost the pen and notepad, I am positive that I was in no shape to be jotting down my experiences for posterity’s sake. Orienting myself, I managed to focus on my objective of the stairs back inside. On shaky legs I started up. My hand and foot claws gouged deeply into the soft stone and my enhanced strength caused me to snap off a section of the wrought iron handrail. With hands made clumsy by my newly grown claws, turning the door knob might prove 

 problematic but there was a good chance I could just rip the door off of its hinges if necessary. 

As usual, it never made sense to underestimate the house and its capabilities. I grasped the door knob and, of course, it failed to turn. It seemed that the four hour assignment time had not yet passed.  I was really NOT in the mood for technicalities at this point. Bunching my new-formed muscles I braced myself and made ready to remove the annoying barrier the hard way.  I may as well have been a Chihuahua trying to drag off a side of beef. The door and its frame did not creak, groan or in any way recognize my attempts at all.  I grunted and strained. I pushed both of my powerful feet at the base of the door and bowed my back so far that my horns nearly brushed my heel spurs but the door would not surrender. Sometimes I REALLY hated that house.

After finally realizing the futility of my efforts, I slumped down on the back stairs breathing heavily. There seemed little to do, so I passed the time trying to grow accustomed to the changes I had undergone. Slowly, the sun climbed higher on the sky and I sensed that the required time had to have passed and yet here I sat.  I was stretching and muttering under my breath about the undependable nature of the house when it happened. In spite of my enhanced senses, there was no telltale warning as the back door swung suddenly open and cracked me a good one right in the back of the head. I drew back my taloned fist and threw the strongest punch I could at the offending portal. It was like something out of one of those old-assed Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom punches an anvil and his hand gets all huge and shit. It stung. It hurt. It hurt a lot and yet the completely undamaged door swung open just a bit, as if to taunt me. Sometimes, I really, REALLY hated that damned house. 

Before it had an opportunity to change its mind, I scrambled to my feet and lunged through the door. It slammed shut behind me narrowly missing my tail. That is to say it would have narrowly missed my tail if my tail had still been there. It was not.  I was laying face down and completely nude on the hard, cold kitchen tiles. My body had, in an instant, reverted to its normal short, pudgy self. I was me again. Well, not that I hadn’t been me outside the house, but at least I was now a me that I recognized. There was nary a mark on my pale skin and, as I got to my feet, I could tell that the transformation had reversed me back to “normal”. Yeah, you shits, I acknowledge that there just ain’t much about me that could be termed normal by any stretch of the imagination. I would like to reward all of you for your astute observations by saluting you with the ceremonial Fuck You Bitch hand gesture.  If you form an orderly line, I will also distribute sharp blows to the forehead from the fabled Claw Hammer of Congratulations to all you worthy recipients that so desire. 

I really had no fuckin’ idea what had just happened to me or why. I had some nasty suspicions that I would, most definitely, confirm when I got back to The Library in the morning. Yep, I was calling an end to the school day. I really didn’t give a shit whether the house retaliated against me on The Library’s behalf or not. I was sore. I was tired. I was hungry and I needed a shower. For once, I didn’t really even care about what was on TV.  I was still curious about the specifics of the outdoors time but it was a curiosity I could put a damper on until tomorrow.  With a groan and with soreness in muscles I didn’t even know that I had, I staggered through the house towards my room. The hall clock chimed to remind me it was time for Loretta to come up for lunch. Could the house work any harder to make my life miserable today? As if in answer, an ottoman I don’t remember ever have seen before, slid out and tripped me up nicely. Hardwood met forehead and I really, REALLY had a headache now. 

I made it to the appointed spot just in time for the door to appear and Loretta to come storming in for her lunch. She took one look at my naked, disheveled appearance, before stomping a boot heel down on my defenseless foot and telling me to go put some clothes on my heathen ass.  I stumbled away, grumbling perhaps too loudly, for her boot heel next connected with an even more vulnerable part of my male anatomy. Looking back now, there are actually some times I truly miss mom. Fond memories like the ones of that day usually help those feelings of nostalgia and loss to pass quite nicely.

Anywho, I got things to be and places to do so…uhh…oh never freakin’ mind! It has really not been a day that I enjoyed reliving for the benefit of a bunch of useless meat sacks such as you.  I know you think you have had a rare glimpse in to the vulnerable, weak side of Fuzzy. You haven’t. Well, maybe you have but I would heartily encourage you to NOT try exploiting that knowledge. It would only serve to piss me off and to make you more dead than you are now. So, if I hurry I have just enough time for a shower and to make myself presentable (don’t GO there asswipes) before my poker game. Peace out humanoids. See ya and sure the fuck wouldn’t wanna be ya.

Copyright© 2011 Jeffrey Hollar.  All rights reserved

The Hanover Papers: Installment V

I know you are only human, but if you aren't smart enough to click here and familiarize yourself with the previous installment, then I am not to blame if you get lost. 

         TheHanoverPapers:Installment V

by Jeffrey Hollar

Okay, time to head back inside of Fuzzy’s weird-assed cranium and learn a little bit more about why you are just not equipped to be me. I don’t say that lightly, because most of you sorry bastards would drop dead in a puddle of your own shit before you made it to lunch time in my world. So, just sit back, shut the hell up and don’t interrupt me unless your fondest wish is to be on the receiving end of an ass whuppin’ of truly epic proportions.  

As I mentioned the last time around, as enlightening as the introduction of the structured aspects of education and The Library were to me, I had no fuckin’ idea of exactly how far it was possible for my horizons to be expanded. I don’t know exactly when it started, but I slowly began to develop into a VERY different person than I had previously been.  I stopped staying up to all hours watching old movies & sitcoms and even began sleeping in my bedroom rather than passing out on the living room couch.

I suppose I should be ashamed to admit it but, prior to this point, I had not even bothered to notice that there was a bed in my room.  Like I said, I should be ashamed…but who gives a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut what you worthless fucks think anyway, eh?

But more and more I started waking up in a bed, bathing, and yes, even looking forward to whatever The Library had in store for me on that given day. I don’t know where the manila folders of lessons came from and it was not a topic I felt like bothering Loretta with.  As I have attempted to make abundantly clear, she was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination and that seemed something very unlikely to change. So I trusted to whatever source provided the guidance and, remarkably, did not see a need to question it. That really blows my mind that with as little reason as I had to place my trust in anyone that I could so willingly accept such an arrangement. I suppose that given the unique circumstances of my heritage that I was predisposed to willingly accept what others might question.

Anyway, the lessons covered just about any mundane topic you can imagine and interspersed it with some pretty freaky shit too. On one day, I might be wrapping my head around page after page of complex quadratic equations and the next day reading a treatise on the various types and subtypes of demonic beings.  I guess the variety of stuff was intended to prevent me from growing bored or complacent with the whole process, but to say that it constituted a fairly broad range of knowledge would be putting it mildly.

All in all, it was an arrangement that I began to take a liking to and I found that a wee bit distressing. To this point in time, I had been perfectly content to let chaos, inactivity and anarchy be the guiding forces in my life.  Now, it seemed, I had started down a new path that no longer allowed me the luxury of being a slacker.  So be it I thought.

It was on one such morning in early spring that things progressed to a level of weirdness that I had previously no frame of reference to appreciate. I saw Loretta off to the shop as always and then headed for The Library. There on the lectern was the usual manila folder, but what it contained on that day was something far and away more insidious than I had any reason to expect.  In place of the traditional laundry list of subjects and worksheets was a single page of objectives for the day.  Deceptively, fiendishly simple instructions that pushed me beyond anything I could have imagined would ever be possible were what that simple, unassuming folder contained that day.

The single sheet contained in the folder held four, seemingly, innocuous objectives for that day: Go out the house’s back door to the back yard. Remain in the back yard for a period of no less than four hours.  Record any experiences while in the back yard that seemed noteworthy.  Return to The Library and transcribe the field notes taken in to a reportable format for subsequent evaluation.  Okay, all things considered, a pretty light day in comparison with the usual fare.  I could not have, in my wildest, craziest, weird-shit-ometer peggin’ out in the red dreams, been MORE fuckin’ wrong on that note. And so, with small notebook and pen in hand, I headed toward the back door.

Now, if you have been paying the least bit of attention to what I’ve been relating to this point (And if you haven’t, then why the fuck are you even here?!?) you will recall my disappointing experiences with the house’s front door.  You should also remember that I told you that there were no restrictions placed on my access to the back yard. At this point, I need to back track a little to explain some things.  If this were one of my beloved 60’s era sitcoms, then this is the point where the image on the screen would get all wavy, signaling the beginning of a flashback sequence. Since this ain’t a flippin’ multimedia Power Point presentation, you can simulate the effect for yourself however you feel most comfy. I’ll give ya a sec to work through that since I’m not in nearly as shitty a mood today as I have, sometimes, been known to be. Easy…easy…and…STOP! Don’t need any of you worthless jackholes puking on your shoes and trying to blame me for it.

While my access to the yard was not limited, to this point in life I had not had any particular desire to indulge myself by taking advantage of it. Yeah, yeah I know. What normal red-blooded American kid has no desire to go outside and play? Well, in case ya ain’t noticed Sparky, little Fuzzy Hanover wasn’t exactly your average kid. Hells bells, I wasn’t even sure, with the demonic DNA, if my blood was even red. For the record, it turns out that it is, but does that really matter at the moment. For the slower-witted readers out there…answer is nope. See? Aren’t I being more accommodating to you stupid sunzabitches? I promised Benny I would make a special effort. Yeah…enough of that.

So there it was, a perfectly mundane, average-looking backyard. So what? I had my TV, my munchies and no other freakin’ kids to play with, so why bother? I did occupy some of my time staring out the kitchen window. That was mostly during commercial breaks and seldom lasted for very long. I knew the entire yard was surrounded by some very dense-looking hedges that were about eight feet tall and growing over, what appeared to be, some rather substantial wrought iron fencing. I knew that the hedges appeared to be neatly trimmed and that the yard was a lush-looking carpet of emerald green grass.  Since this was still in my pre-Library days, it never occurred to me to care how the yard maintained such an idyllic look without any obvious maintenance.  I find it encouraging that I did notice that, unlike the yards viewed on my various TV shows, our yard contained no squirrels, birds or any other obvious fauna.

I suppose, in retrospect, that I figured that if the interior of the house cared for itself by means that I was unaware or indifferent to, the yard must have behaved much the same. It is worthwhile to again note that while I never observed Loretta performing any domestic tasks, they were always somehow done. While I took no special care where various bowls, cups, plates, wrappers and such fell within the house, it was always spotlessly clean in the time between when I stumbled up the stairs to begin another day and when I came back down for breakfast.  Not a bad deal all in all.

Astute readers, or even half-witted crack addicts, will note that I have speculated before on whether the house was, in some manner, sentient and that I have never arrived at a suitable conclusion to that line of speculation.  The same would have to apply to the yard as well. If you find that unsatisfying then just get over it. Sooner or later you people will come to understand that not everything in this wide world can be explained to a degree you find comfort with. The sooner that you can make peace with that concept, the more likely it is that your sphincter will unpucker and you can live out the reminder of your reasonably bleak existence with less drama. Try it. You just might surprise yourselves.  I’m betting that most of you are simply constitutionally unsuited to achieve success with that. I’m sorry. I really do try to give you people the benefit of the doubt but you just keep proving that the majority of you are too fucking stupid to make that a viable option.

So, it’s enough already. Let’s forge onward and perhaps eventually arrive somewhere meaningful. I believe where we were headed was that I had no expectation that there might be anything in the yard that would prove harmful to me, I was simply too fucking lazy to care what attractions it might offer when compared to a day of lazing about on the sofa, watching endless televised drivel and consuming a never-ending supply of unhealthy snacks.  So, sue me. No really, I dare you. I double dog dare you. No takers? Well, then there may be hope for you yet. 

With the new-found sense of curiosity that The Library had awakened in me, it seemed that I was, finally, going to overcome my ennui and venture out into the yard to see what wonders it might offer that I had not previously cared to discover. My hand grasped the cool brass of the door knob and slowly turned it. To my surprise, it did turn with no resistance whatsoever. My heart racing with excitement, I pulled on the door and it opened. My senses were immediately assaulted with a gamut of sensations I had no frame of reference to process. I felt the warm outside air against my skin. I smelled the scents of the grass, the trees, the towering hedges and innumerable other things that I could only begin to imagine what they might be. I stood under the small gabled roof that protected the back stairs from the elements and gaped in wonder.  Surprisingly, I heard very little to indicate that there was a vast unknown world outside the house. With television as my only frame of reference, I suppose I had expected to hear traffic sounds, bird song…anything to provide aural confirmation of the world’s existence. 

 I would venture to say that some of the bolder of you out there are confused right about now.  You’re gonna want to go back and read again to insure that, yes, I did lead you to believe that exceptionally unsettling weird stuff was to be associated with my very first exposure to the outside world.  Lest you begin to doubt me, let me remind you that while you feel that you are reading this from a faraway, protected safe place…you aren’t.

Your smug beliefs along those lines make you really quite vulnerable.  They make you so vulnerable that, on one fine day, there will come a knock at your door and your mistaken sense of safety will lead you to open that door with nary a thought of glancing out the peephole first to see who might be there.

It is at that exact moment when you open the door that you are most likely to understand just how wrong you were. For it is at that precise moment in time that you will be intercepting a very hard Demonborn fist with your face. That fist will be attached to the rest of the body of a Demonborn male who is fondly known as Fuzzy Hanover.  He will be punching you in the face for the following sins: doubting him and rushing him. So while these might seem like small matters of little import now, there will come a day of reckoning. I am a busy fellow with plenty being piled on my plate daily, but I will make the time to reach out to you and replace your doubts with my knuckles. I thought I had made it quite clear that this is not a group effort or an audience participation exercise. I will tell you my story in my own time and at my own pace.  For those of you that might take affront to that, I offer this parting bit of advice. Always check that little peephole before opening your door unless you LIKE the idea of spending exorbitant amounts of your previously-free time undergoing reconstructive facial surgery.  Thus endeth the lesson kiddies. See ya around (unless you see me first right?). That ain’t gonna happen so just don’t waste the time considering the possibility. You’re liable to strain those last few brain cells that are controlling your autonomic responses and where would be the fun in that? 

Continued here

copyright© 2011 Jeffrey Hollar. All rights reserved

The Hanover Papers: Installment IV

If you missed the previous installment you can find it here. See, I knew if I didn't supply a link you would just read on without knowing what was going on. Humans.

The Hanover Papers: Installment IV

by Jeffrey Hollar

Okay folks, here we find ourselves again. I should probably begin by bringing you up to date on some fairly notable happenings since last we crossed paths. Where to even begin? Well, let’s try this. For reasons I am not entirely certain of, Benny has decided to appoint himself my literary consultant for this project. I gave up protesting after about an hour of yelling and a number of fairly serious threats of bodily harm would not dissuade him. So fine, I now have a literary consultant. He began by telling me that, based on his research, it would be best if I were to tone down my language and, as well, to apologize for my fairly frequent rants. Let me address each of those concerns thusly: firstly, fuck you all with a rusty fence post and secondly, when pigs fuckin’ fly buddies!

I do so much hope that this clarifies my viewpoint on those issues.

His next enlightening observation was that his demographic polls indicated my image with readers ranged anywhere from “misanthrope” on the more intellectual side of the spectrum and headed steadily downward to “asshole” with the more mainstream people. Again, let me give you my read on these things. As regards my being a misanthrope, one needs to look at this on varying levels. If you wanna go with the base definition, then yeah, I do mostly hate, despise and distrust mankind as a whole. If you wanna look at it on a more cerebral level, then regardless of whether you wanna talk Socrates, Plato, Schopenhauer or whomever, I can guarantee you that they all apply to a greater or lesser degree. I can also assure you that it is well, WELL beyond being philosophical pessimism. Bottom line, yeah…I genuinely hate most of you bastards. And for your beer-swilling peckerwoods that wanna keep it simple…yeah, I’m an asshole. There, do you all feel suitably proud of yourselves for finding a niche to place me in? Well bully for you, ya fucks!

Some of you more observant mammals may have noticed that Fuzzy may have a little more going on than you first assumed. He knows the names of classical philosophers, he can demonstrate knowledge of their work and he can write eloquently regarding them. To the bulk of you, Fuzzy is still a foul-mouthed demonic putz, and I’m okay with that too. Since you are all a bunch of bottom feeders to me, you may as well be mice bitching to the cat…prone to get your heads bitten off. Naah, I don’t get in to that. I was just fuckin’ with ya, but it was worth it to imagine the looks on your collective faces. Damn, I can be a sadistic bastard. Believe it or not, that is actually one of my more endearing qualities.

Finally, Benny seems to be of the impression that my rant to content ratio is just a wee bit skewed. To that end, I have promised him to make a genuine effort to remain on topic and to not expose you all for being the worthless pieces of excrement that I have every reason to believe, no to KNOW, that you are. I’m throwing you all a bone here so try to just sit in the corner, shut the hell up and gnaw on it until told to do otherwise. There’s a goood buncha humans…good humans. Stay…stay…goood. You guys can’t see this, but my grin is so wide that it’s wrapping around the back side of my head…hehehe.

At this juncture, I am going to go ahead and shelve the remainder of my 7-hour consultation with Benny and get to the content that I promised to provide. I want to assure you all that, in spite of the fact that I am half-demon, I AM capable of making a promise and sticking to it when dealing with humans. Much ado has been made of that old “deal with the devil” idea that simply does not bear out. In my fairly extensive experience, infernal beings are infinitely more likely to abide by the terms of a contract than you humans are. So shove that up your fanny and squirm about as you see fit you self-righteous shits!! Oops sorry, trying to focus here.

Okay, going to try to wrap up my childhood experiences today so that we can, finally, get on to things that are more apropos. By my recollections, we ended last with how my mother ran her business. Call that a dead topic at this time. A few further recollections from my early years will need to be expounded on. I have mentioned earlier that I was home-schooled. I have also described to you how Loretta ran the shop. Now, if you think that those two items are in conflict with each other, I don’t blame you. I’m going to do my level best to clarify here, but keep in mind this above all else: If my home life was something a tad different than what you may have experienced, I feel a good portion of that can be ascribed to the fact that my home itself was not quite normal. Please (can’t believe I am resorting to using that word) try to hang with me and all will be explained, but I gotta sidestep a little here.

Sometime around when I was learning to dress myself, Loretta and I had a rare moment of clarity and interaction where we discussed my educational objectives. By “discussing my educational objectives”, I refer to the fact that she laid out said objectives and dared me to object. I opted not to take that dare. Billy Shakespeare was definitely on to something with that whole discretion and valor thing. This was the same day that she first showed me The Library. Now we get back to the concept of my home not being quite normal. The room that she took me in to was far larger than should have even been physically possible in relation to the other dimensions of our house. Although, at the time, I had never seen such, I now estimate that The Library occupied approximately the same amount of room as your average high school gymnasium.

Yes, you read it right. Do NOT ask me to explain how such a thing is possible. I have read more books than you folks have ever imagined exist on more topics than you people can ever have imagined exist and I can’t explain it. The closest I have arrived at is the concept of a “pocket universe”…a world that exists irrespective of the normal laws of physics. Given the nature of my demonic heritage and my, now, knowledge of matters arcane, it is not beyond the realm of possibility. But, I digress. Anyway, the ceiling of the room was, easily, three stories above me. The room was of a circular design and lined wall to wall (so to speak) with shelves. Upon those shelves were books. Was it hundreds of books…was it thousands of books? The sheer scope of it was simply beyond my young senses to encompass.

Loretta informed me that The Library contained all of the texts I would find necessary in order for me to become a satisfactorily educated being. She led me to a small lectern and informed me that this was where I would find my daily lesson plans and that it was, entirely, my responsibility to satisfy them on the timeline specified. She mentioned that there would be periodic assessment tests and indicated where they were to be left in order to be properly noted in my permanent record. Perhaps it was the result of my awe or an indication of my inability to learn from my mistakes that prompted me to ask who would be interested in or privy to the results of said records. As I made my best efforts to stem the flow of blood from where my face had made stunning impact with the lectern, Loretta invited me to mind my own beeswax and to just do as I was told. I decided that it seemed like a wise course of action at the time. See the previous Shakespeare reference if you aren’t paying attention eh?

That was the last interaction that she and I had regarding my eventual education. To point out to her, at the time, that we had not covered such basics as the alphabet or the basics of reading, would have seemed ungrateful on my part given the enormity of knowledge that I was being granted access to without there being any discernible cost to me. To say that I was accustomed to receiving something for nothing, at that point in my life, would have constituted lying out of my delightfully cute half-demonic face.

I do think it germane to point out that Loretta, or perhaps the house, guaranteed that I would pursue the educational guidelines laid out for me regardless of my own choices. As mentioned before, my daily life was largely without structure or schedules.

With the exception of the ritual of summoning the shop door, I was free as a lark to do largely as I wished with no interruptions. The most pressing time-related concerns that faced me were keeping track of which of my daily regimen of shows came on at what time and how best to schedule my bathroom breaks and snack refills with minimal interruption of my flow of televised drivel. Yeah, it was a pretty slack life with little, if any, chance of that changing…until The Library became some place I was supposed to be.

It was, at that point, that I, finally, realized that the house was far more than just a house. Whether or not the place was sentient, in any sense of the word, I have yet to be able to determine. That the house had the ability to be malevolent became apparent rather quickly. Much of my childhood is a dull redundant blur to me, but I, most certainly, recall the first time that the two of us came in to major conflict with one another. (I don’t really consider the whole front door thing to be a full-blown conflict.) I managed to maintain The Library’s lessons plans for me for the better part of two weeks before it first occurred to me to rebel. It was a dark, rainy day with little to recommend itself as liable to wax better, when I decided that I was simply not in the mood to spend all day in a musty, albeit exceptionally large, chamber. The fact that the Classic Cartoon channel was showing a Monkey Boy Astronaut marathon MAY have colored my judgment at the time. In retrospect, I guess it just really doesn’t matter what instigated the showdown.

Having set aside a large and hideously boring tome on transcendental metaphysics, I decided that school was released. I headed straight to the kitchen, slapped together a sub sandwich worthy of the gods, grabbed a large bag of cheese puffs and a gallon of chocolate milk and settled myself on the couch to indulge in the glory that is an MBA marathon. As I reached for my remote, I chuckled at how surprisingly easy it had been to ditch class, so to speak, and to do as I wanted rather than catering to the wishes of “The Man”. Any of you that find it ironic that I settled on the concept of “The Man” when my entire existence had been spent under the thumb, boot heel or hurtful limb of your choice of “The Woman” (I’m talking Loretta for you slow sumbitches) can take this opportunity to step out of the story into the lobby and just go fuck yourselves!! Sorry. That has been building up for a good long while today.

To make a long story short (I know…why bother to at this point…no, I heard you…fuck off and die bitch!) my remote didn’t function. While distressing, I knew that, in theory, it was possible to control a TV manually. Albeit a barbaric concept for me at the time, I hauled myself up and put hand to TV. Fuck me like a monkey (an expression not an offer) not a damned thing happened!!! Yeah, I know I promised to behave, but fuck a duck, to this day one of the most traumatic events in my life happened on that day. My only true friend, throughout all of my life, was dead as a door nail! My boon companion, my bosom buddy, my consoler, my unconditional friend was nothing more than a lifeless, walnut-cabinetted, 27-inch husk. Struck down in the prime of its warranty, I mused. How could I continue my otherwise meaningless existence without his constant, non-judgmental, giving ways? It was simply inconceivable that my life could continue on.

Just as I was considering the most efficient and least messy way to snuff out my now-meaningless existence, the most wondrous thing happened. The screen flashed to life with the familiar test pattern I had grown to know and love. Whereas this would normally have given way to the standard hokey sounds of the National Anthem playing over a vista of assorted patriotic scenes, such was not to be on this fateful day. Instead, a rich, deep baritone voice came on and informed me that the sooner I got my sorry little ass back in to The Library and completed my daily lessons, the sooner that the normal programming would be allowed to continue. With a few parting obscenities that were hardly new words to me, the TV screen again went blank. Resigned to my fate, I trudged back to the evil lesson plan still awaiting me.

In retrospect, this may have been one of the more pivotal moments in my, so-far, brief existence. It was the first time in my life that I was confronted by the harsh reality that I was, seemingly, not destined to be a worthless laze about couch potato. It was the first moment in my life, that my destiny was thrust squarely in to my hands and that my success or failure was within MY control. As improbable as it sounds, the loss of my past led me kicking and screaming (metaphorically) in to my future. While the true enormity of the event may have eluded me at the time, in retrospect, it was gigantic. It was the impetus that led me to become the highly-educated, erudite savant that you are reading the exploits of now. So, ain’t that just a kick in the head kiddies?

You know, by now I would normally be ranting and foaming at my readership for being the worthless, albeit seemingly unavoidable wastes of opposable thumbs that you were destined to be, I won’t today. Yeah, read it and weep you assholes. After baring so much of myself to you, I am just too fucking tired to even bother criticizing or haranguing you. Take note of this day and tell your kids about it. Today is the day that the legendary (in future) Fuzzy Hanover gave you a free ride. Don’t get used to it you worthless fucks, cause I guaran-damn-tee you it is a one-shot wonder, a temporary loss of sanity on my part. I will end this installment by saying that the only possible way that this day is going to end favorable would be dependent on me attaining three things…by laying claim to the holy trinity of a chili bacon cheeseburger, large order of onion rings and a mega-gulp soda. Chat amongst yourselves, if you must, but I am off to feed my face. Until we meet again…behave. You just never know who might be watching.

Okay, I am going to ass-u-me that those of you still with me want to read more. So that being said, click here.

copyright© 2011 Jeffrey Hollar. All rights reserved.