Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Sex, Lies and Verkoff (i)

Well, with two more guide entries complete and on the blog, my vengeance on a certain opinion forum as complete as complete can be, I reflect on The Rise of the Big N (dear god, that title sounds a lot ruder in retrospect, when it was a parody of The Gauda Prime Conspiracy: Rise of the Merc...). Anyway, my intention to post this saga in order has been de-railed, with five out of ten of the episodes - all cunningly named after Rogue Trader songs if you clever people at home never noticed - complete and the rest lost in the narratorial ether.

But, I hear you type (with optional ZOMG!!!) I've only posted four of the episodes: the first three (Way To Go, The Price We Pay and Speak and Destroy) and the conclusion (I Never Liked You...). There is an episode I have denied you, the faithful and undeserving public!!

Was it because of the disturbing details of Nigel's sex life? Dave's suicidal anxieties? The fear people might think this episode was on the "self-autobiographical" end of the spectrum? Or did I think it was just complete unfunny crap that some would no doubt class as "wangst/porn MA15+"? Not to mention this ISN'T the episode where Nigel sleeps with every non-jailbait-relative girl he claps his eyes on... Worse, this story synchs up quite badly with Here's To The Future, the pilot episode of YOA which it is supposed to be a direct prequel (it DOES sort of explain why Dave's so much calmer and relaxed, and why people are so sick of Nigel... needless to say, the next episode of TROTBN would be a "remastered" version of the pilot).

Ah what the hell? Those with weak stomachs or souls, look away...


[Afternoon over the school. Jadi kicks a locker, furious. Tegan sits in the lotus position on the grass, meditating. Doctor Spoon and Chamber play handball. Katy sits on a bench, flipping through a text book and listening to a CD. Nigel does a Scrubs-style voiceover]

Nigel: [VO] Ah, stress. How do I cope with thee? Let me count the ways...

[We see a classroom. At the back, Andrew sits, feet up on the desk, reading “Merrick & Rosso: The Book Volume 2” and grinning. Beside him is Harry, actually doing some revision but his hands uncontrollably tap out a drum beat on the pages. Further along sits Phoebe, propping books up on her stomach and trying not to look too sad or miserable.]

Nigel: [VO] Stress affects performance. Simple as that. So surely the best way to do well at the single most important exam in your life is probably NOT to drive into people’s skulls their entire prepubescent life so it becomes an intolerably impossible problem that blocks out the sun by its huge vastness.

[The next row up, Lucy is looking very ragged and stressed, surrounded by a veritable fort of text books. Beside her is Aileen and Emma, arguing over who owns which book. Across from them Simone is reading through a For Dummies Book entitled CHEATING THE HSC AND PASSING. Beside her are Jason and Betty, who are snogging and ignoring their books.]

Nigel: [VO] Still, what do I know? What does anyone know? Probably the smartest person in the world was Albert Einstein – and HE flunked all his classes and needed to have a chain around his neck reminding him where he lived. The guy was like Ozzie Osbourne only he didn’t need drugs. What does some stupid exams matter anyway? That’s a reasonable question, but you’ll be lucky to find anyone who can answer it.

[The front row. Dave has given up even trying to revise and is knocking back a bottle of VB, looking very miserable. Maurice is drawing the Illuminati symbol on top of an essay he is writing furiously. Other students are doing stuff but I can’t be bothered describing them as they’re simply not that important.]

Nigel: [VO] It’s a thing without beginning or end. The HSC is important simply because it is important. Even though anyone can finish school at Year 10. It’s an extra two years that aren’t utterly needed. All it says nowadays is that people who stay on for the HSC have less idea what to do with their lives than those that leave early.

[Cut to Nigel’s bedroom at Benny’s place. He is lying in bed looking up at the ceiling while Gabby straddles him for all she’s worth.]

Nigel: Which means that the HSC is only important if you know exactly what you’re going to do with your life. And not even Einstein pretended to know that!

Gabby: [breathless] So what do you want to do when school’s over?

Nigel: My sister. Next question.

[Gabby laughs dorkily.]

[The kitchen area. Nigel is wearing his kimono. Gabby is in her underwear. They are setting out plates to eat some pizza.]

Gabby: You’re acting like you’re gonna miss high school.

Nigel: Am I? Yeah. I guess I am. I dunno, Gabby, I really feel like I shouldn’t leave it. Like there’s more to do before I go.

Gabby: This cause you skipped Year Six?

Nigel: No idea. Maybe.

Gabby: [ruffling his hair] Come on! You’ve been there six years nearly! You’ve got a rock and roll band, those English losers pay you for those Doctor Who stories, you’ve banged almost every girl in Year 12 like a dunny door in a cyclone, you’ve got a season ticket to Good News Week...

[Nigel takes a bite of pizza, nodding absently when he freezes.]

Nigel: [awed] Gabby... are there olives on this?

Gabby: Huh?

[She looks at the pizza. There are very obviously olives all over it.]

Gabby: Shit. Don’t worry.

[She grabs Nigel’s head and passionately kisses him for a moment, then steps back, chewing something.]

Gabby: I lurve olives.

[Nigel feels inside his mouth, realizing she scooped the offending item out during the snog.]

Nigel: You are stone-cold amazing, you know that?

Gabby: Plus, I’m pretty smart too.

[Nigel isn’t sure whether or not she’s joking, but laughs anyway. He plucks off the olives and feeds them to Gabby before consuming his now olive-clear slice of pizza.]

Nigel: I think you were only something earlier. About me banging ALMOST every girl...

Gabby: [hurt] I thought you were happy with me!

Nigel: [defensive] I am happy. I explained all about my problem...

Gabby: You said as long as I put on the wig and did the accent it’d be fine!

Nigel: And it is! Incidentally, Gabby, we want to keep that little role play thing a secret.

Gabby: I never told anyone.

Nigel: No, but you did ask Benny if she had any tips for how to clean them and if you could borrow her underwear.

Gabby: Oh. You think it gave the game away?

Nigel: [sighs] Benny’s smart. Us just HAVING the game gave it away. [shakes head] No, Gabby, it’s not you’re in any way not satisfying my debauchery, debasement

Gabby: Or debauchery IN the basement.

Nigel: Quite. It’s just, now you’ve said it, it makes sense. I’ve only had sex with ALMOST all the girls in our year. Not ALL!

Gabby: You said you avoided Nasty Lynda because she had eczema and Katy January’s tits were so small they were actually dents in her chest.

Nigel: I did. Plus there’s that whole young adult chicken pox business...

Gabby: So you don’t want to screw them?

Nigel: No. But those were the only two girls in our year I didn’t find attractive. But I haven’t slept with three.

Gabby: [frowns] Ow, not math. It makes my head hurt.

Nigel: I’ll spell it out for you.

Gabby: SPELLING too?

[Nigel sighs. Gabby hops into his lap.]

Gabby: OK, Big N, you explain how clever you are and I’ll be all impressed.

Nigel: You don’t NEED to pander my ego, babe.

Gabby: Yes I do.

Nigel: ...yeah, you do. OK. The only girl in our year I both lust after yet have not even attempted to deflower yet is...

[He whispers in Gabby’s ear. She smiles. Then frowns in confusion. Then brightens. Then pales. She leaps to her feet, away from Nigel.]

Gabby: Phoebe?!

Nigel: Yeah, so?

Gabby: You want to have sex with Phoebe?!?!

Nigel: Yeah. You know, Gabby, there aren’t many boyfriends that would be so honest about their desires. What’s the problem? You know I shagged Lucy, screwed Emma, bonked Aileen, sassed Simone, not to mention Sally, Cathy, Toulasini, Karen, Megan, Jessica, Lorelei, Amanda, Patricia and Big Dara, the girl who gets her tampons specially made because she’s got an unusually large—

Gabby: Phoebe?!?

Nigel: What’s the problem?

Gabby: Nige! She’s pregnant!

Nigel: [rolls eyes] Good thing you pointed that for me, I was wondering what that growth in her stomach was! There was I assuming it was a massive tumor, but you’ve put me right...

Gabby: You can’t have sex with a pregnant chick!

Nigel: ...why not?

Gabby: It’s wrong!

Nigel: How do you know? Have you tried it?

Gabby: No!

Nigel: Look, Gabby, what’s the problem? I’ve had sex with girls who aren’t virgins. I’ve had sex with girls who are in ongoing relationships. I’ve had sex with girls who are emotionally vulnerable. And I’ve had sex with girls who take up a large amount of space. Perhaps most importantly of all, I’ve had sex with girls who aren’t YOU. When it comes to Phoebe, all I’m doing is multitasking. So what, precisely is the problem?

[Gabby starts to answer, frowns then shrugs.]

Gabby: I dunno. Maybe it hurts the baby.

Nigel: Hmmm. [sighs] That probably WOULD be a bit of a passion-killer.

Gabby: And a baby-killer.

Nigel: It seems that even I have standards, Gabby. Banging a hot redhead I’ve fancied since before the Macarena became popular... not even that’s worth killing a baby for. [starts to say something then stops] No. Definitely not. But hang on, from an evolutionary point of view, that’d be counter productive, right? And how many girls keep getting laid even when they don’t KNOW they’re pregnant?

Gabby: No idea what you’re saying. But I get used to that.

Nigel: I think we might have stumbled across an old wives tale.

Gabby: [horrified] In the pizza? Gross! I thought they were anchovies...

Nigel: Oh, just shut up and kiss me.

[Shrugging, Gabby does so.]

[The next day, the school bus arrives out the school and students disembark. Phoebe waddles out first, followed by most of the other passengers, who are clearly impatient about being stuck behind her. She gives vaguely apologetic glares to others at the kids that hurry past her.]

Student: Why do they make you sit right at the front?

Phoebe: [flatly] Guess.

Student: They should make you sit right at the back.

Phoebe: You ever hear of Rosie Parks?

Student: Was SHE a pregnant white girl?

[Phoebe sighs and makes her way down the main path. She passes someone. Stops. Looks back. It’s Nigel, wearing a tuxedo, a rose between his teeth, leaning against a pillar and grinning like a madman. She turns, shakes her head and keeps walking. Nigel sighs. A moment later Maurice walks past.]

Nigel: [before Maurice can say anything] Shut the hell up!

[Maurice passes. Nigel picks up his backpack. Gabby approaches.]

Gabby: Any luck?

Nigel: I keep forgetting she hates me.

[Gabby peers at Phoebe struggling up some steps.]

Gabby: Jeez, just look at her! She’s gigantic! That baby might come out before she gets to class!

Nigel: [annoyed] Yeah, I AM aware time’s a factor, Gabby. I’m no obstetrician, but I doubt she’ll be fancying any nookie once that unearthy child is born. I must strike while both she and the iron is hot. And you need to help me, babe.

Gabby: [confused] Me? Again?

Nigel: No, not like that...

Gabby: Wouldn’t it ALREADY be a threesome with you, her and the baby?

Nigel: [face palms] Gabby, just go to the library. You got a free period first? I want you to do some research.

Gabby: Why me?

Nigel: Because you’re one of the few people I trust and a girl like you reading up on the sex lives of mothers-to-be wouldn’t be HALF as disturbing if I got Jason to do it.

Gabby: [sighs] OK. Would you like me more if I was pregnant?

Nigel: [confused] Probably not. Get going.

[Gabby happily skips off. Nigel shakes his head and starts to change out of his tuxedo.]

[A classroom. Simone decks Nigel with enough force to slam him against the wall opposite. The history teacher looks up with mild interest.]

Teacher: Something wrong, Simone?

Simone: [sweetly] Not at all, sir.

Teacher: [bored] Oh good.

[Betty is helping Nigel up again. He sits up, back next to Simone and Jason.]

Simone: [sotto] What do you mean you want to get jiggy with Phoebe Richards-nee-Styles?

Nigel: [sotto] The clue is in the question, Si!

Simone: [sotto] What are you thinking?!

Nigel: [sotto] Why shouldn’t I?

Simone: [sotto] She’s as big as a house, covered in a thin layer of fat and her hips take up most of the hallway, that’s why!

Nigel: [sotto] I don’t mind a bit of baby fat.

Betty: [sotto] Yeah, but not a LITERAL baby, surely?

Nigel: [sotto] What, you a bigot or something? Any other fit round babe with triple-D norks and was over the age of consent, would anyone criticize? With all those hormones and a proven track record in the sack, she’ll be up for anything she can get. No boring dinner dates, no emotional ties, but she and me had a thing a while ago.

Jason: [sotto] When she dumped you for being an insensitive and manipulative bastard.

Nigel: [sotto] Oh, like that would matter at a time like this?

Betty: [sotto] And isn’t she like due to deliver soon?

Nigel: [sotto] So?

[Betty grabs Nigel’s shoulders.]

Betty: [sotto] Nigel. She is eight months pregnant!

Nigel: [sotto] It gives me a month, doesn’t it?

Simone: [sotto] What if her water breaks right there and then?

Nigel: [slightly less certain] Time for a quick one before the paramedics arrive? Besides, you know what they say?

Betty: [sotto] Not really, no.

Nigel: [sotto] You can’t be a true mofo till you’ve fo’d a mo.

Jason: [sotto] ...that Latin, right?

Simone: [sotto] Shut up.

[Phoebe sits down in the library, rubbing her back and stomach. She flips open a textbook then starts reading. We zoom out to reveal that Nigel, Jason and Betty are playing Monopoly on the table next to her.]

Betty: But if I own King’s Cross, surely I get a cut from all prostitutes and drug dealers working there!

Jason: That’s England’s King’s Cross.

Betty: Exactly! It’s got to be worse than ours!

[Nigel laughs. Gabby rushes over, carrying several books.]

Nigel: Hey, Gabby. You got the info?

Gabby: Uh-huh. You won’t believe some of this stuff!

Nigel: Try me.

[Nigel takes a book and flips through it.]

Gabby: Being pregnant rocks! Your boobs get huge, and way more sensitive than normal, we’re talking full-on warm-glow-between-the-legs-low-frame just putting your bra on! Plus, once the morning sickness goes all the hormones and stuff run riot and you feel great and horny times a hundred...

Nigel: Wow. Maths. You must be really interested in it.

Gabby: Plus, you know how everyone wants to touch her belly to feel the baby? Well according to this, just patting her tummy is a turn-on! [awed] Luscious breasts, wide hips, mile-deep cleavage, not having to worry about your waistline – plus, get this, you can’t actually get knocked up twice! I HAVE got to try this...

Nigel: Yeah, well [blinks] you’re not serious are you?

Gabby: I so am! Come on, Nige, you and me, let’s make a baby!

[Nigel stares at her as he would a Weeping Angel in a bad mood.]

Nigel: [carefully] Bit busy at the moment. Plus, I have no parental instinct in my body. I don’t want any child or heir, I want all my cash for me. My real parents refused to have me around to ruin their swinging bachelor/bachelorette lifestyle, something I totally respect them for.

Gabby: It’d be so cool! You could be the Big N and they’d be the Little N!

Nigel: I don’t care, Gabby. I am not taking the chance of screwing this up and not only getting dumped with a bambino but also you moody, fat and miserable for the best part of the year. And if being up the duff was so damn good, why does no one ever mention it?

Gabby: Well, because all the happy pregnant chicks are busy shagging everyone and everything not nailed down! And sometimes even that! Oh, Nige, please! I’m sure I’m fertile, I’m a Sagittarius and everything!

Jason: Oh, but I for one have grown weary of all this gratuitous mauseiophillia.

[A huge silence.]

All: WHAT did you say?

Jason: Nothing.

Nigel: [very suspicious] Good. Right. Now I’ve got this there will be nothing between me and a certain redhead now except for warm, naked flesh. I love Mondays, don’t you?

[The others exchange uncertain looks and then shake their hands.]

Nigel: [sighs] Philistines.

- to be continued...

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