This blog contains footnotes

This is one of those "Oh, aren't people weird sometimes" blogs. I've never done one before¹, so here we go.

So, I'm walking home from school,² earphones in, head in the clouds, and this guy Stuart³ starts coming up from the other end of the road, along with three of his junior chav movement.⁴ He points at me and leers across the tarmac. I smile and nod, trying to be polite.

"Hey,"⁵ he says as we approach each other, swallowing a fetid mouthful of Coca-Cola. "It's you."⁶ He presents a chubby finger and tugs my earphone out.
"Mm?"⁷
"You look like a wizard, don't'cha?"⁸ He turns to the three boys, each 2-3 years his junior.⁹ "Doesn't he look like a wizard?"¹⁰ Rather than try to challenge him intellectually,¹¹ I glance at his pity club and settle for:
"Yeah, well, you've got no friends your own age."¹² His 'friends' smirk.
"He's got you there." the smallest one quips.

Stuart's smug face flickers into a slightly more disgruntled expression. Presuming this marks the end of the exchange, I plug my earphone back in and turn to continue on my way.
"... Fuck you." I hear as the 'phone slips into place. I assume he then went about telling his cheery companions to stop looking so amused.

Anyway, about ten seconds later I sense movement out of the corner of my eye, and turn around to see Stuart waddling towards me as fast as his cankles can carry him,¹³ Coke outstretched. A somewhat exasperated area of my brain realises what he's about to do, but the rest of me doesn't have enough faith in his aim to bother moving. In the end, I step back slightly, as, with a spasmodic arm movement and a slight stumble, the rest of his carbonated syrup flies through the air towards my face.

Half of my head makes contact, but I'm past caring; my gaze silently follows this would-be bully as his rotund body continues straight past me on its journey, keeling forwards and covering the last half a foot across the pavement with its face. My eyebrow raises slightly, dislodging a few droplets as the last of his Coke spills across the ground, bottle still in hand. I take a pace towards his resting body and give a small sigh.

"And this is why." I say as he picks himself up. He looks up and glares at me. I stifle a laugh at his grit-speckled face. He turns back the way he came, and limps back towards his cohorts, who are now giving each other small looks which plainly say: 'Why do we let this guy hang around with us again?' I look back up the street towards them and smile, dripping slightly. They start laughing properly. I chuckle myself, and set off for home.

Once they're all well out of sight, I shake out my jacket, comb the rest of the Coke into my hair, and suck my moustache dry.¹⁴ I got a slightly funny look from the girl at the counter when I stopped to buy a snack on the way home, but other than that I think it just looked wet.¹⁵ Normally something like this would ruin my day, but recently I've been too busy to get fussed over this sort of thing; and as I said in another blog, I've got a more generally cheerful outlook now.

By the time I get home, my hair actually looks slightly better than normal, as the sticky cola has successfully managed to hold my quiff up.¹⁶ Once I've had another snack, I've found the entire episode entertaining enough to consider blogworthy. This means I am now very aware of my actions and their impact on the narrative. I eat a slice of Emmental. I go to the toilet, and my bowel movement is satisfactory. I have a shower, which is nice.¹⁷ Then I turn on my computer, open Notepad and write this. When my router finally splutters into life, I paste it into a blank text field and click the 'Post Now' button.

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1. Apart from when I'm the weird person in question.
2. In appropriate narrative style, I'd stayed half an hour after school to do some Art, rendering this entire situation easily avoidable.
3. A brief description of Stuart: Slightly taller than average (but shorter than me); short dark hair with a weird 'dusty' blonde dye job on top (it looks like he's been walking through acid rain); chipped teeth; dirty; big jaw; scratchy neckbeard; and little piggy black eyes, like two ball-bearings wrapped in bacon. He's also somewhere between pudgy and fat which can only be described as 'portly'.
4. He doesn't have any proper friends. Stuart is a renowned dick. He would be a bully, if anyone considered him threatening enough. He's basically an overgrown, spoilt kid. Everyone makes fun of him, which I considered slightly harsh, but it's generally agreed that he's just trying to get attention.
5. Just imagine the stereotypical 'chav' voice. It's not far off.
6. Normally, I'd have a couple of friends with me for the first leg of the journey, and were that the case he'd probably leave me alone, but as I said, I'd left late, and he's the sort who likes to prey on the weak.
7. Stuart being Stuart, this response is usually easier than, say, trying to talk to him.
8. It's the nose.
9. There's a rumour he's a paedophile. I'm pretty sure every school has a 'Stuart', so this probably won't be a surprise to most of you.
10. I have actually made this observation myself a few times, and been rather pleased about it too; A healthier Paul Kidby Rincewind comes to mind. However, in this instance I think it's safe to assume it was meant as an insult.
11. I'd consider it unsporting, much in the way that you wouldn't challenge a quadrapelegic person to a race.
12. "Or at all", I add in my head.
13. I know I'm talking about his weight a lot here, but it's alright if their personality sucks as well, right?
14. I find that statement both pleasing and slightly erotic.
15. I guess I'm just lucky I have a fairly 'slick' hairstyle. I don't really go for the whole male grooming thing.
16. Something my hair gel fails to do on a daily basis.
17. I'm happiest in water.

... and that's how I became the Prince of a town called Bel-Air. Here's a song about a talking camel.