Mum Killed in Kosovo, Apparently (Part 2) – Mad Chaos: April 5, 1999

Beer Table in the Basement

With Ralf finishing up on his pokies we made a lap of the whole area and with his arguing that there was no space left to check out I stopped his bitching by heading down to the basement level. This I had never seen before Saturday night and it was just like ‘Timezone’ down there with all the games.

Clothed as I was I felt most uncomfortable down there but Ralf insisted that he buy himself a beer, one of his mindless antics. The seats were all taken except for one which looked desolate apart from the half full beer on it. “Quick, go get that table before anyone else does” he barked and wanting to get away from his squabbling voice I made my trip into ‘Ease the pressure world’.

Seeing a couple of guys standing just near the table I asked them if they were sitting there but they avowed it to be free. Ralf took his time in the lineup for beer and trying my best to look calm and happy while sitting down my sullen and bored faced shined through. When I get uncomfortable or intimidated I usually look around more frequently and as calm as I tried to be, I was an oscillating head.

A Stranger From Adelaide

While sitting down I noticed this guy who was holding a beer in his hand, short hair and a rounded chubby but not necessarily deemed fat. Standing near me and not really chatting with anyone he looked as if he wanted to talk to me but he ended just sitting down next to me. As he did he turned to me and just starting brief conversation with me.

The basis of the conversation’s start I cannot remember but I initially thought he was just contemplating on sitting next to me because it was the closest seat available. There weren’t any parts of our conversation that I found interesting but despite my lack of talking skills at that moment I gave it my best. The guy chatted to me about a job that he couldn’t tell me anything about, not even the title but he had moved from Adelaide down to here to work for it. After trying to guess that he was a striper, a computer hacker and other stupid guesses he still couldn’t apprise me but it didn’t matter, Ralf had made it to the table.

Suspicions at the Table

Jumping the gun I would just like to point out that both Ralf and I thought he was gay but only now it would make the most sense. When he sat down he acted like what most men would do when they were about to try chatting up a girl, hesitation. When he finally sat down and talked with me it was a bit curious where I thought nothing of it but I think he was laying his moves on me. He didn’t look gay to me but after Ralf and I talked about it and then glanced at him again we doubted our deliberations.

When he chatted with Ralf I was gladly left out of most of the conversation but he triggered my perception more when he started talking about how anal sex was prominent in Adelaide. “Everyone has anal sex up there” he boasted and I gathered he meant with women but now I’m not too sure. How much times are gay men going to try to crack onto me, what am I, a glutton for homosexuals.

The suspicion heightened when Ralf started speaking about his guitar and the man invited us to crash at his house and play guitars all night. His friends looked fairly normal but I had my rousing suspicions about them too.

Ralf Spins a Kosovo Story

Unobtrusive in conversation as I couldn’t really hear much of it I was surprised when Ralf agreed to heading to the pool tables. “Great” I thought, “Another game of stinking pool” and as we walked over there I became all the more reticent. As Ralf spun him bullshit about owning a $5000 guitar the man literally creamed his pants but neither Ralf or I wanted anything to do with that part. Taking his joke a little further Ralf decided to start spinning shit to these guys.

As they waited for a pool table Ralf told them how my mum was killed in the big war happening at Kosovo now. Ralf hoped that the guy would suck up my ass and give me sympathy but I had other plans.

Tripping up Ralf’s words I joked around about my mum being in Kosovo and the guy didn’t know what to believe. Deciding to wrench what I could out of him I changed the story to it being my step mother and he went along with it in a relenting nature but he was gullible. Nevertheless, the guy was probably going along with the sympathy act because he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to question Ralf’s truth.

Escaping the Pool Tables

When the two guys started playing pool it didn’t look like Ralf and I were in on it and we found it to be true as they started playing the guys who were already on the snooker tables. This was a relief to me as I didn’t want to play anyway but now with the both of them concentrating on snooker a little Ralf found it to be our escape attempt.

Ralf was mentioning for the first time how they could be gay and trying inadvertently to crack onto us and because of this he wanted out. “I’m just going to tell them I’m heading to the toilet” he uttered to me and he wanted me to follow up with some lame attempt to escape but I had a better idea.

When Ralf done his quick little runaway I walked up to the both of them, shook their hands and told them we were off and heading upstairs. There were no hassles from either of them and with this I evaded looking like an idiot, like Ralf probably would have. Doing one more circle of the club we made our way outside and walked to the car in the sprinkling rain. Taking out his jacket from the boot we jumped in the car and made our way back to reality, back home.

Back to Subway Dressed Up

Recalling that Hamish from ‘Subway’ told me that Briony would be there on Saturday night I ran that idea past Ralf and he had no objections to it. Therefore, passing through Campbelltown we then made the rest of our course to Ingleburn ‘Subway’. Seeing only Hamish there I didn’t fret as we jumped out of the car and made our way inside.

Having my nightclub clothes on I wondered what effect it would have on him, after all, he does only see me in my rags. Half the reason I wanted to check out Briony was because I would be dressed in my best but she wasn’t around to see it. However, Hamish did looked rather surprised and impressed because after I went to the toilet we started chatting about clubs, sex and all sorts of topics not usually in our encumbered discussions. Ralf bought himself some pieces of chicken where Hamish gave him some for free, he must feel part of the establishment now that we have accepted him into card games.

Hamish and His Tall Stories

The time was past midnight when we entered ‘Subway’ and began our conversation with Hamish. Some of that was about Briony and how Hamish wants to break her in. Some was about how all the girls were mostly virgins and single that work at ‘Subway’ and we also talked about the party that is being held at ‘Subway’ near the end of this month.

One of the girls is starting a party at ‘Subway’ and whoever shows up is invited. All the ‘Subway’ staff are going to be there and all are heading to a city nightclub from there so I might be joining in on that too.

Hamish also told me all these stories regarding sex and his sexuality. Most of his stories didn’t seem trustworthy and as he kept speaking suspicious stories about how sexual he was I started becoming skeptical. Come on, who has a girlfriend, a next door neighbor who is a model and strips naked to handle the Play Station at his house and asks him for the occasional bonk when she’s horny. There were many other stories that he shared with me about his sexuality but they if not questionable were very doubtful.

There was one story that I would like to believe, his heading off to the Gridiron game at the Olympic Stadium. However, when he tells me that he’s bought a $110 seat and he’s going with 26 other people (His whole team) I find that a little harder to swallow.

Sleeping Upstairs Without a Clock

When Ralf finished up his food and we had done our talking amongst each other it was time to head home. Being around 2:00 a.m. I didn’t really care, the night was a sham anyway.

Once home I spent a fair amount of time on the computer and finally at 6:00 a.m. I decided it was time to sleep. However, I decided to try sleeping in my old room upstairs that has the view of the backyard and plentiful amounts of sun shining in. The idea behind this was to see if the sun would wake me up earlier or in a different way to my dim room downstairs.

Although I had a really comfortable sleep I found myself waking up at an undesirable time. Having no clock with me I thought this would assist my getting up earlier but it only hindered my estimation. Waking up in a fit and ready state I found that a bonus but when I noted that the time was 4:00 p.m. I wasn’t too happy. I think that I won’t bother sleeping upstairs again tonight but if I had a clock it might be a different story.

A Call to Phoenix

Before I move on to Sunday’s chronology let me note something I forgot to add about Saturday morning. Before I decided to get to sleep I called Phoenix, the time must have been around 10:30 a.m. Withal, we talked around our answers for a while as Phoenix wasn’t accustomed to waking up that early, just like me.

Through our conversation I started leading it lightly into my bid to get Phoenix over to my house for a little booty call but it turned to be harder than I thought. Knowing that she would always protest because of her boyfriend I know that she’ll cheat on this guy sooner or later, might as well be with me. However, Phoenix had seen it a different way as I asked her over to my house and although I softened her choice up I don’t think she will be making her way to my house unaided.

Firstly she was going to head over with Sofia on my advice and then when I asked her not to bother Sofia she told me she would ask her boyfriend but she wasn’t surprised if he would say no. Our conversation continued until Phoenix had to get off the phone because she was told to have a shower and get ready to go out by her mum.

“I’ll give you a call around Thursday night” I told her and with that she had no objection. What I found loathsome was how Phoenix didn’t want to come to my house (Bad memories of her old boyfriend busting us) but she didn’t mind going out with the group. The only reason Phoenix didn’t mind (To my belief) is because Keith was going to be the one driving and she wants his dick, my guess.

Nothing Much on Sunday

Now to Sunday’s chronology, let me put to rest these longing epics. Actually, nothing much happened today, nothing much at all. Through the time of getting up at 4:00 p.m. and now I have been watching television, eating, showering or working on my computer.

No one called me today but I did give Keith a call at 1:30 a.m. because I was trying to figure out wording for my Sonnet and I thought he could help. I wanted to find out another well known phrase for saying ‘Truth is misleading’ but he couldn’t help me out that much on it. I said to him “Just imagine truth being water and then you making ripples in it by throwing a rock into it” but even with that illustration we couldn’t work out what I was trying to get at. It was only after I had completed my Sonnet and when I was thinking about nothing did the phrase pop into my head ‘Truth can be distorted’ but I didn’t end up using it in my Sonnet anyway.

Imad’s Bad Luck

There is some falsity in my claim that no one called me tonight, I forgot about Imad. Having also tried to call me Saturday night he gave me another try for Sunday and at 11:00 p.m. he got me.

Rolling through our gossip I told him of my weekend as he told me about the atrocities of his life. Foremost, he doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore and he no longer has anyone to root. The girl he was supposedly seeing he isn’t talking to anymore because he was supposed to take her to the Easter Show but he forgot, they haven’t talked ever since.

Then there’s the story about Pippa and how Imad has been smacking her without a condom for a year and coming in her without her even being on the pill. This came as a surprise to me because I thought she was always on the pill but about a month ago she told Imad she was pregnant. From this she had an abortion but this little incident caused Imad and her not to talk to each other anymore. With the collapse of his being around Phoenix he now has become a hermit without sex, preaching that he’s done all there is to do with sex and now it’s boring, yeah right.

Knowing that Imad is only humbling himself because he’s not getting laid anymore I know he’s trying hard to get his hands on some lean pussy. “I want to concentrate now on getting rich and making my millions” he uttered, that before he starts having sex again. Let me say, the day Imad is a millionaire is the day he seriously thinks about giving up sex. Just one more funny little point about his sexuality. Phoenix told me that Imad wasn’t all that he was cracked up to be in the sack and considering he thinks he’s all that and he’s done it all, I think he has much to wake up to.

Thinking About Lyssa

Just a quick thought before I continue now on the more composed part of my life, a thought about Lyssa. It has now been more than a week since she has called me but besides that, I was deliberating again on my most loathed night, the hotel.

When I thought about all that she didn’t do and what promises were embedded in my mind, I started to once again wonder what could earn Lyssa more respect when it comes to pleasing me. With this pondering I came to a conclusion that I wished Lyssa to be more giving, more spontaneous and above all, more sexy.

To the sport of giving, Lyssa doesn’t do a lot when it comes to sexuality, she mostly lays there and lets me take control for the whole time. That at times is good but coming to the third point of being more sexy, I wouldn’t mind Lyssa putting some effort into bumping uglies. Strip-teasing, garters, exerting as much as I do with thrusts, these things I consider sexy and it would drive my libido to breakneck speeds.

Spontaneity is lost upon Lyssa and something I feel that I will never imagine to find. The thought of Lyssa giving me head on someone’s front lawn out of the blue, her initiating sex from nothing, grabbing me during sex and screaming out my name, whimsical tendencies, that’s what I need. Let me now abandon these thoughts as much as they abandon Lyssa’s mind and anon to my Sonnet.