Jenga!
I stare out the
window with a broad smile. Even the mutilated ghost gum doesn’t piss me off.
The rain is falling harder than ever, with big, bullet-sized drops smashing
into the ground. As the lightning dances in the distance, thunder screams right
above my head. Weather like this suits me perfectly, not in a poetic “I’m so
dark” bullshit kind of way, but because now I don’t need to make excuses for
staying inside all day. I can rest easy knowing my dad won’t ask me if I want
to go kick the footy with him. I draw my attention from the window and look to
the plethora of flashing lights and LCD screens. I turn it all on, everything.
My thumbs and fingers are working frantically pushing buttons and flicking
switches, filling my room with light and noise. In one fluid movement I snatch
the PS3 control and slump into my soft-as-cloud chair (not before grabbing a 2
litre bottle of Coke out of my personal fridge, that is).
Before I start, I
take a moment to review the endless entities of entertainment awaiting my day.
Until my door flies open.
“You can’t be using so many machines when there is a
lightening storm outside” my father says.
I think that’s what he said. Actually, I’m not too
sure, I wasn’t really listening but my guess is he said something incredibly annoying/stupid
like that. To avoid complications I’ll just use a standard answer:
“Yep”
He opens his mouth to retort, but thinks better of it
and walks out, leaving me in my paradise of light and noise. I close my eyes to
continue my reflection and the noise stops. I open my eyes to darkness.
***
It’s a frigging
blackout. I spend a few minutes composing myself, and then leave my room on a
mission to find answers. I walk down the hallway and out into my lounge room
where my family are sitting. My Dad, Sister and a guy with a disgusting
try-hard moustache (who I assume is My Sisters latest boy friend, whose name
just doesn’t seem important enough to remember) are all hunched around a weak
battery powered radio listening to an emergency broadcast. My Mum is the only
one who seems uninterested. She sits reading her Mills and Boon romance novel
surrounded by candlelight. My Sister and Disgusting Try-Hard Moustache are
discussing how romantic their candle lit day will be. I suddenly feel very ill.
Dad gets them to stop talking (he’s not totally useless) so we can find out
when the Dark Ages will end. The boring drawl of the broadcast begins.
Thankfully due to years of practising selective hearing, I don’t listen too
hard.
“Power out… lines down… high winds… undetermined
amount of time”
Undetermined? Kill me now. With nothing to distract
me, I accidentally tune into my Dad and Disgusting Try-Hard Moustaches
conversation.
“Shame its such a lousy day, we could have made some
progress outside” Dad says to Try-Hard Moustache.
“Yeah I know!” he enthusiastically replies “we were
gonna take those last few branches off the ghosty!”
The “ghosty” is a stupid dead tree right out my
window, which I despise. The reasons I hate the gargantuan stick are twofold:
1.
Every day I look out my window to see this alabaster
post awkwardly sticking out of the earth. It’s actually the most horrible thing
I’ve ever seen; and I would rather eat kittens for breakfast than have to stare
at it every morning.
2.
Watching Dad and Try-Hard Moustache proving how manly
they are with a chainsaw has totally ruined how cool Leatherface from Texas
Chainsaw Massacre is. It should also be noted Try-Hard Moustache loves helping
my Dad get wood.
That is why when
that tree is finally gone, I might just finally be happy.
***
I’ve been staring
into my kitchen cupboard for about ten minutes now. I’m not even hungry, not a
little bit. Staring into my cupboard looking for food is the only thing I do in
this house that doesn’t require electricity and that aren’t time-based events
like sleep. As my eyes roll over the Milo tin for probably the hundredth time,
my sister comes and stands next to me, filling her wine glass from the $9.99
Yalumba Classic Red cask.
“I have to drink it or it will go off” she jokes, then
winks at me.
Not even worth acknowledging, I leave the cupboard and
stand surveying the room for something interesting to do. Mum is lucky, I
decide as I look towards her. With 50 new Mills and Boon book published per
month, her entertainment will never end. I wish I could read, however, due to
early exposure to television my imagination was destroyed. As I stand failing
to conjure an image, Dad walks into the room holding the root-of-all-evil,
Jenga. This terrible game is the worst thing that could happen to a bored family.
“Who wants to play a good old game of Jenga?” Dad asks
the family.
“Wow! That sure sounds like fun!” replies The
Moustache.
This remark caused me to concentrate very hard on not
punching The Moustache in the face as I pass him on the way to my room.
***
There are 213
floorboards on the floor in my room. I finished counting them for the third
time, just to triple check. I consider tearing half up to make myself a coffin
because so far, the power has been off for one hour and thirty three minutes, which
I’ve been keeping count of on my mobile phone. The phone is my least favourite
item of technology. Another upside of never leaving my house is that I don’t
have to waste anytime with “friends”. Therefore my phone is basically useless.
I feel like I will go insane any moment. I can’t sleep because its too early,
I’m not hungry so I can’t eat and there’s no way I could handle trying to read
right now. What can I do? Why is my life so sucky? And why is this house so god damn boring? I take a deep breath and
close my eyes. I think it is time. Time for me to throw away my beliefs on
spending time with family, and go out there and play some Jenga.
***
“You joined at the
right time” my Dad informs me, “We’re one layer off my all time Jenga record!”
“And its your turn” The Moustache adds, looking
murderous that I get to break the record, and therefore receive Dads praise.
However I don’t think I can do it. I reach for the
Jenga block and pause. Jenga, the most wicked of all games is about to beat me.
With my eyes closed I reach for the block, and a bounty of noise hits my ears.
I open my eyes to an array of lights and screens booting up. The Blackout is finally over. I’m not the only one,
however, who is excited by the re-illumination from the Dark Age. The Mo’ is so
excited that the power has returned he jumps in excitement, knocking the table.
As the table wobbles, the Jenga Tower timidly begins to fall. In fantastic slow
motion, the tower tumbles down, knocking My Sisters wine glass over. Red wine
spills all down her front, and she begins screaming at The Mo’. My Dad looks
like he is about to cry, his dreams of beating the Jenga record gone, he also
turns to The Mo’. With two people screaming at him, my smile from this morning
creeps back onto my face. Mum doesn’t look up from her Mills and Boon.
***
I’m back in my
room. Everything has booted up again, and the comfy-as-cloud-chair is better
then ever. I pick up my control to restart my day of almost-full entertainment.
I close my eyes for what I hope is the final time. An enormous crash interrupts
what I had hoped to be the final reflection. When I open my eyes, I find it
hard to look at the mess before me. My wish has finally come true and what was
supposed to be the happiest moment of my life, will probably lead to my death.
The fucking ghost gum has fallen through my room, crushing my television,
computer and stereo, landing millimetres before my feet. The door flies open,
and my family rush in (Mum is still clutching her Mills and Boon). The family
stare in total shock, nobody can even say a word. So of course, the world’s
biggest moustached nobody does.
“Jenga!”
I turn to him to scream all the abuse I can muster,
however I am silenced by a flying image of The World Most Beautiful Man. The
Mills and Boon bounces off the corner of The Mo’s head, and we all turn to my
mother in surprise.
“You are such a wanker,” she mutters.
My smile is back.
