I don’t remember the date on which this one was written, but it was. Written that is. And contains sex and nudity.
It is supposed to be term-time. The youth of the nation are supposed to be firmly interred in their respective schools learning about – whatever it is they teach in school. I don’t remember—so why is it that these two hooligans have suddenly materialised in my living room?
“Frasier and Chandler! I thought I would see Nibiru Giants before I saw the two of you again. Come and give your father a warm hug!” I greeted cheerfully, just to see the looks on their faces.
Chander didn’t disappoint. He gave me a look of great bewilderment and his jaw dropped a full seven inches. His brother saved him. Frasier translated. “Dude, he’s being sarcastic. What he really means to say is ‘What the hell are you doing here?’”
I sat down on an armchair. “And the answer to that question is?”
“We have questions about school,” said Frasier. “I, personally think it is stifling my creativity and numbing my intellect. I fear that more harm is being done to my mind than good, and for the sake of my sanity — nay, for the sake of my future, I demand that you withdraw me from Montego Bay Senior Secondary School and put me somewhere where I at least have some semblance of a chance of developing as a thinking being.”
“Hmm,” I nodded. “And what about Chandler?”
“Oh, him? He was suspended. The found him peeping at a girl when she was showering.”
“You make it sound so perverse,” complained Chandler. “Dad, it wasn’t like that. I love her.”
“Does love make it okay to spy on her?”
“Of course.” He blinked at me as if I had just asked a dumb question.
I thought the problem would look more manageable after I had had a cup of coffee, but after two strong mugs of Good African, it wasn’t looking any less surmountable.
Fraiser was ranting. “The Iraq war is illegal as well as immoral and the whole thing was premised on outright lies. Iraqi Freedom? Who do they think they are kidding? This is nothing but an invasion! But why do the so-called ‘educators’ insist of offering us a white-washed version of events, one so blanched that it borders on outright propaganda? I refuse to spend one more minute in that school!”
I sighed. “But why was your P.E. teacher teaching about the Iraq war in the first place?”
“The subject happened to come up,” the boy replied.
“In a senior two P.E. class?” I was still shocked. I decided to turn to Chandler, it looked like he posed the simpler problem. “Now, as the more sane sibling, though that is not saying much, explain to me why you were peeping at girls showering. Who allowed you to?”
Chandler took a break from popping my Pringles into his mouth to answer, too nonchalantly for my liking, “She did.”
I responded as anyone else would—by uttering the question, “What?”
“She is the one who gave me the keys and everything. We were going to do bad manners, but someone was coming. So I hid. And when they caught me, she told them I had been spying on her. Dad, why didn’t you tell me that women can’t be trusted? That is some fatherly advice I could have done with.”
“What? I thought I told you that you were not to have sex with anything until you got your voters card. Don’t you listen?”
“I listen, but Dad, but I have urges that don’t…”
Who was I kidding? There was no way I was going to manage this. I couldn’t argue with Fraisier— it is dangerous. He is very capable of convincing you that he is right. That kid is worse than Jonny Cochrane. And I didn’t know what do do about Chandler. Should I go to the school and demand that they rescind his suspension for spying and replace it with a suspension for outright hankypanky? I had no choice but to do what fathers have done for centuries. I got on the phone, speed-dialled five and said, “Hello? Solome? Come and collect your children.”
The Adventures of Chandler and Frasier and The Further Adventures of Chandler and Fraiser are out in Cafes and bookshops and such places for you to buy, read, and enjoy, if you will. Click here.