The Ancient Shark Of Despair's blog

Saturday, December 20th 2008

I had the two slices of pizza left over from last night along with my usual breakfast and I felt great. I would have felt even better if I'd had any juice left but it was. Long. Gone.

Over breakfast I started thinking about my son, the one who is coming to visit. He's pretty cool, really. He once threw a bottle at me but I forgive him now. It was quite a rare and special bottle too. He was going through a lot of stuff with his wife and everything. I imagine that just for that moment he thought that I was his wife and that's why he threw the bottle. The landlord's been telling me all about the great things that the kid has been up to lately. He's moved into his own pad that he's renting and he's got his band back together and they play Pink Floyd covers down at his favourite bar. He still works in an office every day but he's going to retire in a few years. The landlord doesn't think this is fair because -he- never retired. Retiring is giving up and being childish, according to him. But the kid has never been childish. One time he did grow his hair out long and buy a motorcycle. But he was really good at maths so he was a good driver. He gets on well with me and the landlord nowadays but he always stood apart from us. Probably because he's half-shark. I can respect that.

So I had all these thoughts and I got so excited with all my thinking that I couldn't finish my breakfast. Instead I called up the landlord and told him to come over right away. He didn't even say anything – he hung up and I could hear him coming up the stairs. He came in and his face was so cold and open. “What's wrong?” he almost whispered it.
“Can the kid come round today rather than Monday? I'm ready now.” I said. The landlord's face closed up again. He sat down on my bed and laughed.
“No Shark, he's booked his flight already. He's coming in on Monday,” he said.
“Oh.” I said. I fidgeted. “I'd better get this place tidied up!” I was smiling when I said this. The landlord is always telling me to neaten up my pad, so it's funny that I pretended that it was my idea all of a sudden.
“Well, yes, that's a good idea, but I thought it would be nicer for him if he stayed in Ma's old flat.” I looked at him. “I think he'd think it was more comfortable. Henrietta will be there too.” I looked away from him. “He said he didn't want to stay in here. Ma's flat is just going empty.”
“Where are we going to have the dinner? You know, when we all get together?” I said but I already knew what he was going to say. “Can't we have it in here?” I looked around. The place didn't look so bad. There were still ribbons glued to the wall from when I'd had that party. They were festive.
“I think it would be nicer at my house,” he said slowly, “There's more room. I've got a table.” I stared at him because I didn't want it to be true and I wanted a table so badly. He'd never gotten me a table. “It smells very bad in here Shark, to tell you the truth. I think it's the cupboard.” I looked at the cupboard and he moved his hand and his head in a way that said I should open it. I opened it but there wasn't anything new or different in there. Besides, if it really smelled bad, I think I'd know about it.

The landlord went over to the cupboard, sniffed about and started pulling out pizza boxes. He opened one and a load of ash and cigarette butts fell out onto the floor. The landlord looked at me for just one second and then gathered up all the pizza boxes I had in my cupboard into a high stack and then picked them. I stopped him so I could pick out my most recent pack. He didn't say anything so I said, “I need you to put the safety pins back on the curtains. They don't close all the way.” I pointed at the curtains to show him.

Sunday, December 21st 2008
I guess that I've never been big on christmas because we never did it back when I was a pup. People get really attached to the stuff they did when they were kids, especially if that stuff happened on a regular schedule.

People used to get a bit angry with me for not buying presents but I kept explaining to them that there was no point. If I get you a present and you get me a present, they both cancel each other out. They got used to this logic after a while though so now it's cool. I think that you should rather treat every day like it's christmas. You know, have people over, think hard about where your life is at and have a nice dinner. @groombridge says he bought his one kid a new phone even though the old phone still worked perfectly. He got his other kid a blender for his kitchen. One of the good blenders. It was made of metal.

So even though on Sharkania (or, at least, the Sharkship), we didn't have christmas, we did have this one event that was sort of the same. It didn't happen at one set point every year, it happened whenever one shark got reall sick and it looked like he wasn't going to make it. First, everyone, no matter how well they knew the sick shark, would come up to him and say how sorry they were that this had happened and that they'd miss him. Then the biggest of the sick shark's friends would tear him apart. They wouldn't eat him though, out of respect. They'd just flush him out of the sealock. On Sharkania, they'd probably just let him sink. Anyway, then his friends would share out all of his stuff amongst everyone who had come to pay their condolences. They took a long time to do this because they had to figure out exactly who needed what and how bad they needed it. This only happened a few times when I was living on the Sharkship and I remember I once got a clock (because I didn't have one) and I once got a toy sword (because all the other kids had one.)

I think this is a pretty good system. It was community-based. It taught you how to measure the value of people.

Monday, December 22nd 2008

“Michael!” I was smiling.
“Dad.” He was smiling too. The landlord was with him. He'd gone in my car to pick him up from the airport. He'd asked me quietly if I'd wanted to come with but an airport would just be too much.
“I'll leave you guys to catch up. I'm going to go check what's going on with the Snipe, Shark. She isn't running nicely. Not running nicely at all.”
'Snipe' is the landlord's name for my car. I don't have a name for it. It's just my car.

The kid came inside and I sat him down and made him some tea. I wanted to surpise him by showing that I could do it now. Sarah showed me how. It's really been quite a while since I last saw him. He looks even older now, which is sad. He says that he hasn't been doing much. He got divorced. He goes to work. He's looking forward to retiring but he doesn't know what he'll do when that happens to him. He says that he might do some painting but I pointed out that he wouldn't be very good at it because he hasn't had much practice. You need to practice.
“Henrietta will be here soon,” he said on his first sip of tea. “She hasn't seen you for a long time. She's bringing wine.”
“Wine?” I said. “Round here?”
“I told her that you don't like to drink but that's a strange concept to her,” he said sourly.
“It's christmas!” I said and I tried to remember what wine tasted like. I bet it tasted classy. I wanted to stop talking and think for a while but I realised that me and the kid hadn't really said very much yet. “Where's your new place?” I said when he'd finished his tea.
“It's in Braamfontein.”
“Do you own it?” I said. He closed his eyes and put his mug down.
“No, I rent.” he said.
“You need to own property.” I said. He didn't say anything and I finished my tea. It took me longer than him because it's quite hard for me to hold a mug by the handle. Then his ex-wife came in and she hugged me. That was kind of a shock because I didn't know her and I don't really like to touch people unless I am prepared for it. There's a lot of grease on my skin and it is also quite rough. I don't think that hugging me is very nice. That's just the way it is.
“I brought wine!” she said.
“I knew that already.” I said. “He told me.”
“How have you been keeping?” she said. I looked at the kid for help but he wasn't helping.
“Same old, same old.” I said.
“I hear you've been busy on your computer.” she said.
“I've got lots of friends now.”
“That's so nice. It's so nice to have friends.”
“My favourite friend is Moe.” I said.
“Oh, he's the boy who brings you pizza!” she said. This was huge. I didn't know how she could possibly know that. I looked at her for a long time. “Oh sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I looked you up. I've read some of your blog.” I looked away to reset my thoughts and then looked back at her. She was pretty old. I didn't think she'd be able to use the internet. It's pretty complicated. “I love it! I sent it to all my friends. It's so funny, it's wonderful.” she said.
“It's not meant to be funny.” I said. We sat down and she poured some wine. The kid wouldn't let me have any.
“Merry christmas!” she said and we all touched glasses. Mine was full of juice. I nearly dropped it but I didn't and it was okay.

Thursday, December 25th 2008

They got me to come to christmas lunch today. I didn't want to go because I knew that it was a trap. I could sense it.

It started last night when they tried to get me to go downstairs into the landlord's house for drinks. I didn't want to because I was keeping @groombridge company. He was all alone on christmas eve because his kids were with their mother. He gets to have dinner with them today, which makes sense I think. You can't spend two days in a row with someone. But then the landlord came in and asked me come round to his house.
“Can't we have the drinks up here?”
“Everyone's there already.” he said.
“How will I get down there?” I said. He shuffled his face around a few times.
“You went to Plett.” he said. “You leave the house all the time now. You can come downstairs.”
“Yeah, but can't they come up here rather?” Then the landlord threw up his hands and went away. Later on, the kid came up to see me and he brought me some crackers. He sat down on the bed and we ate crackers together.
“You're coming to christmas lunch tomorrow, right?” he said. “We were all waiting for you.”
“I'm coming in a minute,” I said. @groombridge had gone but I was playing a Flash game where you had to make a car out of gears and balls. I was getting really into it.
“No, it's over now. Everyone's gone to bed.” he said. “It was nice to have everyone together.”
“They could have come up here.” I said.

So that was last night. Today was a bit different. It started badly because David sent me an e-mail saying that he wasn't coming. I was fully sure that it was a trap at this point. I'd given it a lot of thought. They wanted me to go down too badly. I'd have to face whatever it was they were setting up for me all alone. David wasn't coming.

First they sent the landlord. He's always the first line of defense.
“It's nearly dinner time, Shark. When are you going to come down?” he only paused for a second before he said, “Give me a time and that's when we'll expect you.”
“I just want to finish up these websites,” I said.
“I've heard that story before, Shark. Tell me a time.” I was cornered. The landlord can be a real jerk sometimes. I gave him one. It gave me plenty of time to figure out a new plan. I hid in the cupboard and when the kid and Henrietta came to fetch me I wasn't there.
“He's in the cupboard,” said the kid. They opened the cupboard and then I had to come downstairs with them. I tried to look around for my towels but they said that there wasn't anyone around and I should stop being silly. “He's cooked a whole turkey in the Weber,” said Henrietta. She was talking about the landlord. She didn't need to tell me though, I could smell it from my room. It did smell really good and I hadn't eaten properly last night. I went with them and they sat me down, right at the head of the table, which was something.

I don't go into the landlord's house very often, mainly because he's always coming over to me and also because I think it would be a bit awkward if I just showed up there. I think it had been at least ten years since I was last in there. It didn't look really very different. He's got a machine that cleans water now and he's got some new curtains and piles of magazines still in their plastic packets. I don't think Celene was doing a very good job of cleaning the place. She's never been a very good cleaning lady, on the scale of things. I don't think that's really on because that's all she's ever done when you think about it. She took a break to have the kid but aside from that, it's been cleaning all the way. I don't how to describe the landlord's house other than to say that it looked average. He doesn't have a computer or a TV or any TV games or anything cool like that, just some chairs and a table and more than one marble solitaire game. I don't know why you'd need more than one. I already knew something was up but I was 100% certain of it when the kid poured me some wine. He had not let me have any wine just the day before. I was sat down next to Celene and Henrietta, the girls. Celene looked older from when I'd last seen her. She was the same though – that same little smile, the same few words she knew, the same thank-you's and no-let-me's. Celene's pretty nice. You can forget that sometimes. I was having a hard time with Henrietta though. She was fast. As soon as I sat down she was all over me with questions. She's basically the opposite of Celene. She kept on asking how I was doing and what was happening in my life and then when I tried to tell her she'd start talking about something else. She talked about all these people she knew that I had never heard of. They all lived in Johannesburg. She didn't talk about the kid at all.

Here's what I thought about the wine: Wine is gross. I can't believe I used to like it so much. My face screwed up whenever I tasted it. The food was good though. It was turkey and it had been wrapped of bacon to make it taste like bacon. Normally I don't eat meat but there was nothing else really to eat except some mielies and potatoes so I pretty much had to. There was a potato salad too but it had raisins in it and looked disgusting. I could tell the landlord was really proud about all the food he'd made because everyone kept on complimenting him on it. They even complimented him on the way he cut the turkey. He cut it very evenly and thinly. He was in control of that turkey.

Celene ate like three bites of her food and we did the old thing where I'd get whatever she didn't finish. Henrietta kept teasing me about eating meat because she'd heard that I didn't do that. She didn't like that I was being inconsistent. I guess that is the worst thing that someone can be, but I think she was taking it way too far. When I said I didn't like the potato salad she said okay but then later she asked me if I had changed my mind about the potato salad like it was a big joke. I don't think she was joking. I think she was being mean.
“Are you going to write about this?” she said.
“Pardon?” I said. I don't like talking while I'm eating. It kind of ruins it and is also rude. I tried to make that clear by the way I said 'pardon' but I don't think she got that.
“Are you going to put this in your blog?” she said.
“I don't know.” I said. “I don't write a blog every day. I don't always say what I ate. That would get boring, I think.”
“What will you call me?” she kept looking around at the others. She wanted them to join in with their eyes. The grocery kid joined in, but Celene was on my side. You showed that you were on my side by not looking at Henrietta. The landlord was on my side.
“Pardon?” I said again.
“You call everyone by the strangest names – 'THE landlord,' 'THE grocery boy,' 'THE kid,' always 'the something.' What are you going to call me?”
“I'll call you Henrietta,” I said. I looked down so hard into my food. I didn't want to be having a conversation like this at all. It's pretty much the worst thing in the world, I think, when people have heard something you've said and try and throw it back at you. Right then I wanted to stop my blog. I didn't want people like Henrietta using it against me in public. It was christmas and she was attacking me with my blog.
“Could your friend David not make it? He's a neighbour, isn't he? He lives here?” she went on. I got up and I tried to get behind my chair. I was starting to get freaked out, I won't lie.
“David isn't coming.” I said. Then a terrible thing happened – the landlord joined in. He went from my side over to her side. He did it so quietly. He had a fork going up to his mouth. The fork had food on it. He was looking at the fork. It was coming up into his mouth and then he said so softly,
“David couldn't make it down from the attic,”
“That was a joke,” I whispered. “I was joking about that.” I went to leave the room but then I turned around and stood behind my chair again. Everyone was looking at me. The kid moved his head up and took command. He wanted to put things back in balance.
“All right, let's not talk about this now. Let's talk about something else. You can sit down again now, it's okay.” He got up and touched my chair but not in an aggressive way, he was just pointing out that it was dinnertime and we all sit down at the table during dinnertime. I suppose it was pretty weird that I got up but Henrietta was making me so nervous. I think anyone would do the same in that situation. I sat down and nobody said anything for a while. We just ate. Then it happened. The trap happened.

“Shark, you know that I've been talking to the developers,” said the landlord. He'd finished eating now. Everyone had finished eating except me. I was eating the food that Celene hadn't finished. “And they've put in a very generous offer for this place – for both plots.” He wiped his mouth and he looked at me. “I've accepted their offer.” Everyone looked at me.
“Yeah, but you can't do that.” I pointed out. “I own the place. You can't sell it.”
“No Sharky, I told you this. You never owned it. You don't have a birth certificate, you can't own property. You knew that. The one plot was bought in Celene's name, the other was in Ma's. Ma left her plot to us in her will. There's a copy of the will in that box I gave you. Did you read it?”
“I read it.” I said.
“So you know.”
“Yeah,” I said, “But.” I paused and thought of something to say. He didn't give me enough time.
“Now I spoke with the developers and they're sub-letting Ma's granny flat back to me, and you can live there. We're looking at houses in Greyton. It's time to retire. I can't be running this place forever.”
“I don't want to go to Greyton,” I said, quietly.
“We know,” said the kid. He was in on it. “That's why we're keeping the granny flat.” Then the grocery kid, who hadn't said much the whole day, spoke up.
“We'll come in and we'll check up on you. We'll come to visit. Greyton isn't very far away.” he said. I guess that meant he was going too.
“Is Celene going?” I asked, looking at her. The landlord nodded. Celene nodded.

Right then Moe burst in through the back door, the one that went out onto the little balcony.
“FREEZE!” said Moe. Everyone but me put their hands up. I smiled. They had their plans but my plan was better. My plan was Moe. Moe put his hands in his pockets and, before anyone could even say anything, he brought out of them a little monster. It looked like a toy but if you looked closer you could see that it was alive. Moe threw it on the floor and the monster grew really big really fast. It destroyed the table and threw the Weber right out of the window. It smashed the little solitaire boards – all of them – and it roared at Henrietta so loud and so scarily that she stopped being a person any more and just gave up. There was nothing left for her to do.
“We've gotta get out of here!” said Moe and then I got out of my chair, did a roll and we were running for the door. Moe had two nines – one in each hand. We ran out into the corridor and up the stairs. Mr. Roberts was on the stairs, mopping up with a mop and a bucket but he couldn't handle what he saw and just fainted. His head fell in the bucket, plop. No time to chat, Mr. Roberts! We've gotta get back to my room! We get upstairs and to my door but the door is locked. I look at Moe and he has all the answers. He smiles, reminds me that I can trust him and then he takes one of his gloves off and puts his hand into the hole where Ric shot me. It doesn't hurt at all. He rummages around in there for a little while and then he pulls out a key.
“Here,” he said. “Take this key.”
“Thanks. But I'd only lose it.” I said. I'm always losing things! Moe understands and he puts the key in the lock and my door is open and I'm back in my room.

I went to bed quite early. It was still light out but I was just so exhausted. It must have been all the turkey.

Monday, December 29th 2008

I've been in bed since christmas. I haven't been feeling so good. I ate too much turkey, for one thing. I don't think it's good to eat so much meat. Or any meat, really. You can't digest it very well.

My son hasn't gone home yet. That's pretty weird, because – shouldn't he be back at work by now? I'll ask him the next time he visits. I would have done it before but I haven't been very talkative. Maybe he's staying for my birthday. I'd like that. Maybe he's staying so that he can fight the landlord and Henrietta, legally, in court, so that he can get my building back from them. That would be so like the kid. He's always talking about laws and the courts and Judge This and Judge That. If it's not law, it's politics. I guess I'm just cynical because those things don't exist when you're naked in the jungle. They don't exist when you're alone in the ocean. But I'm thankful now that he is into that sort of stuff and is fighting the landlord and his ex-wife for me. He's a good kid and when I get my house back, he can stay in the best toom. The best room isn't even the landlord's room. It's a room on the bottom floor that's bigger than any other room and you don't have to walk up any stairs to get to it, although that doesn't matter much to the kid since he has strong legs. I don't know who lives in that room now but that also doesn't matter because, when I'm the owner again, I'm going to fire whoever is in there. I'm allowed to. There are contracts and leases that are on my side.

Celene is on my side too, I think. Maybe she always was. Her and that smile she has. I think there's a good chance that she will come back to me. Then it will be the landlord and the grocery kid who have to live in the granny flat and I'll never let them back inside the building. There will be posters of their faces on them up by the doors. They'll be like WANTED posters, on these will say: NOT WANTED.

Moe could move into the landlord's old place downstairs. He'd make a good landlord. Moe's got a lot of things sorted out. He'd want to get all the bars off the windows. In fact, I'm sure it would be the first thing he'd do. You'd be able to open any window you like without the alarm going off.

I e-mailed David yesterday and asked him why he didn't come to christmas lunch like I wanted him to. It would have helped to have had another buddy on my team. It would have been a big boost and by now he'd be sitting in court on those benches or in the jury even, helping the kid out with some well-placed moral support. But no. David is such a lame-o.