Rhinoceros: Ryon's story 11
Wednesday
Frank came back with my writing. “I haven’t done much to it, Ryon, and it’s only in pencil before you start having a fit. But I think you need to cut out all the bits about me. They’re too much out of context, too confusing for your reader. Then you can join up your autobiography and make it into a coherent whole. What do you think?”
You see, this is what annoys me about people. Always pushing and pushing. You do something and they want more. It’s never enough. Do a bit of writing at school? Good, do some more, and correct the spellings. Nick a camera? Cheers, another three by tomorrow. Come to school on a Tuesday? Great. Let’s have Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Have a pointless ‘chat’ with the YOT hippy or my useless Social Worker? OK, let’s pencil in a few more sessions. For fuck’s sake, just leave things. Get off my back. I've fucking done what you all wanted. That should be enough. What’s the point in going on and on and on? Everyone wants that extra bit. Even my mum: get us some more fags, will you, Ryon. On and on and on. And they never know when to stop. They never stopped, and never will stop, unril I shut them up. They do my head in. THEY DO MY HEAD IN. All of them, they can all just fuck off. I don't care, and I'll show them I don't care, like I keep showing them.
So I told Frank to fuck off.
"I’m disappointed,” he said.
Yeah, right: not half as much as me.
