You Have To be Yourself

a fantasy look at what could happen if we don't conform................

You Have To Be Yourself -

 

A short story

By

Jen-JG

 

 

You have to be yourself!" That’s something my mother drummed into me. "You must learn to be yourself."

 

Well, that’s all well and good, I thought, but how do I know which me IS myself? After all, when I went to school I was taught to belong! I had to conform, to behave exactly like everyone else. They also said, "Be yourself" but each time I thought I was being myself, they called me, "Stirrer," "Trouble maker," and lots of other fancy names I didn’t know the meaning of, let alone know how to spell.

 

Anyway, I did what I could and scraped through school without too many drastic changes and when I turned sixteen decided I’d had enough of school and left. Well it was either that or be get expelled for dying my hair purple.

 

Two days after I left school I got a grouse job at the local library. Too bad it only lasted a day but they didn’t like me wearing my snake skin jeans – which was as tight on me as it was on the snake, or maybe it was the bright green feathers I wore in a red headband around my purple hair. And I guess the bone through my ear didn’t help a lot either.

 

They didn’t have to sack me though. I mean it could have been all right, I would have conformed if I had to, to keep my job, but then Fizza and Joey arrived to say "G’day" and take me to lunch.

 

They didn’t want to leave their brand new Honda 500’s out in the parking lot – after all they might of got nicked out there, so they rode them into the main entrance and parked there, then they whooped their way right up to where I was.

 

I thought they looked so hot in their leather pants and chain-mail vests.

 

There was a heavy thump and I spun around to see the Head Librarian in a heap on the floor. I guess she couldn’t take the shock of the lovely male specimens in front of her. I helped her up from the floor and she turned red and screeched ‘ G ge Get get out you are FIRED and and take that that .. with you."

 

Well really! I though the guys fluorescent skull heads looked real spunky, but then even I had to admit that the red and purple blow fly tattoo on the end of Fizza’s nose was just -- a little bit off putting.

 

But then, doesn’t everyone keep saying, " just be yourself?"

 

Anyway, we went back to the bikes, and with me perched behind Joey, we led the way out of the building, leaving a big doughnut in the entrance before zooming outside in a haze of burning rubber with the wind tugging madly at the feathers in my hair.

 

I ducked down out of the wind and pressed my face against Joey’s chain mail vest. I didn’t worry that it would mark my face, just thought how groovy it would look if I traced the pattern out with coloured face dye. I reckon the other girls would turn green when they saw it!

 

We were roaring down the street and were just passing the Post office when wild shouts and jeers mixed with gusts of laughter made us pull over to see what the commotion was all about.

 

What a hoot! While the bikes were parked, some nong partly fastened a French letter to Fizza’s exhaust pipe and it had billowed up in the biggest balloon ever, bobbing behind him all the way down the street. Wish I’d have though of that! But I didn’t and we DID call Fizza, Frenchy, for a long time after that.

 

Everything was going good now, although I still didn’t have a job but Fizza and Joey always had some spare dough so we had loads of fun.

 

Then one day a bunch of skinheads turned up. You know the kind? Imitation Yul Brynner types. Real weidos, they were. We wore dark glasses to protect our eyes from the glare because their shiny skulls were so blinding! In fact they were so bright that the local TV station hired them on cloudy days, to reflect the lights for the camera outside.

 

We all lined the streets on those days waiting to see what happened. Nothing much ever did.

 

Well nothing much ever happened, that is until the day Her Royal Highness, the Queen of England visited our town. And that was the first time I saw Chucka. He was shoving and pushing his way through the crowd.

 

I could only stare at him! He was a real man! My kinda man! A real dinki di, stubby sipping, fly swatting, thong wearing Aussie.! His sauce splattered singlet covered a potbelly and bulged over the waistband of his ex- army reject shorts. His carrot red hair was near smothered by a dozen corks that dangled and danced from the brim of his tattered straw hat.

 

I thought he was so cute.

 

Well the officials didn’t think he was cute at all, and kept trying to hustle him away from the front of the crowd, but he wasn’t having any of that and sneaked into the official reception line. He’d come to say "howdy" to the Queen and by golly he was going to do just that - come hell or high water.

 

Well! He did!

 

He saw Her Majesty coming and slipped under the grasping hands of ten burly guards and to the delight of the crowd rushed straight up to her. He slapped her on the back and stuck his half finished stubby into her hand.

 

Then he said ‘G’day marm" and planted a sloppy kiss right on her cheek.

 

A dozen burly policemen pounced on him forcing him to the ground in a melee of whirling arms, legs and swirling dust.

 

His voice rose clearing above the scuffle as he shouted, "I only gave her a drink. The poor bugger looked thirsty!"

 

The crowd collapsed in laughter and roars of approval but the law called it "Royal Molestation" and sentenced him to three weeks in jail for his kind thought. That was OK though, because the judge was one of Chucka’s drinking mates and exchanged his sentence for six Lanchoo labels, a jar of Vegemite, and a left thong.

 

That’s when I knew he was for me and I took him home to meet my mum.

 

Mum wasn’t too keen on Chucka when they first met, but after awhile she figured he’d make me happy so she let us get hitched. Mum was in her glory then and took charge of everything. The church, the cake, the invitations, all that kinda thing and she even got me one of those white wedding dresses with a silly hoop thing to wear underneath.

 

I’d like to say everything went to mum’s plan but well it sorta didn’t even come close.

 

She flipped when Chucka insisted on wearing his favourite thongs and cork hat to the ceremony. She fainted when we told her Fizza was taking me to the church on his Honda 500.

 

I can’t tell you what she said when our bikie friends turned up in their very best leathers and chain mail vests. They even carried their spiked gauntlets and wore coloured feathers in the chains around their waists, as a mark of their respect.

 

I thought it was sooooo groovy!

 

Mum came to soon after that and settled down when everyone arrived, but wasn’t at all happy when the guys had a drag race on her lawn and accidentally ripped out her prize rose bushes.

She just couldn’t understand that because they were all wearing blindfolds at the time, they couldn’t see WHERE her roses were. She let them know she was MOST unhappy and didn’t relent until they promised to replant every single rose bush again. The ceremony went well and we had a bonza time. There was lots of wild dancing and clapping and every one joined in, even mum. It was a lot of fun, although a few of the oldies there were a bit shocked when I stripped off my wedding dress in front of everyone.

 

Well why not! After all it was almost time for me and Chuck to leave for our honeymoon. And anyway I was wearing my bike leathers underneath my wedding dress. . Mum went rather pale and sort of collapsed into a chair, but some of the oldies still get a twinkle in their eyes when they see me around the street.

 

It is so nice to be remembered.

 

After a short time our son arrived. He was a sweet kid and we called him "Swizzle Stick" because that was one of his favourite toys.

 

A year later, our little girl "Crumb Cake" came along.

 

From the beginning we taught them the importance of being themselves and they soon figured out who they were.

 

Swizzle Stick was a whizz at doing housework. Give him a mop or point him towards the kitchen and he was happy.

 

As for Crumb Cake, well she decided to try her hand at garage work and soon knew more about motors and bikes than most mechanics.

 

It was around that time that the Government called them both up for National Service. Most people felt sorry for the young men and women who were forced to join up for two years. When our kids were called up, I felt sorry for the Army.

 

I hear you asking ‘Why?"

 

Well the kids continued being themselves. When the army forced them to shave their beautiful striped and spiked hair and wear those unstylish green and brown uniforms on duty, they managed to get wigs made that looked like their own hair and wore those. When they discovered their caps wouldn’t sit on top of their wigs, they decided to wear the wigs off duty instead.

 

I don’t know what they did to the kids in the Army, they wouldn’t talk about, but when they came home after the two years of service, they were different. Dull, weird and not at interested in being themselves anymore. Swizzle Stick got a job driving trucks and Crumb Cake became a lowly housemaid in a hotel.

 

It made me so sad to see them like that, my beautiful Swizzle Stick with his pink beenie with a Pom Pom on top and the gorgeous wriggle in his walk driving a TRUCK!

I thought it was most unfair but felt happy enough when he told me not to worry because he had lots of friends now, some he met while driving the trucks, and he said he was popular at some of the clubs he went to. He told me he wasn’t alone very often and was not at all lonely either. Crumb Cake was different too. Now she wore furs and diamonds to work, saying she was given a uniform to wear for work. She worked very hard at the hotel and, in just six months had earned enough to buy a factory and hire a dozen girls to work for her.

 

I was never able to find out what they made in that factory and Crumb Cake never explained how most of the guys in town knew about the strawberry birthmark on her bottom.

 

It was official! Our kids had conformed. They looked and acted just like everyone else now and it made Chucka and me very sad.

 

One day we called a family conference and asked them " Why are you like this? You have changed, you’re not being yourselves anymore. What is happening to you?"

 

Swizzle Stick said he had lots of friends and they kept him very busy, and anyway he was just too tired these days to bother.

 

Crumb Cake said she had saved enough money to buy Parliament House outright and would be trying for the Prime Minister in the next week or two. Now THAT was a shock to the system! Our daughter interested in politics, and our once bright and happy son, a dull and tired old man!

 

I really don’t understand kids these days. What on earth is the world coming to!

 

Things were SO different in MY time!

 

 

 

©Copyright jen-JG

Author's Note

a fun thingy - say anything you like....

Reviews

[Dianne]

As one who has always been herself, which also means I've never quite fit in, I laughed all the way through this! What a great story and a cleverly conveyed message.

[Phil Sanders]

Fascinating write .. cleverly weaves its way through your mind .... excellent ....

[Nicholas Hallows]

It is fun to read too. The tone gives it a informal conversational style - I could imagine the voice reading it.

I thought they looked so hot in their leather pants and chain-mail vests. - lol

Well written and thanks for sharing.

NH

[Lyra H]

I love it's randomness, it cloaks the message so it's not in your face.

[[untitled]]

I loved this! It is so funny. I was laughing as I read it! I liked the message you had in the story. It is important to just be who you are. Although you can have fun trying to discover who that is! Great job!