Shaun the Sheep
I AM SUPERMAN! Not only have I written almost two day's worth of Bridge Kanulu, but I have also managed to write the END of the story, study for my english exam, practise my tuba, deliver 175 newspapers, pay my fine... and act almost normal! And I'm watching Shaun the Sheep with my little brother.
Here's the story. I've got 27,334 words!
“Huh. From Job.” He climbs up into the seat, and touches the control panel. “I’ve gotta set it to making ammo.” A couple taps of the panel later, and the entire warehouse is suddenly filled with a huge rattling, as all five machines start spewing forth round after round after round. Julius’ lips move, but I can’t hear a word.
“What!” He jumps down.
“Your brother just pulled up, time to go!” he screams in my ear. I look towards the door, and there’s Joan’s car. I run out to him, and he drives off.
“What’s the racket?” he asks, as soon as we can’t hear it anymore.
“We’ve switched to making ammo.”
“Fair enough.”
I don’t fall off at the field. I make it to a hundred this time, and manage to turn a corner without dropping below seventy. It still feels faster than it should, but I trust the speedo. Joan won’t let me drive it into town, but there’s only three more practices without falling off before that.
Job seems eclectic, and every day when I show up, there’s a different kind of gun or ammo to make. He lets me take home a pistol and a rifle. I want one of the machine-guns, but he says there’s no point in me having one of them - just yet. Joan lets me drive the bike home, which isn’t as hard as I thought, and I learn about the indicators, the lights, and the road rules. My birthday keeps getting closer, and I wonder what Joan and Dad are going to give me.
Finally, it’s the day before. I’ve told Dad I don’t want a party, I don’t have any friends to invite anyway. Joan whispers to me that there’s gonna be a party anyway, at HQ, and he’ll take me if I want to go. I nod.
And then it’s my birthday.
I wake up early, excited. I’m thirteen! I look at my clock - still Superman, despite Joan’s telling me it’s childish - and it’s only six o’clock. I bounce off my bed and turn on my computer, then spin my office chair in circles while it boots up. I go to Media Player and put on my new favorite song, Mother Earth by Within Temptation. I listen to music, and watch the clock, jumping up and down. I can’t stick to anything.
At seven I hear Joan’s wheelchair buzzing past my door, then Dad’s muttering as he helps him down the stairs. I give them ten minutes, and cannon down the stairs after them, almost bouncing off the walls, I’m going so fast. Joan’s sitting at the table. He grins when he sees me, and points at the chair Dad normally sits in. There’s balloons tied to the back of it, and a box in front of it. Dad’s making pancakes. I restrain myself until he sits down, but then I tear open the wrapping, and find a box with a card on top of it. I read the card first.
To James, from Dad
Not from Joan, then, but that doesn’t matter. Dad got me something! I tear open the box. Inside is a motorbike helmet, with flames along the side, and the words Speed Demon over the visor. It’s black and red, and utterly cool.
“I worry about you on that big bike. Anyway, it goes with Joan’s present.” I look at Joan, and he winks at me.
“My present’s out in the garage. It was too awesome to bring it in the house.” I’ve got a feeling I know what it is, but I can’t help wondering if it’s something else. I shoot out to the garage, expecting to see Joan’s bike, with maybe a ribbon tied around it. Or a note, or a receipt saying I’m the owner, or something.
I don’t see any of those things on Joan’s bike. In fact, I don’t see Joan’s bike at all.
There’s another bike in the garage. It’s even bigger than Joan’s bike.
It’s black and red and has flames painted along the sides. The little windscreen at the front has Speed Demon written on it in red see-through writing. I turn around, and Joan’s there. I can’t even say anything, I’m so amazed. I can’t even squeak pathetically. My mouth opens and closes like a fish. Dad laughs. I run up and hug Joan. He pats me on the head, and his chest jumps up and down as he laughs.
“Look under the seat.” I run over to the bike - my bike - and look at the seat. There’s a catch, which I pull, and it comes up. There’s a compartment underneath, for carrying things. Inside the compartment is a chain to lock the bike with and two cards. One’s a car license, and one’s a motorbike license, and both say I’m sixteen. I stare at them.
“You can’t use the car one, since I haven’t taught you that yet, but you need a car license before you can get a bike license. You’re now allowed on the road, legally. Well, kind of.”
“The gang make these?” They look real.
“Yeah. Jedediah ran ‘em off. He’s our forgery expert.” Dad looks like he doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t say anything. An idea hits me and I spin ‘round to face Joan.
“Can you ride your bike?”
A grin splits his face. He was thinking the same thing. “So long as we don’t go too fast for the thumb-brakes to handle, I can.”
I grin too, and suddenly I’m behind him, pushing the chair over to his bike. I hand him his helmet, and he straps it on. As he levers himself onto the seat, I strap on my own, and jump into the seat. Dad opens the garage door, and we both gun our motors, the sound making the garage shake, and then we shoot out into the road, side-by-side.
We roar around the neighborhood a couple of times, and then head uptown. We pass the school, where teachers are just arriving. I see Mrs. Jane spin around as she recognizes me, but we’re gone too fast. We pass the warehouse, where Job’s making Desert Eagle automatic pistols. We fly back over Bridge Kanulu, going almost seventy, the upper limit for this part of town, and slow down to go past the hospital. We ride our bikes for ages, and the second time we go past the school, kids are arriving. Joan motions that we should go back home, and I nod.
When we get back, Dad’s already gone to work. I help Joan into his wheelchair, and he grins.
“You better go to school, now, little bro. I saw your woman earlier, she looked worried.”
“She’s not my woman.”
“Just keep telling yourself that. Oh dear, you’ve missed the bus.”
I grin, and gun my engine.
When I get to school, I lock my bike with the chain, tying the helmet on as well. Then I run to class. The moment I get there -
“James Jett to come to Mrs. Jane’s office please. James Jett to Mrs. Jane’s office.”
It seems a bit creepy that it’s the same words that were used almost seven years earlier, but I know what it’s about. I stand and walk out of the classroom without saying a word. A few of the kids saw me when I came up on my bike, and they think I’m the final word in cool now. A few from other classes did too, and they stare out the doors at me as I go past. I walk into Mrs. Jane’s office, and it’s almost exactly the same. The rubber plant’s bigger, and there’s a calendar behind her, but the paperwork could be the same, for all that I noticed. The glasses are in place, and she’s writing something.
This time, when she looks up, there’s no sadness in her eyes, none of that worry about what the six-year-old would think, or do, or feel.
“I saw you, this morning, James. As I arrived at school.”
“Yes, Miss. I saw you too.”
“You were riding a motorbike.”
“Yes, Miss, I was.”
“Why were you riding a motorbike, James?”
“I got it for my birthday, Miss. It’s my birthday today, Miss.”
“Well, happy birthday, James. But do you know that it is illegal for you to be riding a motorbike on the road unless you have a license?”
“I have a license, Miss.”
“Don’t be foolish, you’re too young.”
I pull it out and show her. She stares at it, then me.
“Where did you get this?” Her voice isn’t as hard as it was earlier. She’s surprised. I wonder if I should tell her the truth. Nah.
“I sat the test and passed, Miss.”
“No, I know your birth date, and that’s not it. You may look sixteen, but you’re not.”
“Well, in that case, I guess the people who gave me the test overlooked that.” She shakes her head.
“James, you can’t just go around with a forgery. People will know.”
“Will they, Miss? Really? Would anybody who doesn’t know me know that I’m not sixteen?”
“Yes, they…” She stops. “No, I guess they wouldn’t. But it’s a lie, James. Where did you even find somebody to do you one this good?”
“A… friend made it.” Suddenly, she looks sad.
“You’ve joined that gang, haven’t you?” Her voice is so quiet I almost have to lean forward to hear it. “I’d hoped you’d have more sense than your brother, but…”
“Joan’s got heaps of sense. He got me in. He bought me the bike. He’s got me jobs.” She shakes her head.
“The gang will kill you in the end, James. Get out while you can. Earn an honest living.” I grin at her.
“It’s not the end yet. Permission to go back to my class to learn how to make an honest living, Miss?”
“Yes. Go.” I leave, but I don’t go straight back to my class.
I know the gang won’t kill me. What did she mean? Maybe that being in the gang will kill me? Well, that makes more sense. After all, when I’m older, I’ll be involved in the fights, and people die in those sometimes. But not yet. For now I’m just involved in the business side of the gang. Maybe I always will be, like Joan is now. I’m safe for the moment.
I go to my class.
At lunchtime, my phone beeps in my pocket. I pull it out. There’s a text from Joan.
---Joan Jett---
Can you get yourself to the warehouse today?
---Joan Jett---
To: Joan Jett
Sure can. I can’t wait to see Job’s face when I come in on that bike! Hey, have you talked to that guy from the KSK yet?
---Joan Jett---
Yeah, I was gonna tell you, I’m meeting with him later today. See you when your shift ends, bro.
---Joan Jett---
To: Joan Jett
Bye.
I flick the screen down over the keyboard and slide the phone back into my pocket. A boy walks up to me. I’ve never talked to him before.
“That a phone?”
“Yeah. So?”
“We’re not allowed phones in school.”
“It’s lunchtime, man, give it a rest.”
“We’re not allowed phones at school.”
“You gonna tell on me?”
“Nah.” He sits next to me. It’s strange, I don’t normally chat with the other guys at school. He seems oddly immature, even though I know he’s my own age.
“You came on your motorbike this morning, right?”
“That’s right. So?”
“Cool,” he says, and leaves it at that. I’m bewildered. This isn’t what I’m used to.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Jeep. Yeah, it sucks, blame my parents. I know your name.”
“OK.”
“Can I have a go on your bike after school?”
“No way, man! That thing’s brand new, I only got it this morning. Plus, you’ve got to know how to handle it. That’s one grunty beast.”
“Aww., c’mon.”
“I said no, man.”
“You suck.” He stands up and walks away. What the hell? I’m more used to talking to people much older than me, but I hope Jeep’s not representative of the majority of people my age. Although that may be why Mrs. Jane was so worried about me driving my bike. I wouldn’t want Jeep anywhere near it.
After school, I unlock my bike and buckle on my helmet. Just as I’m about to go, Mrs. Jane comes out of the building towards me.
“James, this is stupid. You’ll crash.”
“I’ve been taking lessons. I won’t crash.”
“You’re only twelve.”
“You forgot. It’s my birthday. I’m thirteen today.” I flip my visor down and gun the engine, leaving her behind.
Here's the story. I've got 27,334 words!
“Huh. From Job.” He climbs up into the seat, and touches the control panel. “I’ve gotta set it to making ammo.” A couple taps of the panel later, and the entire warehouse is suddenly filled with a huge rattling, as all five machines start spewing forth round after round after round. Julius’ lips move, but I can’t hear a word.
“What!” He jumps down.
“Your brother just pulled up, time to go!” he screams in my ear. I look towards the door, and there’s Joan’s car. I run out to him, and he drives off.
“What’s the racket?” he asks, as soon as we can’t hear it anymore.
“We’ve switched to making ammo.”
“Fair enough.”
I don’t fall off at the field. I make it to a hundred this time, and manage to turn a corner without dropping below seventy. It still feels faster than it should, but I trust the speedo. Joan won’t let me drive it into town, but there’s only three more practices without falling off before that.
Job seems eclectic, and every day when I show up, there’s a different kind of gun or ammo to make. He lets me take home a pistol and a rifle. I want one of the machine-guns, but he says there’s no point in me having one of them - just yet. Joan lets me drive the bike home, which isn’t as hard as I thought, and I learn about the indicators, the lights, and the road rules. My birthday keeps getting closer, and I wonder what Joan and Dad are going to give me.
Finally, it’s the day before. I’ve told Dad I don’t want a party, I don’t have any friends to invite anyway. Joan whispers to me that there’s gonna be a party anyway, at HQ, and he’ll take me if I want to go. I nod.
And then it’s my birthday.
I wake up early, excited. I’m thirteen! I look at my clock - still Superman, despite Joan’s telling me it’s childish - and it’s only six o’clock. I bounce off my bed and turn on my computer, then spin my office chair in circles while it boots up. I go to Media Player and put on my new favorite song, Mother Earth by Within Temptation. I listen to music, and watch the clock, jumping up and down. I can’t stick to anything.
At seven I hear Joan’s wheelchair buzzing past my door, then Dad’s muttering as he helps him down the stairs. I give them ten minutes, and cannon down the stairs after them, almost bouncing off the walls, I’m going so fast. Joan’s sitting at the table. He grins when he sees me, and points at the chair Dad normally sits in. There’s balloons tied to the back of it, and a box in front of it. Dad’s making pancakes. I restrain myself until he sits down, but then I tear open the wrapping, and find a box with a card on top of it. I read the card first.
To James, from Dad
Not from Joan, then, but that doesn’t matter. Dad got me something! I tear open the box. Inside is a motorbike helmet, with flames along the side, and the words Speed Demon over the visor. It’s black and red, and utterly cool.
“I worry about you on that big bike. Anyway, it goes with Joan’s present.” I look at Joan, and he winks at me.
“My present’s out in the garage. It was too awesome to bring it in the house.” I’ve got a feeling I know what it is, but I can’t help wondering if it’s something else. I shoot out to the garage, expecting to see Joan’s bike, with maybe a ribbon tied around it. Or a note, or a receipt saying I’m the owner, or something.
I don’t see any of those things on Joan’s bike. In fact, I don’t see Joan’s bike at all.
There’s another bike in the garage. It’s even bigger than Joan’s bike.
It’s black and red and has flames painted along the sides. The little windscreen at the front has Speed Demon written on it in red see-through writing. I turn around, and Joan’s there. I can’t even say anything, I’m so amazed. I can’t even squeak pathetically. My mouth opens and closes like a fish. Dad laughs. I run up and hug Joan. He pats me on the head, and his chest jumps up and down as he laughs.
“Look under the seat.” I run over to the bike - my bike - and look at the seat. There’s a catch, which I pull, and it comes up. There’s a compartment underneath, for carrying things. Inside the compartment is a chain to lock the bike with and two cards. One’s a car license, and one’s a motorbike license, and both say I’m sixteen. I stare at them.
“You can’t use the car one, since I haven’t taught you that yet, but you need a car license before you can get a bike license. You’re now allowed on the road, legally. Well, kind of.”
“The gang make these?” They look real.
“Yeah. Jedediah ran ‘em off. He’s our forgery expert.” Dad looks like he doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t say anything. An idea hits me and I spin ‘round to face Joan.
“Can you ride your bike?”
A grin splits his face. He was thinking the same thing. “So long as we don’t go too fast for the thumb-brakes to handle, I can.”
I grin too, and suddenly I’m behind him, pushing the chair over to his bike. I hand him his helmet, and he straps it on. As he levers himself onto the seat, I strap on my own, and jump into the seat. Dad opens the garage door, and we both gun our motors, the sound making the garage shake, and then we shoot out into the road, side-by-side.
We roar around the neighborhood a couple of times, and then head uptown. We pass the school, where teachers are just arriving. I see Mrs. Jane spin around as she recognizes me, but we’re gone too fast. We pass the warehouse, where Job’s making Desert Eagle automatic pistols. We fly back over Bridge Kanulu, going almost seventy, the upper limit for this part of town, and slow down to go past the hospital. We ride our bikes for ages, and the second time we go past the school, kids are arriving. Joan motions that we should go back home, and I nod.
When we get back, Dad’s already gone to work. I help Joan into his wheelchair, and he grins.
“You better go to school, now, little bro. I saw your woman earlier, she looked worried.”
“She’s not my woman.”
“Just keep telling yourself that. Oh dear, you’ve missed the bus.”
I grin, and gun my engine.
When I get to school, I lock my bike with the chain, tying the helmet on as well. Then I run to class. The moment I get there -
“James Jett to come to Mrs. Jane’s office please. James Jett to Mrs. Jane’s office.”
It seems a bit creepy that it’s the same words that were used almost seven years earlier, but I know what it’s about. I stand and walk out of the classroom without saying a word. A few of the kids saw me when I came up on my bike, and they think I’m the final word in cool now. A few from other classes did too, and they stare out the doors at me as I go past. I walk into Mrs. Jane’s office, and it’s almost exactly the same. The rubber plant’s bigger, and there’s a calendar behind her, but the paperwork could be the same, for all that I noticed. The glasses are in place, and she’s writing something.
This time, when she looks up, there’s no sadness in her eyes, none of that worry about what the six-year-old would think, or do, or feel.
“I saw you, this morning, James. As I arrived at school.”
“Yes, Miss. I saw you too.”
“You were riding a motorbike.”
“Yes, Miss, I was.”
“Why were you riding a motorbike, James?”
“I got it for my birthday, Miss. It’s my birthday today, Miss.”
“Well, happy birthday, James. But do you know that it is illegal for you to be riding a motorbike on the road unless you have a license?”
“I have a license, Miss.”
“Don’t be foolish, you’re too young.”
I pull it out and show her. She stares at it, then me.
“Where did you get this?” Her voice isn’t as hard as it was earlier. She’s surprised. I wonder if I should tell her the truth. Nah.
“I sat the test and passed, Miss.”
“No, I know your birth date, and that’s not it. You may look sixteen, but you’re not.”
“Well, in that case, I guess the people who gave me the test overlooked that.” She shakes her head.
“James, you can’t just go around with a forgery. People will know.”
“Will they, Miss? Really? Would anybody who doesn’t know me know that I’m not sixteen?”
“Yes, they…” She stops. “No, I guess they wouldn’t. But it’s a lie, James. Where did you even find somebody to do you one this good?”
“A… friend made it.” Suddenly, she looks sad.
“You’ve joined that gang, haven’t you?” Her voice is so quiet I almost have to lean forward to hear it. “I’d hoped you’d have more sense than your brother, but…”
“Joan’s got heaps of sense. He got me in. He bought me the bike. He’s got me jobs.” She shakes her head.
“The gang will kill you in the end, James. Get out while you can. Earn an honest living.” I grin at her.
“It’s not the end yet. Permission to go back to my class to learn how to make an honest living, Miss?”
“Yes. Go.” I leave, but I don’t go straight back to my class.
I know the gang won’t kill me. What did she mean? Maybe that being in the gang will kill me? Well, that makes more sense. After all, when I’m older, I’ll be involved in the fights, and people die in those sometimes. But not yet. For now I’m just involved in the business side of the gang. Maybe I always will be, like Joan is now. I’m safe for the moment.
I go to my class.
At lunchtime, my phone beeps in my pocket. I pull it out. There’s a text from Joan.
---Joan Jett---
Can you get yourself to the warehouse today?
---Joan Jett---
To: Joan Jett
Sure can. I can’t wait to see Job’s face when I come in on that bike! Hey, have you talked to that guy from the KSK yet?
---Joan Jett---
Yeah, I was gonna tell you, I’m meeting with him later today. See you when your shift ends, bro.
---Joan Jett---
To: Joan Jett
Bye.
I flick the screen down over the keyboard and slide the phone back into my pocket. A boy walks up to me. I’ve never talked to him before.
“That a phone?”
“Yeah. So?”
“We’re not allowed phones in school.”
“It’s lunchtime, man, give it a rest.”
“We’re not allowed phones at school.”
“You gonna tell on me?”
“Nah.” He sits next to me. It’s strange, I don’t normally chat with the other guys at school. He seems oddly immature, even though I know he’s my own age.
“You came on your motorbike this morning, right?”
“That’s right. So?”
“Cool,” he says, and leaves it at that. I’m bewildered. This isn’t what I’m used to.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Jeep. Yeah, it sucks, blame my parents. I know your name.”
“OK.”
“Can I have a go on your bike after school?”
“No way, man! That thing’s brand new, I only got it this morning. Plus, you’ve got to know how to handle it. That’s one grunty beast.”
“Aww., c’mon.”
“I said no, man.”
“You suck.” He stands up and walks away. What the hell? I’m more used to talking to people much older than me, but I hope Jeep’s not representative of the majority of people my age. Although that may be why Mrs. Jane was so worried about me driving my bike. I wouldn’t want Jeep anywhere near it.
After school, I unlock my bike and buckle on my helmet. Just as I’m about to go, Mrs. Jane comes out of the building towards me.
“James, this is stupid. You’ll crash.”
“I’ve been taking lessons. I won’t crash.”
“You’re only twelve.”
“You forgot. It’s my birthday. I’m thirteen today.” I flip my visor down and gun the engine, leaving her behind.