My mate. SIMPLE SIMON. riginal.
Went to school with a kid dubbed 'Simple Simon Sue' by the rest of the class, including me for a time. If you think I'm not being politically correct then sue me. I'll reciprocate and sue you...SIMPLE! and we all know what happens when a kid's tagged with a name like Sue, even if it was a scabby vocabularistic 'tag on' surname.
A bunch of "mean-spirited kids" whose parents thought it hilarious that "how do you do'" Sue was the "butthead" that represented (in their collective narrow mind) everything pertaining to stupidity. "Not the fault of my kids!" As long as "my child ain't being picked on" the parents of the little annoying dungers thought it was okay for their cherubs to "hang crap" on SSS.
Coincidence the SSS? Not really. Knock an S off and what are you left with? Same group humbuggery on a meaner larger premeditated ensemble of ingrown/grown up bullies and ratbags in fancy dress garnished with deadly intent and unashamed raging egos to match.
Bit of a far-fetched simile? Overboard? No comparison? A schoolkid decks him/herself because of harrassment at school for whatever reason? Ahhh! just one kid. Maybe not 'wallpapered' in enough hysteria for media decoration. Just a quick wipeover with a rag in the local rag? Doesn't matter too much...wasn't your kid was it? But it might be. Might have been? Will dwell no longer on this human frailty.
Suffice to end these reflections with my dad's words when I started school. "If I ever hear of you bullying anyone at school in an unwarranted gutless group 'ragging' session I'll kick your ass." He meant it too, and he was a good boxer. What he lacked in finesse he supplemented with guts. Didn't go to church...didn't have to.
I did say "including me" picking on SSS for a brief time though-despite the 'kiss ass' warning. Things changed. Simon was pushed off his bike one day on the way home from school. He didn't cry or shout at the taunting cowards...just dusted his 'hand me downs' and mumbled-grinned at me.
Helped him pick his 'bitsa this n' that' bike up, brushed off his skinned knee. Started hanging out with him. He was a bit slow but he was funny. Sometimes repeating himself. Took him home to my place that day with his bent bike. Mum cleaned him up and gave him a fresh baked pie. I thought he was going to eat his fingers. Didn't give a damn that it was so hot. Pie dribbling down his happy grin chin. Told the parents what happened. Heard dad say "bastards".
Mum used to go crook at the old man when he swore. This time she said nothing. Just wiped Simon's chin... cleaned him up a tad. Dad was an engineer/panelbeater. Fixed Simon's bike. Sprayed it. Simon's parents came round with Simon to pick up his bike. Good simple people-no pun intended. They started to explain about Simon. Dad just brushed the explanations aside. Saw mum brush something out of the corner of her eye. Must have been some overspray around. Dad turned his back, had the same problem. "Wait here Simon". Dad wheeled his nearly painted bike out. 'Simon' in neat large black letters inscribed in the glossy red enamel.
I'll never forget the look on my new friend's face. He rested the bike on the shed door gingerly. Ran up and buried his face in my old man's dusty overalls...didn't cry. Mum invited everyone in. Had to prise Simon off my dad. He sat there on our old couch. Mum saw the frown on Simon's face. She opened the back door and wheeled his bike in. My friend grinned...hot pie running down his chin. He became addicted to pies did my friend. Much ado about pies. Simon and me didn't care 'bout the pious comments, the ragging, the snotty nosed 'herd' that supped at the well of unfettled ignorance. We were friends...pure and simple. Pure Simple Simon died at the age of 30. I'll explain in a sec.
I had my own kids. My wife picked up a rhyme book opened up 'Simple Simon.' It was the short version of my friend's life! "Well dang me!" I hear yews say. "What a bloody unmitigated load of coincidental hot sauce!"
I'm a bit like my dad was. Always busy. Impatient. Really didn't have time for rhyme. My missus gave me THAT look. You know, the one they give you just before your wedding vows.
"Simple Simon met a pie-man going to the fair...said Simple Simon Sue to the pie-man...what have you got there?"...(silence) My wife rolled her eyes at the 'Sue' surname. What the hell...I continued the story after my kids asked me "what happened to the simple boy?" "Well...one day the pie-man (could have been a menopausal pastry man? FAIR enough?) turned to SSS and hissed...ssssh...t! What the hell do you think I've got in here you stupid bugger! Enough money to pay out America's debt? Enough bags of 'regret' biscuits to cause the 'overfed undertaxed' rich pollies in the world to CHOKE and regurgitate their collective greed and re-package it as crummy conscience money?
I've told you a bloody million times,what does P.I.E on the side of my 'PIE BOX' say, you imbecile!" The meno-pieman slapped the lad and pushed him off his battered bike. A nearby up-and-coming Judge Judy sitting on a bench nearby, recorded this on her phone. Simon Sue Sued the pie-factory through Mr. Meno-pie slap man via Judy's 'pungent jury' show. SSS was awarded a very substantial amount of money. Indeed! Enough to procure his own enormous pie shop.
The sacked pie-man now works for Simon the simple pie-lad. So who's the dumb ass? Simon Sue wasn't vindictive though. He gave the 'Pied Piper' a call on I flute. Worked the pie-man's butt off to produce one thousand pies with meat legs that followed the pied piper round the streets; when they heard the music source they came to meat. Tripping and dripping with sauce. NOW, I suppose you're gonna say "you're kidding dad?" That's the end! (kids looking at me as if I'm simple?). My wife just screwed her nose up. "You're an idiot."...walked off. Moral: Kick-ass parents unite. Give bullying the boot. SIMPLE?
FOOTNOTE/TRUTH: My dad was an engineer/panelbeater. And a good boxer. He did paint the kid's bike. The boy did have mental challenges .Didn't attend school as far as I can remember? His single mum loved him. We all did. He spent most of his time at our place.
One of the funniest things he did which ended in disaster. Loved oranges. Always chewing and slurping on one. Dad did an engine up. Resprayed car. My brother left fuel tank cap off. Filled tank. Tried for about twenty minutes to start it then my dad looked at the smiling slurping kid standing next to the fuel tank. "Did you put pips in the tank son?" Never ever lied this kid. Nodded.
"Yeeep Mr. Jones." He grinned. A clown-like orange ring round his mouth. Everybody cracked up. The tank and lines were de-pipped. The kid-next-door died at about 30. I missed him. We all did. Maybe some of his simple demeanor rubbed off on me? I hope so.
Maybe we should all get back to devoting more time to the simple things in life...cheers.