I remember this one time, you really won’t believe this.
Where I got into a fight with 3 other boys over Franz Kafka. Not shitting you.
Dead serious over Franz fucking Kafka. That’s not the normal things you fight
over in high school. That’s the first clue that something is wrong with me.
Well maybe not the first but I think it is an important one. Girls, sports
teams, well really just girls mostly I think, but never the like quality of an
author let alone someone as weird and marginal as Kafka. But sure enough it
happened. We were at my friend’s party. There wasn’t any alcohol involved. Yes
this all happened whilst we were all totally sober. We were outside on this
little porch of his but I don’t remember it being all that pleasant. It was
sort of an overcast day and there was this dingy little stream that ran through
the dead brown field behind his house. I remember it looked like the water was
really struggling just to get through all the mud and over growth. Everyone was
standing around outside in spite of all this and as I remember there were too
many people for the number of chairs that we had so everyone decided politely
but frustratingly to just all stand around the table behind the chairs. Many
had put their hand on the back of a chair as if to reserve should we ever
actually choose to sit. We were talking as people do at parties about things
that didn’t really mean anything and in which none of us really believed. I had
been having a really awful day, something about my girlfriend or school, I don’t
know. At some point the conversation turned towards Kafka and one of my friends
went on this long rant about how he was literally the worst most ignorant and
talentless author to have ever lived. At the end of this rant I offered up that
I quite enjoyed his work. There was a slight pause to see if anyone would
support me and when a sufficient time had passed they knew I was free game. I
didn’t take long for me to be fed up of their jests and snide remarks, as I
mentioned I had been having a bad day. But there was a moment where something
just tipped over. I had no more patience to give. I abruptly said I would be leaving,
gave my friend my drink and actually got in my car and left. Much to everyone’s
amazement.
Things would’ve ended peacefully had they just left it
there. I drove to an old basketball court near my house. Old in the sense that I’m
not sure it was ever new. I don’t believe I ever saw anyone use it other than
myself but it felt like it had been there since before time. Chronically
cracked and net-less, it was tucked away behind a small grove in a field
opposite a cemetery. I had developed a habit of going there shooting free
throws to help me make big decisions. Should I ask Jenny to the prom, swish!
Yes! Should I try and kiss her in the car after? Clang. A resounding no. On
this occasion I didn’t so many questions on my mind, just a profound desire to
be alone. They had been trying to call me from sometime. I let the first 5
calls go to voice mail and only picked up when I recognized Jenny’s number. I
told her, in what I thought was confidence, where I was and that I was fine
just tired and frustrated. Another 20 minutes later just as I was getting ready
to leave I saw my friends van come screeching into the parking lot and he and two
of my larger friends come rolling out of it. They apparently had decided to
return me to the party even if it were by force. A legendary scuffle ensued
where in I knocked the wind out of the tallest boy with a basketball thrown
into his chest, wrestled with another until he had no more energy, and was
eventually pinned to a try by the largest and strongest of the trio. All of us
were a bloody mess returning to the party. My shirt was torn in so many places
it looked like had caught fire. The basketball had been completely lost and was
never replaced. The rest of the party went pretty well and all present agreed
they were quite happy to see me.
