FUCKWITS
AND GARGOYLES
Stuart Matthews
Have you ever wondered why it is it only ever seems to rain when you're around? You never hear about it raining in Mozambique. Unless it's flooding, and then it's never off the news. But it's never mentioned on the news unless it's flooding. You never hear Huw Davis telling you about how "Today in Mozambique it rained for a little while, just after tea. No-one drowned, no-one lost their home, and nobody took much notice."
As I searched the newspaper for any evidence of a light shower in East Africa, I was increasingly aware of all eyes watching me. Or some eyes. Or a pair of eyes in particular. No, in fact, two pairs of eyes.
"Fuckwit, what are you doing?" said one of the pairs of eyes. I ignored them. These eyes were not my friend, and probably wanted to hurt me. And if they didn't want to hurt me, they certainly wanted to make me look like a fool in front of the other pair of eyes. Because it is ever so important to impress the other pair of eyes. He's a very important person and it is very important, almost compulsory, to impress him by making yourself appear to be more intelligent than anybody else, particularly me.
"Fuckwit, what the fuck are you doing?" said the first pair of eyes. Again, I ignored him. The other pair of eyes looked at me, and then laughed. I was obviously amusing him. I was not, however amusing the first pair of eyes.
"Fuckwit, tell me what the fuck it is you are doing or I'll be forced to fucking hurt you."
"I'm not doing anything. No wait, actually, it's impossible to do nothing, so therefore I must be doing something." I almost manage to confuse myself.
"Fuckwit..."
"I'm reading the paper, what does it look like I'm doing?"
"Give me the paper, Fuckwit."
"Do I have a choice?" I did. There is always a choice.
"No. You either give me the paper or I hurt you really badly." Can you see what I was up against??
"I think you'll find that's a choice."
The second pair of eyes had long since bored of me. He had wandered off, and the first pair of eyes kept staring at me, open-mouthed, like a particularly unintelligent stone gargoyle. Just as I thought he was about to utter something, he turned and walked away. I was alone once more.
As it turned out, there was no mention in the paper of any rain in East Africa, although it transpired that there had been clouds above Nairobi the day before. Is Mozambique actually in East Africa?
I left the library and walked down the hallway. I detested school more than I detest gargoyles so I had to leave. Outside the school it was raining. Inside the school it wasnât raining. Although the ceiling had been known to leak.
I was outside the school and it was raining on me. No leaky ceiling here. I couldn't go home, because it would be raining there too. I needed to hide form the rain. I needed a little rain shelter. No I didn't, I needed a fucking big rain shelter. I needed a rain castle, where I could be Rain Prince and the gargoyles wouldnât trouble me. In fact, I could put the gargoyles to good use, doing what they do best, channelling rainwater.
But where does a would-be prince find a castle?
The Estate Agent wasn't impressed with me.
"A castle?" she said, "Are you mad, or do you think you are funny or something?" She obviously didn't know what she was talking about.
"Are you an estate agent?" I asked.
"No, of course not, I work for an estate agency, I'm just an employee." No wonder she didn't know what I meant.
"That explains it then. Could I speak to an estate agent, please?"
"Well you could speak to the manager, I suppose, but heâs not here anyway."
"Oh well. I'll build a castle on my own."
"You're not funny. Go away and play your silly games somewhere else." She didn't sound happy. I left, quickly. Back into the rain.
I felt stronger in the rain. I no longer felt I needed to hide from it. If I was to be a rain prince I'd need the rain to sustain me.
There is a widely-regarded theory that rain is in fact little tiny pieces of water looking for bigger pieces of water on the floor to join up with. I wasn't sure if I agreed or not but I thought that maybe if it was true then maybe the bigger pieces of water would hold the key to a rain castle. Not literally hold the key, obviously. Or then again, perhaps it would. It'd be nicer if it did. It would save me having to build my own.
My search for a big piece of water began. I knew there was nowhere suitable for miles so I needed help. In order to find a big piece of water, I needed a map. And in order to begin my search for a map I needed a map shop. Or a book shop. Theyâre usually good enough.
Eventually, after many minutes of searching frantically for a bookshop, I remembered that there was one within walking distance of where I already was. So I hailed a taxi.
"Where are you going, son?" asked the driver.
"I'm not sure. I need a map. Can I borrow one?" I was being as polite as I could but I was really excited by now.
"Well, just ask me where it is. It's my job to know these things." What a very nice man this taximan was.
"I'm looking for a big piece of water. Indirectly. Via a bookshop, please."
"Then you won't need me, there is a bookshop just up there." Taximan pointed towards the horizon.
"Oh, right, thank-you very much, sorry to trouble you." I walked off into the distance. And then into the bookshop.
The security gargoyle in the bookshop eyed me suspiciously. I didn't intend to steal anything but just in case I did, he stared at me. Maybe he was bored. Even so. He shouldn't have stared at me; there was all sorts of thievery going on behind him. That'll serve him right. Stupid bugger.
The maps in the bookshop weren't much use to anyone. Well, perhaps if you intended to visit Central Scotland or East Africa in the next few days they were quite useful, but if you were looking for vast expanses of water in East Bristol, they were totally useless.
And then I remembered. The old quarry, now a lake of sorts. Perfect. It was bound to hold a wealth of information on all sorts of rain castles. It was a fair way to walk but I wasnât doing anything much that afternoon and being a rain prince and because it was raining I had almost unlimited energy.
Where do rain princes go when it isn't raining? Do they hide inside their castles or do they fade away to nothing? And what do they do when it's sunny? How about if it rains too much, and they get too powerful and start demanding more. Is there a Rain King that keeps all the princes in order? Do the naughty rain princes get put in rain dungeons in the Rain Kingâs castle? And do their associates then plot to free them and assassinate the King, therefore making the freed Prince the new King. Is Rain Politics complicated. If I was to be a rain prince, who would help guide me and make the right choices and who would try to kill me? Would I be safe as a rain prince or would the other princes be out to get me?
In my hysteria, I had failed to notice it had stopped raining.