ERTHA KITT

Most people, sooner or later, come to realise that life, on the whole, is fairly shit.

That very realisation is beautifully confirmed by the immortal song lyrics, “Life’s A Piece Of Shit When You look At It.”  Of course it’s not the actual God given gift of life that is shit.  It’s more to do with the trappings that go along with it, like living and working and hangovers.

So what can we do?

            Perhaps we should, “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.”  Maybe? But surely that would be just looking at a lighter shade of shit.

            So what then?

            Well, perhaps the best bet is to just get on with it.  Get on with the shit.  That’s what most people do, or get drunk, then the shit smells great.

            Of course some people won’t take any shit, they jump right in there and come up smelling of roses.  Others think they won’t take any shit, but they are just full of it.

            So really, what then?

            Who knows!

            Put it this way, the time in an average person’s life is mostly taken up by their job.  Their job is, needless to say, shit.  The most exciting part of that person’s job is falsifying their time-sheets, so that they can get home early.  When they do get home early, they sit down in front of the TV, and there they stay all night.  Next day at work when asked what they did last night, they say, ‘I watched TV’.

            ‘Oh yes,’ the asker will reply, ‘anything good on?’

            ‘No,’ they will reply, ‘it was all shit’.

            And that’s it.

            Or is it?

            Well, no, because that would be forgetting the thinkers and the dreamers of this world.  They see things differently.  They are the people who believe in life and in themselves.  They risk all to gain all.  They talk of a better understanding.  They talk of realising their dreams and understanding their universe.  Then again, these people, when sober and not in the pub fiddling their timesheets, are very likely to be talking pure shit!

CHAPTER ONE

            ‘That’s pure shit.’  Said James, as he drained the last dregs of his fourth pint of lager.

            ‘It’s not,’ Louis insisted. ‘You weren’t listening properly.’

            ‘Weren’t listening properly!’ Frothed James into his glass. He put the empty pot onto the table. ‘I thought you were telling me a joke, I’ve been waiting for the punch line for half an hour.’

            ‘A joke?’

            ‘Yes a joke.  What do you expect me to think when you ask what God, the universe and Arnold Swarzenager have in common?  I thought it was a joke.’

            Louis looked up at the ceiling, knowing that he would have more luck explaining his new theory to an elderly gold fish with Alzheimer’s than he would to his ridiculing friend.  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘you get another round in, Ill finish off fiddling these time-sheets and then we’ll go through it again.’

            James agreed and headed off towards the bar, with a slight waggle to his walk.

            This waggle, if the drinking carried on would undoubtedly mature into a wobble.  If yet more drink followed, it would progress towards a swagger, then a stagger and finally a crabber, which is where your mind wants to go forwards but your legs take you sideways.

It had already been agreed, that today was to be a wobble day and no more.  Maybe?

             James returned with two fresh pints of wobble.

            ‘Right, sit down.’ Instructed Louis.  ‘I can describe this better with my notes.’  He reached under the table and pulled up an old, battered looking, briefcase.

            ‘Oh, no not the project case.’ James groaned, squeezing his temples

Louis placed the case onto the table.  It looked like a cheap plastic version of a real brief case, except it was white, with sort of black pinstripes racing up and down it.        Very eighties.

            ‘Hey, don’t knock the case, this baby has held some of the richest and deepest ideas I’ve ever had.’  He patted it proudly.

            James breathed hard though his nose; he had the feeling that today may very well become a swagger day.

            It was, in fact, that very briefcase, that had brought these two friends together in the first place.

            As kids, Louis had been an Innie and James an Outie.  That’s no reference to belly buttons. Louis stayed in a lot, had no real friends, watched too much T.V. had a pasty complexion and felt tired all the time due to lack of exercise.  James was an Outie, playing rough games with older kids, getting bullied, taunted, battered and belittled.  He had the kind of friends that played awful tricks on him.  Like making him believe, that a cute girls puppy had ran away.  He had been given the strict instruction to ask, ‘excuse me.  I wonder if I can help?  I believe you’ve lost your little Virginity.’

            Two days after starting secondary school they met.  James had been making fun of Louis’ project case, so Louis hit him with it.  This being James’ second day at a new school he didn’t want to be viewed, by the steadily increasing crowd, as a softy, so he hit Louis back.  There then began a scuffle, which soon turned into an all out schoolyard scrap. That scrap got ugly and was eventually broken up by a geometry teacher, who was only passing, whilst on his way to give the biology teacher one in the storeroom.

            After that, they became mates, which is the way such things usually happen at secondary schools.

            From then onwards, their relationship grew, budded and blossomed.  No, not in that way, although it was an all boys’ school and some relationships did seem to flourish slightly pinker petals.

            James quickly introduced Louis to nicotine dependency and the art of homework copying.  In return, Louis introduced James to steeling from the parents booze cabinet and Star Trek.

            Their school years passed by slowly and fairly unproductively.  Louis spent most of his time daydreaming and making spaceships out of those, blue and white, dual-purpose rubbers.  James spent most of his time avoiding school and trying his luck with rubbers of a very different kind.

            College followed and with it came the discoveries of draught lager and girls.  It soon became apparent that the draught lager helped to eliminate inhibitions and insecurities and was, therefore, a tremendous aid in the art of talking bollocks and chatting up girls.

            More lager followed and less college, the odd girlfriend came and went, parties were had, summers were long and through the eyes of a penniless, drunken, free spirited student, life was just great. 

            Then suddenly Whoosh! They were out in the big bad world, with big hangovers and the vague memory of an education. 

The sad reality of having to grow up kicked in.  Dreams of being a famous actor, or rock star, or at the least, something incredibly well paid were sadly forgotten. They now had to face the only punishment befitting to wasters, bums and Performing Arts students­ - The Dead End Job.

            The years passed and nothing really interesting happened.  On the ascending side of twenty-five, they had matured into an average looking pair.  An almost similar looking pair, except Louis saw himself as romantically Italian, with dark eyes, dark hair and pronounced nose.  However most people that bothered to look, saw him as, ‘that small excitable looking lad who’s always in the pub.  The one with the big nose.’  James wasn’t much different, except his nose was not as pronounced but his belly had enjoyed one to many kebabs. 

They were, on the whole, normal, living the bachelor’s life (not really by choice), each owning a modest house and working together for the local council.  Their fascination with stupid ideas, science fiction and movies of all kinds, oh and lager, was their only means of escape from the hum and the drum of modern day life.

Louis sprang open the latches of his project case and pulled out a few, well written on, sheaths of paper.  After a bit of shuffling and a couple of big gulps of beer he said, with conviction, ‘I’m telling you now, I can prove that God exists!’

            ‘Right,’ said James.  Bored.  ‘Is Arnold Swarzenager the new messiah?’

            ‘Go on, take the piss.’  Accused Louis pointing at him with his sheaths.

            ‘Come on Lou, you know how I feel about all that God crap.  The whole meaning of life is simply, that we are a freak coincidence.  It just so happened that billions of years ago this planet was completely covered with water.  It also, just so happened that this planet was at a good distance from the sun to enjoy its heat.  And that’s all you need to start life, water and heat.  Then comes along this small planet, on a mad orbit, crashes right into the earth, loads of water evaporates, minerals from that planet are deposited onto earth and hey presto, the earth begins to spin slower making the weather nice, land inhabiting life evolves and we now have a pretty little moon to look at.  And that’s it, science proves it!’

            ‘Au contraire my friend, it is science and the study of the universe that proves God does exist.’

            ‘O.K.  Lou,’ James held up his pint.  ‘You’ve got the time it takes me to finish this and then we talk about Jody the barmaid.’

            ‘Fair enough.  If I asked you to describe the universe, what would you say?’

            ‘We’ve already been through this Lou. It’s infinite.’

            ‘Yeh, but can you describe infinity, I mean can anyone describe it, really grasp what it means?’

            James thought about it, he wasn’t drinking his lager, which Louis took as an encouraging sign.  ‘Probably.’  He said finally.

            ‘Probably.’ Louis threw back.  ‘No, not probably, no one can understand infinity, it’s impossible to understand.’

            James looked blank for an instant and then a small glow of enlightenment seemed to flicker in his eyes.  ‘Does Arnold Swarzenager understand infinity?’

            ‘Forget it you sarcastic twat.’

            James reached for his glass.

            ‘Hang on,’ blurted Louis, hands raised.  He shuffled some papers.  ‘Do you know the Hotel Infinity Theory?’

            ‘No.’

            Right,’ shuffle, shuffle, ‘Here we go, imagine that infinity is a number, O.K?’

            ‘O.K.’

            ‘Now, if infinity is a number, it will be the furthest possible number away from zero.  Right?’

            ‘…  O.K.’

            ‘Right, so can you tell me what that number actually is?’

            James locked eyes with Louis.  He stared hard and thought.  After some time he said, ‘Haven’t got a clue.’

            ‘Exactly.’ Said Louis excitedly, ‘You see, no matter how massive the number is, you can always add one more, or a million more, or whatever.’

James eyed his lager.  Louis hurried on.  ‘So, when you think about the universe, you have to forget words like infinity, even forget words like the universe, because that’s all that they are, words.  These words try and give boundaries or edges to something limitless, they wrap the whole idea up, so that we think we can understand it.  Basically, we say the word universe and there it is, it becomes something natural and understandable, but the truth is, no matter how many theories and proven theories there are concerning the universe, you can always add one more, or a million more, or whatever.’

            James had stopped looking at his beer and was instead looking vacant, in thought Louis hoped.

            ‘So,’ He continued, ‘Because the universe is infinite and bearing in mind that we can’t even begin to imagine what that means, it stands to reason, that there must be an infinite amount of stuff happening out there.  What I’m trying to say is, whatever we as humans can imagine, no matter how strange or ridiculous, somewhere, somehow, because of the, add one more rule, it exists for real.’

            James held his chin in his hands and rubbed it.  ‘Hmmm.’ He said and then, ‘Hmmm.’ Again and then he necked every last drop of his lager.

After he had planted his empty pot down he said, between burps, ‘well Lou I gave you your chance and you still haven’t, not even once, explained what Arnold Swarzenager has to do with God or the universe or whatever crap it was!’  He swaggered slightly to his feet and motioned his intent on having another drink.

            ‘James wait.’  Pleaded Louis, raising up also, ‘I’ll tell you about the Arnie bit now, I’m just getting to the best bit…  I’ll buy the next drinks.

            James flopped back down.  ‘Go on then.’  He said.

Louis went off to the bar to get more beer and James wobbled his way off to the toilet to make room for it.

            They returned and after a mouthful or two, Louis began, again, this time discarding his notes.  ‘Do you remember the film, The Last Action Hero?’

            James brightened up, ‘Now were talking, that is a good film.  The only thing, that spoilt that film, apart from its awful predictability, was that Steven “Same old formula in every film.” Spielberg released, Jurassic Park at the same time.’

            ‘I know.’  Agreed Louis, ‘It deserved better.  I mean, it’s not like it has a great storyline, or the acting’s any good …’

            ‘Hey, Arnie has his own particular brand of acting.’

            ‘I meant the kid.’

            ‘Oh.’

            ‘But it’s just the very idea of the film, having a magic ticket that makes it able to jump through a cinema screen right into a movie and interact with the characters.  Brilliant idea.’

            James was nodding enthusiastically, ‘Yeah, it is.  I can’t believe that that kind of story line hasn’t since been more explored or elaborated upon.’

            ‘Me neither, but…’

            ‘Yeah, it’s a shame that it didn’t do well, I mean think of all the sequels that they could have made, all the different kinds of films that Arnie could have gone into.’

            ‘Yes!’  Louis eurekered, ‘That’s exactly what I’ve been getting to.’

            James’ eyebrows furrowed.  ‘Is there a connection here between Arnold Swarzenegger and that other boring shit you were talking about?’

            ‘Oh, yes there is.’  Said Louis, matching his friend’s furrow.  ‘James, are you ready to think?’

            James nodded.

            ‘Good, I want you to think of a film, just off the top of your head, any film at all.’

            ‘Star Wars.’  Came the answer, immediately.

             ‘O.K.  Now, because we are part of something that has absolutely no limits at all, no boundaries, no edges, something so infinite, that the word infinity is infinitely to small to describe it, I reckon, no in fact I know, that somewhere, somehow, there’s a universe that mirrors the STAR WARS film exactly.’  He took a breath.  ‘In that universe there’s a Han Solo light-speeding it across the galaxy and a Darth Vader roaming around, being the bad guy with asthma.’

            James looked stunned.  It did make sense, he had taken it all in, it was a beautiful little theory  ‘but, you can’t be the first person to think that up, you’re not clever enough.’

            ‘Oh, thanks Einstein, of course not, there are plenty of nutters out there who come up with this kind of stuff on a daily basis. But think.  The very idea of it.  There are universes in existence, that are exactly the same as the movies that we watch and they do exist, simply because they have to.

            ‘That is an amusing thought Louis.  To think there could be a real Luke Skywalker out there, or maybe there’s a Matrix type universe, do you think there’s a universe that mirrors porno films?’

            ‘An infinite amount.’

            ‘Wow!’

            ‘There will be universes, containing everything you can imagine and everything you can’t.  In fact there must be countless universes that are exactly the same as this one, well there should be if infinity is everything it’s cracked up to be.’ 

            ‘Hang on,’ Said James, ‘Didn’t you say that God had something to do with all this.’  He instantly regretted speaking.

            ‘You couldn’t have put that any better James.’

            ‘Actually I meant to ask you if you wanted another drink, that was just a froidient slip, I think.’

            ‘Eh.’

            ‘Another pint then?’

            ‘What?’

            ‘I’ll go and get them in.’

            James dived off, leaving his confused drinking partner in mid-crescendo. Louis checked his watch, not much time left before last orders.

According to Louis there are, at this point in his life, only three things that really worry him, the first is not having enough to drink after last orders; the second is not having booze at home (in case he hasn’t had enough to drink after last orders) and the third is sober women when he isn’t.  Being sober in the presence of sober women is fine, in fact after two or three drinks it’s great, he can even get them to laugh and enjoy his company.  After that, things go steadily down hill, then down the slope of the hill, over an embankment onto a cliff edge, over the edge, down the cliff face, tumbling hundreds of feet and then splash, into the sea, which is deep and so on and so on.

  It begins with one slightly slurred word, no one else notices it, except him and the sober girl, but, he’ll get away with it as long as he only does it the oncshh, shit!  

            Then comes the far to frequent eye contact, the lingering stare and the flirtatious glance.  Your average Bacardi Breezer girl won’t even noticed these looks of lust, but the sober one will.  She can feel his eyes boring into the back of her neck and when she turns to see a wild eyed wet mouthed guy grinning at her, she starts to get a bit edgy.

The next tactic is to try and introduce the theme of sex into the conversation.  ‘Yeah, but does size really matter?’

            Again the other, inebriated, girls wont bat an eyelid and go on to say that it’s not what you’ve got, it’s what you do with it (lies) and that at the end of the day no man can beat a good cucumber (truth).  Your sober girl keeps quiet and giggles with the others.  So a similar question is directed straight at her.  Now she knows he’s definitely giving her the come on and she’s not impressed, so she attempts to laugh it off and desperately tries to join in someone else’s conversation.

            Undeterred our man continues to turn up the charm and decides to say something incredibly witty that will have her in hysterics.

            It goes something like this,

            Quick slurp off beer for Dutch courage.  ‘Hey everyone listen to thi…’ Beer falls out of hand, smashes on the table, everyone gets soaked.  

            And so on and so on.

James wobbled back with two dripping swaggers.

            Louis accepted his new drink, ‘James, let me just finish off the God bit before I forget what I’m talking about.’

            ‘Go on then seeing as you haven’t stopped talking all day.’

            ‘Right, if you really wanted to describe the universe you wouldn’t have a chance, its exact size can’t be given because it’s infinite, its exact shape can’t be given for the same reason, it can’t even be said what’s in it, or why it’s here.  The only way to describe it, that makes any sense at all is to say, the universe…’ He closed his eyes and made a sweeping motion with his arm, ‘…IS.’

            ‘Is?’

            ‘IS.’

            ‘Eh?’

            ‘IS.’ Louis stressed  ‘You have to feel it as you say it, make a connection with infinity, reach out with your mind.  Try it, just say it IS. The feeling will come as you say it.  It’s like a split-second flash of understanding, then it’s gone.’

            James tried to concentrate, which he’d had quite enough of doing so far, he closed his eyes and began, ‘It…Hhum, I mean … It… It…Is shit.’  He burst into laughter, completely unable to hold it in.

Louis laughed too.

            ‘James,’ said Louis, ‘do you remember an old film called The Ten Commandments?’

            ‘ Erm, did it have Charlton Heston in it?’

            ‘Yeah, smelly Heston.’

            James giggled, ‘Yeah, sweaty Heston, he stank in that movie, didn’t he.’

            ‘Oh he reeked, you could smell him through the screen.’

‘Mind you, he doesn’t smell now, he’s old now, all the sweat has dried up

            ‘Anyway,’ said Louis, ‘Do you remember the bit where the bush is burning and God says to mosses, “Tell everyone that my name is, I am?’

            ‘I think so.’

            ‘Well there you go then.’

            ‘What?’

            ‘I am.  It IS.   It’s the same thing.  God is it, it is God, God is IS.  Therefore God is the universe, therefore God exists.’

            James through his head back and howled, ‘That’s brilliant, how wonderfully put, your proof for the existence of God is, Mosses the movie.’

            Louis couldn’t help grining also, ‘But it makes sense James, when you think about it.’

            ‘Maybe,’ Said James wiping the tears from his eyes, ‘But everyone knows that all those Bible stories were written years and years after the events.  Most of them were based on second hand information.’

            ‘True James, but think about it.  A man or, anyone for that matter, thousands and thousands of years ago wouldn’t of had a clue what infinity meant or what the universe was.  No one could have truly understood the significance of… It Is, or I am.  Not even the most imaginative storey teller could have invented the burning bush drama; it would have been to far beyond his understanding to do so.  The only conclusion that can be made, is that the bush business was the word of God.  And God IS.’

            ‘Alright Lou,’ Said James, completely forgetting to take the piss, ‘What if your right and everything you’ve said is true, so what?’

             ‘James, do you agree that there’s countless universes out there, some of which are identical to movies that we have right here?’

            ‘Yeah, seems possible.’

            ‘O.K.  And do you agree that the Last Action Hero storey line of jumping into movies with a magic ticket, is good one?’

            ‘Fantastic.’

            ‘And that God is everything and is in control of everything?’

            ‘Not sure about that bit.’

            Louis darted a quick glance to each side and drew his chair in closer.  ‘The way I see it,’ he said in a low voice, ‘God is the cinema, the projectionist and the magic ticket holder. You’ve heard of those people who meditate and transcend from there bodies, or the yoga people who say they can travel to other worlds.’

            James gave the, no but carry on, nod.   

            ‘Well,’ James continued, ‘say, for instance, I white washed the back wall in my spare bedroom and got one of those big projector things; like the ones they play the football through in here.  If I rigged up a DVD player to that projector and somehow tuned my mind into the everything that is IS.  If I could do all that, then I believe I could walk though that screen and into any movie I wished.’

            James looked at Louis with real disbelief, ‘That’s it?’

            ‘Yeah.’

            ‘All that, for just that?’

            ‘Yeah.’

            ‘All that, for an idea about a projector and a white washed wall?’

            ‘Well I had to build up to my big idea.  I had to explain everything, make it understandable.  I couldn’t have told you the last bit first; you’d never have believed it could work.

            ‘Oh,’ squawked James, ‘But I believe it now!’

            ‘It’s a good idea, it just needs a bit of tweaking that’s all.’

            James opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, thought better of it and said, ‘Yeah, good idea that Lou.  Now shall we get pissed and talk about breasts?’

            Louis shrugged his shoulders, ‘Yeah, why not.’  And with a clink of their glasses they drank their drinks and went off for more.

            That day became a crabber day.  They danced to any and every song on the duke box.  They forgot people’s names seconds after meeting them and spoke with perfect strangers like they had known them for years.  They tried to chat up Jody the bar maid, but she was sober and had none of it.  They drank until they were thrown out.  Then they crabbed it home to their respective houses, completing the normal ten-minute stroll in little over an hour.      

The next day brought hangovers and bad ones.  Louis and James rang in work, sick.  Without realising they both gave exactly the same excuse for not turning in, complaining of a sudden stomach bug that had kept them awake all night, but it was probably one of those twenty-four hour ones, so they should be all right to go back to work the day after.

            But Louis didn’t go back to work the day after.  Nor did he go to work the day after that.  He didn’t even go back to work the day after that!

NEXT CHAPTER      

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