[First draft written January 19,2011. Published March 10, 2011. Edited October 30, 2011. ]
Right. Again a return to the scene of the crime.
Remember the first part of this epic? If not, who’s to blame you?
Anyway, there they were. Caught up in one of their endless debates about what was wrong with the world and how they could solve everything if they were given absolute power to rule. I promised I would introduce MoonieZ’s friends, classmates, at a later time. That time has now come.
First, the Intellectual. Of course this guy had a common name like everyone else but for reasons of creative freedom I choose to present him as the Intellectual. This guy liked to read, listen to music, lecture everyone about his superiority and always managed to stir up arguments. He claimed to be liberal and was not fond of the then ruling Social Democratic Party or the general state of the Swedish society. The other guy – Nose-Picking Drummer – was not as interested in politics but had a tendency to label most things discussed as “bizarre”. That was his most often used word: bizarre. Everything and everybody could at any given moment be labelled bizarre. That, the fact that he never stopped picking his nose and that he used to break wind at not too suitable times, made him the perfect third wheel (well…as perfect as was possible). That he knew how to play the drums and had some grasp of rock’n’roll music was a bonus. MoonieZ accepted that his friends at school were somewhat odd because he was somewhat odd too. He also appreciated to have some people to talk to. Pass the time between classes.
However this January MoonieZ’s thoughts were often elsewhere while the triumvirate debated the latest global problems. MoonieZ had his mind focused on that girl in his class who had suddenly started to talk to him about a year ago. He could not understand why. His mind had been constantly occupied by trying to figure out why this beautiful girl had suddenly started to talk to him. Out of the blue. At a time when there was nobody else around. Talked to him like they were friends, like she knew him. From that moment MoonieZ had thought of ways to communicate his thoughts and feelings because to simply tell her how he felt about her was out of the question. That would be too easy. And easy was not MoonieZ’s game.
So, he had written her a letter. In English. Sent it during the Christmas break and was now waiting for the reaction. MoonieZ’s mind was set on complete failure. Disaster to be precise. Nothing else could possibly happen. Yet, somewhere down at the bottom of his heart he had another optional outcome hidden. Very well hidden. So well hidden that nobody else could possibly ever guess. Or so he thought. The truth was he had the word CRUSH written all over him in bright shining letters. Everybody could see it from miles away but MoonieZ could not. To him ,his appearance was perfectly innocent. Not a hint of a crush on anyone. A straight face.
The endless winter days rolled on at their own gloomy pace until the day arrived when MoonieZ got home from school, opened the mailbox and found – a letter. What else. Well, for the sake of the story he could have found a bomb. Would have made things slightly less predictable. Don’t you think ? I try not to.
MoonieZ opened the letter, read it and suddenly felt very happy. He would be able to go to school the next day without fear of ridicule – and – he had a friend. Maybe not exactly what he had hoped for but close enough to be considered half a victory. He immediately started writing a reply. Still in English. It would take a few letters before he managed to write them in Swedish without feeling too awkward. But that’s another story. If it will be told or not depends on if I feel like telling it.