Postmodern fiction often plays with the expectations of the reader, employing many literary devices to do just that.  Below is a memorable piece from 2001 which uses anagrams and stream of consciousness to defy the reader’s expectations.  Enjoy!

Dr Talmen’s Revenge!!!

As a religious sixteen-year-old man (as I like to consider myself as being), I began to question my faith as well as my sanity.  It all happened after I had experienced unusual symptoms of what felt like the constant tightening of both my organs and muscles.  However, I ignorantly dismissed this as being the result of watching the “X-Files” in the dark, along with examination nerves.

Now, on the first morning of my actual GCSE’s and more specifically, my Science exam, I felt as though I had eaten caterpillars for breakfast and that they had already developed into butterflies.  Outside the examination hall some of the boys fenced with rulers or sat playing knuckle buster.  Others looked very pale, whilst one particular guy constantly spat over his shoulder, every now and again, to show that he didn’t care, protesting that he hadn’t “opened a book!”  I did some last minute checks before I entered the hall, making sure I had a pen, pencil, ruler, rubber and my personal examination card.

As the doors opened we all filed quickly and quietly to our places.  My desk was at the very back, with my candidate number on the top right-hand corner.

We all sat in suspense as a bird-like man, otherwise known as the invigilator, held up a brown paper envelope and directed our attention to the unbroken seal with his long, thin, intimidating finger.  He tiptoed quickly and quietly across the front of the hall – so quietly in fact that it seemed that the smallest amount of air would send him into next week.  Staring at him in anticipation we all wondered where he got his energy.  It appeared such an effort for him to lift himself, never mind a simple exam paper.

Making his way around the hall, he released an exam paper on to the centre of everyone’s desk including my own. My eyes raced across the lines in search of familiar questions. I felt as though the beasts in my abdomen had eaten through to my intestines as I had a sudden urge for the toilet.  There was not a single question that I knew anything about.  I tried to settle myself and concentrate whilst reading the first question… It was no use, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  I had attended church for two Sundays in a row and I had been praying hard for the right questions at every possible opportunity – outside the bus station, sitting on the toilet and even now.  However, none of this was clearly any use.  The fact of the matter was, I’d wasted my time and God’s time.  Here He was, listening to my constant servile drivel when obviously He had never any intention of helping me at all!

I finally realised that I would have to rely on my own feeble ability in order to get through this exam.  I would have to rely on my ability to, as my mother so often reminded me – produce a steady flow of unchallenging gibberish!!

As I looked around, most of the other students were writing frantically.  Even the guy next to me sat hunched over his table, concentrating with his non-writing hand shoved down the back of his trousers and with his tongue sticking out.  Thirty-five minutes had passed already and I still hadn’t put pen to paper.

Once again I began to feel the clenching of both my organs and muscles, only this time it was slightly different. This time I also felt an immense weight on my shoulders.  Before I knew it, in the middle of the examination I found myself to be crashing helplessly through the floorboards; chips of wood and rusted nails were flying everywhere.  I felt like a man who was running out of oxygen, gasping for air at every turn and reaching out as if trying to grasp an invisible rubber ring.  Whilst drowning in the suction of this inexplicable force both beneath and above me, I could not help wonder what was happening.  I had been brought up to believe that faith could move mountains, but this was ridiculous, was God trying to help me to understand “Newton’s Universal law of gravitation,” or was I daydreaming, or simply just going insane?

As I hit the surface below with an unimaginable force I could feel tears beginning to surface.  Not from the excruciating pain of what felt like a broken tailbone, but from the reality that this was my future, as my parents so often reminded me.  These exams were important - what I had studied for, for so long, in order to sit my A’ Levels and fulfil my dreams of becoming the next Ally McBeal (well, at least a lawyer, anyway).  Yes, I admit that she is a thin scrawl of a creature, and I also admit that her head is out of proportion with the rest of her body, but… and I mean but, I reckon she is still really fit in her own unique way, and of course her purse is bulging, which is always a bonus!

*                       * *                       *                       * *          

 “John, John?”  Still lying wherever it was that I was, I found myself gasping at the air around me.  I stared upwards to find a thing resembling humanity in only a half mild form.  The animal, beast or whatever it was stuck out a solitary tooth, from which a scarlet coloured puss was seeping.  Leaning over the hole in the floor the beast was mouthing something, which I could only imagine to be a welcome to my own demise.  Before it wearily drifted away, echoes of penetrating voices lingered in the dense atmosphere portraying so called “facts” about the inhumane creature:

            To state that the THEAD is deadly is to drastically underestimate the

creature… To say that it is remarkably intelligent is to do it an injustice… to look at only one aspect of the THEAD is to ensure a greater misunderstanding that may, ultimately, spell out your own downfall and extinction…

From one inhumane ordeal to another I found myself faced by what seemed to be an image of my mother in childhood. Wearing only a brown cloth nappy that seemed to be two sizes too big, she glared down the hole at me, smiling and fiddling with one of her pigtails.  Swaying gently from side to side, she began to prattle:

            If you don’t come up to play with me now… I’ll…I’ll…I’ll tell mammy.

I stared at the ceiling and reached back to prop myself up in the long leather couch.  According to Dr Talmen I had come a long way (not too sure about that myself).  Still have awful nightmares, though the talking works a bit.  I have to believe it does anyway; otherwise, what’s the use of talking at all.  I sat back, looked at Talmen and began to listen to him speak:

            From our last session I think that you would agree that progress has been made.  For example it has been a whole three days since you last had the urge to propel yourself through a three by three foot window lined with metal bars. Nevertheless, you still have these awful nightmares and although talking does help, like I discussed with you last time, I would like to try a different, hypnotic method.  Not only has it proved to be….door fifteen and the anticipation of the item being filed by an extremely big person, quickly be to a floor-chair or a yellow tie and air full of oxygen; women that in fact opened glasses dropped rugby balls all over the aforesaid floors, bursting for instance, all over the tiles in an ecstasy of hope, lust and of course, rage.  Not to mention of course the on-going struggle between the animals and the humans fighting for survival in the back of the airing cupboard at the top of the roof space, hanging out the window of love looking for some parasite to crap all over and then finish the whole thing off by letting off a stinker of a balloon right in the middle of the front seat of their car (while they are driving to Normandy) for a quick course in Biology and the art of making a Cornish pasty……………………………………………………………………………
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In order for this to be effective one has to imagine that the word ‘sleep’ is tattooed on to your mind. When you hear me click my fingers you will then, fall into a deep sleep, where you will be faced by what is known as your dark side – helping you to overcome these, persistent nightmares. When I click my fingers, for a second time, you will awake, neither remembering what has happened nor what you have been through in the past six months. What’s more, you will no longer have any need to be here.

Simple!

So all I have to do is to imagine that the word sleeDIE….. NO…. sleDIE…. .slDIE… NO…sDIE….DIE!!!

OK here we go! I’m not promising anything but I will try my best.

“Nnnnoooo…”

C L I C K

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Ah, no, mammy….

My exams. Help!

“I will now click my fingers for a second time”-

cccCcc llLlll iiiIiii cccCccc kkkKkkk
Ah hah, (dum-dum), Ah hah, (dum-dum) Ah Hah, (dum-dum) Ah Hah, (dum-dum)
Ah…hah (dum)
Ah (d)
Hah
Hah
Hah
ha

By Gary Ferguson (GCSE English Coursework)