Part III: Divergent
The school's Principal was a Filipino .
Not that he minded, it was just something that he noted in the current Catholic structure.
Many of the old European Catholic personnel that he remembered seeing when he was young, had all retired. Now the positions in the school and church all tended to be of non-European backgrounds.
It seemed to match to the ethnicity of a lot of the congregation these days too. Well, from what he read in school newsletters, he wasn't particularly religious himself.
The point at hand was the fact that his eldest son had been caught watching pornographic material within school grounds. With today's technology, he wasn't surprised that the issue wasn't more common.
He remembered when he was just a pubescent young boy, he had a friend who had a huge collection of magazines. They used to spend time looking at the female form. He didn't particular understand why he wanted to look at them, but he did. Although, it was more the written word that was more arousing. He'd once read a erotic novel that made him redefine the word "hilt" in a different setting.
One scene in particular was a strong male who had to have a french female. In that story, he told her he would give her anything if he could have sex with her. Her reply, "Well, I always did want a small boutique in Paris"... and upon his aggressive taking of her, she had thought "Man has his strength, but woman, will always outlast a man."
He hadn't even wanted his son to attend the Catholic school. After all of the scandals and cover-ups involving child abuse, apparently that was the "old" church and has nothing to do with the "new" church. Really? Decades of despicable behaviour, by some bad eggs, which was covered up by good eggs? He had protested. He had.
But, the public school nearby, was underfunded and overcrowded. Was it his place to gamble on his child's future, based upon some ideological principle? They had argued about it. He had stuck his heels in and it had cost him her respect.
In the end he left the decision up to his son. They had visited both places and the Catholic school seemed the best. His son had shrugged his shoulders and said he liked the facilities better at the Catholic school. Indeed, for the fees they were paying, they were very nice facilities.
So they sat, listening to the lecture. The Principal was alluding to the immoral behaviour that may be influencing their son. The ease with which the internet provided access, down dark roads, to lead to lustful actions. The importance of family values.
That epic Little Red Riding Hood's walk through the forest, with the wolf lurking in the shadows, to snatch up the unaware, the innocent, the distracted little girl from her lighted path.
She looked intently at the Principal, nodding her head slightly, moving it left and right whenever the moment called for it. She was good. The pious mother wanting the best for her child.
In the end, their son would not be expelled, but would have to attend 10 counselling sessions.
He didn't like that idea. How cruel would it have been for himself, back when he was a teen? Having to tell someone why you wanted to look at naked women? Why you masturbate? That would have been devastating. Isn't society build upon the motto of "Sex Sells"? And surely it has to do with something relating to nudity and sex. Right? Illusions of desire? If Priests had of been looking at porn and masturbated, maybe they would have kept away from children?
He felt hot. His face must be flushing. This bubble of conversation was suffocating him.
He started tapping his left foot. He could feel her slight sideways glance at him.
"Don't fuck this up." This is what that look meant. Don't fuck up what? Speaking in truth! Fuck this lie!
And then the meeting was done. They both signed the paperwork and left. All polite and nice. Jesus would be happy. Hanging up there. With nails in his limbs and a crown of thorns.
"Oh, how I envy you." He thought to himself.
In the car he unleashed. He swore. He yelled. He hit the steering wheel. Thoughts bubbled out of him. Plenty of expletives. "Fuck" being a popular one.
Is this the modern day cone of silence?
He drove along, letting out his woes. Fuck this life. Fuck it. I have had enough!
It was late, so he bought some Chinese food on the way home.
Ate and slept. Another day done.
He awoke uncomfortably. His neck was sore, uncomfortably sore. He went to rub his face with his right arm, but it didn't respond. One of those "dead arm" moments. Normally, he'd slap himself in the head with his forearm whenever this happened.
But this time it was different. His arm was right behind his back, that is what made his neck hurt. He was laying on his arm. He rubbed his shoulder to help with the circulation. Nope. Nothing. He moved his arm to the side of his body while he laid their thinking. What to do? Yes, to do. "Get up. Have a shower."
Yes, get into the routine.
Take a piss. It felt awkward holding his penis in his left hand. Weird sensation while his brain had to adjust to the new positioning. His right arm just hanging to the side.
When he walked he had to hold his right forearm with his left hand, just to stop his hand from swaying.
The shower didn't help. Fuck. His right arm just hung there uselessly.
Drying his body was difficult. Like a dog that can't scratch that itch right above his tail. He couldn't dry his body properly. Getting on underwear was doable, but putting on pants was odd. Half sitting on the bed, he slid into each legs and wormed them on.
Everything was lopsided.
He could move his left hand. He could wiggle his left hand fingers. Nothing from the right.
Nothing.
He grabbed his phone and told his boss he wouldn't be in, he'd have to see a doctor.
What a sell-out. The dude doesn't care for religion, yet he lets his kid attend the brain-washing institution to suck up the zealous doctrine. He deserves a numb arm!