“…boring.”13:32 Jul 03 2008
Times Read: 1,114
“I’m bored…” he muttered again, casting his XBOX aside.
Jay scanned the TV guide: “Eff all on.”
The baby-monitor allowed him to hear his cousin gurgling away,
The adults were out. He was on baby-sitting duty and there was no-one on MSM, he’d already checked there, just ten minutes before playing ‘Halo.’ It was boring.
Jay was bored, terminally bored.
Homework? He’d do that on the bus, on the way in tomorrow. It was now that he needed something, anything to do.
Briefly he tried Channel surfing with the remote. But, he kept getting the local news and the story of a deranged killer on the loose, in his neighbourhood.
“Boring…” he scoffed, throwing a cushion across the room. TV wasn’t it.
Jay needed some distraction; just some way to unwind; stop thinking awhile.
Jay crouched by his Da’s collection of discs and he studied the titles, one by one.
“Boring… Boring… Boring…” Jay had heard them all, on day trips out with the folks, or when his Uncle had the men round to his Den, to watch The Vikings, or just play pool with a few six packs, till ‘stupid in the morning.’
So intent was Jay in his search for ‘good sounds,’ he didn’t hear the upstairs back window being forced open, nor did he hear the footsteps on the upper front landing, near his young cousin.
“Effin ‘A’” He muttered, as he worked his way through the second pile of discs.
“Boring…” he exclaimed with a scowl.
Downstairs, Jay had cranked Iron maiden up high. The track lasted half way through before he suddenly decided, ‘…that’s just too boring.”
Jay stood and looked at his watch.
“Two hours!” He exclaimed and kicked the couch.
Unsurprisingly, the couch didn’t kick back, even though a piece of wood had been sorely damaged.
Jay turned round slowly and looked at the four walls. He needed to chill.
He definitely needed to chill.
“Summat to listen to…” he expressed, “That’ll help.”
Sounds? ‘The problem persisted,’ he though, ‘no sounds.’
Then he remembered his cousin Jane’s Ipod.
“Now, did she take it with her?” He mused aloud, as upstairs, shadows played on the wall; a small child looked up at the mobile twirling gently in the night air and gurgled happily away to itself.
He’d try her room. Jay ran, not bothering with the lights, after all, he knew the houses layout well: and found Jane’s room quickly enough, unaware of the shadow entering young Bens room.
The Ipod was he thought it’d be, on the white bedside cabinet. He plugged the speakers into his ears, as he plodded quietly to the small child’s room, to check on him and hiked the sound up, only to find himself listening to Tim Finn singing, “Everyday you…” Okay… next.
Playing with the dial, to find his next album he neither saw nor heard the interloper approach the crib, French knife in hand, it sharp blade catching light from the street lamp outside.
Jay looked up.
Jay looked up as the green boiler-suit figure, wearing a hockey mask, leaning over his young cousin.
Then as if he was playing football, rather than watching a game, Jay took charge, running forward, with a shoulder charge, unconcerned with his own safely; very aware of the blade, perilously close to Benjamin’s throat.
He ran forward into the darkened room, at speed.
The impetus of his actions carried him hard, into the intruder’s gut, winding him, as he was carried backward, and through the window, breaking glass.
Jay fell to his knees, his windows on the sill.
He stood and breathing hard, looked through the broken glass and down to the street, where the figure lay, looking just like a puppet with its strings cut.
Jay sighed and turned back to the crib, to look down at his cousin, looking up to him, with wide-open arms.
He looked down, picked the child up, as his Mum had shown him how to do, grinning as he looked into the child’s twinkling blue eyes and happy looking face.
“Well, that was interesting,” he told Ben.
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