the steve with no name (part 2)

"how does a 35 year old man get to that age with absolutely no recollection as to what his name might be?"

this was not an uncommon (nor seemingly unreasonable) question put to steve.

the answer was of course long and tedious, and steve had long since carved out the niche response of suddenly pretending to be asleep whenever posed with it - at least until the offending asker had got bored of looking at him with shut eyes or got confused and wandered off to make coffee or something.

the long and short of it all had tragically begun with his parents untimely death, which steve had sort of been a little bit responsible for.

as he had been home schooled until the age of 10 and had little-to-no contact with the outside world, the nature of him having a name that other people could call him had never really come up before.

'son', 'you' or 'boy' were the most common nouns garnered for gaining his attention, but despite their jobs writing romantic fiction for women's magazines, even steve found it hard to believe his parents would have had such little imagination as to call their only son something so nondescript as "you".

i kind of had this idea for the beginning of a book, but i don't really know where it's going... it only started off as a title really. i guess he goes on a quest to find out his name or something. anyway, here's the beginning bit.


the steve with no name

(part 1)

steve still couldn't figure out if he really did have a name or not - neither could the people who knew him. when people used to ask him why everyone referred to him as 'the steve with no name' he used to reply that it was because his name "definitely wasn't steve."

it was long ago since his parents had signed his birth certificate, and due to the fact he hadn't been present at the signing and his parents hadn't thought to pass this information on to him, he was now kind of stuck in the nameless wilderness he currently found himself in.

the people at work weren't much use either. they often used to remark upon the fact he "kind of looked like a steve", although when pushed for further information as to the exact visual qualities that someone of a steve-looking disposition would possess, the conversation tended to nearly always end with the exclamation that they were "too busy for this kind of shit", or that "something urgent in the next room" had just come up and it was now time for them to attend to it.

the "urgent" thing was nearly always coffee, and they tended to forget that steve could see them making it through the little window in his office, so after a while, he simply just stopped asking.

writers never get enough credit.

i mean, everyone knows what jesus's last name was ('h.christ', right?), but who the hell knows what mathew, mark, luke or john's last names were? i sure don't.

sure jesus was a good character, but they should have got a bit more credit for writing him.

i guess there were just fewer people back then. maybe they didn't need surnames - like madonna. there were probably only 4 lukes in existence (i miss those days), and they probably all had nick names to tell them apart on the rare occasion they were ever in the same room together (like 'fat luke', lukey '2-hands', 'lukey-lukey luke-luke', and 'luke who's talking?'... i'm guessing...)

hmmm... that last one is stupid.

i might have to research this a bit more.

HALF AN IDEA:

Protest outside a sex toy factory. The signs read 'Make Love, Not Dildos.'



eugh... god, i hate sundays.

if you're ever in the park on your own at 2am on a saturday and a wizard tries to beckon you over, always say 'no', because wizards are notorious sex pests.

how I deal with complaints.

okay, so i've had this little owl for a while now, and we've been through a lot together because i've carried him around in the notebook in my bag for almost a year now, but i've never really known what to do with him, so i thought i'd give him some colour because he's always been there for me, and his name is olly and he plays in a metal band on wednesdays.

i have just seen a missing animal poster with a picture of three separate cats on it.

to lose one cat is careless, but to lose three at the same time makes me think they all ran away together.