Gather round gather round, it's storytime.

Now - enough of hebephilian mantras - here's a short story I wrote last week. I very much hope you like it.




****ATOMIC DOM****

“Ladies and gents, the time has come. The earth is finally ready for us. We have arrived.” A voice without a face boomed.

Five pairs of eyes rolled in perfect sync. Two brown, three blue. All sharing the same degree of disinterest as their respective oculus’ all headed upwards.

“Behold…a treat for the ears, the eyes, and other places if you’re lucky, ladies!”

“Oh Jesus.” muttered one of the spectators, who happened to be called Melissa. And a lady - much to her dismay at this dreaded point in time.

“Ladies and gentlemen without further ado…”

Five heads vaguely tilted in the direction of a hastily assembled silver curtain hooked at about seven disproportionate angles at the back of a very cramped basement. Apparently, the five heads were about to be dazzled.

“The latest shock-rock sensation…”

“Here it comes…”

The curtains were whipped aside. Or at least it intended to be whipped aside. Twenty curtain hooks instantly began cavorting into the air, rebounding off all angles possible. The curtain meanwhile floated gracefully downwards for the big reveal. The big reveal - it turned out was the audience’s two other best friends - Dominic and Jack. But not just Dominic and Jack. Dominic and Jack adorned in the entire contents of their respective fathers’ 1970’s ‘found at the back of the wardrobe’ fashion repertoire. Denim that looked as if it had been fused onto their bodies, silk shirts emblazoned with the sort of patterns only suitable to the naked eye when published in Magic Eye picture books. Tapering blocks of hair congealed in 79p Wonder-Wax - and all heading in different directions (presumably to escape their owners’ scalps out of sheer shame) And the definitive piece of work that cemented the whole, staggering look together. In untidily ripped sheets of tin foil, emblazoned across Dominic Sr’s basement wall - the name that would become emblazoned across the brains of the 5 witnesses for days to come.

“Please welcome to planet earth - our new band.”

“Atomic Dom.” The two friends simultaneously broke into awkward masculine flexes.

Stunned silence could have been the best of what Dominic and Jack had hoped for that Saturday morning. And would perhaps been preferred instead of the outcome they instead received. This was of course, earth shuddering torrents of laughter.

“You look like you’ve both been hit by the ‘atomic dom!’ one of the blue eyed eye rollers - this one called Tom - quipped, choking on his unrelenting sniggers.
“I think you’ve genuinely given the entirety of the band Culture Club brain haemorrhages!” Melissa squealed.

Dominic and Jack’s virile poses instantly wilted. All flexed muscles abandoned stations, and suddenly the two rock stars found themselves looking suspiciously like two 17 year old teenagers in their parents’ rejected clothing. And this simply would not do. The pair took to their instruments - Jack clutching his 1981 branded Tokei Flying Vee, and Dominic’s fingers wedged firmly into the drum sticks of his ’bought off Ebay recently and it didn’t come with a name’ drum kit.
Jack approached the microphone with an unabashed grin crawling across his lips.
“We will ignore your cruel jibes - as you have obviously never been to a rock concert before because as we all know you prefer to stay indoors and lick the insides of crisp packets whilst watching celebrity reality television until you fall into a stupor induced by how desperately dull you all find yourselves.”
“But don’t worry, we forgive you.” Dominic followed on. A triumph.

A triumph suddenly thwarted they realised as instantly - five middle fingers punctured the air with their mutual animosity.

“We assumed you would respond this way. Don’t worry it is a natural reaction - cured by outdoor air, and the having of social lives we hear.” Dominic replied smiling.
“Of course we wouldn’t know about that.” Jack added.
“Now. People of ‘My dad’s basement’ - are you ready to rock?”

“People who use the word ‘rock’ as a verb are self-confirmed wankers.” announced the audience member by the name of Rebecca - who was currently being attacked by the thickness of her own hair.

“Well you are about to be doing so - so now whos’ the…idiot?” Jack retaliated, apparently picking out words from his self compiled mantra of desolate bafoonery. He chose to do this because he had dreamt about kissing Rebecca all last night - much to his dismay when he woke up to discover once again that dreams don’t tend to reflect what is happening in reality.

“Anyway this is a song we wrote a few weeks ago - and it’s all about growing up and realising what we want from li-”
“Get on with it!” Five voices bellowed back at him - perfectly intertwined - it couldn’t’ have gone better if they had rehearsed their abuse.
Ironically as it turned out, the audience was a lot more well rehearsed than Atomic Dom were. Although musically, the band rarely churned out a wrong note, there was something deeply wrong that started to become apparent. A prominent feeling of wrongness that as it turned out - was gradually transfiguring itself into Atomic Dom’s song lyrics. The band launched into their sensitively written ballad ‘Baby, I fancy your sister’. Twenty seconds later, the dream was over.

“Stop.”
“Yes please stop.”
The pounding drums and soaring guitar chords were instantly drowned out by loud distortion.
“FOR GOD’S SAKE, STOP!”
Obligingly, they did. As did the world. Atomic Dom certainly had perfected the accuracy that was their band name.
.
“Was it supposed to be ironic - please tell me it was supposed to be ironically bad.” Blue eyed Tom pleaded shaking his head.
“I liked it!” a chirpy voice uttered by the third as yet unspoken female audience member. Her name was also unknown, as she had been brought by the girls. She smelt new.
“Really?”
“Apart from the music and lyrics of course.”
“Ah.” Jack and Dom replied with equal monotony and disappointment. If only their harmonies had been so well accomplished in their performance, they thought to themselves.
“Anyway thanks for letting us have the exclusive first showing” Melissa smirked, killing Jack a little as he gazed at her. The others also began to rise to their feet.
“We do have a few extra songs..” Jack murmured - knowing full well that raising the volume in his voice right now was about as pointless as doing so on their records.
“You can turn the volume down on life, but it’ll still be happening!” Jack howled after them, as one by one Atomic Dom’s audience began to descend into the big wide world where they did not exist. Or indeed belonged.
As their figures became silhouettes, gradually minimizing into shadows of strangers - Dominic sidled over to Jack and put a silken-clad arm around his equally very silken-clad shoulder.
“Why are our friends tossers, Dom?” Jack inquired, slumping against him.
“Come on, if they started a band we’d be throwing very large blunt objects at them and you know it. This is what friends do. They pretend to hate each other until something very serious happens. And then they pretend to like each other for a while.”
“True, true.” Jack sighed, fully exasperated and ready to melt down a drain somewhere utterly insignificant.
Atomic Dom looked down at themselves, took in the few moments of absurdity that awaited them - and burst into paralytic fits of laughter.
“Maybe we were wrong to go down the nostalgia route…” Dominic concluded.
“You know there was a genuine moment in my life where I looked into the mirror, and thought these outfits looked good. I mean, genuinely attractive in a sort of - a woman would definitely be sexually attracted to me due to my wearing of these clothes - sense.”
“I can only assume we were drinking heavily at the time.”
“That’s probably it.”

Saturday morning transcended into Saturday afternoon - and the artists formally known as Atomic Dom had returned to their living working exterior’s as Dominic and Jack. Back into jeans with air in them, and t-shirts with less than four colours woven into the fabric. It was a humdrum life for the best friends.
So bored, and humdrum they indeed were that Dominic forced himself to have a semi-epiphany.
“Hey - I know what’ll cheer us up.”
“It better be good.”

So good as it turned out to be, the pair found themselves outside the basement for the first time in two days.
“The outdoors eh? Profound.” Jack grunted, gazing up at the flawless blue skies and the sun furiously beaming at them, as if trying to impress them.
“I’m unimpressed.” Jack murmured.
“Alright, here’s the plan.”
“Blimey, there’s a plan?”

Dominic Ainsworth had always been the driving force in the friendship with him and Jack. He had motives. He had goals, and dreams and better hair. He dreamed of becoming about five professions that somehow all interlaced into some giant hybrid super-profession that only he, Dominic Ainsworth was capable of doing. Singer, writer, actor, comedian and artist. His brain swerved so strongly to the left by the weight of all these ambitions it was a wonder Dominic didn’t fall down more.

“Yes, a plan. And I’m the man with it.”
“The plan, you mean?”
“Yes, obviously.”
Whereas Jack Parkinson was a little confused as to what he wanted. He was also short and a little rotund, and was liable to being patted on the head by his peers often as a result much to his annoyance- presumably giving reason to why his hair looked like a badly asserted mahogany wig. Unbeknown to most however - were Jack’s brilliant mathematics skills. He could count a number of objects from a persons’ palm in up to seconds, and had an extraordinary ability to fix the unfixable - which was handy, as he only lived with his father who had become an empty husk of a man since his mother had cheated and left him in the just passing year. Jack decided to leave his dad to mend his heart. He would sort out the dishwasher.

“Okay - how much money have you got on you?”
Jack caressed the crevices of his pocket and pushed out a number of coins and other fantastical shapes and objects.
“Four pounds, twenty six pence. Half a ginger bread man, and a receipt kindly reminding me I used to have a hell of a lot more money. Well - at least that‘s lunch sorted” Jack weakly smiled.
Dominic beamed.
“Well, a lot better off than me. I have a 2 pound coin, and about 84 pence in coppers.”
“Alright, well you win. We can probably get a couple of cans of White Ace-” Jack was interrupted by an uncharacteristic shove from Dominic.
“What are you saying? We’re not drinking now! Maybe in a couple of hours, but not now. I have a challenge.”
It was Jacks’ turn to roll his eyes.
“Jack, you were right - our friends are absolute bastards.” Dominic admitted, finally not joking - and looking a little put out.
“Mate they were just messing around-”
“With each other. They never include us in their ‘who’s got the sharpest tongue’ competition, do they?” A light breeze flicked through his blonde curls to make him look slightly important and a little magnificent.
“No, but that’s just how it is.” Jack reasoned, not really believing it though.
“It’s not just that.” Dominic muttered, looking down. Followed by shuffled feet, and more looking away.
“What?”
“Jack - I know your dad’s going through a hard time but he’s been treating you disgracefully over the past few months.”
“Oh come on Dom - that’s well out of order! He’s doing the best he can!” Jack began to fume on the inside, how dare Dom have the nerve.
“I didn’t want to say anything about this Jack, but come on. When was the last time the fridge wasn’t empty? When was the last time he had a job? How many jobs down at the local garage have you had to barter for just so you can maintain that fabulous gut of yours?”
“Where the hell has all this come from?” Jack wanted to pummel Dominic’s head into the pavement. “Jesus Dom, he’s having a rough time of it, I think I’m old enough to sort stuff out for myself, he’s had his heart broken and you’re having a massive go at him! What the hell is the point in bringing any of this up now?”
“We need to get away.” Dominic merely uttered. Jack stared at Dominic incredulously. Dominic was spontaneous, certified. Jack would humour him for now if it would shut him up about his dad. Jack didn’t like talking about his dad.
“Alright where do you want to go?”
“Well.” Dominic finally grinned again. Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
“We have about eight quid altogether right?”
“Seven pounds, ten actually.” Jack interjected.
“Nonetheless!” Dominic said, returning the optimism back in his personality that had momentarily deserted him.
“Let’s see how far away from this dump we can get with seven pounds and ten pence.”
“Ah, I see. The challenge!”
“Exactly! I want to get to that nice beach off the road where my aunt used to live.”
“Dom that’s like a two hour drive.”
“Aha! There in lies the challenge!” Dominic put on his faux deep comedy voice for effect.
“On seven pounds and ten pence?”
“And our wits.”
“Oh, them.”

As these final words were spoken, Jack turned away to see a rickety blue bus rocketing in their direction. Dominic forced his wrist around Jack’s arm and flung it outwards. The bus screeched to a halt.
“Atomic Dom’s world tour starts here.” Dominic grinned. Jack couldn’t help but smirk back.
“Great. Now duck down.” And as quick as a flash, Jack found himself pummelled to the floor of the bus himself. The bus drivers’ eyes skirted around for a moment or two trying to assess why the two young teenagers had just miraculously rehabilitated into one.
“One single please.” Dominic casually requested, flicking his two pound coin into the bus drivers’ general direction. The bus driver gaped.
“Alright smart-ass, where’s the other one of you?” The few passengers on the bus began to gaze at this cunning piece of trickery. Luckily for Atomic Dom, they remained gratifyingly tongue-tied, albeit a few bursts of snigger escaping through air holes of closed fingers clasped around quivering mouths.
“Sorry, sir - it’s just me.” Dominic asserted, as Jack began to crawl his way up the aisle.
“Don’t think I’m stupid, son, where’s your mate?”
It was this moment - the little bus-drivers’ door swung open.
He swung his bearded, slightly unkempt head around the bus in search of the chubby misfit he was certain was trying to mess him around. But alas, he found himself mistaken. All eyes fixed upon him - all eight pairs of the innocent oculus, with nothing to hide. Apart from one lady, who had a teenage boy hidden under her long green, bohemian skirt.
“Never mind.” The bus driver grunted, scooping up the money like a fly on a frog’s tongue.
“Much obliged, madam!” Jack whispered, kissing the rose haired bohemian on the cheek before scooting to the back of the bus. She giggled. Jack hadn’t made a girl giggle since last night in his subconscious. Seven grins met with Atomic Dom. Now why couldn’t these folks be their fans instead?

The bus fled the scene of an unknown crime (That happened now to be a passenger on that very bus), and breezed down village streets and countryside. Speeding down rocky roads as rows of terrace, shot past like a film reel unravelling. Schools and hospitals were nought but blurs to them, terracotta bricky blurs, and the children could run as fast as the wind would carry them - but the bus made everyone look like a smear on a blank canvas. Gone, rushed and twenty colours packed into one. In one second, their lives mattered to those who glimpsed. And then gone. Hurtling down city streets, wistfully. Taking in a thousand peoples lives in milliseconds. Some people look at peoples’ lives under microscopes. Dom and Jack chose a bus window. Finally - their destination had reached it’s last stop. The bus had emptied. Dom and Jack sauntered down the aisle, amused as their defining moment was about to reach them.
“See you then.” Jack cheerily called out. The bus driver’s face crumpled and contorted with rage, as Dominic and Jack sped off into the city lights laughing merrily.

Six pounds and 42 pence later, they were on a beach somewhere not very significant.
“Maybe we should write some new songs?” Dominic asked, as their bare feet dug themselves into the grainy texture of the sand.
Jack snickered.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dominic agreed, smiling.
The pair took in the ocean for a while. Jack was secretly thinking about his dad tearing up unpaid phone bills. And Dominic was secretly thinking about how he had kissed Rebecca last night, and still for some reason having a shuddering feeling Jack would hate him if he told him. But maybe…
“Hey Jack?”
“Yes, Dom?”
“How are we going to get home?”