The Revenge of The Red Pirate
© 2009 J.W.Brown

The movie had been running about 10 minutes, a work typical of the time, with Burt Lancaster playing ‘The Red Pirate’, and already I was deeply involved, as any kid would be. Since Frank and I had sat down, the cinema had filled up – mostly with kids, and some family groups. I became aware of a slight pressure on my knee, and looking down saw the hand of the man sitting next to me. I pushed it off, and he made no attempt to stop me. A little later he spoke and I gave a sideways glance at him, but he was turned the other way – to a little girl sitting on his right. The woman sat next to her answered the man and I breathed a sigh of relief – they were a family.

It happened again. I know now I should have shouted at the top of my voice, but I had no idea what he was trying to do and yet I felt strangely embarrassed. I again pushed his hand away, and shuffled in my seat towards my friend. I tried to engage myself in the movie, but was too unsettled, and every time the man’s arm moved it was all I could do to stop jumping up from my seat.

I was now watching the space between him and me, rather than The Red Pirate and felt thoroughly miserable. The hand started it’s journey again, but this time Frank whispered in my ear: “Change places with me.” I said nothing but got up and we swapped seats. Despite feeling enormous relief, I was now worrying what was going to happen to my friend, who although older than me, was certainly no match for a grown man.

Slowly, my anxiety subsided, and I managed to re-engage myself in the movie. The current fight seemed to be reaching a finale – that inevitable moment in space and time when the ‘goody’ has fought his way to the ‘baddie’, and everything is to be won or lost in their final personal battle, mano a mano. Back and forth they moved across the deck of the ship, dabbing and thrusting with their cutlasses. Suddenly the ‘baddie’ faltered and The Red Pirate ran his cutlass straight through the baddies chest. There was a blood-curdling scream and the baddie fell to the deck dead, but strangely the scream went on and on, very loud, and never stopping.

Almost hypnotised, I turned and looked across Frank to the see the man’s face contorted in agony and that dreadful rattling scream issuing from his mouth. I looked down to the seat between him and Frank – the bone handle of a knife was protruding from the back of the man’s hand, where it had been driven right through and into the arm of the seat. Blood was spurting fiercely on each side of the hilt, and pouring in a stream onto the floor.

I glanced at Frank. He was sat perfectly still, calmly watching the man’s terrible agony, and then he slowly got up and said quietly to me: “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

At the box-office, Frank went up to the window and said to the ticket clerk: “Call the police and an ambulance, The Red Pirate has stabbed a pervert in the picture-hall.”
Then we left.

‘Pervert Palace’ – The Bensham Picture House, now long gone. (Thanks Trevor)

What should have been a reasonably straightforward keyhole repair to my left knee, turned into probably one of the most disturbing events of my life.
Later the following week, a visit to my GP to review the report he had been given, resulted in in him marking up my medical medical records ‘No More G.A.’s unless absolutely necessary’. That I had been conscious some of the time, hallucinating at others and my heart had stopped beating at one point, I knew already. But he had asked me to tell him what I remembered and he was both deeply shocked, but not a little curious at my feelings of ‘deja-vu’ and the hallucinations I’d had. He had shook his head when I related the ‘back-story’, saying ‘My God. That has stayed with you almost all your life?”
I had nodded and laughed. “It never went away.”
Finally he had asked how I felt. I assured him, I was fine.
So. most of this tale is true, as you will gather when reading it.

Download/Read in Browser: My Beeping Heart

That I have an innate love for most animals, I cannot deny. On the several occasions I have been obliged, both for health and well-being, to rid my house of mice, it has disturbed me intensely. I find most creatures to be beautiful, I can’t offer an explanation for this, maybe I’m simply odd.

Gone are the days when a visit to the ‘circus’ for us as kids to see animals that had been ‘trained’ to do tricks.
The showman, of course had always bowed, accepting that the applause was naturally for him.

There are, of course members of our species, who are seriously bad, even evil, and the title ‘animal’ is often included in lurid descriptions of their characters. This is nothing short of an insult to animals.

Rarely, very rarely, in my experience, are there folks who do resemble animals, in several respects. But not because they are in some way wicked, bad or dangerous, but in their lack of most of the negative aspects of human behaviour. Strikingly honest in demonstrating what they want, and in what they feel, in fact reflecting an honesty and innocence of a child, puppy dog, or kitten.

The girl in this tale exhibited all the attributes of a wild animal, plus astounding beauty, together with features that may not sound attractive, but confirmed my belief, that indeed she was ‘wild’.

Download/Read In Browser: Wild Thing
Warning. The story has explicit scenes and is not suitable for minors, nor for those folks who are easily offended.