1. Talk to self. Answer
2. Louie the Fly glasses are cool
3. Read Bob the Bulider magazine and discuss intelligently
4. Carry an accordian on back and play it at regular intervals
5. Develop and overwhelming urge to eat vast quantities of okra
Jill Lenin looked down at the list caffeinated_monkey_01 had emailed her. With in a week of showing these five signs, he had said, she would be certifiably mad. The fact that his name was caffeinated_monkey_01 made her believe him. Jill considered herself to be crazy anyway. Problem was, no one else seemed to. While she wasn't immensley popular, having on average four friends, people just wouldn't leave her alone! It was annoying to say the least. But with the help of this list! Jill thought of all the wonderful advantages to being mad- she could be a loner, for one. The ignoration! No responsibilites! Being made way for in the lunch line! Honest to goodness freedom!
...except for that Jason Burke kid next door who had moved in at the start of the sweltering summer holidays. He considered her the Dalai Lamah, for goodness sake! Jill's mum thought it would be a good idea for her to take him everywhere seeing as he was new and anyway have you got something better to do, no, so do it or else! Still, he wasn't such a bad little dude, the only person who didn't care if she just sat down and started reading a book. And that's a true friend, someone who doesn't bug you for sitting in the beautifully airconditioned dairy products aisle on a hot day, pouring through Tolstoy. In fact, he had grabbed the nearest readable but nonconsumable object and joined her. Jill supposed he thought he was being friendly and nice. But hell, he was reading Women's weekly. There's insane, and then there's Jill, and then there's Jason. He was putting up with it though so she didn't have the heart to tell him he really shouldn't use the three litre icecream containers as a chair.
But school was starting soon, and Jill had to practice being crazy. With a sigh, she picked up her list
1. Talk to self. Answer
'That's easy,' Jill said, 'I've been doing that since I was twelve. Let's see... 'Hello, Jillian, how are you feeling today??''
Silence rushed into her empty bedroom. Jill had no idea how the hell she was feeling. Should she trick herself and just say 'fine'? Or admit that she didn't know. How embarassing, admitting to yourself that you don't know how you are feeling.
'Damn! Step one- postponed until further notice.'
Jill could hear the bang-bang of a type writer tapping out best-selling-novel-trash in the living room. She knew the picture exactly. Her mum would be sitting at the table, coffee in one hand, one finger typing with the other, Bette Louis' autobiography 'My life as a tv star' open on the table as inspiration. Mrs Lenin's dream was to become a famous author, ever since she saw Bette Louis promoting her new book on some chat show or other.
This gives you some idea as to the person Mrs Lenin was.
Jill also wanted to be a writer, but for slightly different reasons to her mother. There seemed, in Jill's way of thinking, nothing better than spending long hours in British pubs. Never mind that Jill lived in Perth: after her first break she would move to England. Besides, Jill was irresistably attracted to berets. Which is why she had to be a loner. As soon as she had changed the spelling of her last name from 'Lenin' to 'Lennon', she could live the drunk-poetic-author lifestyle. Well, the drunk-poetic-author-with-next-door-neighbour-tagging-on lifestyle, anyway.
'Going out, mum, love you!'
It's doubtful whether Mrs Lenin heard her over the din of the best-selling-novel-trash. Ah, well.
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