Stalker Boy und ze Austrian Ghost (partial pearoast with italic spookiness)
After my parents were somehow talked into taking Stalker Boy on our summer weekend trip to Paris between AS and A-levels, during which time he called me a "fucking stupid woman" constantly when my parents were out of earshot and boasting constantly about how independent he was, how he was going to get a job in France the following summer and use it as an opportunity to get work experience (and bumsex with Frenchmen) and would never need to rely on his parents again. Of course, he was sweetness and light when my parents were around, though: "Ooh, Mummy and Daddy Maladicta, tell me all about Wales, I want to learn Welsh..." and generally behaved like the irritating prick he was and I am sure still is, I was invited to join him and his family (minus his dad, so his mum and younger brother) for a week in the Austrian lake district, about half an hour from Salzburg. This delighted Stalker Boy as he is obsessed with The Sound of Music. A week followed of him wanting to go to the Mirabell Gardens in Salzburg as often as possible to re-enact scenes from the film and have his photo taken anywhere Julie Andrews might have been.

It would have been pleasant enough if he wasn't there; the sad thing is that the rest of his family are absolutely lovely and have no idea that they've spawned the devil and the devil wears "evil pants". As well as the endless "do re mi"-ing, we went to the mountains and the lake was beautiful, the reservoir for Salzburg, at that (this did not stop Stalker Boy pissing in it, so apologies for anyone living in Salzburg in the summer of 2003, you have inadvertently engaged in watersports with Stalker Boy). It even snowed when we went to the Eagle's Nest for the day.

I digress. Stalker Boy has three obsessions: The Sound of Music, the Titanic, and ghosts (he also believes listening to rock music means you go to hell). Being exceptionally fond of telling ghost stories and relating the plot of his favourite horror films (the opening of Ghost Ship, as described by Stalker Boy, nearly made me vomit off the balcony in Spain a year later), it comes as no surprise to learn that he feels he "attracts" ghosts. He also had a "repressed memory" of being on the Titanic in a former life which was only recalled when the film was released in 1997.

Anyway. On the penultimate morning of our trip, before the early morning flight home, Stalker Boy comes down to his usual breakfast of as many rolls coated in Nutella and cheese (not together, not even he is that disgusting, and this is a boy who will happily remove chewing gum from his mouth and stick it to his forehead while he's talking to you and who used to chew his school tie) as was possible for him to eat. Except he is white as a sheet and looking tired. I think even I felt slightly sorry for him, in spite of his having commandeered my TV the previous night to investigate the joys of Austrian porn (ladies for once).

[I will mimic the spoken style of Stalker Boy as far as is humanly possible, and you should imagine that he's holding his hands in front of him, with his fingers clutching those on the other hand, a gesture he often adopts. It will also make him easier to identify and cunt in the fuck if you ever meet him.]

"Oooooh, dear, you won't believe what happened last night!"
"What was it?"
"Well. Is what happened is, I gave up trying to watch the porn about 12.00 last night, because my channel is fuzzed out, and turned out the lights to get into bed. About ten minutes later I rolled over and saw there was a big white dressing gown hanging on the back of the door. I rolled over again and didn't think any more of it until then I realised I didn't bring a dressing gown with me and the hotel doesn't supply them. And there's no coathook on the back of the door. IT MUST HAVE BEEN A GHOST!!"

By this point Stalker Boy is grinning delightedly at having seen a ghost, and enjoying the attention he's receiving from us. It is then decided by nightfall that, in light of the phantom situation, we should all push our mattresses into the room Stalker Boy's mum and his brother - aged about 13 at the time - are sharing, and sleep in there because of safety in numbers. Remember what I said about his independence? I'll never take that seriously again: the big fat wuss was scared and wanted his mummy after all. A bit like what happened when he went to uni.

We set two alarm clocks, two phone alarms, and settled down to sleep. None of them went off and we barely made it to the pickup point to get to the airport. Whereupon we were stranded for six hours as something fell off the plane.
( Maladicta, Thu 3 Jul 2008, 16:38, Reply)