Garlic Boy

Garlic Boy.

My name is...You know what, fuck it, it doesn’t matter what my real name is because by the end of this your just going to be calling me garlic boy like everybody else.

So, I, Garlic Boy that is, was at home one fine night, just minding my own goddamn business, when a friend called and asked me if I would like to go and watch a musical show with him. He said a gaggle of our friends were going and that it should be a good night. I didn’t really want to go because I’m not much of a musical show kind of a person, I have this terrible affliction in which I begin to despise everyone around me; but, this being a Friday, and me having a little bit of weed (it helps with my affliction) I thought I’d go. There’s my first mistake right there, going against my inner voice. Never go against your inner voice,....unless your inner voice is telling to go and skin your neighbours cat or something like that, in which case you should probably just try to silence that voice quickly as possible and check your self into a clinic of some kind.

Anyway, we get to the show, and I. am. stoogled! You know, I’m zinging stoned, I’m smirking at some people, out right laughing others and I’m sure it’s going to be a decent night because we all know music sounds better when your stoogled. Thing is, this show is taking place in a hip cafe, so it’s that kind of vibe you know, the vibe of pretentious, earnest, sappy, cooler than thou.....live and let live though, right?

First band is bad, their songs start ruining my buzz, I try joking with my friend but he just pulls this face as if to say-

“Inappropriate.”

Inappropriate! I ask you, is it appropriate for me to sit there and have my already contaminated soul dragged through the mire by some half wit ponce, who thinks he’s going to be a rock star. A rock star for crying out loud; in this day and age.

Second band is just as monotonous.....I’ll go as far as to say moribund, I don’t get much chance to use that word accurately, so I will. The second act was moribund!

They were called ‘Dry Devil’ I should of left as soon as I heard that, but I didn’t, I stayed. Being that my stoogle zing was wearing off fast, I decided I would try and enjoy it a little by zoning out, I started staring at this hanging lampshade in the corner of the room; It looked like a huge clove of garlic suspended from the ceiling on a piece of string. This preoccupied me enough to renege on my earlier consideration of going for a shit to make the time pass. I burst out laughing, couldn’t help it.

The more I thought the lampshade, the funnier it became, Imagine a clove of garlic that big, It was as big as a human head. and then I started thinking of a human with a clove of garlic for a head. I just left! I pretended to look at my phone and made out like I had to leave, nobody gave a shit. Good.

I laughed all the way home about this Garlic head, with eyes and a nose and all that. I was still quite stoogled at this point, now I come to think of it.

As I got into my apartment building I could here my neighbour singing his drunkard songs, he was this Puerto Rican guy who stayed quiet during the week and then just got shit faced at the weekend. It was the most out of key, pitiful lament I had ever heard; not too dissimilar to ‘dry devils’ music now I think about it, just more insane. I would never of left that spectacle early; my drunken neighbour from Puerto Rico, on stage at the cafe in his pants and vest - no musical accompaniment - just him singing the same drunken chorus over and over again.

I got into my apartment and grabbed my weed stash, pulled out my pipe and blazed up. Stooglesville.

The dreary music had made me quite hungry so I headed to the kitchen and pulled a pizza from the fridge. Pizza, good old pizza, never let me down, 24 years old and pizza has never let me down. It’s made me sick a couple of times, sure, but that was my fault, not the pizzas, I over did it on the portions, got out of my element, tried to play the slice at it’s own game and came a cropper. I accept full responsibility, Fact is, when the pizza did make me sick like that, it just made me respect it more. I pace around my kitchen for a while wishing I had a better oven, and then I notice, on my kitchen windowsill: a full clove of garlic. I suspect my mum must have put it there when I moved in, because there is no way I ever bought a clove of garlic.

I stared at it, mesmerized by it, just imagining that it was my head. My body would have to be about the size of a banana, such a cool size to be, not even a foot tall, just zooming around the place, wouldn’t have to work. I’m pretty sure that I’d get some substantial disability pay if I was under a foot tall and my head was a garlic clove, I’d be a national treasure. If money was tight I could always work for the garlic companies as a mascot or just join a traveling freak show, I just kept imagining, the life of the garlic boy was starting to seem like the life for me.

I’m not quite sure how long I was daydreaming, but, when I finally snapped out of it and went to take my pizza from the oven, that’s when I realized I was fucked. My peripheral vision was narrow and jagged and my head felt heavy. In front of me was a six foot beer can; panic began to set in, I looked around for the ashtray to find my joint but I wasn’t in my kitchen anymore, I had been transported to a completely different world. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them again the beer can would be gone and I would be back in my kitchen. What a dumb hope that turned out to be. Why the fuck couldn’t I see properly? I walked over to the beer can to try and get a look at myself...it was a Grolsch, my brand. I caught a glimpse of my curved reflection in the bottom of the can, I could see my jeans and t-shirt, but there was a weird grey shape obscuring my head, I moved in closer and my heart sank, I saw myself, part of myself that is, it was my face in a garlic clove. I had turned into garlic boy. I looked around, panic was gone, there’s a surprising lack of panic once you realize you’ve got a clove of garlic for a head. I think that garlic must be a very accepting vegetable. As I looked around through calm eyes I realized where I was, I hadn’t been transported to the land of the Garlic people or any such ridiculous thing; nope, I was still in my kitchen, standing on my kitchen work top, ‘bout a foot tall.

This was great. Exactly what I wanted, I had long since hated being a normal human, no offence, but it was just bothersome for me, and now here I was, as far as I knew: the only being on earth with a garlic head and a foot long body. I had to tell my friends, had to inform the press, let the world know; I would probably be in the middle east by tomorrow night ending the squabbles between the Palestinians and the zionists; reunify korea after that, then Ireland, I mean how could anything continue as before with garlic boy now in existence?...it simply couldn’t.

I hatched a plan to make my way to my computer and alert the populace of this historical event, I thought I’d start with my friend Marlo, who is a bit of a twat, but he’s never off facebook, so I knew I could get in contact with him.

Before I made my way into the computer room, I decided to run a few tests, see how my new body handled, how strong I was. The beer can was as big as me and I knew it was still half full, so I gave it push and it slid easily across the work surface, so easily that it fell off the counter and onto the floor spilling the beer onto my kitchen tiles. Strength was definitely good, now for my agility. I jumped the gap between the work surface and the cooker easily, neatly side stepping the element, I jumped a top of the kettle and stood up right, my head was a little heavy but nothing I couldn’t get used to. My balance seemed even better than before as I leant in towards the oven dials and turned it back down to zero; didn’t want to set myself on fire on day one now did I.

I crossed the gap again and made my way to the sink, my new bath tub I thought, as I sneaked round the back of the taps and out onto the edge of my kitchen work surface. With my right hand on the corner of my spice rack, I held myself up whilst swinging my left hand out as far as I could, trying to grab at the wire from my internet router, I missed. It was a four foot drop -at least a leg breaker, if not paralysis - from where I was standing so I had to be somewhat careful, but I have to admit, since my head turned into a clove of garlic I had become quite the cocksure motherfucker!

I tried again, this time throwing myself fully into it, as my left hand grabbed the wire I let go of the spice rack and jumped for the cable. Made it! I abseiled down with ease and made my way to the kitchen floor. It’s hard to explain how good I was feeling at this point, it was like I had won the formula 1 drivers title or something, and when that happens, a lot of champagne gets drunk.....I didn’t have champagne, but I did have a tasty looking puddle of grolsch on the floor. I ran over and lapped it up, I was running on pure exhilaration at this point.

As soon as I saw it, my mood changed, it looked horrific from where I was standing now,  gave me a whole new perspective on things. It was a mouse trap, and it looked like a medieval torture device. I began to fear the worst: what if I encountered a mouse?  I calmed myself, this wasn’t my destiny I thought, this wasn’t some stupid Rick Moranis film about shrunken kids, I was garlic boy. That’s when I heard it scratching along the walls, it must have smelled the garlic, and it was coming fast. Jesus, it looked ugly! I didn’t care, if this is how I was going out, I was going out fighting. I smoke a lot of weed, ergo, I’ve watched a lot of nature documentaries. As the ugly mouse made it’s way towards me I decided I was just going establish my territory. I shouted.

“Fuck off, mouse!”

The mouse didn’t listen, just kept on coming at me, slow and menacingly. I shouted louder.

“Step the fuck back mouse or I will end you!”

I noticed hesitance in his approach so I charged at him screaming.

“COME ON THEN! YOU WANNA GO YOU UGLY PIECE OF SHIT, I’LL KILL YOU!”

The mouse turned and bolted for the hole in the wall and I couldn’t but marvel at its pace, what an animal I thought, mutual respect had been forged between man and beast, beast and garlic boy.

Without haste I headed for the computer room, a mouse was one thing, anything larger and I was done for. I had to get word out to my people as soon as possible, start changing this weary old world for the better.

I scaled the CD rack with aplomb before jumping valiantly onto my desk, as I arrived at the keyboard  I pushed the space bar and woke up the screen. Later, I noted to myself how ironic it was that I had more trouble with the computers mouse than I did the real life behemoth in the kitchen. After half an hour of pushing and jumping, deleting and space bars, I finally made my way onto facebook, and marlo, the predictable little shit that he was, was sitting there with his chat on.

With little more than some vague threats and promises I had persuaded marlo to make his way -instantly- over to my apartment. I sat there day dreaming of the new life that lay ahead of me, things were going to be very different from this day forth. I was perfectly placed to lead my former race out of its abject confusion and usher in a new era of compassion and understanding. I, garlic boy, was going to do what no other being had done, and unite the human race. Before I did that though, I decided to take a power nap on my computer desk.

Buzz. Buzz.

Marlo! He was here, pressing the buzzer too much as well, the buffoon!

I jumped out of my slumber but instantly felt it, my body was heavy, my vision panoramic, I stood tall, back to my usual size.

“NO!!!!!!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Marlo asked as he walked through the door.

“How did you get in?” I asked, still in a state of shock.

“That drunken guy from downstairs let me in.”

Out of sheer desperation I sat and poured my soul out to Marlo, told him of my recent mutation and reformation. I couldn’t believe what had transpired, what torture to snatch it away so quickly like that. Of course, a moron with such acute scope would never perceive the meaning of what I told him. He just laughed in my face.

Marlo laughed in my face for a long time, everyone laughed in my face, pointed and laughed at ‘garlic boy’ the kid who got so stoned he thought his head had turned into a clove of garlic. The ridicule being as strong as it was, I began to doubt it all myself. After a while, I just prayed for a return to normalcy; that was until I received a visit. During one of my sleepless nights I tossed and turned as usual when I saw a small dark figure at the bottom of the bed. I crawled close to it and entered into it’s world, it was my friend the mouse, he was communicating to me through squeaks. Squeak after squeak I was reminded of the reality of my time as garlic boy; I couldn’t necessarily understand the squeaking language, but I got the gist of it, he wanted to let me know, I was Garlic boy!