Harry Bath - A Walking & Talking Disaster (Chapters 1-19)

DOGGYSTYLE

Hi, you've reached the blog of Harry Bath. An 18 year old borderline mentalist, who swears more than Scarface, drinks more than Gazza, and wanks more than anyone.

Right now in our story, it's the back end of October 2013, and whilst everyone else was out partying or getting laid, I was busy busting my balls at work, all for the sake of a girl who'd recently broken up with me due to family problems.

And when I say family problems, I mean she's a mother.

Meanwhile, work had asked me to work a shift on the Halloween 20% off day, meaning I was asked to wear a costume to work. You know, the usual. A scream mask, a ghost costume, that sort of thing. But as I am a principled guy, I decided to not wear a costume, as Halloween is idiotic, childish, and makes literally no fucking sense.

I know! Let's dress up, knock on people's doors, disturb their evening, and demand confectionery from unsuspecting Jehovah's Witnesses and frail old people who just want to be left without having holidays forced upon them or mountains of silly string strewn across their hallway.

So I went to work without a costume, and instead, I just wore my hair down. My logic was that if it's ok to walk around dressed as a slutty zombie, surely me and my headband would be no trouble whatsoever.

Of course, seen as it was Paul the Prick I was dealing with, I had to tie it up. Even though Wednesday Adams was trotting about in a miniskirt on the very next aisle.

What was even worse, was as a forfeit, I was then required to stand outside in a giant dog costume for the rest of the day handing out flyers to customers, whilst also attempting to "entertain" and "lure" them into the shop.

Paul stressed that I should be "playful, fun and energetic", leading to the obvious question:

"How the fucking hell am I supposed to do that?"

His response was that I should "just act like a dog".

So I did just that, and proceeded to wag my tail, crawl on all fours, and cock my leg up against the nearby bollards. The punters loved it, but unfortunately Betty didn't.

I'm lucky another member of staff brought me inside before I got really carried away and humped some unsuspecting woman's leg or something. Yep, the only doggystyle I'd be doing that day was in the form of a giant dog costume.

Paul wasn't too pleased, but luckily for me, the greedy bearded cunt was too preoccupied with how much we'd taken in that day, and he sort of saw the funny side.

A few days after the shift that was literally from hell, me and Sofia had arranged to meet up and talk things over. We met at 'our spot', and started to discuss how the hell things had gotten so fucked up. She explained the story of how she got pregnant, although I did stress that I didn't want the horrific details.

I now knew pretty much everything about Sofia's child, who I won't name for obvious reasons, and most importantly a father. A father, who she apparently still loved.

Oh. Fucking great. Things were going just brilliantly. I had almost just convinced myself that I could deal with Sofia being a mother. But now the choice had being taken away from me, thanks to a lanky, curly haired motherfucker, who can't splurge his load where he's supposed to.

She then told me that I was a means to escape, and that it was working until I "went behind her back and told everyone". Which isn't what I did, but I was too exhausted listening to it all to muster up my defence.

After a lengthy conversation, she still wouldn't go back out with me, although she said she wasn't mad anymore.

I tried to absorb what had been said, and just put it to the back of my mind for the time being. I succeeded, and we even managed to have a bit of laugh in the end.

Back at school however, things were going much better for everyone else. As I mentioned, everyone else was busy looking ahead to a weekends partying at Stephen's house who was holding, you guessed it, a Halloween party.

It's funny to think that back then I was so disappointed and upset to miss out on the first few parties, when looking back now, I know exactly what I wasn't missing.

I'd never been to a party before sixth form, but once I'd been invited to my first a few months later, I was then a regular on most guest lists. I've since been to 14 parties, all of which have had drama and chaos interwoven into them. We'll get to each individual party later, but at this specific moment in time, I was just desperate to develop some sort of social standing.

I needed to do something. And it was on the bus home a few days before the party that I had my epiphany.

I was happily minding my own business at the back of the bus with my hair tied back and headphones put to full use, when suddenly I felt a penetrating light hit my eyelids.

It appeared that a group of chavs had managed to get their hands on laser pens. Of course, the only use they had for it was to pick on innocent, funny looking sixth formers who just wanted to enjoy their music and get home without having their corneas burnt out.

As you can guess, my reaction was a classic example of just what a blend of bravery and naivety can help you achieve.

I was furiously pissed off to the max, but decided that I would let it go, due to my new 'keep your mouth shut as much as possible' attitude. And after my common room heroics a few weeks earlier, the last thing I needed was another failed attempt at justice tied to my name.

However, after 5 minutes of them doing it I was ready to pop. I'd asked them to stop politely, turned away, closed my eyes, changed seats, you name it, I did it. Eventually I took off my headphones, stood up straight and shouted as loud as I could:

"If you don't fuck off with that laser pen you ginger little cunt, I'm going to shove it so far up your arse, you'll look like a lighthouse. Now fuck off"

They were all stunned for a moment. And only then did I realise how many of them there were. I like to think I can handle myself, but let's be real. No amount of strength or anger was gonna fend off a dozen angry chavs armed with laser pens.

To my amazement however, a few other people on the bus stuck up for me. One guy even came and sat next to me before telling the little twats that if they tried anything else he would "personally deal with them".

It was at this point I really considered taking up hitch-hiking. Mainly because it's safer, cheaper and better company.

I arrived home and decided that something had to be done to change things. I needed to avoid being targeted by pre-teens. I needed to get Paul off my back. And most importantly, I needed to win Sofia back for good.

So as I stared at myself in the mirror that night wondering how fucked up all my friends were getting right at that moment, it suddenly occurred to me.

I need a fucking haircut...

Thanks,

Harry.