THE JAVELIN

Cedric hated waking up. He hated the how the cocky sun elbowed the curtains. He hated the stink of his own pissy pit.

But most of all he hated the thought of seeing his mum's bastard boyfriend in the bathroom when he went for a shit.

Fuck! He was stood there pissing. His huge bare hairy shoulders nearly blocked out all the daylight from the window. He pissed like a horse and stunk. He looked like a fuckin' wild boar.

"Get to school you fat fucker!" he shouted before kicking Cedric up the arse. He'd have to crap at school, which he hated doing.

"You best nick us some fuckin bog roll or summat from that shite school or else you're fuckin done for. You listenin' you chubby fuck!"

He booted Cedric down the top three stairs before the boy stabalised and trudged the rest of the steps. He slowly squeezed his torn shoes on and headed out of the back door. No breakfast. No nothin'. At least he'd eat at school. Free school meals. But he would have to suffer first. Like every day.

Cedric dragged his feet all the way. He stared into the penny sweet shop window at all the glass jars of poor bens and fruit salads. He didn't even have a fuckin single penny to get one sweet he thought and sighed. 

As he turned the corner onto Pedders he bumped heavily into a gang of older lads coming the other way heading for the shop.

"Watch were yer goin' you fat bastard!"

"Er, sorry!"

"You fuckin' what? You will be fuckin' sorry!" said the front boy.

"Empty yer pockets you fat cunt!" commanded another.

"I've not got any money. Look!"

His pockets hung loose and empty. Fluff and grime fluttered to the pavement.

"You fuckin' pauper!"

"I wanted to buy some sweets"

"You what! You want summat sweet? I'll give you summat fuckin' sweet! Hold him lads!"

Cedric closed his eyes as he was held tight. He knew what was coming. It had happened before.

The leader of the gang made a loud hawking sound and gathered a throat full of thick phlegm. He grabbed Cedric's face and pinned his mouth wide open. He spat his load straight into it. Cedric's eyes shot open wide.

The gang strolled off laughing loudly and Cedric stood there crying. He gipped and spat out what he could of the boy's grolly but some had already slid down his throat.

He swallowed and grimaced at the thought of what he'd just eaten.

"Ugh!"

Cedric felt like he was the shit he wanted to do. There was no difference. He was a nothing. Someone to spit into. He sobbed uncontrollably and carried on shuffling slowly to school still sobbing and knew he was going to get serious grief at the gates for being late. There was no point telling the teachers what had happened. They wouldn't believe him anyway.

"Cedric, you're late! Again! What is it this time! You fell down a man hole! You wouldn't fit!" roared Miss. Standing.

"No Miss. No reason Miss. Sorry Miss"

"Sorry! You will be sorry! You've missed the Head's Class of 1972 assembly and that's just unforgivable! Follow me!"

She lead Cedric into her office, a drab hole crammed with who gives a fuck. Removing a cane from her stand she turned to face him.

"Hold out your hand!"

Cedric obeyed and held out his shaking mitt. The first strike was always the worst. After that they just seemed to deepen the same welt on his palm, a palm used to being struck, bent, twisted, burnt and slapped.

After six whooshes of the cane Miss. Standing stopped. She flicked the blood off and placed it neatly back into its stand.

"Never be late again Cedric. Never!" she advised.

"No Miss"

"Now get to class you good for nothing child!"

Cedric shambled out of her room holding his bleeding hand and made his way to the changing rooms for PE.

"Where have you been Fatty?" boomed Mr. Smith the Sports teacher.

"Nowhere Sir"

"Nowhere! Nowhere! I'll give you nowhere! Now get in there and get changed quickly mind! You're holding everyone up!"

Cedric undressed in front of all the other boys who were already in their kit. He could feel their eyes insulting him. When he pulled off his string vest their mouths started.

"Ha ha ha, look at you Cedric you fuckin' lard arse! You look like a fuckin' pig. Your Mum been fuckin' a pig Cedric!" quipped the class hard-case Bovver.

"No but she's been fuckin' everyone else!" gurned his mate Knowles.

At this the whole room erupted into laughter and Cedric stared at them, their huge mouths quivering with joy, open wide like snares ready to trap him. Mr. Smith laughed too.

Cedric hadn't got any kit so he had to wear what was available. An old rugby 1971 shirt and some girls' gymslips.

The class roared when he was done and ran out of the room howling like monkeys. Cedric looked down at himself and a tear formed in his eye. His mouth still felt funny and his hand throbbed like a bastard.

The PE class was outside. It was athletics today. In the cocky sunshine. The keenies crowded round Mr. Smith, who gave them little jobs to do. Get the tape measure, draw a chalk line on the freshly cut grass, place a javelin every 8 feet along the line. Kiss my arse. They scurried off happy.

Cedric arrived last and stood next to Mr. Smith.

"My God! You look a complete prat Fatso! Serves you right for not bringing kit! Again! Your Mum should stop shagging and get washing boy!"

"Yes Sir"

"Don't yes Sir me!" 

He clipped Cedric hard round the ear.

"You're well on your way to failing PE this year and I bet its the same across the school! You're a friggin' disgrace! Hundreds of children would give their right hand for your place in this school! Are you even listening you cockroach?"

"Yes Sir"

"Go and stand in the middle of that chalk line and DON'T touch anything until I say so!"

The teacher batted the top of the boy's head.

Cedric dragged his feet to the centre and hung his head down waiting for the next instruction. At either side of him were Bovver and Knowles worst luck.

"If you throw that fuckin' spear further than me you chubby twat I'll shove it straight up yer fat arse-'ole!"

"Yeah, like yer slut Mum. She'll get it up the arse too. We'll take turns! ha ha"

Bovver and Knowles laughed in Cedric's face like two mad hyenas rubbing their balls.

Mr. Smith stepped forward smiling too. He looked like a Norse god on that Wednesday.

"Right boys and girls! Listen up! Today we're practicing throwing a javelin so get these rules straight in your thick heads!"

"One. Do not pick your javelin up until I say so!"

"Two. Do not throw your javelin until I say so!"

"Three. Do not go and get your javelin back until I say so!"

"Have you got it!"

"Yes Sir!" came a rough chorus.

"Fatty! Have you got it?"

"Yes"

"Yes what!"

"Yes Sir!"

"Fine! Now watch how I throw my javelin in the proper fashion Fatty. Get those sausage legs of yours moving for once!"

Mr. Smith took his long pointed pole and smiled. Then he ran, stretched and let fly. His muscles flexed; biceps, calves. He looked glorious. Like a god-damn Centurion.

It was a decent launch meant to impress and his javelin landed way down the field.

"Fuck me!" Bovver whispered to Knowles.

"Did you see that Fatty? That's why I'm a teacher and you're just a sad sack o' lard!"

The teacher took the tape measure and began to walk to where his javelin had landed.

"Fatso! You're up next but wait till I've measured and got out of the way!"

Cedric either hadn't heard him or wasn't listening. He hefted the metal pole and stared at it stretching far out at each side of his hand. He was transfixed and began to step back a good ten strides.

"What the fuck are you doin' you fuckin' retard!" shouted Bovver.

Cedric ignored him and began to run fast towards the chalk line.

"He's goin' to chuck it!" warned Knowles.

Cedric halted his run abruptly and launched with all his might with a colossal grunt.

The steel javelin hurtled through the air with beautiful grace, spinning as it split the sky in a gorgeous arc towards the far end of the field.

No-one breathed as the high curve peaked below the clouds; a momentary glinting fulcrum of light and steel. Then, as if touched by a higher power, the sparkling tip nosed earthwards to descend at what seemed like an impossible distance away. 

It entered Mr. Smith's mouth like a spear and re-emerged from his back just above the waist.

The javelin drove into the soft ground, blood bubbling down the glistering shaft. The teacher was completely impaled.

For a brief moment Mr. Smith stared at Cedric before his whole body slumped onto the poise of the steel. He hung there like a spit roast. Crucified.

"Oh my fuckin' God!" screamed Bovver.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" screamed Knowles.

In fact the whole class was screaming and some children were throwing up and crying uncontrollably.

Cedric turned away from the group and strolled to the toilet block. He had a huge painful shit and afterwards stuffed a full toilet roll into his gymslip.

He slowly made his way home in the blood-red sunlight.