Alfonso Greene, Suburban Lion Tamer

One of the downsides of the political correctness that has taken over this world in which we are forced to live, is that it has resulted in the demise of that group of people once known as 'eccentrics'. That group that, because they did not fit inside the square, whose behaviour could only be described as bizarre, made life less dull and boring. They were, in the most part, harmless, not harming anyone, just living in their own world. This story is of a couple of just such people, who by their speech, intelligence, actions, dress and bizarre behaviour, could quite easily fit into the category of 'Autistic Savant'.

My business card read: 'Alfonso Greene, Suburban Lion Tamer.' For that was my line of work. Business has been a little slow of late, I mean I ask you, how long has it been since you have seen a wild, or even a moderately angry lion, wandering the streets? I have been much too successful for my own good.

I am going to have to make a decision soon; do I move on to greener pastures, a town where there are still lions to be found, do I find a few lions and set them loose in this town, or find some other wild beast to tame, elephants maybe. The money was not a problem for me, I had inherited a substantial sum from my grandfather when he died, much to my father's disgust.

My father, a bank manager, was of the opinion that I would squander my inheritance on frivolous pursuits. What does he know?

The one thing, and this encompasses everything he says and does, about my father, is that he lacks imagination. "Do your homework son," He always called me 'son', it was as if remembering my name brought back painful memories, "If you don't study, you'll never get a good job, and if you don't get a good job, you'll never have any money." What he didn't realise was that I'd rather have a life. "And," There was always an 'and' when I got this particular lecture, "I don't want you going off somewhere with your grandfather on some fool's errand."

"I don't think that learning about life, the universe and everything is a fool's errand, as you put it."

"Is that so? What wonderful thing did you learn today?"

"That when there's a howling gale, it's a waste of time having lunch before you catch the ferry across to Manly. You should have heard the other passengers chucking their guts over the side." (The ferry from Circular Quay to Manly has to cross Sydney Harbour just inside the Heads, and when there is a storm running, and the whole of the Pacific Ocean is trying to force its way through that narrow opening, the swell is so huge that if you stand on the top deck of, in this case, one of the old ferries, the waves pass at eye level, and the swell is beam on to the ferry. Get the picture?)

"I don't want you doing things like that. You have your whole life ahead of you, and shouldn't be wasting it on frivolous things. In future, if your grandfather shows up at school with one of his hare-brained schemes, you are not to go with him. Do I make myself understood?"

"What's the point of having a whole life ahead of me if I'm not allowed to live it?"

"You will do as you are told young man, and that's an order." He always calls me young man at times like this, it's like he's trying to shame me into accepting adulthood. "Now go to your room and do your homework, and I want to check it when you've finished."

Father must really have been pissed off with today's effort, because he informed the school that, should my grandfather appear wanting to take me out of school, permission was not granted.

What my father could not get his head around when it comes to me, was that I was more than a financial investment in his future, someone to acquire the income to support him in his retirement. That was his philosophy on life, everything had a fiscal value, even his marriage to my mother. My parents were both bankers, their marriage was what could be best described as a fiscal imperative, something that existed while there was a balance of financial input. When the bank that employed my mother suffered as a result of the financial melt-down caused by a surfeit of bankers' greed, her only recognisable contribution to the marriage ceased. While this was not life threatening as far as providing for the family's day to day needs, it did upset the fiscal imperative. My mother saw this as a chance to gain a financial advantage from the divorce settlement. Father fought her every inch of the way but eventually had to concede defeat. He was left with the family home, his job and me, in that order of importance.

The other thing that my father could not get his head around was that I was smart, something I inherited from Grandad, and I had what could be described as a photographic memory, which means that information goes down a one way street, and that once inside the cul de sac that is my head, it is there for keeps, neatly filed for easy access when required. I breezed through my homework in less than ten minutes and then spent the rest of my time listening to a replay of the Goon Show.

When I thought that sufficient time had elapsed for a normal lad to have completed the work, I took it to him to check. "Hurrumph." He hurrumphed as he handed it back. This was an indication that he could find no errors, and this was because I couldn't be bothered slipping one in for him to find, just to make him feel good. At the moment I couldn't care less if he felt good or not.

My final grades were nothing spectacular, after all, I didn't want him getting his hopes up of me finding a great career and making spectacular amounts of money. If money is his guide to success, then there is no way that I ever harboured any desire to be successful. Enough for my immediate needs, and the ability to acquire more when required was my career goal. No-one other than Grandad knew that the reason that the Dux of the school could not accept his award in person at the graduation ceremony, was that he simply did not exist. I had invented a ficticious student called Fred Quimby and submitted work under his name, I responded to his name during the weekly roll call, as well as taking all tests for him. The teachers were so over-awed by this student's brilliance that they could never contemplate the fact that such a person existed only in my mind. The day that the university placements were announced, and Fred gained the highest place in Medicine, Fred and I disappeared off the face of the earth.

No, come to think of it this would be all too easy, Fred and I beamed up to an alien space craft, to be used by aliens as an example of an intelligent humanoid life form, to be probed and otherwise examined so that they could gain an insight into Earth life? No, that would be just too convenient.

How I managed to disappear was Grandad's idea. I disappeared in plain sight, in this case a large, brightly decorated motor home bearing signs on all sides and the roof, proclaiming it to be 'Professor Orville Newton's Travelling Emporium of Human Knowledge.' With smaller signage stating that, 'If you can stump Professor Newton on any known subject you will win a prize.' In even smaller letters; 'For one whole dollar, you can challenge the Professor's extensive knowledge. If he does not know the answer to your question, you will collect the jackpot which currently stands at': There was a space where the current jackpot was written, and it currently stood at: '$7,553,597'. In even smaller letters was the disclaimer that 'Professor Newton was the sole judge of whether or not he did not know the answer'. Blinded by greed, no-one ever read this disclaimer, and no challenge was ever lodged.

This was Grandad's take on the old snake oil salesman or travelling carnival side show, so obviously a scam that no-one could possibly be taken in by it, unless, and this was what Grandad was counting on, the punters were sucked in by the greed presented by the opportunity to win such a fantastic amount of money, simply by asking me a question that I could not possibly answer.

We would set up in shopping centre car parks, and I would appear, seated on my 'Throne of Knowledge', until the gathered crowds forced the police to move us on. Grandad would commence his pitch. "Roll up, roll up ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I have the honour to present to you, direct from his sold out appearances way across the seas, the amazing, the incredible, the miraculous, memory recall of Professor Orville, I know it all, Newton. From the ripe old age of 1 whole year, Orville Newton has embarked on the task of learning and absorbing every miniscule bit of knowledge known to mankind. When he was 18 months old he could recite any passage in the Holy Bible, he knew the Bible in its entirety. By the time that he was 2 years old he had committed to memory the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica! At 3 years of age he began his formal education and by the time that he was 4 he had graduated High School. His 1st university degree course took up most of the next year. It was at this time that the educators reached the conclusion that they had nothing more to teach him. Professor Newton has decided that he should bring the benefits of this prodigious capability to answer, correctly, every possible question asked of him, to you, the people of this country. Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I ask you to form an orderly line so that you can ask your question of the Amazing Professor Orville Newton!"

After the introduction, all bullshit of course, I was 15 when I graduated university, the next year I spent acquiring several post graduate degrees. He would set up at a table and begin to take money from the punters, before allowing them to approach me and to pose their simple questions. Given that the majority of small town residents' knowledge was limited to Sports Stars and Music and Movie performers, I had no difficulty in answering all of their simple questions.

We had been on the road for three years, and had just pulled in to a parking bay within a couple of kilometres of the next town, the sign said Langton Springs, to have breakfast and plan the day ahead. "I think that it must be time that we found a new source of income." I said to Grandad.

"I have been having that very same thought. Do you have any ideas?"

"I have a mind to learn to play a musical instrument so that we could put on recitals."

"Did you have any particular instrument in mind?"

"I thought the piano, there has been so much excellent music written for the piano."

"Very well, we will buy you a piano. How long will it take you to learn the complete works of Schubert, Liszt, Mendelssohn and Beethoven?"

"If we buy a piano today, I should be proficient by this time next week."

"That's it then, after your show this morning we'll go shopping for a piano, and not just any piano, it has to be a grand piano."

The question and answer session at Langton Springs had been going for about half an hour when I heard this small voice ask an unusual question. "When are you going to marry me?" I had looked into her eyes as she approached, to ascertain if I could anticipate her question, I was obviously wrong. There were two other things that I was not expecting in this town, they were this girl, so astonishingly attractive to me at least, and her almost childlike voice, for she was clearly no longer a child.

How should I respond to this question? Should I question her motives for asking it, should I ignore it and give her money back to her, hoping that she would accept it and not claim the prize, or should I give her an answer, and if so, what answer should I give? The resolution of this conundrum took three and a half nanoseconds. "The day after tomorrow, I'll marry you the day after tomorrow."

She threw herself at me and kissed me, also a new experience for me, and behind her I could hear the good townspeople, "The crazy girl has gone and done it now.", "At least we won't have to put up with her any longer.", "Life can return to normal now." What I found strange was that these comments came from only the women, the man remained strangely quiet on the subject.

Having resolved a problem that had blighted their existence for some time, the people of this town decided that they were no longer interested in us, so they left us, the three of us, in peace. I looked at Grandad, he looked at me and then her, she looked at me but not Grandad, at least not until he spoke to her. "Tell me young lady, what shall we call you?"

"My name is Katarina Penelope Madrigal Jones. You can call me 'Kat' with a 'K'."

"Very well Kat with a K. Do your parents know that you intend to leave home to marry Professor Orville Newton, known to his parents and various educational institutions around the country, but not to himself or, for that matter my good self, as Peter Jackson, a singularly unimaginative name? He prefers, if required to use a mundane name, to be known as Phillip Bartholomew."

"To use the vernacular of the lower classes, to which my parents belong, they don't give a flying fuck what I do. They will be pleased to see the back of me, as will the good folk of this blighted town."

I have to admit that the words that she used were not unfamiliar to me, but I have never heard them used in such a sequence as she had just done, therefore the context of her statement left me in some confusion until I was able to establish the correct and contextually accurate meaning. This took approximately half a second.

"Now, you may be able to help us," Grandad said, "We have a problem that needs an immediate solution, is there a place in this town where we can purchase a grand piano?"

"Why yes there is. Just down the street here is Brown's Emporium of Musical Instruments. There you will find a grand piano, and at a very reasonable price. Why do you want a grand piano?"

"My grandson, and your intended husband, Phillip here, has decided that instead of answering the same tedious questions over and over again, he will give recitals of the great works for piano by some of the greatest composers of all time."

"So, along with being smart beyond measure, he is proficient on the piano?"

"No, he is not yet proficient. But he will be, he will be."

"Can he play at all?"

"No, not yet, he has not yet learnt the piano."

"So what sort of time line are we looking at before he has reached the required standard of proficiency?"

"Next week."

"Okay, I could accept that except for one minor little detail."

"You interest me young lady," Grandad said to her, "what detail could you possibly have in mind? I can assure you that I can think of none, and I am very proficient at planning, down to the minutest of details."

"That would have been true of course, until I entered upon your lives. In two day's time your grandson and I shall be on our honeymoon. I can assure you that his mind will not be on gaining proficiency at the piano."

While this discourse was taking place I was taking in the finer details of my intended bride. Even by my standards her attire was 'interesting', consisting of several layers of flimsy, bordering on transparent, material, all of them a variety of bright hues and patterns, and draped seemingly haphazardly over the top part of her body, and flowing down almost as far as her knees. From where I stood, I could just make out the shape of her upper body, and the dark dots of her nipples. She wore no bra, nor did it appear that she needed the support of one. The lower part of her body was covered by flesh coloured panties, either that or she wore none, for there was no sign of a bush down there, and given the colour of her hair, if she had one I would have thought that it would have been of a similar bright blue to the hair on her head. Her legs were clad in brightly striped stockings, and she wore bright red sneakers with purple laces. On a 'normal' person this colour palette would look frankly ridiculous, but on my bride to be it looked perfect.

"Tell me, Kat, you are obviously an intelligent young lady, what do you do, do you have a job, do you study, what is that you do to while away the time?"

"I am an observer of life in this town. Because of the reputation of my parents no employer is game to offer me a job. As for study, I see no need for a formal education to be an observer of life, at least not in this town."

"Why do you say that?" Grandad asked.

"When the human life form is as obvious as the good residents of this town, it takes no great intelligence to read their every thought. For instance, the young men of this town, given the fact that my mother has had sex with all of their fathers, and probably grandfathers, all thought that I should be as free with my sexual favours as she. I am not, in fact I am intact, a virgin. That's not to say that I don't know what to do and how to do it, I am after all a proficient observer."

"You say that your mother has had sex with all of the men in this town, what does your father think of this?"

"Oh he has been servicing the women, they even compare notes as to who was the best fuck. Not surprising, the men who were proficient, were married to proficient women, and both sought out my parents to compliment their own sexual activities, to spice them up. Those that weren't proficient, probably did it so that they didn't feel left out."

"You will have to appreciate that Phillip is also a virgin, but unlike you, he has not had the opportunity to observe the sex act. His parents, if they did it at all except to procreate him, did so in private. So you can see the dilemma that we are faced with, your first time may be a disappointment to both of you, unless . . . ."

"Unless that is, we have some instruction beforehand."

"Yes."

"That will not be a problem, I have seen it done and am prepared to instruct him as we go."

"When you are quite finished talking as if I am not here, I do have some knowledge of the sex act, I have after all read many books on the subject, and while I have not experienced sex with a woman, I have felt a stirring in my loins as I read some works on the subject. I presume that a hard penis is an important factor in the process."

"You presume correctly. Now that we are betrothed, I can't see any reason why we should not undertake some research into the subject of sex."

"And you want me to leave you in peace, is that it?" Grandad said.

"That would be an appropriate course of action, yes. I don't know if either of us will be able to perform in front of an audience."

"Very well then, I shall wander down to Brown's Emporium of Musical Instruments and inspect their grand piano. I shall leave you two to your own devices." With that he left us.

If I had thought that her throwing herself on me and kissing me earlier was enthusiastic, I was very much mistaken, her hurling herself on me, forcing me back onto my bunk bed was twice as enthusiastic. I could not complain at her ferocity even if I wanted to, because her mouth was pressed hard against mine and her tongue was forcing its way between my lips. The longer she stayed in this position, the harder my penis became, and the harder she pressed her hips against mine. My hands had, of their own volition, found their way underneath the layers of material and were caressing the smooth skin of her back.

It seemed only natural that Kat should make room for me to move my hands from her back to her breasts. I had read that girls liked their breasts being caressed, in particular their nipples. I had no idea how gentle or hard I should caress them so I went for the gentle option. This seemed to work because her hips became more animated until her body was overcome by spasms. "Oh my god, I am so wet, I need to get out of my clothes."

"I'll join you." I said as we scrambled off the bed and hastily shed our clothes. I was right, she wore no panties. "You wear no panties, why is that?"