Thanks so much sione. Much appreciated. Though I am sorry to hear there are so many turkey necks at your school. Sounds like they might be breeding.
Journal, Diary, & Blogging / God Bless Old Turkey Neck
I too was a victim of passive-aggressive taunters as a young teenager.
I was bundled off to school every week-day, and sometimes, if my parents were utterly sick of the sight of me, I was bundled off on week-ends as well.
My main tormentor was, oddly enough, my English teacher, Mr Murragh (not his real name) (actually, it is his real name, but if I say it isn`t his real name then when he sues me for defamation the judge will be hoodwinked by my clever argument that using his real name and stating it isn`t his real name actually ensures that NO ONE ever would think it really was him….Mr Murragh, that is). (if that is, in fact, his real name.) (Which it is.)
Mr Murragh was thin and lipless and he had a mop of rust-red hair on top of his weird triangular head. And those were his good points. He also had the neck of a bush turkey that has been repeatedly run over by an amphibious military vehicle.
Mr Murragh hated me. I was never sure why. To me, Mr Murragh was supposed to hold the keys to unlocking the mysteries of the English language. That was what I thought English teachers were supposed to do…..unlock the language, you know. Make you realise how thought, how dreams, how common cultural icons and mannerisms and belief systems are connected and feed into the very essence of language, of spoken and written symbols, sign posts. I knew this was crucial information to have if I ever wanted to impress young ladies.
But Mr Murragh wasn`t interested in that kinda shit. He was interested only in proving to young pubescent boys that he was, despite appearances, a complete man. A dominating presence. A go getter. A bread winner. A warrior. A hero.
We students, however, thought of him as a dickweed. A dickweed with the neck of a bush turkey.
-—---—---—---—---—---—---—---—---—---—---—---—---—-----
I always suspected Murragh was an unevolved being. He thought I was a flake. At 13 years of age I had a huge bush of tinder-dry hair, I had thin wrists and long long legs, I wore sandals and colourful shirts, and I had a neckless from which a perfect bone-coloured guitar pick dangled, shaped into the form of a love heart.
Murragh was a rugby league fan. He was into thick necks (obviously to make up for his own), under-bites, sloping foreheads and broken noses, and game plans. He was into arcing wings and penetrating forward packs. But he had never played himself.
He was also a fan of English grammar…..but not, I discovered, of the english language. He was devoted to the participle phrase, to the dangling article, but he never wrote anything himself. He was poem-less. He was a Haiku-free-zone.
No. He was a fan of the machinations of things, but not of the things themselves. It was as if he enjoyed thinking of things in terms of pure potentials….pure in the truest sense, in the sense that they could never eventuate, they could only exist as ideas.
Murragh hated my lack of grasp of the machinations of English grammar. I had no clue what the perfect past tense was.
“You mean, as opposed to the imperfect past tense, Sir?” I would say.
“Don`t get smart with me, Fogarty!” He would holler.
“I thought getting smart was the whole idea of school,” I would retort.
and on and on and on it would go.
The other kids were frightened by it in the beginning. Murragh vs Fogarty. The shouting turkey neck verses the smart ass peace and love freak.
But after a while they all seemed to realise that these defining battles were a respite for all of them. They could do whatever they wanted to. Meantime, me and Murragh were at loggerheads.
“You can`t judge a book by its cover!” (me)
“If I thought you could read we wouldn`t be having this argument!” (him)
“Of course I can read….but it was no thanks to you!” (me)
“Who or what does the adjectival phrase refer to in this case?” (him)
“I thought it was a sentence. If I had known it was a case I would have packed earlier (me) (classmates titter and giggle)
“The rest of you shut up!” (him)
and on and on and on and on and on…..
My sister used to tell me she and her class could hear Murragh shouting at me clearly from half-way across the other side of the school…two buildings away.
I doubt if I ever learned the lessons he wanted me, or my classmates to learn.
But a couple of years later when finally I was assigned to a different english teacher all that squaring off against Murragh, all that pent up frustration at being denied the keys to the English language came flooding out like a massive swollen river of words and stories and songs that has never once abated in the many long years since.
Thanks, that is, to old turkey neck.
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DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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Your writing is a delight. You have a real, entertaining voice that lots of readers will enjoy.
I love your fun with the parentheses. Some people get irritated by parentheticals. I think in parentheticals, so I love them. Long live embedded thought!
Proofreading notes (sorry if I sound like an English teacher, but I am):
lipless and he had (insert comma before conjunction or simply delete “he”)
go getter = go-getter
under-bites = underbites
discovered, of the english language (caps)
lack of grasp of (Is the awkwardness here intentional? If so, very funny.)
smart ass peace and love freak (I would hyphenate this: smart-ass, peace-and-love freak or how about smart ass-peace-and-love freak? That sounds nice.)
half-way = halfway
me, or my classmates to learn (insert comma after “classmates”)
english teacher (caps)
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itacaregaucho reviewed Version 1 -
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It’s a nice piece ! But tales like your is possible see how our school are sick. Sometimes bad teacher (or bad student) don’t help to development a knowledge. Your deportment has a nice flow and your descriptions are nice!
Keep writing!
a_sooner_girl reviewed Version 1 -
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Too funny! I can just imagine you yelling and arguing with this old English teacher. How sad that he didn’t instruct you on the beauty of the language. I also think that’s what English teachers should do. I especially liked the line where you said he was haiku-less. I laughed out loud on that one. All in all, a great job! Thanks for sharing!
sione reviewed Version 1 -
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Mate this is really good. Use of personal voice is brilliant and your description of ole turkey neck almost had me in tears. I didn’t know amphibious military vehicles made it a habit of running over people’s necks because I also happen to know a few turkey necks, many of them at my own school. =P
I also like your paragraph on avoiding a court case because it isn’t really his real name … but is … sorta … really. That kind of thing makes a piece different and memorable for a reader and for that I commend you. I’d publish. Haha.
blogorrhea reviewed Version 1 -
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wow, you do have a great sense of humor. i love how you portray this character ‘Mr. Murragh’. i think we all know someone like him. more interested in how than what. excellent characters, witty dialog, great humor. thanks for posting that. i don’t know who really publishes journal/blogs, but this is certainly the most likely to be published that i’ve read so far. do keep writing please.
MAYAsheDANCES reviewed Version 1 -
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I don’t know what it is about “turkey neck” but I think it is the funniest reference ever. Your piece was virtually blemishless. I loved ever minute of it. Amazing! I think you definitely has a talent and should look into writing for a publication of some sort. These types of non-fiction pieces are my favorite to read, as well as write. I so enjoy the recollection of the past. If the old guy is still alive i’d love to see his face when he finds out you write now. Haha, either that or he’s rolling in his grave right now!
Shebang reviewed Version 1 -
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It seems to me that your voice for the younger self is pitch-perfect! And the descriptions of both your mechanically inclined teacher and his flake of a student popped them off the page and into high definition reality. When you showed his unreasonablenes and abusive behavior, there was a moment when I almost felt like kicking old turkey neck’s shins! I’m glad you were so scrappy and kept your desire for “the keys,” as you are a truly gifted wordsmith and funny to boot. This piece was a joy!
asht874 reviewed Version 1 -
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I loved this! It was very entertaining, and you painted the picture of Mr. Murragh beautifully. I can relate, I had the same teacher- in female form. In the tenth grade, I thought she was the devil incarnate.
This was my favorite- “My main tormentor was, oddly enough, my English teacher, Mr Murragh (not his real name) (actually, it is his real name, but if I say it isn`t his real name then when he sues me for defamation the judge will be hoodwinked by my clever argument that using his real name and stating it isn`t his real name actually ensures that NO ONE ever would think it really was him….Mr Murragh, that is). (if that is, in fact, his real name.) (Which it is.)” I laughed out loud.
Wonderful job!
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