The (nearly complete) Story Of An Average Boy

Once upon a time, there was this little boy. He was an average boy, who does the same thing as any other twelve-year old would. He sat in the middle row of the class, got an allowance of the average total of what his classmates got from their parents, scored the average total of the entire school for his exams, and all in all, he's average in everything he did and he was. He looked just like your neighbour and he hung out with his group of friends. He didn't have anything special at all, not a single bit of him was special. Or so, that's what he thought.

If everybody on the face of this planet is to be given a number to represent themselves, the boy would be right smack on fifty, on a scale of one to a hundred. Not 50.001 or 49.999, but 50.000.

The boy had many friends actually. Friends who were 'Kakas' and friends who were 'Tutus'. Well, it was just that the kakas represented those who were 'above average' and the tutus were those who are 'below average'. Nobody really knew how they ended up a kaka or a tutu. It was as if they were all born with it. Few have the cross over from either side, but those who did were remembered for their achievements, or in the other case, failures. As for the boy, he was neither a kaka nor a tutu, and nobody ever asked. Kakas and tutus do not mix.

Tutus loved being with the boy. At least they knew that the boy was good company in the eyes of their parents. The boy, unlike the kakas, was never arrogant nor cocky. While being with the boy, the tutus felt like they were doing something that they can be proud of. But there was not a single tutu who ever admitted the desires of the deepest and unseen regions of their conciousness, that all of them want to be a kaka.

The kakas liked the company of the boy too. When a kaka is with the boy, he does not have to feel pressurised to compete with the boy, in studies or in sports. They know that the boy can never reach their standard.

Nobody knew that the boy hated being an average. He felt the closest to being happy when he is with his 'friends'. Those were the times he felt needed and welcomed. They are his 'friends' and not friends because they treated him more like an object. An object of comfort. Nobody cared about how he felt because the very reason for them approaching him was because they cared more about how they felt themselves.

The boy desired to be a kaka. He wanted to be up there with the cream of the crop. He didn't want to be pushed around like a tutu. Even the kakas bullied the boy quite often, but his 'friends' were his only treasure, and he didn't want to lose any of them.

When the boy grew up to become a young man, he remained as an average. As all his 'friends' have started to plan for their futures, the boy found himself lost and without any direction. All these years, his only concern was keeping his friends. Since the boy didn't want to end like a tutu, he decided to follow whatever his kaka 'friends' were doing, which was to sign up for 'The Ultimate Race'.

Seeing that the boy was trying to become a kaka, the tutu 'friends' of the boy left him. The boy never ever saw a single one of them again. But the boy then realised that he never recognised any one of the tutu 'friends' ever.

However, those kaka 'friends' became wary of the boy. They didn't need any new competition, the competition was tough enough already. So as all the competitors were climbing the 'Great Big Ladder' which preceeded the race, they had a scheme against the boy. They threw the boy off that the 'Great Big Ladder' and he landed with a loud thud on the ground.

The boy felt something. He never felt this before, but since he knew that he didn't feel good, he must have been feeling sad. In fact, the boy was depressed and dejected. He wanted to be all alone, as all his 'friends' are gone.

On his way home, he saw this shop which he had not noticed in the past. It's shopkeeper was this old man who had a long grey beard and dirty ragged skin. He noticed the boy and gestured him into the shop. The boy entered the shop and he saw vials and flasks of brightly coloured potions displayed on the shelves and cabinets of the shop.

'Boy, you look down, why don't you get a bottle of this?' said the man.

This was printed on the label of that bottle:
Jewels and riches, I give not;
Happiness and joy, I promise not;
Cars and cash, I may have got;
Drink me up and your sorrows shall go 'poof!'

The boy didn't hesitate and purchased it with his average allowance.

'But this I gotta tell you, that drinking it would cause you to have an eternal grudge against the source of your sorrow', the man warned.

The boy didn't care as he only wanted that feeling of sadness to be gone. Upon reaching home, he dashed into his room and while lying down on his bed, drank the potion up. Then he fell asleep.

to be continued...

That next morning he woke up, feeling rather different from other mornings. That usual feeling was gone, perhaps it was that feeling of mediocricy. He felt like there was a reason to live for that day.

There was only vengeance in his mind. The boy wanted to plot revenge against the kakas who caused his great fall. He wanted them all to suffer forever. Having newfound purpose and motivation allowed him to feel, for the first time ever, more than average. It gave him drive and motivation.

The boy went on to destroy their lives and his hatred grew unto the friends and family of his victims. He schemed against their successeful businesses and careers, usurped their properties and corporations, and soon found himself closer to the top of that ladder...

As the years went by, the boy became an adult, a man. He became rich and successful in the eyes of all, but his heart was still burning with eternal anger and rage. He wanted everyone to know that he ain't no whipping boy and that no one can afford to step on him

to be continued... again...