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'."
