Thomas Hawkins truth list
I won't forget the day Thomas Hawkins said he'd had a baby. He brought the little bundle in for a coochie-coo and you could tell immediately something was wrong.
It had the rough form of a baby, and a kind of a face, albeit scrawled out in magic marker and gashes, but it had no bones at all. Turned out he'd had large slices of fat removed from his body and bundled up into some loose skin stitched into the approximate shape of a baby and told himself he was now a daddy.
That was six months ago. Of course, no one speaks to him now, but he still carries that thing around with him. I saw him trying to feed it some banana, pressing the soft fruit into the chaos of desiccated human hide and sticky lipid. He’s developed a whole host of nervous tics. I reckon you could hear them out of here. Sure won't be long for him.
Thomas Hawkins has dared to suggest that there are aspects of my website that are less than perfect. He is therefore guilty of the crime of expressing an independent opinion, and I feel I must retaliate by revealing aspects of his personality which he would probably wish to keep private. The following have been confirmed by reliable witnesses:
Thomas Hawkins tailoring clothes for the egg-shaped
Thomas Hawkins trying to shake hands with an elephant
Thomas Hawkins incinerating a live Alsation
Thomas Hawkins keeping flowers in full bloom
Thomas Hawkins chasing cars on a motor scooter
Thomas Hawkins stealing from the blind
Thomas Hawkins drinking gin-tainted tea
Thomas Hawkins skiving core to mooch in the street
Thomas Hawkins eating a lime
Thomas Hawkins murdering a vagrant
Anecdotes
Obviously, since I only joined Landau-Forte in year twelve, I haven't known Tom for very long. This means that I have no anecdotes about him, and so I have to make them up. However, see if you can guess which of the following stories is actually true!
It was a dull autumn day when Thomas Hawkins tried to kill himself. He had decided to suffocate himself using a car and a length of hose. The only trouble was that he didn't actually have a car, or any hose. They found him lying behind a Volvo, with his head by the exhaust, waiting for the owner to come back and switch the engine on. He ignored our attempts to persuade him out of it, so we waited to see how things would develop. In the end, Tom was caught dozing, and the Volvo started to drive off. He chased after it, but it eventually pulled away, and Tom was left sitting disconsolately on the pavement. We tried to talk to him about it afterwards, but Tom has always refused to acknowledge what happened on that day. He always was quite stubborn.
If you look out of the window of the maths room, you can see a four-storey building across the road. It seems like only yesterday when Thomas Hawkins told us he was going to climb up onto the building. He spent the whole week explaining how on Friday he was going to scale the walls, and plant a flag on the summit. Tom always wanted to be a mountain climber. He boasted to everyone about it, even the police, and I think that was his main mistake. They turned up on Friday night to stop him. They were too late, though, as Tom was already halfway up the building. They tried to coax him back down by throwing stones at him, but he was too high. They used a loudhailer to speak to him, but he didn't listen. He just shouted "No!" back at them, despite their promises that he could have a biscuit if he'd just climb back down. When Tom was three quarters of the way up, they wheeled in an old artillery from the museum. I was surprised that it still worked. They fired a sixteenth century shell at him, but they missed by a hair's breadth and devastated the bricks and mortar. Tom eventually reached the top, but then realised he had forgotten to bring the flag. Realising that climbing back down would mean arrest, he instead opted to slide down the inside of the chimney, and got stuck. They eventually had to demolish the whole side of the building to free him, and then they made him come back the next day and rebuild it all. When he said that was why his coursework was late, the teacher wouldn't believe him.
I remember the time Thomas Hawkins stumbled into the Physics lesson half an hour late, blind drunk, swearing like a docker, and throwing blood at everybody. He'd found a dead rat on the road outside the canteen, and had decided that he hated every one of us. I never did figure out why.
Thomas Hawkins once took his shoes off for a joke. The laughter soon turned to tears, of course. He stubbed his toe on the side of the desk. I reckon he'll think twice before trying that prank again.
I don't think I'll ever forget the day Thomas Hawkins told us that he had been the second gunman behind the grassy knoll, who had killed John F Kennedy. Of course, we all laughed along with what we assumed to be another of Tom's jokes. That was until he produced actual photographic and documentary evidence that this had indeed been the case. There was just an awkward silence after that, during which we all reevaluated out opinions of him.
Looking outside, I can see that it's a dull and overcast day. It puts me in mind of October the fourth. That's a date that will remain eternally etched into my memory, as it was on that day, at precisely 11:32 am, that Thomas Hawkins decided that he was the reincarnated Jesus Christ. We tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't have it. He went around looking for bibles, and defacing the ones he found, writing his own name in it at particular points. Despite this, he was unable to convince anyone that he was the son of god. Eventually he wrote to the Pope, enclosing his five new Commandments. I've forgotten all of them, except number XII, which was "Leave it!" He never received a reply, and this made him sullen and violent. We eventually had to capture him in a snare, using a brand new bible as bait. It was for his own good.
Thomas Hawkins once told me that he was harbouring an alien refugee from Alpha Centauri. Of course, I said I didn't believe him. The next day, he brought in a dead dog. It stank to high heaven, and was only barely recognisable. At my estimation, it had been dead for seven months. One of these days I'll learn to tell the difference between Tom's lies and his delusions, but I don't think it'll be any day soon.