Thomas Henson has issues, thirteen of them, and, indeed, one
of them is superstition. When his life of luxury ends and he is dumped into an
impoverished state, all these issues come home to roost, making it impossible
for Thomas to stand up and take responsibility for his life. He even despises
his name! Most all, however, he hates his neighbour, the ever-laughing Ethan
Danwick-Blythe, who has a perfect name and a perfect garden. Thomas is being
lied to, however, and those lies will upset everything our Thomas hopes for. As
he plots revenge on his neighbour, the time for all lies to be exposed
approaches. This amusing little tale of self-delusion is Thomas Henson’s debut
into real life.
Chapter 1
NAME
Thomas
Henson has many issues.
Many.
M.A.N.Y.
Here
we shall examine thirteen of them. Yes, a baker’s dozen or a witch’s coming-of-age.
No doubt our doubting Thomas will throw arms with hands up in horror if he
hears we aim to halt our examination (dissection?) of him at this sweet little
number known as 13.
These
mighty swords of doom (what we call issues), by his reckoning, are the fault
of:
One -
his parents (for they named him)
Two -
the world at large (society is judgmental and downright mean)
And
three - his neighbour (the laughing bastard)
You
see, Thomas Henson despises his name, and that is ISSUE ONE.
Fine,
he can claim he is named for Thomas Aquinas, a philosopher in history’s annals.
(One should always relate to great figures; others’ successes can therefore
become one’s own successes.) Thomas Aquinas, however, had the good fortunate to
be born Tommaso … why, oh, why wasn’t he
Tommaso? And, let’s face it; his parents knew nothing about philosophy back in
the day, did they? He does not either. Imagine claiming affinity to Aquinas,
only to have to answer a question about the nature of man at a function, tea
party or some other equally stifling event. He would choke on his tea. What in
hell does he know about the nature of man, other than that he would like to cut
his neighbour’s tongue from his laughing mouth?
Or
he can claim he is named for Tom Cruise … right. Tom. Even worse. On the bright side, the actor was in short pants
and sandals already when Thomas was born. At least then he is younger than his
famous namesake from Hollywood. In life there are occasionally, very occasionally, small mercies. Of
course, he can act the long or short pants off Cruise - he does so every time
the bastard next-door waves at him across that bloody perfect hedge. What is
that poem by Frost about walls and neighbours? The man is spot on. Should hark
to that, laughing bastard. But, hell, every leaf being in sync with the cosmos,
the idiot no doubt loves that. What a farce.
What
of Thomas Edison? More contemporary than Aquinas, and everyone knows something
about the history of electricity. Right. Downright BORING. Not the kind of
success one desires to relate to.
His
father is Terence Henson (thank God his father had not insisted) and his father
before him was Travis Henson (better) and thus it is clear all male Henson’s
are labelled with a T. Tradition.
Family Tree stuff.
And
how unimaginative, when there are a host of evocative names beginning with T - Tate,
Talon, Tavio … Tommaso! Yet he is
Thomas. Tommy as a toddler, Tom as a teenager, and now he insists on Thomas, at
the very least. For pity’s sake, what is wrong with society that it feels the
need to shorten virtually every bloody thing?
Females,
by all accounts, bear the label C.
But Thomas has yet to meet a labelled female Henson. He is singularly
uninterested.
And
- Henson. Henson?
Let
us not get poor Thomas started on that.
His
neighbour, the laughing bastard, is Ethan Danwick-Blythe. Unearth the shears!
Sharpen the blades! Destroy the bloody perfect hedge!
And
to hell with Frost!
OUR FRIEND THOMAS HENSON
After a disastrous beginning in the country, Thomas Henson
begins his new life and career in the city. He must now step up or fail in this
issue of being an adult. There is no trust fund and the silver spoon has long
been melted.
Thomas will negotiate the ways of city living, of city
working and of city romancing. We do hope dear Thomas finds himself now,
although we know so well how everything, simply everything, is an issue for our
Thomas. Fingers crossed!
Chapter
1
AIRS AND GRACES
Thomas Henson is thirty-five years
old and moves in diplomatic circles in the city using his gift for languages to
his advantage.
This, as we well
know, is his first attempt at earning a living.
We do wish him
the best, of course.
He no longer
relies on a mythical trust fund, and that silver spoon he was born to? Gone,
Thomas, all gone.
Dear Thomas has
entered the School of Hard Knocks and will now either succeed … or fail
spectacularly.
He is well paid
(although ‘well’ is never enough and ‘paid’ is a demeaning concept), and lives
in the city during the working week, coming home to his cottage in the country for
weekends.
One would think
this will instil in our Thomas a sense of achievement, but it has unfortunately
given him the airs and graces of the lords of the manor of yesteryear. Hard Knock
School has not yet bashed from him his sense of superiority.
The act of
having to commute is a terrible state of affairs, yes, deplorable in fact, but it
does mean he has claim to two residences, a fact he shares with all who will
listen.
Ethan
Danwick-Blythe, his laughing neighbour, maintains Thomas’ cottage garden, and
it has never looked better. Unfortunately, instead of feeling appreciative, Thomas
is reminded of his messy apartment in the city, for the two are polar opposites.
Thomas does not know how to look after himself yet, despite his years of
self-reliance.
Then there is
this niggle. Thomas dares not tell those who will listen where to find him at
either of his two residences.
You see, Thomas
knows about appearances, and his apartment is a dump, while his cottage is …
well, a cottage. It isn’t the manor
he claims it as, even if it is now in good order, thanks to Danwick-Blythe.
A plan must
be made to streamline his life.
He must
become what he claims.
All this
commuting nonsense eats at his ability to become the shining star of diplomacy.
And now there is tell that Mr Sherman, the BIG BOSS, will soon be making an
appearance, and there will be evaluations!
There is also tell
of employees being expected to entertain the boss. Or, as the rumour goes, to at
least offer an invitation. If Mr Sherman accepts an invite, you are made for
life.
Thomas is
petrified. It certainly sounds as if Mr Sherman is a far worse prospect than the
laughing bastard ever was; this may lead to a doom-laden future.
Oh dear, what
now?
Time for those
Hard Knock choices, friend.
Dear Thomas,
poor Thomas, you cannot admit you prefer your laughing neighbour’s presence
there across the perfect hedge over the weekend, for it is infinitely better
than the loneliness of your crappy city apartment.
Town Thomas is
lonely Thomas.
You want to
streamline your life? That is a wonderful thought, friend, but we do wonder,
with somewhat bated breath, what it is you intend.
We hold said
breaths.
Coming soon!
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