A Million Versions of Right (32 page)

It was then that he saw it. This student, this nobody, had somehow managed to find the page. What’s more, he’d done it easily.

“How is this possible?” he asked Mark, who was still dazed. 

Mark picked up the note with a shaking hand and held it up to his teacher.

“I’m supposed to give you this, sir,” he stammered.

The teacher plucked the note from Mark’s hand and asked, “Where did you retrieve this note, young man?”

 “It was in my book, Sir. My father must have put it there.”

The teacher’s eyes widened and at once, he was struck by the sheer enormity of what had occurred. He picked up Mark’s book and opened it to a random page. Quickly noting the page number, he slid the note back inside and closed it with a dramatic thud, causing all the students to jump in fright. His eyes darted frantically around the classroom where the students sat dumbfounded. Very slowly, he opened the book, unsure of the outcome. Ever so nervously he read the page number and to his utter amazement found that Mark’s slip of paper had achieved what previously he’d only dreamt about.

“YOU’VE DONE IT, MARK!” he yelled before collapsing lifelessly.

* * * * *

“They’re still so new that a lot of places can’t afford to stock them yet,” said Penny as she walked with Amanda. “The only reason I can even afford one is coz I know a guy who makes bootlegs.”

Amanda still couldn’t believe what they were about to do. If what Penny said was true, by the end of the day she’d have her very own bookmark. Amanda had already been convinced to withdraw five-hundred dollars from her savings account, which she clutched tightly in a balled fist.

“Seriously, these things are selling for up to ten grand. I know five-hundred seems a lot, but it’s nothing compared to how much these things are worth.”

Amanda believed Penny implicitly. Sure, spending such large sums of money wasn’t a regular occurrence in her life but this was worth it. If it meant she would finish a book, any price was worth it.

“Thank you, Penny.”

“For what?”

Amanda stood lamb-like, her jumper pulled childishly over her hands. “For helping me realise my dream, for believing in me. No one ever has before and I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

Penny pulled Amanda in for a hug. “It’s okay. Remember, I’m just like you. After this we can start our own reading club.”

Amanda pulled away in total excitement. “What!? A reading club!? That’s been my dream since before my mother was even born!”

She pulled Penny back into the hug, squeezing harder than ever as mutual admiration coursed through their bodies.

* * * * *

They arrived at a residential address just outside the CBD. It was a stylish looking place with minimalist design, almost certainly German in approach.

“This place was designed from sketches by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe himself,” said Penny.

“I have no idea who that is,” replied Amanda.

“It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that inside this house lurks your new bookmark.”

That was enough to send Amanda into spirals of joy. It was such an unassuming house, yet it contained the potential to alter the course of her life significantly.

“I’m almost too nervous to go inside,” she whimpered.

“It’s okay. Just follow me,” responded Penny with a sympathetic nod.

Penny’s knuckles rapped against the door as Amanda hid nervously behind her. Time stretched as they awaited an answer. When the door finally opened, both let out a gasp, followed by a delicate queef.

“Ahhhhhhh, you made it, girls,” said the overtly confident man who answered the door.

He was of average height and sported a single, awkward dreadlock that arched from his head.

“I’d like you to meet Vincent Peopleworthy,” said Penny to Amanda. “Vincent, this is Amanda.”

Vincent looked Amanda up and down and decided he enjoyed what he saw.

“Pleased to meet you, Amanda,” he said with hand outstretched.

Amanda placed her delicate hand in his and nodded self-consciously.

“So, you girls ready for a bookmark or what?”

* * * * *

The accidental discovery of book marking became known as the Doodlewanky method. A research team was quickly developed thanks to the joint efforts of many international interest groups. For six months, Doodlewanky Peppercorn was subject to a barrage of invasive testing that destroyed his marriage.

The problem faced by the research team concerned Doodlewanky’s inability to comprehend what had happened. As far as he was concerned, all he did was slip his son an absence note, no more. The researchers didn’t care. In their methodical minds the discovery of the bookmark was a carefully deployed series of intrinsically sensible decisions. No one, under any circumstances, stumbles across such a thing, it was simply impossible.

Having decided that Doodlewanky had been paid off by those with competing interests, the researchers eventually gave up. It was too late for Doodlewanky however. He was now synonymous with the rumoured discovery and there was nothing he could do or say to change that. It wasn’t until the opportunity to appear on television presented itself that Doodlewanky was able to set the record straight.

The talk show was called, ‘Are You Ready to Start Talking for Audiences?’ and was one of the top rating shows on TV. The host of the show, Blimey Stinksnatch, had requested Doodlewanky specifically and buzz surrounding the airing was high.

Record numbers tuned in, readying themselves for what they assumed were the wise words of ‘The Reading Prophet’ as he’d come to be known. The first words that fell from Doodlewanky’s mouth were enough to destroy any and all illusions, “I can’t read.”

Incensed by this revelation, Blimey Stinksnatch choked Doodlewanky to death. No one endeavoured to stop her. After this incident, on-air choking became fashionable and many people needlessly died in what will go down in history as ‘a rather regrettable period’.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry to get all brazen on your lovely arses but I needs to see the money.” Vincent rubbed his fingers together, illustrating his point. Amanda reluctantly let her $500 drop on the kitchen counter in a crumpled heap.

“It seems a little harsh, I know, but I’ve had more than one dirty scammer try to rip me off. I hope you understand n’ all.”

“It’s fine,” said Penny, “We totally get it.”

Vincent flashed a series of confusing winks at the two ladies and gestured for them to follow.

They arrived in a small room decked out in ‘Who’s the Boss’ memorabilia.

“I loved that show,” offered Amanda.

“Who didn’t?” responded Vincent. “You two ladies wait right here, I’ll be back.”

He returned a minute later with a small briefcase. Amanda nearly wet herself, fully aware that the briefcase contained her future.

“Now I got three for you to choose from, all hand-crafted in Lisbon.” 

He slowly opened the briefcase, the charming scent of bookmarks filling the air. They sat perfectly, three lined up, all screaming
buy me!
Perspiration formed on Amanda’s forehead. Her eyes hadn’t caught up yet and were only now starting to take them in.

“They’re beautiful.”

“They sure as hell are,” said Vincent, full of pride. “I guarantee ya, take these out n’ about and there ain’t no one who’ll think you paid a measly 500 for ‘em.”

“I just don’t know how to choose.”

“Take your time. I ain’t gonna pressure you.”

Amanda turned to face Penny. “If it weren’t for you, I’d never have this opportunity. I’d be honoured if you’d choose one for me.”

Penny blushed her cheeks apart and shook her head like she was having a seizure.

“Please, Penny. It would mean the world to me.”

After an internal dialogue that concluded with the consumption of elk, Penny agreed. She walked toward the briefcase and studied the three bookmarks available. They all looked so stunning, so perfect. She thought of Amanda and tried her best to match each bookmark with her personality. It was vital that she made the right decision. Eventually she picked one up, saying, “This is it. I just know it.”

She held the bookmark toward Amanda, praying it would suffice. There was a painful moment of silence, which mercifully ended with emphatic nods of approval.

“It’s perfect, Penny. Thank you so much.”

Once more they both hugged. Vincent attempted to muscle his way in but was elbowed away. The bookmark was a marvel of design. It was stark white with bold, black text that advertised an insurance company. Its grandeur was topped off by the company’s web address. 

* * * * *

The notion that a tool so vital to the art of reading was discovered by an illiterate sickened the elite who steadfastly refused to ever utilise such a device. This had obvious impact on any financial gain investors hoped to make. A posthumous ploy to paint Doodlewanky as an eccentric genius was enacted. Several covert authors penned labyrinthine novels emblazoned with Doodlewanky’s name that were presented to the world as uncovered masterpieces. The ploy unravelled when the novels were deemed poor by many of the world’s leading critics.

This didn’t completely deter everyone however. A rich philanthropist called Newlunge Cracklebang was extremely interested in the humanitarian possibilities the bookmark suggested. He was forward thinking (and rich) enough to ignore the reactionary furore that had arisen to this point. He recruited a team of scientists and designers to develop a range of bookmark prototypes. The team ultimately consisted of 450 scientists (many of whom specialised in bisonry) and 200 designers (many of whom were dead). A research/development institute was erected in Yemen and christened ‘The Tit’ after Cracklebang’s mother.

The first bookmark (codename: Harpies Knee) was completed eight months later. Doubling as a bison insemination device, Harpies Knee was an alarmingly expensive example of overindulgence. Costing 20 million to develop it was soon shelved after a trial suggested it only had a ten percent success rate. It was back to the drawing board for Cracklebang and his team.

* * * * *

Amanda could barely contain her excitement as she hurried home from Vincent’s. Her bookmark was safely stored in a complimentary case to protect it from outside elements. Tucked under her arm was a 700 page instruction manual that went over the basic aspects of bookmark use. A more detailed edition was available should she request it. Given the immense size of the basic manual, Amanda sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. The fact that the manual was so long it required the use of a bookmark struck Amanda as unusual.

The agonising trip home finally came to an end. Amanda scurried into her apartment and drew the blinds, not wanting the outside world to interfere with her special moment. With the environment prepared she carefully removed the bookmark from its protective casing and sat it on the coffee table. She spent several minutes staring at it in veneration. Beside the bookmark she placed the hefty operation manual. Her eyes glanced over toward her bookshelves.
How can I possibly choose which book to use first? I desire to read them all.
She decided to shut her eyes and point randomly toward the bookcase, letting fate decide. With her eyes tightly closed and an outstretched finger, she walked toward the bookshelf, toppling several nativity displays along the way. Finally she felt her finger bump into a spine. A grin enveloped her face.
My first book
, she thought. Her eyes opened and she plucked it from the shelf. The book was ‘On Why I’m Cumming’ by Herman Friars.
Oh joy! I’ve heard this one is very good.

* * * * *

The next four days were spent sleeplessly pouring over the instruction manual. She was only an eighth of the way through but was fairly certain she had acquired the adequate knowledge to use her bookmark. She wisely decided on a nap first which turned into a seven day sleeping binge. When Amanda finally awoke she was full of energy and desire. She scurried toward the coffee table where the bookmark awaited, urinating on the way. She opened ‘On Why I’m Cumming’, got comfortable and began to read.