TEENAGE TALES: A DEATH IN THE FAMILY...

Just because I'm starting on a new Teenage Tales,

it doesn't mean I've finished with the last one.  As you'll

recall, I was telling you about a guy called Adam Cowie,

who was a sad fantasist totally disconnected from reality.

In the previous instalment, I recounted the story of the

night his mother died, but there's a bizarre incident

concerning her death that demands to be told.

Adam's blind parents attended a local Baptist

Church, which, among its members, was a contingent

of - well, let's be honest - nut-jobs, who were into things

like speaking in tongues and modern-day miracles.  Some

folk - usually highly-strung, socially inadequate oddballs -

need to feel closer to God than 'ordinary' churchgoers,

and you'll find them in most places of worship, always

smiling and praying and hugging and frightening

normal people away from attending.

Anyway, one of this group was convinced that

God had revealed to him that, 'though ill, Mrs. Cowie

would make a full recovery.  He must have misheard, as

Mrs. Cowie died and exposed him as the deluded diddy he

was, but he wasn't easily deterred.  This was clearly a test of

faith designed to reveal the handiwork of the Lord, so this

small group of 'neo-pentecostalists' gathered around the

bed of the dead woman, held hands, and prayed to the

Almighty for the miracle He'd clearly intended to

follow Mrs. Cowie's 'temporary' expiration.

Mr. Cowie wasn't really into all this sort of stuff,

but, from what I heard afterwards, he found himself 

unable to quell the group's determination and enthusi-

asm to 'glorify God' by restoring life to the inert body of

his deceased wife.  Also, there was probably a small part

of him that hoped against hope that this band of zealots

might accomplish what they were all convinced they

could.  Sadly, it was not to be, and Mrs. Cowie

remained lifeless in her bed.

Quite a horror story, eh?  Don't get me wrong, it's

not my intention to knock religious people, but when

a group's so-called beliefs inflict such a level of pain on

someone at the point of bereavement, then I'd suggest it's

past time for them to take a long hard look at themselves.

However, that's not the main story I intended to tell, so

permit me to get back on track before you all decide

to bail out over to Steve Does Comics.

Around two years or so later, having moved to a

small flat, old Mr. Cowie went to be with his departed

wife.  I didn't live too far from what was now Adam's flat,

and sometimes I'd stay overnight and we'd watch films on

TV, read comics, and talk the nonsense that all teenagers

do.  Anyway, one morning, in the small hours, as I dozed

in one chair and Adam dozed in another, he suddenly

(and loudly) blurted out "Right, dad, I'll make you

a cup of tea in a minute."

Neither of us were actually asleep, just dozing,

and I could tell that Adam was indulging in a bit of

theatre for my benefit, intended to 'set the stage' for

some coming denouement.  I was correct, as a few hours

afterwards when we were both up and about, he enquired

(trying far too hard to sound casual), "Gordon, do I talk in

my sleep?"  "Dunno," I replied, unwilling to be a straight-

man to his performance of the grief-stricken son, so de-

voted to his father that he spoke to him in his sleep.

And performance it was to be sure.

This was confirmed a day or two later, when we

were in a pub (I was on Cokes), and he was telling an

acquaintance that his father had not long passed away.

"Me and my dad were really, really close - isn't that so,

Gordon?" he asked, looking for my support in his role as

the devastated mourner.  Now, truth be told, I didn't have

a clue if they were or not, but he obviously believed that

the closer his stated relationship between himself and his

father, the greater his grief would be assumed to be by

people because of it.  "Yeah," I said, resignedly

and with no great conviction.

Who knows, maybe we all fall into playing the

roles that fate seems to expect from us in any given

situation, but you'd think we could put that on hold in

the face of bereavement.  It seemed to me that Adam

merely went through the motions of being a bereft son,

and that his parents' deaths had provided him with an

opportunity to stand centre-stage for a while and

bask in the audience's attention.

I'd better call it quits now before you accuse me

of being too cynical.  Another Teenage Tales episode

coming soon, about a man who claimed that God told

him to take a bath.  Intrigued?  Then don't forget to

remember to drop in again. 

Posted in: Cartoons