The Musketeer : Part One

[CelticMuscle]

(seeded by V. R. Gogh)

That morning's mail filled me with dread. It had only been one letter but that letter was one I had been expecting for the last twenty years and here it was at last.

You are cordially invited to the twenty year anniversary of Middletown High School 1994/1995 Class at the Metropole Hotel, Kensington on June 21st 2015.

That year in school for me was a nightmare and it was a nightmare that had two words, Graham Barker. He was my own personal menace and the reason? His size. According to the official school records he was 17 but whenever I met up with him he looked more like 25. He was only 6ft 3, but from the position I had usually licking his shoes he looked more like 8ft tall. And was he big? He was so big he actually had to crawl through doors sideways just to get in and out of the lessons and was given a special dispensation to sit on the floor because none of the chairs would survive him. He always bragged about his size and strength and when he mentioned his weight, bragging in the gym whilst overhead pressing 500lbs, he said "Yeah, 350lbs of lean muscle!" and thumped his chest for effect. So the fact that I was a full foot shorter and potentially two hundred pounds lighter made me the perfect bullying target and to make matters worse because we were in the same year, this bullying happened for the longest six years of my life and had all started in the first year of high school simply because I accidentally tripped him up during the school's drama production of "The Three Musketeers".

I was playing the Duke of Buckingham and was giving an impassioned speech to the King of France, being played by Graham, to prevent a war breaking out between England and France. The script called for Graham to stand up and push me aside say "Our nations are at war" and then march off stage left and the lights fade. What actually happened was that he pushed me so hard that I fell awkwardly and had my legs sprawled in front of him, he delivered his line and then fell over them and staggered off stage where an almighty crash was heard. My life after that moment was a nightmare, even when I apologised he grabbed me by my shirt collar, held me level with his face and yelled "You shall pay for that, Buckingham!" and threw me to the ground.

As I held the letter, my hand quaking, I suddenly read the bottom which offered a way out of my mess.

Don't forget your fancy dress on the theme of classic literature.

I resolved there and then that I would go disguised as a member of the Musketeer corps of France from the stories of the same name. Little did I know what that decision would do to my life.