Mom always has the secret. The secret to success, the secret to being liked and the secret to baking the best jam scones. Clearly I followed dad in the gene department. His scrawny physique, his puny almond-shaped eyes and his shocking inclination of getting into trouble. The only good thing that he gave me is Samu. And now my current failure status vexingly adds to those ‘dad genes’.

A familiar squeak signals the opening of the front door. “Cav, sweety? I’m home,” mom announces in a tone that comforts yet petrifies me.

Taking a deep breath, I greet her back, trying to hide my shame, “Hi.”

With a sparkling face, mom takes a seat on the edge of my bed and says: “Before you tell me the results, I want to tell you that I love you and no matter what happens, I will be there for you.” Why does she always have to be so damn encouraging! I certainly do not deserve it. She continues, “I know that school has not been your forte and it is okay, there is always a bright future for everyone.”

I cannot help but take a whiff of mom’s rose perfume that fills the room with beauty and comfort. Oh, how I wish I could make mom proud, bringing home seven distinctions and a Sportsman-of-the-year award, but I just do not have it in me. The only thing that I could ever manage to give attention to was Samu. Avoiding eye contact, I slowly lift Samu up to display the results. Mom’s sympathetic face causes my eyes to tear up. And with that, I shamefully run out the room as if my legs were connected to my conscious mind.

*****

“Johannesburg, 29° high and 16° low. Beautiful day with full sun.”

At the sound of Samu’s weather alarm, I religiously touch the snooze option, turning off the robotic sounding female voice that is ever ready to direct me to the next GPS location. Or in my case, a much needed future direction. Then the stark realisation of what had happened the day before jolts my torso up to a ninety degree stance. A plethora of negative thoughts drowns my body. The thought of showing my face outside the house is now all too unbearable; all the more reason to stay in bed all day and catch up on my Facebook newsfeed. It was definitely not going to be a beautiful day.

As I reach for Samu, I see a neon orange sticky note on my bedside table.

‘Morning Cav! Hope u feel better today! We’ll work this out together. Don’t worry! See u after work. I Love u! P.s Bacon is on the table.’

I toss the note onto the floor and grab Samu.

Samu is always there to ease my pain. Like the time they took out my wisdom teeth, or the daily arguments I overheard from my parents. I could always rely on Samu for a temporary escape into Candy Crush, or a good laugh from the YouTube video showing the ‘Ice-bucket challenge’ after a stressful day. This is certainly one of those days.

The sound of chirping birds buzzes in the air, marking the arrival of a new Gmail message. My daily medicine of motivational messages from ‘Samsung Mobile’ conveniently advertises “No need to worry about anything. Let technology do the worrying and you do the living”. It is if Samu feels my pain, conjuring up this message just for me. Then I realise…

Facebook. Twitter. Google. Instagram. YouTube. And best of all, Wi-Fi. Who needs a matric certificate when there is already such joy contained within 6-inches. My days are sorted.

I immediately update my Twitter status: Life is superb…NoWorries… #YOLO.

Fortunately for me, Samu can multitask between ten different applications at once. On one page, I snicker at the stories that expose a day in a Kardashian’s life. At the same time, I swipe through different seductive outfits to dress my Kardashian cartoon character in on the unoriginally named ‘The Kardashian Game’. I minimize Kardashian (for now) and click onto ‘The House of the Dead game’. Shooting mutilating zombies pumps adrenaline into my body as my worries die away with a single shot at a half dead dog.

I continue playing until my hands are numb from the constant tapping of the ‘shoot’ button. I decide I need some YouTube time. The first thing I search for is the latest music videos, and instantly Bruno Mars pops up. Glued to the screen, I idolise Bruno’s swag, pink blazer as he dances to his Uptown Funk beats. As the song ends, Maroon 5’s ‘Sugar’ automatically plays. I watch as Adam Levine wedding-crashes random ceremonies. I suddenly wonder if I will ever be a groom. The thought was too perturbing, causing my happy-metre to plummet.

I go into Google and I type ‘make me happy’ into the search bar. A list of links and pictures of clowns appear. But what gets my attention is the picture on the right side of the screen showing a sexy blond-haired girl wearing nothing but a black lace G-string. My mouth salivates and my pulse quickens as my mini-me downstairs hardens with ecstasy. My body longs to see more but my mind keeps reminding my body to stay true to my virgin eyes.

But what good did my mind bring me? Failure! So listening to my body, I click onto ‘enter site’. Betty’s firm DD jewels arouse my senses. I click onto an erotic video of a hot naked MILF who opens her legs into a V-shape and then inserts two fingers inside herself. My male juices fill my body as my mind escalates to fantasies of Betty seductively handcuffed to my bed. It is time, the moment of pure pleasure. I caress myself and I feel an eruption coming, when suddenly, Samu buzzes with an SMS message: Hi, wat r u up to, Son?

***

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