Post by CLIFFORD VIRGIL EVERETT on Apr 2, 2012 15:41:30 GMT -5
[classy=apptite]CLIFFORD VIRGIL EVERETT
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[classy=appdesc]Oh, hey Brooklyn! Look who's it is! It's Clifford Virgil Everett! Oh, uh... perhaps you know them by their nickname, Cliff? Anyway, this certain blessing in disguise came to us on January 1, and grew up to be a hefty 6’. You can always tell it's Clif because of their brown hair, brown eyes and soul piercing stares. Not to mention they've gotten themselves battle scars! You know, everyone says they look like Jim Sturgess? I personally don't see it though ....
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[classy=app1]The fat lard of a principal looked over his papers with a rather disinterested attitude. He noticed you sitting down, but doesn't really have the courtesy to look up from his desk. To you, he says out loud. "Let's begin shall we? Tell me the basic details about yourself." With a cough, he shuffled through is papers and glanced at you once through his small eye glasses.
With sixty-six years experience, Cliff knew how to talk to people. “My name is Clifford Everett, though I would appreciate you calling me either Mr. Everett or, if you must, Cliff. I am sixty-six years old and I am here to teach history to the students of your facility.”
He spent a moment looking the principal over. The man couldn’t be more than forty or so years old. Cliff always found it so burdensome when people so much younger than himself looked so much older. It wasn’t his fault he was stuck in the body of a person a third of his age. Not that he always found it so bothersome. The eternal health and youth and everything was quite nice. But it was difficult trying to solicit the proper respect when he hardly looked old enough to be out of school.
History had always been a fascination of Cliff’s. Since he knew he would be living indefinitely, his interest became even more intense, as everything he knew would one day become history. He would outlive it all, and that made it all the more interesting.
Sometimes he tried to make connections between now and when he was really the age he looked. Everything had changed so much. The elephantine man in front of him was living proof. Growing up in the fifties, no one would have ever been that fat.
With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, threw his glasses on the desk and ran his chubby fingers through thinning, greasy hair. He pinched the nose of his bridge and closed his eyes tightly as he said, "You know about the truth of this place. Now, I didn't invite you personally, my staff did. So please, give me a run down of your power." With his eyes still shut, the principal gestured with one arm toward you to begin.
“Well, when I was eighteen I enlisted into the United States Armed Forces. I was shipped out to Vietnam in 1964 and I fought and killed men for a cause I didn’t really believe in. But I figured that if I didn’t try to help, someone who wasn’t willing to fight would be forced to. I was one man, but I felt that I could keep one other man from being forced to do something that he was against.
“I didn’t know I was immortal until I was killed. I got shot right in the heart and I’ve got the scars to prove it. I was blacked out, trapped in my own head for two days. They were getting ready to send me home in a box to my mother. When I woke up, they sent me home anyway. Dishonorable discharge for not being dead. It’s because I was one of those mutants that the government had been manufacturing. I was one of the first to be born, I think, and I didn’t even know it until 1968 when I was twenty-two and dead.”
Finally, his eyes opened groggily. However, he wasn't much warmer. He yawned loudly and largely as he looked over your paper. With eyes watery and face red he continued, "I see why we would have invited you. Let's see..ah yes. Mind telling a bit about your family and where you're from?"
“I grew up with just my mom around. My dad left when I was a kid and we never had much. It was hard for us and I had to grow up fast because I had to run the household while Ma was working. I’d go to school after she went to work and she’d come home after me. I would make dinners and clean and she was always so exhausted. It was hard for her to even gather the energy to feed herself,” he took a deep breath, composing himself. His mother had lived out her years well, but things had changed a lot since he was a kid.
He didn’t feel the need to go into the origins of his power. It was common knowledge, anyway. His mother had been forced to be a test subject when the government was manipulating genetic codes, and after that she hadn’t been the same. It was worse before Cliff was born, he knew. That’s what drove his father way. She would have such fits... Cliff remembered a few nights in his childhood where he feared the worst. But she always bounced back, and, luckily, as time past, it seemed that she was getting better.
The tests caused more than just the fits, it seemed. When he returned home from the war, under charge of being a freak of nature--something to be shunned--she had decided to tell her son the whole story. It explained everything. He understood the fits, the exhaustion, even his immortality. But it didn’t mean he had to like it.
Certainly, there is a point in every man’s life where he wishes he could live forever. But what he doesn’t realize is how difficult the idea is to handle.
While you were talking, the principal had made himself comfortable by leaning back in his chair and intertwining his fingers. "Hmpf. You should fit right in. May I ask, what are your plans in the future? Outside of AMG?"
He shrugged. “I don’t typically waste my time thinking of the future. The future is composed of nows. Unless there is a loophole in my situation that I am presently unaware of, it is likely that I’ll be outliving most of the worldly things that we know today.”
In all honesty, Cliff gave up hoping for things when his wife died. She had been almost thirteen years older than him, but it was a love like he’d never known with another person. It had always been hard, what with his being younger and looking like a perpetual twenty-two year old, but their love had triumphed over age. But good things must end, even when you live forever. He lost her a few months ago, just before his sixty-sixth birthday. She was seventy-eight and had cervical cancer.
The night she died, he had tried to kill himself, even knowing that it wouldn’t work. He’d spent two days passed out on his bedroom floor and woke up one morning in a sticky puddle of dried blood. He gave up then. He didn’t let himself want anything anymore and he gave up caring about anything.
But that is a very difficult way to live as well. Eventually, he decided to do something again. He could teach others like him about something he would live first hand. When he found that there was an open teaching position, he knew what he would do.
He looks much more interested now, rather awake and in a slightly better mood. "Tell me, do you have any hobbies?" he inquired, creating soft jazz hands at the word 'hobbies' as if to mock it. "You're aware that it may be difficult to continue these on the island, as you may not leave outside of break?" It was more of a statement than a question.
“I don’t particularly have many hobbies, no. I read quite a bit, but don’t you think it’s a bit absurd to restrict your teachers to the island? I am sixty-six years old, sir. I believe I am entitled to do what I want.”
Considering how little the principal seemed to be paying attention, however, the guy might have missed the whole thing. That irritated him. People have no respect for their elders. It was downright insulting for this man to care so little about those he let in to his school.
The principal crossed his fat arms and leaned on his desk. In a much more serious tone, he asked, "Be honest, child. How do you feel about all of this...supernatural stuff?" his shoulders shrugged as he said it.
“I disagree with it most strongly,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. “I saw what it did to the first generation test subjects. I know what it’s done to me. These teenagers you have in your school. They like it, I’m sure?” he asked. “But wait. Eventually they’ll realize what a terrible thing it can be. Maybe not all of them. But certainly some will see my side. It’s a terrible thing, being forced to be different. People don’t respect you the way they would if you were normal. Abnormality is a stigma.”
He leaned back on the chair that squeaked under his weight. "I see. Personally, I have mixed feelings. Anyway, we're finished now." The Principal grunted loudly as he got up to shake your hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, do you have any questions for AMG?" he added, as he let go of your hand and buzzed the receptionist to lead you out.
“No, thank you,” he said. He didn’t like the principal, if he was completely honest. Maybe that was just the grumpy old man coming out. But he didn’t think so. Some people were downright irritating.
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[classy=app2]kirsten. eastern standard. female.[/classy]
[classy=apptite]FACE CLAIM [/classy]
[url=http://eoas2.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=viewprofile&user=clifford]JIM STURGESS[/url]
