Crystal Baws: Student Special
As Venus enters your sign you tell your physics professor about the role planets play in our daily lives according to the Zodiac. Shaking his head he corrects you, informing you about the role physics actually plays, how one cosmic body can be drawn to another with an irresistible force. He then goes on to explain in close detail how the hydraulic motion of one body slapping repeatedly against another can help it pass its exams.
In the story of Willy Wonka and his Magical Narcotics Factory, you would be Augustus Gloop, uncontrollably sucking up different flavours of drugs through a pipe before falling into the river of gear. Instead of drowning in chocolate or drugs however, you drown in your own vomit at the bottom of a stairwell this September. In October your fat parents cry and eat all the way through your rain-sodden, barely-attended funeral. Later, the tracksuit-clad Oompa Loompas you grew up with on your estate turn up at the graveside for a ceremony of their own. Don’t worry, the orange pile of tits that was your first love soon finds a way to cope, her enormous face crying into the nylon shoulder of your best pal Tozza. After snorting pills and downing a bottle or two of White Ace they make love on your grave so they can have something to remember you by, draping the slimy, used Durex on your headstone as a rancid requiem.
The next four years are going to be the best and most awful days of your life. The walls that hold you will see you fight, fuck and finger-bang your way through months of tedious education. When this nasty degree business is all out of the way, those walls, if they could speak, would utter only judgemental obscenities.
Thirsty for knowledge, fizzy drinks and new experiences, the wardrobe is where you like to spend most of your time. Inside the dark, enclosed space you can let your imagination take flight, whether it’s imagining that you’re in a lift, a box or simply in a different wardrobe. You can spend an entire term engaging in these flights of fancy, on an adventure holiday inside the mind of you.
As a traditional hunter and sign of the Lion, you are on high-alert for movement and can often be distracted from your school work by string or laser pens. By day you sleep beneath the tree in your local prairie or ‘park’ awaiting your Lioness to return with food and booze. Born and bred in the outdoors, for you, city living is like being trapped in a zoo. You pace up and down your kitty litter-covered flat occasionally punching the wall and roaring out of the window at passing traffic.
After holding out all the way through college you plan to finally lose your virginity en-masse at University, lubing up to spend four years Y-shaped under legions of inexperienced young scholars half-heartedly filling your vagina with entire knobs-worth of DNA. But you’re careful to keep some of your chastity unfucked, making a point of saving your bum virginity for your wedding night. That way it will be special.
You never worry about letting people know exactly what you think of them. Whether it’s the size of their face, the fact their dad can’t swim or that you think their newborn looks like a 9-day-old balloon animal. You will give it to people straight and nasty, and if they don’t like it, well they can just die in an unexplained accident like everybody else.
Don’t fool yourself. In the Halls of Residence the walls are so thin everyone can hear you having sex, so you might as well put on a performance. Make it sound like you’ve opened up an abattoir in there, and are quite successful in this new venture.
Your ruling planet is Mercury, which means you are covered in craters caused by greasy asteroid burgers repeatedly colliding with your digestive system. Volcanically-active pores of grease erupt all over your fleshy surface from your core of super-dense pus.
A few months after you left for University, having received no phone calls and wracked with worry, your poor little mother decides to check your Facebook page. Booting up the family PC, she plugs in the dusty cables and dials up the internet while sipping cocoa from her ‘World’s Sweetest Mum’ mug. Sadly, because you accidentally set all your privacy settings to ‘public’ she ends up discovering the full horror of what her golden child has become outside the nest. The realisation hits her like a brontosaurus with AIDS taking a massive diseased shit on a precious little flower.
Like the sea, you devour men beneath your vast surface.
Due to excessive student fees and mismanaged budgets you’ll likely have to spend the majority of your post-degree lifespan performing unpaid labour in one of David Cameron’s new Job Camps. “Work shall set you free,” the screw informs you heartily, pointing towards the call centre cubicle for you to take a seat beside your malnourished colleagues.