Seymour - Flashback pt1

OOC - This is part 1 of my Flashback, posted for Flashback week (although this
is now day 9 of Flashback week - figure that out!)
<snip>
"A... Are you ok?" Seymour asked, really unsure what to do. Although he claimed
he was upper class, he really had very little compared to Rosette's upbringing.
"See? This is why everyone hates you... You claim you're upper class, but I've
seen slugs on Mollopod with more nobility in their blood, or slime, or whatever
it is." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes, and getting back to her feet.
<end snip>
Who: Seymour
Where: Captain's/Seymour's Quarters
When: After Rosette stormed off into the other room
Rosette left Seymour as he started to contemplate everything she'd said. He
hasn't been surprised that she'd confronted him after he'd tried to get her
arrested, but the other things she'd said... what did she mean about not being
nobility? Claiming to be upper class? Seymour had maintained the image that he
was upper class for such a long time now that he hadn't expected anyone to see
through it.
Did she know something?
But he WAS upper class! He used to be a Royal Ambassador, to the Queen of
England no less! Only proper nobles get to perform that sort of duty. He wined
and dined with Admirals, and other posh Ambassadors, that's not something that
just anyone can claim. He was a connoisseur of fine wines, and good food, and a
collector of old and expensive antiques.
He'd been carefully maintaining this image for so long now that even he'd
started to believe it.
Seymour had even started to imagine his childhood, and completely fabricate a
different childhood for himself, a better one where his rich parents put him in
a four-poster cot, and fed him caviar baby-food with a silver spoon.
But this just wasn't true. Seymour had started to believe his own lies.
The truth started to resurface, and Seymour felt weak in the knees. He put a
hand out to steady himself on his oak dresser.
The truth about his childhood bubbled to the surface and Seymour almost cried
out in paid as he remembered how horrible it was. How hideously hideously
horrible. It was so terrible that he almost threw up over his own freshly ironed
suit.
He remembered back to his childhood..... he remembered his home where he grew up
with his parents.... he remembered..... he remembered.......
His parents had IKEA furniture!
Seymour sat down to stop himself feinting from how tragic it was. He remembered
having to see the IKEA furniture every day and feeling how uncomfortable the
sofa was. He remembered being a child of only 2 stringing together his first
ever sentence saying to his mother:
"Mummy, why don't we have some fine antique furniture, not this pre-fabricated
cheap Scandinavian rubbish?"
This had shocked his mother, who only thought little baby Seymour could only say
"Daddy", "Mummy" and "Pinot Grigio".
---------------------------------------
Who: Young Seymour, 17 years old
Where: Earth, England, West Yorkshire, in a grotty farmhouse between two lanes
of the M62
When: 24 years ago
Seymour hated his life.
He especially hated this house. It was where he lived with his parents, and both
sets of grandparents. He looked out of the window of his tiny bedroom, which
looked out over a small grotty muddy farmyard and then an endless sea of
motorway.
Their house was built directly in the middle of two lanes of a busy motorway.
Seymour had wondered why their house was there in the first place and came to
these two conclusions. Either there really wasn't much space left to build
houses in the 22nd century, so they had to plonk them anywhere, either between
motorways or in the middle of roundabouts.
Or the second option was that the house had been there so long, that they had
built the motorway around it. This did make sense as the house was incredibly
old and was actually falling apart around them.
Also it made sense that one of his relatives who'd owned the farmhouse before
the motorway was built was an awkward sod and wouldn't move just to allow the
motorway to be straight. Seymour's spotty teenage face smirked as he imagined
his great grandad tearing up a cheque from the Motorway Commission for a large
sum of money just because he didn't want to move, so the builders who built the
motorway just went around him. On both sides, just to spite him.
Seymour walked out of his bedroom and into the living room. "I'm bored" he
announced.
The loving room was the main room of the house where the entire family
congregated. His mother and father and brother were there, playing a game of
holographic monopoly. Both his two grandfathers and two grandmothers were there
too, all of them in one large bed, just like Charlie Bucket's family from
Charlie and the Chocolate factory.
It was a nuisance having two sets of grandparents sleeping in the living room,
because they got in the way of the TV. But there really wasn't anywhere better
for them to go. The house was small, and they didn't have enough money to move.
The Niples family were poor.
They were so poor that Seymour wasn't allowed a brand new"Back to Reality" game,
like all his friends. That's why his family had to settle with the old fashioned
Holographic Monopoly.
They were so poor that Seymour had to share his bedroom with his kid brother.
They were so poor that Seymour couldn't afford to go into town and socialise
with his other friends from school, which is why he was stuck at home on this
rainy bank holiday.
They were so poor, that Seymour had begged his parents for some antique
furniture to replace their cheap IKEA ones, but he was ignored. "When you get a
job, maybe you can buy some antiques, but not until then!"
"I'm so bored" he announced again, as nobody seemed to hear the first time.
His mother looked up. "Seymour dear. Try some of this wine I'm drinking. I think
you're old enough now."
Seymour screwed up his face. "No mother, I've tasted that wine you have before
and it's horrible. It tastes like vinegar."
"No dear. This is good stuff, I won it at a raffle."
Seymour took his very first sip of good wine and a smile grew across his face.
"So what does it taste like?" Asked his mother.
"Wonderful!" He said. "I didn't know wine could taste this good! Are there
different flavours?"
"Every type of wine is a little bit different." Said his mother.
"Fantastic!" Said Seymour, realising that this would change his life forever. "I
must try all the different types. Can you buy me some more mother?"
"Don't be silly Seymour, we can't afford to buy the good stuff. Maybe if you got
a job when you finish school? You'll be old enough to join the Space Corps next
year when you finish school."
Seymour started to sulk. "But I don't want to join the space corps!" He said.
His Grandad scoffed from the shared bed in the centre of the room. "A good wage
the Space Corps does!" He said. "You could buy us all a new house!"
"And a new bed!" Said his Grandmother.
"But I don't want to join the Space Corps!" Seymour said. "I want to be an
Antique Dealer, or... or... a wine taster!" He said, and reached for the bottle
of wine but his mum slapped his hand away.
There was a knock at the door, and Seymour's mum opened it.
"It's your Uncle Pete." She said, and greeted him. He was a tall man with bushy
eyebrows.
"He's not my uncle!" Said Seymour rudely. "He's just some guy that Dad met in
the pub."
It was true, Pete Tenshal wasn't an uncle by blood. But he'd been around the
family enough to earn the name, although he did occasionally disappear for long
periods of time, and nobody really knew where he lived.
"Fancy coming with me to London?" Uncle Pete asked Seymour.
<Part 2 coming up soon!>