The Wall - Sims Adaption

[Panzerjoust]

I didn't like my first story so I'm going to start something new. Essentially it is a story adaptation of Pink Floyd's concept album The Wall using the sims. What do you guys think?

[Minty]

That sounds like a plan. Do it different to the film though, your own interpretation of it.

[Caspin]

Sounds interesting. I'll look forward to that, as I didn't manage to read your other story before it disappeared!

[Panzerjoust]

Here's the first part




So ya
Thought ya
Might like to go to the show.
To feel the warm thrill of confusion
That space cadet glow.
Tell me is something eluding you sunshine?
Is this not what you expected to see?
If you wanna to find out what's behind these cold eyes
You'll just have to claw your way through this disguise!


You can call me Pink. My real name is Roger Pinkerton, but you can call me Pink. If I am going to start this story somewhere then I shall start it with the first brick. My father died in the battle of Anzio, on February 18th, 1944. I was two.
I remember, as a young child, whilst exploring the house, finding a dresser with father's clothes in. It was all neatly folded and pressed, and as I rummaged deeper I found a box full of his army dress uniforms.
I looked at them again years later, but nothing had changed. There was his olive green jacket, brass buttons polished and shining, his various photographs and papers, one of which stuck out from the rest. It was a scroll, tied with a red ribbon, signed with the stamp saying that father was dead. My eyes still grow damp when I remember how I gazed upon that paper in wonder. Before I had no inkling of what sort of man he was like. I didn't even know his name. He was just a stranger. And now here was Harold J. Pinkerton in writing, described as a 'courageous captain of the Royal Fusiliers Company C.'
Still I felt a pang of sadness in my heart.




Father was dead, leaving his only son to grow up alone. All in all it was just a brick in the wall.

[Caspin]

Storytime has started - I shall get the popcorn!

[Minty]

Yay!

[Panzerjoust]

When we grew up and went to school
There were certain teachers who would
Hurt the children in any way they could
By pouring their derision upon anything we did
And exposing every weakness
However carefully hidden by the kids
But in the town, it was well known
When they got home at night, their fat and
Psychopathic wives would thrash them
Within inches of their lives!




"What's this, boy?" spat the teacher, peering over my desk. She reached a clawed hand down and grasped the ragged scrap before marching to the front of the class with it. Everyone was silent and looking. Twenty - eight pairs of eyes were peering into my soul, and I could feel the embarrassment. But there was more than that. She had taken my poem, something I had written for myself, and was now going to share it with everyone. I retreated into myself like a tortoise.
"He's written a poem. Want to hear it, everyone? Want to see what Pinkerton has wasted his time on?" and she began to read, in a slow, deliberate way, and with every enunciated syllable I drew further within myself to shield myself from all the laughter and eyes and pointed fingers.
"Money, it's a gas. Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash. Money get back, I'm all right Jack, keep your hands off my stack."
And all of a sudden she pounced forward and thrust her ugly face into mine and shouted and spluttered, sending flecks of spittle across my face.
"SO, PINKERTON, WHERE WILL THIS GET, YOU, EH?" she screamed, crumpling the paper into a ball, "WRITING PRETTY LITTLE POEMS WON'T GET YOU PAST THE ELEVEN PLUS, WILL IT? DOOMED TO FAILIURE, PINKERTON, YOU ARE BUT A SPECK OF DUST UPON THE GREAT SCRAP HEAP OF FAILIURES, I SHOULD CANE YOU NOW, I SHOU-"
All of a sudden I was no longer registering what she was saying. Instead visions of school children, their faces obscured by identical masks, wearing identical clothes, marching to the workhouse flooded my brain. And anger, incredible, burning anger, how dare she say I, Pink, was doomed to fail, how dare she! She wants to mould these bright young children into corporate drones! And no, I screamed inside, we shall not! In fact -

We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teacher leave them kids alone
Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall
All in all you're just another brick in the wall...

The Wall was taking shape. I walked home, like I did nearly every school day, in the rain.

[Caspin]

This is great! I hope you're enjoying writing it as much as I'm enjoying reading it. More please!

[Minty]

Next chapter?

[Panzerjoust]

It's probably be up around next week. I'm very busy at the moment and I also have to start doing my assignments that I left at the last minute :/