If You Feel Lucky

The alley was long and dark, cobblestones covered the ground, there was a light at the far end that burnt with a yellow hue.

A man walked in from the dark end, wearing a knee length jacket and Cuban Heel boots.

A young, athletic man stood under the yellow light at the far end of the alley. He wore jeans and a singlet. His arms bulged with muscles on either side of his well developed chest. His guy crew of four sat around him on empty four gallon drums.

The Cuban Heels clip clopped on the grey cobblestones, which looked like steel grey corn on the cob laid out flat under his feet.

The young athletic man smoked a cigarette, the smoke from which clouded up into the yellow light, like mist on a cold night.

Cuban Heels walked straight up to the young man under the yellow light, as he approached, the young man flicked his cigarette at Cuban Heel's feet. Cuban Heels looked down at the burning red ember at his feet. He looked up at the young man under the yellow light.

"You feel lucky, pal?" said Cuban Heels.

"Lucky enough," said the athletic young man.

"You feel lucky enough to get to me, before I get to you?"

“Lucky enough, sure.”

"Protect your manliness, as you know I'm coming for that first."

“Come for it. Give it your best shot.”

"Suck my cock!" said Cuban Heels.

"Nah, you got it all wrong, mate. It's you who'll be sucking my cock," said the athletic young man.

"So, you are feeling lucky."

Cuban Heels stepped forward and grabbed the young man by the face. The young man didn't try to pull away, he stood firmly defiant, chin out, still.

They gazed at each other, defiantly.

Cuban Heels slipped his hand around the back of the young man's neck. He pushed the young man downwards onto his knees. The young man didn't resist.

The athletic young man’s crew got to their feet, but the athletic young man held up his hand telling them to hold back.

“How lucky do you feel now?” said Cuban Heels.

“Still lucky…” murmured the athletic young man.

Cuban heels rubbed the athletic young man’s face up and down his crotch.

The athletic young man’s crew got obviously twitchy, but they didn’t act.

“How lucky…” Cuban Heels rubbed the athletic young man’s face up against the front of his jeans again. “Do… you… feel?”

“Take it out, and I will bite the fucking thing off,” said the athletic young man.

Cuban Heels tossed the athletic young man down onto the cobble stones, where he landed on his arse. “You’ve got some hutzpah, you know, kid,” said Cuban Heels. He held out his hand to help the athletic young man up, which the athletic young man took. Cuban Heels wrenched the athletic young man to his feet with a jerk of his arm. Suddenly they were face to face eyeballing each other. “I like that in a man,” said Cuban Heels.

They eyeballed each other for several, long minutes. Then they both spat past the other onto the ground.

The athletic young man’s crew whooped and clapped loudly.

“You’ve got a strange way of greeting people,” said the athletic Young man..

“What’s your name?” asked Cuban Heels.

“Felix,” said the athletic young man. “What’s yours?”

“Jose,” said Cuban Heels. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing,” said Felix.

“What if I make you?” said Jose.

Felix’s crew of athletic young men, now sitting back down on the drums, began to sit up and pay attention, all four of them. Ready for anything?

Felix held up his arm, and pushed out his chest, and moaned. “This is a strange way to say hello.”

Two of Felix’s crew had slipped their hands on to the handles of their guns in their jean’s waistbands.

Jose took Felix in his arms and whispered in his ear. “I’m going to do you well. If your boys weren’t here, I’d have you bent over one of those drums by now.”

“Oh yeah, man, but my guys are here,” said Felix.

“You’d take it like a girl?” said Jose.

“For as long as it takes my guys to blow your brains out,” said Felix. 

“Get rid of your boys and I will do you up against the wall right now,” said Jose. “With my bare hands.”

Felix turned to his crew. “Ha ha, you’d like that, hey.” His boys mummed in agreement. "With his bare hands."

“I’m telling you…” said Jose. He spun Felix around. Felix resisted. Jose pushed him face first up against the alley wall. “Get rid of your boys and we’ll find out who is the man here.”

“Fuck you.” said Felix. He broke out of Jose’s grip. “Coming alone was a tactical mistake.”

“Who said I was alone?” said Jose.

“You sure look alone,” said Felix.

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Jose.

“So can lies.”

“Whatever you want to believe?”

“Whatever I want to believe?” said Felix.

“The truth will set you free,” said Jose. “And in this case may be permanently.”

“You have awfully big talk, mate,” said Felix. “For someone who is standing alone in an alley way immediately out gunned.”

“It is the only way,” said Jose. “You know that.”

“One of you, five of us, at the end of a very long alley way, into which no one could come fast enough to save you,” said Felix.

“Maybe so, but none of you would be making it out of here alive if anything happened to me.”

“That’s a big risk.”

“Nah,” said Jose. “I don’t see it as such.”

“No?”

“No, I see it as good will, going towards us working through the problems we have?”

“And what problems would they be?” asked Felix.

“You know as well as I do, what they are?”

“Why don’t you refresh my memory?”

“I thought I did, pushing you up against that wall?”

“Intimidation, isn’t reconciliation,” said Felix. “And I don’t scare easily.”

“I was just giving it to you how I have heard you like it, you know, to be friendly. Get on your good side.”

“You need to get better sources,” said Felix.

“Okay, here it is, you guys have been selling on my territory…”

“Your territory?”

“The Northside.”

“Who made you the king of the Northside?”

“Generations of family controlling the Northside, that’s what gave me claim to it.”

“So, you think,” said Felix.

“So, I know.”

“Do you?”

“Look, stick to the Southside, and all those disco queens who will buy enough of your, er, merchandise to make it worth while for you. Work it well, and you will do well.”

“What happens if I want to expand?”

“There will be trouble.”

“From who?”

“Felix, let’s not pretend any more, mate, we have been patient up until this point, but I out gun, out man, and out fire power you on every level, so, be a good lad…”

“Good lad?”

“You are seriously stretching the friendship,” said Jose. “Work the southside, you should do well with it, and you, and you posse of pretty boys here will get to keep your dicks, attached, where they should be attached, do we understand each other?”

“I’m not…”

“All I won’t to hear at this point is, I understand?”

“I don’t think you grasp…”

Jose grabbed Felix by the singlet. “Yes, or no?” Felix’s boys all got to their feet. Jose pulled Felix’s face centimetres from his face.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Felix.

“You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

Jose let go of Felix singlet pushing him backwards and away from him. Felix stumbled but remained on his feet.

“Sensible move,” said Jose.

Sunday Night Out

I went out dancing last night. Popped a pill and went on the hunt for some basic beats.

I found what I wanted. I grooved into the night. It's what I needed, a good, mindless dance. I popped another pill, when the end of the night seemed further away than I'd like.

The lights were good. The music just fine.

I flirted with a cute Italian boy. Nice smile, kind of wanting, he was on something, to be sure. His jaw shivered Beautiful eyes, big and brown. We danced and smiled. He was with a girlfriend. They shared each other's water.

I popped another pill, thinking about him. My eyes bled. My teeth clenched. My head floated to the roof and floated there on a wave of doof, doof, doof. Bobbing. Floating I couldn't see. My teeth ground constantly. My sense of balance faltered from this plane to the next, but in a good way, a funny way, a way that made me laugh, made me feel ten feet tall.

Faces appeared and floated away. The Italian boy asked me something, but the ringing in my ears masked his words. He smiled. I got the sense I was supposed to answer. It seemed funny. That disconnection, half floating on another plane. My eyes bulged as I tried to focus. I laughed. I was smiling. I couldn't stop smiling.

He took my hand and we were rushing through the crowed. Everything changed. His hand felt good in mine, it was all I could feel. Was I collapsing and I just didn't realise? Would there be red & blue lights? Why would he care? People swayed into view and then out. He was always just passed the next person, just out of sight, but his hand gripped mine tightly.

Dark. Cold. Crashing through doors.

Fresh. The light was suddenly florescent. There were tiles. Everyone was stopped. Milling. It was bright. Hot lights. I shielded my face. I wasn't collapsing, or falling, but my eyes had difficulty opening. Something was funny, deep inside me. I could feel myself laughing, but somewhere else.

The Italian boy said thanks, to someone. I'm not sure who. Everything rushed if I opened my eyes. Blur. My head flopped just a bit.

I was being pushed backwards. It was darker, the brightness was gone. Then it was back. There was a wall behind me.

"I’m Rocky," said the Italian guy.

Rocky was undoing his belt. The buttons on his fly popped open. I was looking down as he got his dick out, I looked away.

Suddenly it was cold.

“I’m Jackson,” I slurred.

We were standing at the urinal, except I was facing the wrong way. A guy came through the door holding his girlfriends hand

"You’re a friend of Johnny’s aren’t you, handsome man?" said Rocky.

“Johnny Jergan?”

“Yep.”

“Yep.”

The toilets were really bright, and I closed one eye. All the edges were really sharp, the grid patterns were really standing out.

“He’s a good mate.”

“Johnny is the best,” I said. I focused on Rocky’s face. His skin was kind of white and blotchy, but that could have been me. His face was shiny with sweat, his hair was kind of wet but still cool. Thick. I looked away. Two guys wearing the same clothes came through the door, they were chewing fiercely.

“You’re a good dancer,” said Rocky

“Am I,” I said. I looked back at Rocky. There was a strong stream of piss still coming out of him. I looked away. “I like to dance.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Rocky. I looked back at him, he was shaking the last of the piss off his cock. He slipped it back into his jeans and started buttoning the buttons. “It’s nice to have someone to dance with.”

“You have your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, sure, but it’s nice to have guy energy too.”

“Yeah both, we need both.” I wasn’t even sure what I was saying by this point. “It makes the world spin.”

“Ying and Yang.” Rocky stepped to the sink and rinsed his hands under the cold water.

We stood next to each other and gazed at ourselves in the mirror.

“You’re holding up better than me,” said Rocky.

“Oh rubbish, with your cheek bones.”

“Noone would ever guess we’re how many pills,” he looked at me.

“What?”

He pointed at my reflection in the mirror with his chin. “How many pills is that?”

“Ah…”

“If you can’t remember it must be time for another one.”

“Shouldn’t that be if you can’t remember… “but my jaw was quivering and I was losing the will to complete the sentence “Ah, 3, it’s 3.”

“Not bad, you look good for 3.”

“How many you?” I asked.

“I think it is 3 too, and a few lines.”

“Yeah, a couple of lines for me to.”

“As a taster for the night.”

“A starter, is what I always say,” I said. “My buddy Derek always makes me up an enormous line to start the night.

“I think we both look good,” said Rocky.

“Heaven and hell,” I said.

“What? Me and you?” said Rocky.

“No, here and there,” I said.

Rocky laughed. “We should pop another pill before we head back out.

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

We were then both in front of the mirrors with our small plastic bags in our hands trying to open the snap lock and get a pill out.

“Should I wonder about doing this, when I can’t get the bag open.”

“It just means it is more urgent than we first thought,” said Rocky. “And you need to get it into your quicker.”

We finally wrestled our pills from their small plastic bags. We put the pills in our mouths. We both motioned for a drink. Neither of us had water.

“Here, you two boys are in need?” said Magnolia the drag queen. She had just entered the toilets. She handed us her drink, which turned out to be a double whisky and coke, we both washed our pills down.

“Thanks,” I said. I coughed after the strong alcohol.

“Thanks,” said Rocky. He inhaled after the whiskey as though he was catching his breath.

We both did that that’s-too-much face post strong alcohol grimace.

“Charmed,” said Magnolia. She looked Rocky up and down. “Puts hairs on your chest.”

“You’re a life saver,” I said.

“Yeah, much obliged,” said Rocky.

“A girls got to wait for a squat potty anyway before she can get her business done,” said Magnolia. She ran her finger down my nose, I resisted pulling away after she gave us her drink so generously. “You two are adorable.”

“You are adorable too,” said Magnolia looking at Rocky. “You two together?”

“We are right now,” I said.

“Working on it,” said Rocky.

“Well, if you need someone to hold the lube, later,” said Magnolia. “I’m your girl.”

“Well keep that in mind,” said Rocky. He smiled his gorgeous smile.

Right at that moment a cubicle door opened up and two guys in leather came out, both sniffing noticeably. “That’s my opening.”

“I bet you’ve had some great openings,” I said. Meaning shows, but I immediately thought how someone could think otherwise.

“Cheeky,” said Magnolia.

Rocky laughed out loud. “You bet she’s had a few great openings,” he said. “You kill me.”

Rocky was one adorable guy.

“You ready,” he said.

“As I ever will be.”

“Let’s go.” Rocky took my hand. Three guys came in just as we were leaving, all draped over each other.

Rocky led me out of the toilets. Suddenly the world went dark. A wall of sound hit us. Lights flashed. The floor pulsed to the beat. 

Doof. Doof. Doof. Hot. Sweaty. Heat.

The crowd closed in on us. I gazed at Rocky’s wide shoulders as he led me through the people with a strong grip on my hand as though he wasn’t going to let go for any reason.

It all returned instantly. The sweating, the rushing, the dizzy, out of body, feeling. Drained of fluid. Topped up. I saw a couple of distorted faces rush at me and then rush away.

Rocky smiled sweetly back at me and the crowd parted. His girl friend was next to him with the water. They both glanced back at me. He smiled.

The lights flashed. The groove came and got me. I needed to dance. My head was spinning.

Rocky grabbed my arm before I disappeared back into the throbbing crowd. “There is an after party starting directly after this one,” he said. “You should come with us.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” I said. I wouldn’t be ready to come down any time soon, an after party sounded just like the thing. “Sounds good.”

“We’ll find you, don’t worry,” he said.

We started to dance. Rocky beat the air with his fists. I spun around in circles. Rocky’s girlfriend started to shimmy and roll her arms.

All Day On My Laptop

I have a day off, a day to myself. The whole day stretching out in front of me, like the celestial highway to the stars. Oh, I picture a road suspended in mid-air disappearing to infinity. Neat and clean, smooth and blemish free.

I switch my computer on early. I just feel like a little something to get me in the mood. So, I call Audrey for a bag of dope. She makes a home delivery early on her way from somewhere to somewhere else. She’s a sight. She’s in a white strap chiffon dress with pink fur trim around her hem, pink bunny ears and a Fendi bag.

“Nice bag.”

“Baguette,” she says.

“The difference is?”

“This is a baguette.”

She invests what she calls her play money in Fendi bags.

“Where are you going?” I ask her.

“Oh, where are any of us going, that is the question?” says Audrey.

“No, I mean now?”

“I just left a club, it was a good night.”

“So, anywhere from here to infinity?” I was just testing her.

She laughs. “As close as you can get.”

“I tell you, you always do my head in.”

“Ohhhhhhh.” She sounds disbelieving. “Listen to you. Now can I help you with one Jolly Rodgers, or two?”

Sometimes it’s chicken snacks, sometimes it’s party dresses, sometimes it’s armadillos, with no warning, or explanation, you just have to keep up.

“I’d better have two?”

“I love your decisiveness,” she says. She twitches her nose like Samantha Stevens.

She reaches into the before mentioned bag and like the Tardis she seems to pull out of it stuff that seems like it is too large to fit in there in the first place.

“Voila,” she says.

I start patting my jeans pockets as though I am looking for money. I am trying to remember where my wallet is.

Audrey turns on her heal and starts heading for the door. “You can pay me later.” The voice of a valley girl, I think, as I look at the back of her head walking away.

“I’m good for it,” I offer. I thought lamely as soon as I said it.

“Isn’t that what I just said,” she says.

I pushed her out the door as soon as I could. I find I start to lose IQ points if I talk to Audrey for too long.

I made coffee, strong and black... I couldn’t be a happier boy? 

I pulled up the garden table under my veranda. It was a lovely sunny day, especially under the partial shade of the veranda and the Japanese Maple in front of the veranda. I rolled a joint really quickly and smoked it down greedily as I sipped my coffee. Some may say, if they’d been watching, that I inhaled it, so it was good that no one was there to witness it.

I rolled a second joint. And that lovely wave soon washed over me. I could almost feel my eyes cranking shut in increments in direct relation to how much I was smoking. Lovely, I thought.

I just naturally slid my laptop over in front of me and started typing away.

“So, this is Luke.”

“Oh, yes!”

“He’s newly available.”

“Impressive, isn’t he.”

“We like to think so.”

“Does he have a, er.” She seems to search for her words. “Vibe?”

“Vibe?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“A presence?”

“We like to think so.”

“Oh yes, I think he does.”

“Well, I am pleased to hear that, as that is what we want in our…”

“There is definitely one.”

“You are saying that as a positive?”

“Oh, yes, indeed.”

“Well, we seem to have hit our mark then.”

“What do you think is in Luke’s heart?”

“Heart?”

“Oh, I don’t know, let me take a look at him.”

“You need to look at him to guess what is in his, er, heart?”

“Yes, of course, you don’t think I can just wing it on some vague idea of him?”

“Well, no, I guess not.” The customer is always right. “I hadn’t thought about it, er, that way before.”

“Oh yes, of course, I’m going to have to have a look at him.”

“No problem, that is no problem. Take a look.”

“Otherwise, I might be in danger of making it up.”

“Making it up, you say?”

“Yes, imagining something that is there that isn’t there at all.”

“Well, no, we can’t have that, er, I suppose.”

“No, that wouldn’t be any good at all,” she said. “You know, for something, I can call him something?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Instead of he?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m just getting used to all of this, of course.”

“Oh yes, take your time.”

“For something I am going to take into my home.”

“We need an honest response.”

“We need a true appraisal of what this is?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Naturally.”

“Well, he is a B39 series 4. He’s a very nice example of that model. He should have a triple battery pack, plus the enhancement function in his pants.”

“Should we take a look?”

“Er, yes. Let’s. Of course.”

“Won’t I have to look at it from time to time?”

“His battery pack?”

“In his pants?”

“You shouldn’t have to very often, but I guess it is possible.”

“I did wonder?”

“Okay. The battery pouch just clicks off like this. There. Now you can see the optional quad battery pack, in this case, and the enhancement function.”

“Oh, yes! I can see that.”

“It’s just the battery pack, mam.”

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s just moulded that way for good ergonomics.”

She laughs the melodic laugh of a damsel.

“He looks all complete, Assembly has done a good job with him, he should be good to go.”

“So, he is the companion model?”

“Yes, that is correct. He is programmed for conversation, emotional and practical. He is programmed for entertainment, which includes the date model and the games model.”

“So, just as good as heading out to a show, or playing games at home, or watching TV?”

“Yes, that is correct. He’s just as capable for live shows and cinema, or being at home for cards, chess, backgammon and the like.”

“Equally good for all those things?”

“Yes, he is a good allrounder.”

“Well, that is great.”

“And he is perfectly capable and able if his mistress, let’s say, gets drunk at lunch to drive her home.”

“Oh, dear God, he sounds almost perfect.”

“His service chip is up to date. He looks as though he has been well cared for.”

“That’s good to hear. Sad for him if he wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It would be awful to be neglected.”

“Oh no, he has no programming around that. It wouldn’t matter.”

“It wouldn’t matter?”

“No. You don’t have to keep up any type of emotional crutch for him, like you would a real boyfriend/husband.”

“You don’t have to fake it with him?”

“Er, I’m sorry?”

“Oh, ah.” Her face blushes red. “I don’t have to fake sincerity?”

“No. No need to fake any sort of sincerity like you would for any human connection.”

“Oh god, that sounds soooo freeing.”

“Oh yes, it is such a relief, clients tell me, let me assure you.”

I sit back and think about the story so far.

I move into the breakfast room for a little toast, with mashed banana on it for lunch. It is suddenly halfway through the day. I made more coffee. I had to keep up my 6, or 7, cups per day, naturally. The more coffee the better, that’s what I always say.

The sun is shining in through the window, that always helps. Life is so much nicer with the sun shining and the blue sky overhead, it just makes the experience that much nice.

What can I say, let’s go for the optimum day, with the sun shine option, the blue sky option, plus the peace and serenity options all ticked. That is the day I am after, and that was the day I got.

Nobody disturbed me all day, so I must have inadvertently switched on the bliss option when I was loading my dashboard, so three cheers for that.

“You said before something about a date model?”

“That is one of his functions.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“Oh yes, of course, one of his program settings is the boyfriend experience.”

“The boyfriend expedience?”

“Dinner and a show. As if he is taking you out.”

“Oh yes.”

“I believe the B39 series 4 also has the advanced first date function.”

“Really, the first date experience?”

“He can provide the experience of going out on a first date with a new suiter.”

“Oh really, how fascinating,” she said. “I’m sure that is a popular function with the ladies?”

“Yes, it is. And some men too.”

“It sounds fascinating.”

“He has quite an array of advanced functions being a Series 4.”

“So, he can massage my, er, feet after a long day being CEO?”

“Yes, he has the advanced smooth touch enhancement and his Soft Acrylic Fibre finished hands are perfect for foot massage.”

“And fully washable?”

“Of course. He’s going to be using his hands for any number of applications so they need to be.”

“Oh, I like that.”

“He also comes with a second pair also.”

“Lovely.”

“All fully washable, of course.”

“He sounds divine.”

 

The Blow up Doll, and the Blow Up Doll's Boyfriend's trade

Nicely Carried Out...?

Nicely carried out.

Nicely carried out...? You really have to get up earlier than that to fool me.

Nearly all of the things you state occurs to become astonishingly correct and which makes me ponder the cause why I hadn't checked out this with you previously.

Have you even read the piece?

This particular piece truly did flip the light on for me personally so far as this topic, issue goes.

Tell me, which bit was the most convincing?

But, there is one position I am not truly as, well, comfortable with, so while I make and work to reconcile that with the true core theme of the point, allow me the observation of what all the readers need to say.

And what would that be? The bit with which you are not comfortable, and the observation of what all readers, you say?

Yes…

Need to say?

Nicely carried out, I say all of that.

I repeat, nicely carried out? ...to you too. You try to flatter me, to get an advantage and, I guess, if I was of, um, average intelligence, or more needy than I actually am, your words may have worked. But, alas for you, this is not the case, so good luck to you.

You misjudge me, I feel.

Well, allow me the observation of what all the writers need to say to you, my good man, nice try.

But, of course.

The conman, the charlatan, the thief, the rogue I’d like to say that I have had much experience with your type, but I have not.

Again, I say you misjudge me.

How did you get passed my photo scanners? I wonder? How did the robot security not kick in on you?

Perhaps you mistake me for someone else?

Does the shit that falls from your mouth even work? I have my doubts.

I am not trying to work anything, I assure you.

Even when I am calling you out to your face, you are still as slippery as ever.

I am sure you mistake me for another.

No sir, I do not. I know exactly who you are.

I would question that, indeed I would.

You have no purchase, here, to question anything.

I was merely congratulating you on your clear success.

No, sir, you were not. I know that. You know that. And yet here we are still deep in your con.

There is no con here, my good man, known, or not known…

I always knew you were a piece of work, but to have the gall to stand here and claim what you are claiming, now, even for you that is quite remarkable.

I don’t doubt that I am remarkable…

I don’t doubt that for a minute.

But I think you are being…

Good day sir.

I think you should let me defend myself from your miscon…

I said good day!

To The Guy Sitting Opposite Me On The Tram

To the guy sitting opposite me on the tram yesterday morning, thanks for the laugh so early in the morning. It does the heart good, well, it does, starting the morning that way.

The tram was busy with people, many were standing. I'd found a seat, as I usually seem to, they just kind of appear for me. Like car parks do, as my friend Mandy always says.

I first noticed him when he was standing in front of me with his back to me, his grey trousers were kind of tight and had a check to them and a thin red stripe that just seemed to float on the grey material. Was I seeing in 3D? I rubbed my eyes. He jigged his leg, which I thought was kind of unusual when someone was standing, it’s a sitting down kind of activity, generally. I know, I sometimes I jig my leg when I am sitting and it is oddly satisfying.

Then he turned around and stood next to me, you know really close, closer than I really thought he needed to so early on a, was it Monday? I hadn’t even woken up enough to know. It was early, I was like a two week old puppy, my eyes hadn’t opened yet.

All I had to do was tilt my head to the right, just slightly, and it seemed like the grey checked red striped material was right in my face. I could see his hand twitching. He had long fingers. I wondered if he had his nails done? It looked like he had his nails done. His knuckles kind of popped, you know like that dance, if he’d stretched them out they would have been grazing my forehead with each twitch and pop. 

I gazed up to see if he had headphones on? He did, of course.

A seat became available, the woman with the thick glasses and the even thicker trashy novel got off on the edge of the CBD. He sat down, on the seat opposite. He had to pull the legs of his grey checked and red striped trousers up, as they kind of caught around his knees, for his legs to stretch out a bit inside the material. His fingers continued to twitch and dance on his thighs. It was difficult looking in his direction, without my eyes just kind of following those fingers, it was hard not to look at them doing their jig. I resisted, just a little, but not really so much. I didn’t want to stare, but it was hard not to.

When some fool tried to do a U turn over the tram tracks and the tram had to slam on its brakes suddenly, his hands clenched into fists so tightly I thought the ends of his thumbs were going to shoot off into space, perhaps ricochet around the cabin like stray bullets. The thought of stray thumbs flying about over our heads made me chuckle.

I’d wait for him to look out the window, then my eyes would drop and watch those fabulous fingers. They kind of danced and jigged up and down his thighs, backwards and forwards. When he looked back in my direction, I’d divert my eyes quickly to the right and out the window on the other side of the tram. Tra la la. Then when I saw him in my peripheral vision look out the window again, my eyes would slide back to his twitching fingers. I’m pretty sure he didn’t catch me looking.

Ipsy wipsy spider’s web came to mind and those hand actions my mum used to do as she recited the words.

His fingers were like two spiders running up and down his thighs. Dancing, and twitching and fidgeting, and prancing and pirouetting and spinning there on his legs. Had he had one too many coffees? Was he waiting for his medication to kick in? The thoughts made me chuckle too.

I wondered if he knew what his hands were doing? Was he fully cognisant, or was there some kind of disconnect going on? I looked around to see if anyone else noticed the show going on right under their eyes, but no, of course not, just blank stares all around me. A sea of faces set to cadaver, for the morning journey into town.

Aaron and Travis

Twins Aaron and Travis have been creepily identical since birth. Sure, they are twins, of course, but it goes further than that. They are like the same person. There is no doubt about the egg dividing with those two. When they were boys, only their mother could tell them apart.

"Do the chicks dig the twin thing?" I said.

"No, it does their heads in," said Aaron.

"Spins them out," said Travis.

"We've tried it with one girl," said Aaron. "Let her think we were one person."

"Twice," said both Travis and Aaron, at exactly the same time. It's spooky when they do that. And they do it often.

"The girl didn't like it," said Aaron.

"After a while," said Travis, with a cheeky smile.

"Spun her..." said Aaron.

"...out," said Travis.

"Once the drugs wore off," said Aaron.

"Didn't work," said Travis.

"When the final realisation hit her," said Aaron.

"When she realised we were..." said Travis.

"...two and not one," said Aaron.

They both reached for their coffee, at the same time. They both drank together. They both wiped their mouths in exactly the same way.

"They all think he's better looking," said Travis, smiling broadly. It is their joke. A twin joke. I guess you have to be there in person, as nobody can tell these guys apart.

"But really..."

"They can't tell us apart..."

"In any detail," said Aaron.

"In any detail," said Travis. "Can't tell it's not Aaron's chest they're not lying on..."

"When they are lying on his," said Aaron.

They both smiled exactly the same, kind of self-satisfied.

"We thought it would turn her on."

“You know, in the end.”

“Like it turned us on.”

"She threatened to have us charged," said Aaron.

Travis shrugged. "Like she would have known if we hadn't told her."

We cracked open three stubbies and let the afternoon sun warm our faces and sparkle in our eyes.

"We ran into her, together." Aaron pointed to Travis and then himself. "In the city, one Saturday."

“Just unexpectedly,” said Travis.

“She’d always thought there was something…”

“She couldn’t put her finger on it…”

“But there was something.”

“You wouldn’t know, now would you.”

“It just wouldn’t come into your thinking.”

“It’s different if you are a twin,” said Travis. “But otherwise, not so much.”

“But then she saw us together…”

“And she did these double takes and we could both see the realisation come to her as it came to her.”

“The look on her face.”

“Would have been priceless…”

“If she hadn’t turned like…”

“A bitch.”

“It was both of you,” she said. 

“And then she realised more.”

“OMG! I…” she dropped her voice and looked around. “I… both.. OMG! OMG! It was… both. BOTH!”

“Hold on,” said Travis.

“We never said…”

“No that IS the problem, you never said!”

It was a bright summery day, it sparkled. The sky was blue. Cloudless. The breeze was cool. Birds tweeted in the trees. Leaves fell from the gum tree.

Then there was the swap.”

“We swapped girlfriends.”

“We just wanted to know if they could tell.”

“If we could get away with it.”

“That was it.”

“And they nearly didn’t.”

“Tell,” said Travis.

“We shouldn’t have...”

“No, we shouldn’t have....”

“But, it’s just sex,” said Aaron

“What’s the big deal?” said Travis.

“If they enjoyed it when we were doing it…”

“Why complain about it later?”

“Just because they found out it wasn’t,” Aaron grimaced and raised his hands to make air quotes, “exactly what they thought.”

“What does making victims out of people, actually, prove?”

“Travis gave it away at the last minute,” said Aaron.

“I said something about talking to Aaron…” said Travis.

“When he was supposed to be me,” said Aaron.

“And Louisa got it straight away.”

“Talk to Aaron,” she said confused. “Then there were more OMG’s than I can remember as she picked it straight away.”

“She was screaming about rape.”

“Like WTF?”

“They both split up with us.”

“Dumped us. Both.”

“We learned that’s how you lose your girlfriend.”

“By doing that…”

“It is basically dishonest, I guess, when you really think about it.”

“We thought it was a bit of fun.”

“But our girlfriends definitely did not… think… that.”

“They took it…”

“Really badly.”

“Shame, they both had nice pussies.” Aaron smiled wickedly.

“Don’t smile like that,” said Travis.

"But, we both fucked them," said Travis.

"They had both of us, thinking we were the other person," said Aaron.

"Only time," said Travis. "We swapped around."

“Only time?” I asked.

They both laughed.

"They weren't half cross about it."

"We don't think we should try that trick again."

"We learnt our lesson," said Aaron.

"So?" I had to ask. "What about...?"

They both smiled exactly the same way. They both looked at each other, kind of embarrassed, kind of amused.

"Exactly the same," said Travis.

"Identical... too," said Aaron.

"So, you've compared them?"

"Of course, we have," they both said in unison. They looked at each other and shrugged. "Everybody asks that," again, in unison.

"It is a favourite question," said Travis.

"They are exactly the same," said Aaron.

Travis lowered his voice. "We've jerked off together, often."

“Often,” said Aaron.

“Had races,” said Travis.

“I always won,” said Aaron.

“Just proving…”

“He is a wanker…” said Aaron, now talking about himself in the 3rd person, as if identical twins wasn’t bad enough.

“When we were kids,” said Travis. “Well, not kids, you know what I mean?”

“You know what he means.”

“Men,” Travis.

“Turning into,” said Aaron.

“You know…”

“When guys do that sort of thing…”

“We…”

“Did.”

“We did.”

“And yeah, to answer your question…”

“Identical,” they said in unison.

Appendix Scar

He got his Appendix Scar from being a pig-headed kid.

He pulled a sickie with his mother one day going to school, saying he had a pain in his stomach. “Go to school, stop trying for a day off."

But he insisted he was in pain. 

So his mother said, “Well, if you are sick we’d better see the doctor.”

And, they were at the doctor’s an hour later and the doctor diagnosed appendicitis. And he was booked straight in to have his appendix removed.

“We can’t mess around with these things,” said the doctor. “There is nothing to be gain from waiting.”

“Okay doctor, said his mother. “Whatever you think.”

But, it was all made up, he had no pain in his side, but he was too far into it by that stage.

That afternoon he went under the knife and had his appendix removed.

Ever since, he has laughed to himself whenever someone mentioned his appendix scar.

I Started Smoking Again

I started smoking (cigarettes) again. It's a curse, one that you love and hate in equal measures.

Okay, I can see now I was a little rash about the hope to die remark if I relapsed, that I made recently. Yes, hasty. Yes, obviously. I was getting a little carried away hoping to die if I smoked again, I admit that now. Clearly, that is not something I want as a consequence, of having a fag. No siree Bob.

Not, that kind of fag. No, I mean the non insulting kind. No, it’s not a trigger, it is a cigarette.

I guess, I’ll be avoiding black cats, or popping the button on my fold up umbrella, inside the house. You know how that happens, sometimes, just mysteriously. No, I don’t know why. Clearly, it is the mechanism. Well, I’ll be vigilant about that for a while. Or walking under ladders. Not that I have ever made a habit of walking under ladders.

Is that salt? Is that the salt container? Could you pass it to me? Thaaank You.

Nothing. I did nothing. No, really nothing. You saw nothing. No.

Okay, okay, I threw some of the salt over my left shoulder. Are you happy.

Do, I think it works? No, I am just in the habit of useless actions, what do you think?

Yes. I said yes, didn't I. Safe than sorry. Yes, it's better to be.

Graffiti Wall

 

Whizz Goes The Alphabet

all over the wall

in Hieroglyphics

only certain people know

those who are in on it,

you know, on the whole damn thing,

who can read the tag,

see what it says.

Foe, or friend,

it doesn't seem to depend.

A confluence of terms?

just get it done!

“Yeah, we’re friends, what of it?”

“All of you, as a community?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but some of the guys and I are mates.”

“So, you all know each other?”

“Kind of.”

“You know who everyone is, you know, in the town?”

“I know their tags more than I know their faces.”

“But, you’re mates, the guys who make up the community?”

“I don’t think you know how many taggers there are,” says Microbe.

“It’s hard to know everyone…” says Dondi.

“You know, personally,” says Microbe.

“Oh okay, so it is more of a disparate group?”

“Nobody is desperate here, mate.”

“Disparate, I said disparate.”

“Dunno,” says Microbe.

“What he means, is he doesn’t know what that means,” says Dondi.

Microbe punches Dondi for his honesty. “Nah, what he said.”

“All different.”

“Yeah, sure,” says Microbe.

“We’re all individuals,” says Dondi.

“We’re all different.”

"That's what the tags mean."

Damage 2000,

Deface Universe,

Trash Boy,

Base Unit,

Shepard,

Dondi,

Lady Black,

Future K,

Goose,

Microbe,

Archer,

Side Winder 01,

Killer K,

Yikes 123,

Halo,

Is it information passed on? is it directions to the next tag-a-thon? Is that what they call it. Is it just simply saying I was here? The equivalent of toddlers banging their chests through the perceived lack of attention. Is it mindless scribble over everyone’s world because those with the spray cans, Archer, and Arse Pounder, have no discernible talent to speak of, except for a propensity to scribble all over all of our lives?

Is it a continuing conversation? You know, the next instalment of what came before this? Microbe and Killer have some of their, they call them tags, I call it their shit tattooed to their faces as if continued property destruction just wasn’t quite enough for them, they had to go in for personal desecration

There was that unfortunate business about Percy The Seal and GooseNeck going to jail for 6 months for what he did.

There was the protest of mass tagging after that in camaraderie for a fallen tagger mate.

“All the guys went out the following nights.”

“All the guys?”

“Girls too. Girls are guys in the collective.”

"They all went out?"

"They all went out and hit whatever they could."

"With Graffiti?"

"Tags."

"Tags."

"It was, I guess you'd call it, a revenge attack, for what they perceived as unfair treatment of GooseNeck.

Microbe and Dondi met on the top of the big hill in the suburb in which they both lived just as the sun was coming up the day after GooseNeck’s sentence.

“Did you hear what happened to Goose?”

“Yeah.”

“It fucken sucks.”

Yeah.”

“They can’t do that?”

“It’s not right.”

“Next time it could be me, or you.”

“Well, yeah it could be, we know that.”

“Yes, of course, but jail, 6 months in jail.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s too much, what is this, a police state.”

“Well, yeah, again, we know that.”

“Fuck ‘em!”

“Yeah, fuck ‘em!”

“I’m angry, you should be angry, we all should be angry.”

“I’m gonna hit the court house.

“I’m gonna hit the town hall.”

“I’m gonna hit the cop shop too.”

Microbe threw his skateboard onto the road and skated away. Dondi did the same and skated after Microbe down the long sweeping hill in the fresh morning light. 

Microbe let out a whoop! Doni yelled out too.

Dondi holds his arms out to balance himself. Microbe crouches down and skates squatting.

Archer and Halo and Shepard joined them tagging the court house. Microbe drawing his beetle. Dondi tagging his face. Archer tagged big A’s. Halo tagged circles. Shepard tagged what looked like sheep all over the façade of the old court house.

Lady Black and Martha joined the guys at the town hall where they tagged also.

Justice is not a judge with a grudge, said one wall.

Eat the judiciary! said another wall.

Long Weekend

It was the Queen’s Birthday long weekend. Mark and Luke invited us up to the country. 

“Come up, come up, we’ll cook great food and relax, it will be great,” said Luke.

“There is no one we’d rather spend the long weekend with,” said Mark.

Lovely. Ah, three days in the country, just what long weekends are made for.

“I’ll bring the pot,” I said. I’m not stupid, I want to smoke all the pot I wanted to.

We left Friday, so we had four days away.

I smoked pot all long, lazy weekend, lying on the couch for days, up the country. All day, like a jelly having been removed from its mould... wobble, wobble, wobble, I didn’t move much more than that, other than to grab at the mull mix and roll another.

Well, I mean I ask you, what else does one do on the Queen's Birthday long week end? I ask you? 

I was lying on the couch on my back with my legs over the arm of the couch with my head on Matt’s knee, as he was looking at his iPad, stoned off my face yet again, when Mark suggested that he and Luke might want some time to themselves.

“Oh? Okay then. Sure,” I said. “Would you like us to go to the cabin?”

“I was thinking more permanent space,” said Mark.

“More permanent…” my brain was just a few moments behind my mouth. “Oh.” My mind pulled out of relaxed, stoned, jelly, fabulousness, my pupils contracted to focus on Mark’s face, which I could see was serous. We were being asked to leave. “Yeah… sure… I see.”

I can't say I wasn't, er, um, hurt would be way overstating it, taken aback, shocked, maybe. I went into auto pilot to gather up all of our things, unexpectedly.

We left not long after, late afternoon. 

I think Mark found me too lazy (ha ha) and too stoned to cope with. (pot calling the kettle, but it is their house, of course, what can you do?) 

I even bought all the pot for the weekend and the cigarettes with which to roll my joints and still they weren’t happy. The deal was that Mark would give me half the money. So, right at the end, feeling a little bad about it all, I said, 

“You don’t have to give me any money, but give me what’s left of my half.”

Mark wanted to keep it all for himself. He turned into the middle child and snatched the dope bag away from me, when I pulled out a too bigger bud to take, he snatched the dope out of my hand.

“Seriously?”

Mark can be like that, so no surprise. He is, literally, the middle child in his family, after all.

Matt looked at me with his cheeky face, as I slipped the car into reverse and looked over my left shoulder in readiness to back up.

“I think we got kicked out, darling.” Devilish grin.

"We got kicked out, honey." I couldn't help but smile. I kissed Matt. Team Us! We didn't care, what the hell! It was probably true, after all. Just far too relaxed.

Ex-boyfriends, there is no counting on them. Ha ha.

Matt and I kept looking at each other all the way home and laughing. “We got kicked out, honey.”

Giving it some thought later, they’d probably organised for some ‘trade’ to come over, some country guy with floppy hair and a big dick. Some 20 year old farm boy named Lachlan who gives it and takes at the same time. Oh yeah, there is something in that alright. I get it. As his jocks come down and his semi bounces into view. 

"I've never done this before," he says. That’s moments before he shoves himself up Luke's arse and starts riding Luke. And Luke wails out for more being the total bottom that he is. And the farm boy works his thick thighs faster. Then the farm boy gets speared in his own arse by Mark, letting out a huge yelp as he’s never quite been pinned like that before. Yeah, I get it.

It's still rude, guests are guests. A 'better' offer doesn't quite cut it. But, yeah, I understand, ex-boyfrends are what they are. Would I do that to them? No, probably not, quite frankly, I wouldn't. But, whatever, who cares.

And all of that disappears into the back ground as Matt and I giggle all the way home about being kicked out. I role joints when we get home, wishing Matt enjoyed pot way more than he does.

Oh, about my fitness to drive, I know the nanas amongst you are thinking? Well, getting thrown out of somewhere sure sobers you up in a hurry, let me tell you. All that adrenaline expelled sweeping one’s belonging together trying not to feel personally pissed off with what had just transpired, takes you back to a very definite sense of normal, I can assure you. 

The real truth of the matter, if you are drunk and you relax and trust your instincts, you will drive off the road. If you are stoned and you relax and trust your instincts, you will be just fine. It is a universal truth.

I Headed To The Country

I headed to the country, Friday morning. It was my long weekend. Marty and Leah were expecting me. 

Monty came with me, of course, he was in the car before I was. He has a 6th sense about any car journeys that may be in the offering. He sat on the passenger seat looking out the window panting for the whole trip.

I picked up bakery on the way, you know, as you do. Fresh crusty bread and fruity fruit buns. Up the country with the universe's fresh air what more could you want, I ask you? Fresh bread, perhaps some salami I had bought last night, and good coffee. Leah is a coffee snob so that was sorted. And Marty churns his own butter.

It is just nice to get out of the city and its closed in feel, out to the wide open spaces. The blue overhead for as far as the eye could see, the green stretching out to the horizon, and everything in between. The free flowing space, the expanse above us all, beautiful and complete, without being compromised by property developers selfishness.

The sky full of stars at night, as far as the eye can see.

The fresh air that you can taste on your tongue, that you can feel on your skin, that feels fresh and clean all around you, the perfume of the earth and the trees. And the depth of being you lose in the city.

I love the crunch of stones under my tyres on Marty and Leah’s long driveway.

Marty and Leah came out and met me on the drive.

“Welcome,” said Marty.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Leah.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello Monty,” said Marty

“Come inside, warm yourself by the fire,” said Leah. “I have made soup for lunch.”

“I have bought crusty bread,” I said.

“Oh, lovely, we’ll get that buttered up in no time,” said Leah.

“Come on Monty, we have a spot by the stove just for you,” said Leah.

Monty hopped out of the car and walked inside like he owned the place.

“Let me take your jacket,” said Leah.

“Can I get you some wine?” asked Marty.

“Can I butter the bread?” I asked.

“I’ll get you a knife and chopping board, and then we should all be ready,” said Leah. “Sit up, and you can cut the bread at the table.”

“I’ll get some glasses,” said Marty

“I’ll get the soup,” said Leah. “Sit up, sit up. We should have a place for you at the table, Monty.” Monty grinned his big grin then sat at my feet under the table.

Marty poured the wine. Leah ladled the soup into the bowls. I cut the bread into thick slices and then slathered each slice with butter.

We all sat at the table, we lifted our wine glasses and chinked them in the middle of the table.

“To good friends,” said Marty.

“To a lovely lunch,” I said.

“To peace on earth,” said Leah.

“You don’t really think there is ever going to be peace on earth, do you Lee?” Marty asked.

“Oh Marty, of course I do.”

“You have to be careful of this one, Julian, she can lie with a straight face.”

“Anyone who makes soup this good can lie all they like.”

“Oh, smooth,” said Marty. “You have to be careful of this one, Lee, he will say anything to get into the good graces.”

“Have you ever met a bad Grace?” ask Leah.

“I have,” I offered. “Grace Tubbs..." 

“We went to school with her,” Marty butted in.

“She poisoned her mother and was taken away,” I said.

“Oh, poor Grace Tubbs,” said Leah.

“Except the truth was far more prosaic,” said Marty.

“Her mother died of an overdose,” I said.

“And Grace Tubbs was taken into care.”

“Poor Grace Tubbs,” said Leah. “No father?”

“Her father was a drunk,” said Marty.

“He ran down poor Mrs Beasley in the street,” I said.

“And was sent to jail,” said Marty. “For drink driving.”

“And Mrs Beasley?” asked Leah.

“Dead,” said Marty and I in unison.

“Oh, dear god, now that I am totally distraught,” said Leah. “I better have some of that bread and butter.”

“Elspeth Beasley was in our class,” I offered.

“Oh, poor Elspeth, left without a mother,” said Leah.

“Veered right off the tracks…”

“Drugs… 

“The entire footy team in a motel in Drouin.”

“Allegedly?”

“Allegedly.”

“And then dropped out of school to have twins…”

“From the encounter in the motel room?” asked Leah.

“Allegedly,” Marty and I said in unison.

“Dear God, poor Elspeth,” said Leah.

“She won 5 million in TattsLotto a year, or so, later,” said Marty.

“Then doubled it investing in property,” I said.

“Allegedly,” both Marty and I said in unison.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” said Leah.

“Oh laugh,” said Marty.

“One of the twins is Jacki Jospeh.”

“The pop star?” asked Leah.

“The very one,” said Marty.

“That’s what she used the lotto money for,” I said.

“Setting her kid up to be a star,” said Marty.

“Elspeth is now a pop stars manger,” I said.

“Well, good for Elspeth,” said Leah.

“I’ve heard Jacki Joseph is unhappy with her lot, though,” said Marty.

“I’ve heard that too,” I said.

“Well,” said Leah. “What happened to Grace Tubbs?”

“She was hacked to death in front of her kids on the central coast by her partner Xmas morning,” said Marty.

“Oh, so no happy ending for Grace Tubbs,” said Leah.

“Nor her children?” said Marty.

“Happy fucken Xmas kids, hey,” I said.

“There’s a day they’ll be looking forward to for the rest of their lives,” said Marty.

“Ho, ho, ho,” I said.

Marty and I laughed.

“You two are going to hell,” said Leah.

Monty put his paws over his ears.