Neighbours

I puffed away first thing, I didn't even bother to get out of my robe. When the sloth sets in, the sloth sets in, what can I say? It was what I got from Jenny The Jehovis Witness a few days ago. She does a great trade in our neighbourhood.

“Can I introduce you to god?” Jenny the Jehovis Witness would ask

“No, thanks.”

“No? Well, how about introduce you to heaven?” She was quite cheeky with it.

“I’m sorry?”

“I have some great choof?” Jenny the Jehovis Witness would say next.

I liked her instantly.

The first thing I did was turn the coffee machine on and head outside to have a smoke on my balcony. Saying good morning to Bruno, across the road on his balcony, with him responding by lifting a finger in my direction.

I sat on the wicker chairs and rolled a j. The day went by oblivious in the street below.

I pretty much wanted a second j immediately after I had finished the first. I can't be that person again, I told myself.

I went and got my coffee. And a buttered fruit scone, which I’d made when I got up at sparrow’s fart. I used to sleep until midday easily, and I can’t really remember when it changed, but now I am up before the sun comes up.

Then, I ignored myself and rolled another j.

“Hey,” Bruno yelled out to me.

“Yeah, what?”

“You roll me a,” he did parenthesis in the air, “lovely morning?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m not brining it over to you.”

“No problem, I’ll come and get it.”

“It’s ready.”

Then Bruno was running across the street between his house and mine in just his white Calvin’s. His hairy chest and hairy stomach, and his thick hairy thighs, not to mention his big dick bouncing around in his briefs with every dainty tip toe step he took, on full display.

I opened my front door. “I see you got dressed up for the occasion.”

“What to run from here to there, Jesus, Jeremy, you have to be kidding me.”

“You are not hiding anything, that is for sure.”

“Jesus fucken Christ I wear less on the beach.”

I handed him a couple of Js I’d rolled.

“You are a goddam gentlemen,” he said.

“Not working today?”

“Nah, the factory has laid us off, you know the Liberal Party privatisation when they said no one would lose their jobs?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, that didn’t account for the mostly casual work force that lost their shifts rather than their jobs, as such.”

“Conservative politicians can’t tell the truth, not unless it is for their own personal wealth, and even then…”

“Duplicitous liars, don’t you mean.”

We both laughed.

“I’m getting my own back on the conservative cunts, though.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m getting the dole instead of working, and I get mum and dads superannuation now that they are locked away in Uncle Luigi’s nursing home, La Tua Cura Homes.”

“How did you mange that?”

“It’s a family, Jeremy. Donta you worry about anythink, boy, saida Luigi. I takea good care ofa them. And the government she will pay for it.”

“Good for you, it can’t always be the rich who rip off society.”

“And the house isn’t in my name, so it doesn’t affect my payments.”

We both laughed again. Cackled might have been more the term for it. You have to love it when some of the average people win some times.

Then Bruno tip toed back across the street. I watched his big beefy arse wiggle in his white briefs with each step he took, running tip toe back across the bitumen.

Then I rolled another J for myself and I had heavy eye lids in no time sitting back in the chair gazing out into the street, sipping my coffee, being careful not to let my robe fall open and flash the world. I really should go and put track pants on, I thought, before Bruno gets an eyeful. I wondered if he could see that much from his vantage point?

Not that I really cared. Don’t look neighbours. Or look. I don't really give a toss.

“Hey Jeremy,” Bruno called out some time later, how long I couldn’t tell you.

“Yeah Bruno? What?”

“You wouldn't be fucken dead for quids, now would ya?”

“No, Bruno, I wouldn’t.”

“Life’s good.”

“Yeah, Bruno, life is good.”

Bruno talking again made me aware all over again that he was just over the way, so I stumbled back in my French Doors and pulled on a black pair of track pants and a grey hoodie. Different colours, as I’d just heard an, I did parenthesis in my head, expert, saying how men shouldn’t wear matching tops and bottoms when in track suits, the contrast is much more flattering.

I looked at myself in my full length mirror. I laughed at the vanity of it, but thought it did look better, more stylish, less daggy, less like Uncle Brian at a family BBQ telling homophobic stories to whoever would listen. I always wanted to say to him, let's talk about your emotional cruelty to Aunt Lois, but I was too young back then.

I stepped out onto the balcony feeling like a super model. Bruno wolf whistled from across the street.

“Just getting ready to face the day,” I called across the street to him.

“Very nice,” he said. Still just wearing a pair of tighty whities.

“Thanks,” I called back across the street.

“I wonder what the poor people are doing, hey Jeremy?” said Bruno.

“Living miserable fucken lives, Bruno, that’s what they are doing.”

“Ain’t that the fucken truth,” Bruno called back.

“Ain’t it,” I replied.

Bruno held a splif up in the air. “Here’s to ripping the system off so effectively to have a better fucken life.” He took a big drag on his doobie.

“Everyone should be doing it!” I dragged on the doobie of my own.

We both blew out lungsful of smoke in unison.

Then we both broke up laughing at our own cleverness.

 

 

Hanging Out

I shamefully decided to call Trent and Nate. Shamefully, as I hadn’t seen them since the Gold Coast trip, now, when was that, last November? And I was only dropping in because I was hanging out.

I thought of Paddy, I thought of Chad, but that would have involved driving somewhere.

I had been meaning to call Trent and Nate for I don’t know how long. Since November, I guess. And I could walk to their place.

I was twiddling my fingers at home, which led to boredom and too much time to think. I clearly, I needed a smoke, as obvious as the nose on my face, tits on a bull, oh no, that’s as useful as. Not that they knew that was why I was dropping over.

Trent and Nate were off to Thailand on Friday, apparently. They seem to be discovering travel, just lately. Where had they just come back from? I should pay more attention.

Nate said he had some growth in his ear that was affecting his hearing. He sounded worried about it. I said I’m sure it would probably turn out to be nothing. You know, as you do.

But no pot, that became apparent pretty quickly after I arrived. Nicolas was out, or Trent was making him abstain, or something. Maybe it was the ear.

So, I headed home. No, not as soon as I realised there was nothing to smoke, no, not that soon, even though I wanted to. No, I chatted a bit. Trent offered me a white wine, of course, nothing has changed on that front.

But, I didn’t chat too much, just enough to be polite and not have my intensions become glaring apparent. But, my mission was done there, after all. And while I love Trent and Nate, loved Trent and Nate once, without the bong being offered to me every so often, well, as shameful as you might think this admission is, why would I be there? Oh yes, I know, what a bitch, blah, blah, blah, but without pot, they are far less interesting, let’s face it.

And as it turned out – do I have to admit to the possibility of a god after all – Scott arrived, soon after I got home.

I hadn’t been home 10 minutes when the doorbell sounded.

“You doing anything?” asked Scott, standing on the other side of the door when I opened it.

“No,” I said.

He handed me a larger than normal plain white envelope open at one end.

“Well, roll this into something.” 

I smiled to myself, as I spied the gunger inside that envelope.

As if my self-focused, contact of old friends for ulterior motives counted for nothing, I was, actually, being rewarded with the universe providing. Lovely. It’s pretty charmed life when I think about it. Hey?

And there you have it. Ask and you shall receive, or some shit like that.

“Do you have cigarettes?” I asked.

“No,” said Scott. "I told you I quit."

Sammy said no too. He's quit also,

So, I had to go around to the shops to buy some cigarettes to mix with the pot because we have all quit smoking. Go figure. Still, it was the least I could do, even if my feet were hurting from all the walking, I had already done, chasing my addictions. Ha ha, all my walking.

Scott, and I, sat on the wicker chairs on the back veranda, smoking spliff after spliff, talking shit about the world.

“Life is good,” I said.

“Yeah, pretty good with me too,” said Scott.

“You wouldn’t be dead for quids, now would you.”

“No, not for a second,” said Scott. “Not for anything.”

We gazed out into the garden, out into the world.

“I went to Trent and Nate’s this arvo to bot a smoke off them.”

“Oh,” said Scott. “So, you had stated before I go here.”

“No, Nate didn’t have any.”

“Oh,” said Scott. 

“Fuck hey,” I said.

“Is Trent still possessive of Nate?”

“Yeah, I reckon that’s why Nate was out.”

“Why?”

“Because Trent stopped him from getting any.”

“Trent has always controlled that boy’s life.”

“I couldn’t stand it myself.”

“Nah, me either.”

Scott looked at me. I looked at him. Scott kept looking at me.

“What?”

“You rolled another one?”

“No, not yet,” I said.

“Well,” said Scott. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh, dunno,” I said. “Waiting for you to give me the nod, I guess.”

“What?” he said. Quizical look.

“Yeah, I dunno.”

“You got somewhere else you gotta be?”

“Nah, no plans.”

“Well, go on, get rolling.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I rolled a roach.

Scott just gazed at me.

I opened my joint rolling machine and inserted the roach.

“So, there you go. If you want some sort of moral to this story, I guess it would be, um, er?” I laughed. “Get to and bot off your friends, because even if they can’t provide what you need, the universe will hear you and it will provide where others fall short.”

I poured the mix into the machine next to the roach.

Scott was still looking at me.

I pulled a paper from my rolly papers and licked it.

“Do you like that?” I said.

I inserted the licked paper into the machine.

“You got that joint rolled?” asked Scott. “I’m gagging for another over here.”

I clicked the cigarette rolling machine shut and a perfectly rolled joint popped out

“Voila,” I said. I held the freshly minted joint in the air. 

“Well, it’s no good to any one unlit,” said Scott. “Would you care to do the honours.”

“I would care indeed,” I said.

I flicked the lighter, the white cigarette burned red at the far end. I sucked the herby tasting smoke into my lungs. I took 2 more drags then I handed it to Scott.

Scott took the joint from my fingers. “You are a prince among men,” he said. He puffed on the joint. He blew the smoke into the air. Then he turned and looked at me. “Why aren’t you rolling the next joint?”

“Oh, yes, I’m on it.”

“Idle fingers are the devil's, um, er…” said Scott.

“Work,” I said.

“Work,” said Scott.

“I’ve always said that,” I said.

We both laughed.

Scott handed the joint back to me.

The afternoon was warm and serene.

“Why does Nate stay with Trent?”

“I don’t know? Daddy issues?”

“More like mummy issues with Trent.”

“Claws, Scott, claws.”

“Oh well, he is so controlling, he is like Nate’s mother. And he’s got fat.”

“They’ve both got fat.”

“I guess they are happy then,” said Scott.

“Or co-dependant lazy?”

“Does Trent still drink like a…”

“Yeah, I think.”

“You know, it is so goddam lucky we are perfect, hey?” said Scott.

“Or we’d never be able to say the things we say.”

“That would be the worst?”

“The worst.”

“Actually, living with Trent would be the worst.”

“Not being able to make fun of it would be the second worst.”

We both laughed.

“Trent offering me wine as a substitute was the worst.”

“See, you can never trust them if all they do is drink.”

“Nate has complained about that in the past.”

“And he is right to. Drunks, who can live with them, I ask you?”

I Quit

I quit, again, after another weekend of smoking pot.

I’m much nicer when I am stoned, ask anyone.

(Sam doesn’t like it though) So I have to give it away.

I'm a good boy, a good boy, I say. What a good boy am I.

(Here we go again, I know you are thinking, it has been a difficult few months, that is for sure)

I’m Little ciggie mourner

sitting in a corner,

eating a congratulatory pie;

I put in my thumb,

And pulled out a plum an extra 10 kilos

(I can feel it gathering around my stomach as I speak)

And say, ‘What a good boy am I.

What a good boy indeed.

I am developing the powers of Mister Fantastic, as I write my quitting smoking story, so I can reach around and pat myself on the back.

Never quit quitting because one day, you know, it is going to stick.

What's In Luke's Heart?

What do you think is in Luke’s 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 heart?

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

Well, no, I guess not, I hadn’t thought about 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, I suppose.

No, that wouldn’t be any good at all.

We need an honest response.

We need a true appraisal of what is in there.

Yes, we do.

I have some questions?

Fire away?

Is he nice to his mum? Is he kind to the people he loves? Does he at least think about the people worse off than he? Does he smile at the lonely widow who lives two doors away? Does he give some money, or time, to the poor? Does he help the young boy who has fallen down? Does he make those around him laugh? Does he help friends when they are in need? Would he go to a stranger’s aid in the street? Does he treat those who have alternative lives the way they want to be treated even though he doesn’t understand? Would he jump into a lake to save a puppy from drowning? Would he stand up for those being treated badly by a bully? Would he stand in solidarity for the underdog?  Is he gracious when he loses? Does he understand his privilege?

In Your Pants Company

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I Hear It's The Latest Thing

I've seen a lot of mix race couples around lately, as much as I hate to use that particular term.

I hear it's the latest thing to be an Asian/Caucasian mixed couple.

Cutting edge love, they say.

Cutting edge.

Asian girls traditionally like Asian boys and white girls traditionally like white boys, but not so much anymore. White girls are liking Asian boys more and more and Asian girls are liking white boys just the same. Their children are usually beautiful, the best of both races.

Just as, pretty Asian girls are catching the eye of white boys and pretty white girls are turning Asian boys on, Asian boys are liking white boys and Asian girls are liking white girls just the same.

It is a modern world, it is a new time with choices expanding. Why deny yourself. Why? Thank the universe, we all collectively sigh in relief. Barriers are being broken down. Love is expanding. Suddenly, the world is a bigger place. Brighter too for everyone.

Aki has been doing it with Lachlan and Aki has been marvelling at Lachlan’s love making skills, as she said, but that is just Aki being shy, because what she really likes is Lachlan’s smile and his kind heart.

Kaito has been seeing Ava. She loves his handsome face and his muscular arms when he wraps them around her. “He is just so lovely, gentle and kind. He took me to meet his grandmother’s place and she cooked a feast welcoming me into the family.”

I Can’t Be Trusted

I can’t be trusted, apparently. Just because Connor’s girlfriend and I get on really well. Charlotte and I just have the same sense of humour, kind of dark. We laugh at the same things, we even wait for the other to react to funny things in the same way.

I love the way she laughs. And sure, I think she is beautiful, who wouldn’t. I love the way she just kind of gets me. I’m not sure I have met a girl who gets me in quite the same way. Oh, you know, the way I think, as I said, the things I find funny.

I’m happy Connor met her, and we get to hang out together.

Connor didn't say anything to start with, he was too busy trying to be, I guess you’d call it, understanding. I guess. Or, he just didn't notice, in the beginning, which I find hard to believe. Would I have noticed if she was mine? I don't know, I don't really care. 

I can't be trusted, I told you that.

But, truthfully, the back of my hand covering my mouth, apparently, Connor does care.

But, you know, there is nothing between Charlotte and I. I just like her.

I have lived with Connor for, now how many years is it? Five years? Since we left school. Since I went to uni. Since we got jobs.

He hates it that I call her Charlie. It just came out one day, I was a bit pissed, or something, and it just came out of my mouth. Charlotte said that was the name her dad calls her. But when Connor tried to call her Charlie, she didn’t like it, she said Connor was her boyfriend and her father’s special name just seemed wrong coming out of his mouth.

I can’t be trusted.

And I’m his friend.

Levi, our other house mate, studied fine art, and is a graphic artist, and draws a comic call Agitated. It’s got quite the cult following now a days.

I studied Journalism and now I write. Like my father does.

And Connor, he’s a mechanic, he works for a Porsche dealership. That has its perks, because Connor has a 911. 

Oh, the car thing. Connor’s shining asset when it comes to girls, the car. You see, Charlotte never liked his car. Oh, it makes a lot of noise and he drives it too fast, she said.

I drive a 2CV. My dad is an eccentric and only likes French cars. Citroens to be specific. Some Peugeots too. As long as it’s French. The 2CV was hanging around, kind of spare when I got my license and it just kind of became mine. Charlotte loves my 2CV, she thinks it is a happy car, the noise it makes, the way it goes around corners. She says my car just makes her smile.

Well, no need to add what Connor thinks about that. Charlotte likes your car? he said to me kind of incredulously.

We’ve been mates since school Connor, Levi and I. We lived through Connor meeting Charlotte. We’ve lived through Levi coming out and meeting Jimmy. And me getting calluses. Ha ha, that’s the joke ‘they’ tell about my nonexistent love life.

Connor has just taken up painting. In a kind of modern style. Levi says it because of me and Charlotte.

“Because of me? What do you mean?”

“Connor see’s Charlotte reading your short stories and other stuff you have written,” said Levi. “And to a much lesser extent, she reads Agitated. Connor is trying to find something with which he can compete. Impress her.”

“That’s a pretty long range plan, isn’t it? How long before he gets good at painting?”

“You don’t seem to realise how much you and Charlotte affect him?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“Jacob, you don’t see it.

“There is nothing between Charlotte and I, we just get on well.”

“Have you told Connor that?”

“He knows?”

“Does he?”

“Sure, he does.”

“Well, sometimes, when I watch him watching you and Charlotte, all I can see is daggers sharpening in his eyeballs.”

“Oh Levi, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?

“Jacob?”

“I was going to ask Charlotte to The Normans.”

“And Connor too?”

“No. He doesn’t like The Normans.”

“And you can’t see anything wrong with that?”

“Charlotte and I both love the Normans.”

“You can’t see anything wrong?”

“Why should there be?”

“Jacob?”

“Seriously?”

“We’re just friend.” What is Levi on about? He has a habit of playing devil’s advocate, which can be really annoying.

“It doesn’t always look as though you are,” Levi made parenthesis in the air, “just friends.”

“Oh, of course we are.”

“Even if you are,” he curled his fingers in the air, again, “just friends…”

I put my hand out and stopped the quotation marks. “Which we are…”

“You do understand that Connor has exclusive rights to Charlotte.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means Charlotte is Connor’s girlfriend and not yours.”

“I know that, Levi.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“You know what the old joke is, now don’t you?” said Levi.

“What?”

“A girl can have a male friend, sure she can, but it means she’s ugly.”

“OMG, Levi?”

“And Charlotte isn’t ugly, we can all see that.”

“Yes.”

“Well, how do you think Connor feels about you and Charlotte when he sees the two of you laughing and having those jokes that only the two of you are in on?”

“He should be pleased that his girlfriend is laughing and having a good time.”

“Seriously, Jacob?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“She is beautiful when she laughs.” And she is. Beautiful.

I Smoked

I smoked pot... joints and good food, and an open fire. How better to spend a Sunday night, I ask you?

It was a wintry night outside.

The whole gang was over.

The green green grass of home. Do you know that song? It’s a Tom Jones song. 

That’s how I feel about pot, it is the green green grass of home. My dad gave me my first joint. He and I used to sit out on the back deck and smoke some pot. Then we’d laugh and joke and talk shit. I loved those hours with him. They were funny. We thought we were the funniest people on earth. And we were, quite possibly. We never had it tested, but we reckoned we were.

Mum would sometimes come out and just gaze across the deck at the two of us. I could tell she was pleased, secretly chuffed, to use one of her favourite words, seeing the two of us being mates, being buds, being friends. Mum didn’t smoke pot herself, but some days I could see the admiration as clear as day when she’d come out and say dinner was ready, or that she’d made a cake, or some other desert for us.

“You two clowns can come in now and have some,” she’d say. She said it with genuine love for the two of us, rejoicing in her own way in dad and my bond.

I really miss him now a days.

I miss mum too.

I can’t really get my head around the fact that the two of them have left me now. I can’t get my head around it completely, but then, I’m not really sure that I want to. Because the more time I spend not really getting it completely, the more time they spend not really leaving entirely.

And when I smoke pot now a days and then I get immersed in writing something, I feel like they are all with me, mum, dad, all of those wonderful people who I had growing up who are no longer here.

Mum, dad, nana, doodoo, grandad, my army of unties and uncles, and great unties and great uncles, all of them… I can hear all of their voices.

Winter Is Here. It Was The Old Gang, Kind Of

Isaac cooked eggs and tomatoes for breakfast For Sally. They watched ‘It’s Complicated’ until early afternoon. Meryl Streep and Alec Baldwin. Isaac remembered when he last saw Alec Baldwin in BeetleJuice when Alec was handsome. 

“What happened to Alec Baldwin?” said Max, Isaac’s housemate as he walked through to the kitchen.

“He got old like all of them do,” said Cam, Isaac’s other housemate, as he walked through to the kitchen as well.

“Shut up you guys,” said Isaac. “Don’t spoil it.”

When the film was finished, Isaac had to leave for Mother’s Day with his brother and sister, Will and Gina, and his mother Jillian too, of course. 

Sally went home. Her mum had died a few years ago and the day just seemed too painful to face now.

Isaac and Will and Gina had bought Jillian a new brown leather handbag, with which Jillian seemed quite please.

They ate a roast, which Will had cooked. Afterwards, they ate vanilla ice cream and strawberries which Gina had prepared. Isaac had cooked a lemon cake which they ate with coffee. Jillian made the coffee.

Eddie came over to Isaac and Cam’s and Max’s after he’d seen his mum. Being Vietnamese, they didn’t celebrate Mother’s Day at the same time, but Eddie went to see his mum anyway.

Cam had gone for a swim with Max as they were both on a health kick, trying to get in shape as Max explained.

“For what?” asked Isaac.

“Girls, of course,” said Max. “Well, I guess not Cam, hey.”

Isaac and Max laughed.

Eddie didn’t have a house key to get in, so he had to wait for Cam.

Isaac headed over to pick Sally up on his way home, but he knew Eddie would be waiting, as Cam was really unreliable, even with his own boyfriend, but Eddie wouldn’t be locked outside for long, if at all. And Eddie wasn’t.

“How long have you been waiting?” asked Isaac.

“I’ve only just got here,” said Eddie.

Their mate Sebastian came over and cooked pasta and Cam made a salad. 

Cam rolled joints until he and Eddie left for some club, then Sebastian pulled pot out of somewhere 

“You’ve been keeping that a secret,” said Isaac. 

“All the more for me and you and Max,” said Sebastian.

Isaac and Sebastian and Max kept smoking.

Cam came home at 1am to Isaac, Max and Sebastian slumped on the couch in front of the TV. Sally was curled up in a chair. The air was thick with smoke.

“What the fuck,” said Cam when he caught sight of the other three. “You could at least open a window.

“We don’t want to let the outside in,” said Isaac. 

“Winter is here,” said Max. He shivered at the thought.

“It was the old gang, kind of,” said Sebastian. “But now you are here…”

“You can roll,” said Isaac.

“You can roll,” said Max.

“I was going to say the gang was back together,” said Sebastian.

Isaac and Max murmured in agreement.

“Hey Sally, how are you doing?” asked Cam.

Sally was quiet all night. She looked up from the big lounge chair.

“Oh, you know,” said Sally.

“Mother’s Day isn’t exactly her best day now,” said Isaac.

Cam sat down next to Sally and gave her a hug. “We can all be your mums,” said Cam.

“Sally laughed. “You big dope,” she said. She wrapped her arms around Cam. “But thanks. That helps.”

Magda Still Looks ...

After everything, all the advertising and television and magazine articles, and all the talk, somehow Magda still looks fat fab. I love Magda, I think she is fabulous, really fucken fabulous, but the diet isn't working so well the work she’s done.

I guess I should just keep my mouth shut, yes I should, it's not something at which I’m good. 

If you can't say anything nice and all that… but let's face, she appeared on the cover of New Idea – seriously credibility plummets to zero – she had pretty much sold out, giving me permission to say what I like.

She is genuinely lovely, though. She used to hang around dance parties with my mate Sebastian, often all doled out in black. There the two of them would be, Cuddle pot and Cuddle pie sitting at some table, or on the bleachers looking like bunnies in the headlights together.

 

Beautiful face

Hello Handsome

He smiled at me with his amazing blue eyes from under that mop of blonde hair.  You know when you think, look at you, who could be that perfect. Something inside me melted.

His red lips parted just slightly, as the corners of his eyes creased in joy. That square jaw I wanted to run my tongue along. That dark brown hair I wanted to run my fingers through. You know, kind of rough, well, certainly not timid.

I could feel a swoon. I could taste the sweat on his skin. I could feel the warmth of his breath. I could taste the spit on his tongue. I could feel his wanton enthusiasm as our faces connected and our hands grabbed for the one another.

I'm sure he winked. I stopped myself from winking in return, just in case I had imagined it. I smiled, though, I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face. The creases in my cheeks almost hurt with the intensity I felt there in the sides of my face. I nodded. He did too.

I turned and walked away, I stopped myself from looking back. Then I questioned my decision and I felt a chill as I turned and looked behind me, just to see the last part of him turning back to look in the direction he was headed thinking that I hadn't turned back to look at him.

Oh. I rubbed the back of my neck and inhaled deeply and stretched.

I thought about that ski weekend in a month. 

Do you snow ski?

Yes, yes I do.

I have a weekend book mid June, I’d love you to come with me.

I’d love that.

After a day of skiing, we could relax in front of an open fire and drink some hot chocolate and see how the night goes.

How did you know hot chocolate was my favourite?

Oh, you know, a lucky guess.

Big exhale.

“Hey Jimmy,” a voice called behind me. Oh, groan. It was Carl, I didn’t have to turn and look back to know that. How many times had I told him that’s not my name? I kept walking. I was tempted to increase my pace but, I guessed, that would have been too obvious.

“Hey Jimmy?” Carl’s tone sounded more clipped for the second time. I guessed he was moving quickly to catch up to me. And look at that, I think I had increased my pace, my feet were smarter than me.

“Jimmy!” The tone was now demanding, followed by distinct panting. The reprobate was clearly breathing heavily to catch up. I thought, that’s the exact sound woman had probably heard when they have answered the phone and no one spoke.

A hand grabbed my arm. “Wait up.”

I turned to see his flushed face staring at me. “Is something funny?” he asked.

I was still smiling from the thought of Jimmy calling women after dark and... “Carl? Funny? Not this morning so far.”

“Didn’t you hear me calling out to you?”

“No, Carl, I didn’t hear any one calling out James.”

He wiped his wet nose on the sleave of his shirt with a vague slurp sound. Then he rested both his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

“My leave, it’s confusing.”

“And you have come to me?” I asked.

“No one else will help me, I’m just trying to understand it.”

“Okay Carl, what is it?”

“I went on unpaid leave in January last, 4 weeks.”

“When you fell from the front of that boat while dancing naked in just a lei New Year’s Eve?”

“Er, yes, you have a good memory.”

“The image is burned in my brain, Carl.”

“Yeah, far too may Buds.” Carl made big eyes in his chubby face. “But how do you have a mental image of it, I was up Mallacoota way with my family.”

I laughed. “Anyway. The leave?”

“Well, I put in for it right after I got out of hospital…”

“Out of traction.” I said that without breaking into a smile, I was impressed with myself.

“I had no sick leave left.”

“Always sick on a Monday, Carl.”

“And you know how Carol had all that time off after her husband Ross ran off with that ladyboy on their 30 year anniversary in Thailand?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, the leave never got authorised until recently.”

“Yes. When Carol finally got her meds sorted and came back to work.”

“Well, I’ve had a pay rise in between. How can I be sure that the leave wasn’t process at the lower rate when I was off crook, and not the higher rate, you know, after I got more per hour.”

“Huh?”

“If you are taking money off me, it should be at the rate when I was away.”

“Unpaid leave?”

“Yeah, it would be unfair to deduct it at the higher rate, when it happened when I was getting paid less.”

“Um.” I wondered if he was joking, but Carl wasn’t the joking kind.

“Do you see what I mean?”

“But Carl, you weren’t paid anything, you were on unpaid leave.”

“Yeah, I know that, but at what rate was it calculated.”

“Zero.”

“Zero?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not following.”

“You weren’t paid, so it was calculated at a zero rate.”

“Oh Jimmy…”

“James.” Oh, yes, I know to continually correct him is childish, but seriously, I have never been called Jimmy in my life.”

“Okay, um, James, I’m just not getting if it is correct.”

I shook my head.

“Carl?”

“Yes?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Too right Jim, er, James.”

“Have I ever let you down in the past?”

“No, James, never.”

“Well, trust me when I tell you it was calculated at the correct rate.”

“Oh, okay James, that is a great relief. I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is. I have been worrying about it all weekend.” Carl smiled at me. “Thanks.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

I turned and continued to walk. 

Now where was I? 

Oh yes.

I’m James.

I’m Hans.

I am looking forward to the snow.

And the hot chocolate, afterwards.

Oh yes, afterwards.

In front of the open fire.

I love open fires, Hans.

The Mute Button

I thank the universe every day for the mute button, one of the greatest inventions by man, silencing the incessant advertising drivel and calming the world. It is possibly one of the most evil things invented by man, advertising. It hates the world and mankind, it only likes it's selfish self. It doesn't care who, or what, it steps on to make a sale. It doesn't care what truth, or lie, it needs to tell, to flog its wares. The truth means nothing, nothing at all, only money talks, isn't that swell?

Advertisers should be banned, put on a deserted island and waterboarded with their shouty adds, or forced to eat their shit, packaging and all.

So, thank you universe for the mute button, at least when we are watching TV. Just silence that shit. Just stop it from infiltrating our lives and polluting our minds. Most of it is just landfill, we have to stop advertisers from effecting our lives for purely selfish reasons.

“How many people do you think buy stuff from advertising they might see?”

“I know. Have you?”

“No, I don’t think I ever have.”

“Do advertisers flood us with advertising with the hope of a very small percentage of success?

“Yes, I wonder that too, do they get a hit rate of just a few per cent?”

“You have to wonder.”

“How effective is all this shit that negatively effects our lives.”

“Screaming their message into our lounge rooms.”

“When we should be free not to have that.”

“Selling shit, fucking up our lives.”

“Selling shit, fucking up the world.”

“Who is buying all the shit?”

“Yes, my question too. Who is buying all the shit?”

“All the shit the advertising for which we are subjected to on TV, just for instance?

“All that shit?”

“Who is buying that shit?”

“Yes, who?”

“Thank the universe for the mute button.”

“Yes, thank the mute button.”

“Give thanks for that lovely silence in place of all that mindless yap yap yapping.

“It is the little victories we have to celebrate.”

“Yes, thanks for the little things in life, for the silence instead of sales.”

“My friend Olivia was so nice and pretty, she just had that natural loveliness.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was lovely and everyone she met loved her.”

“She sounds perfect.”

“She was almost perfect.”

“And so what is the story?”

“Well, Olivia had one bad habit. I guess we call it a bad habit. But for the longest time we didn’t know how bad it was for us.”

“Over eating?”

“Smoking.”

“Such a shame it was so bad for us.”

“I know, so many of us liked it.”

“So many of us.”

“Any way Olivia managed to give it.”

“She stopped successfully?”

“We yes, she did. And she was living her best life with the love of her life Peter.”

“It sounds perfect.”

“Yes, Olivia and Pete were perfect for each other.”

“This is a lovely story.”

“Then many years after Olivia had given up and she had forgotten all about cigarettes…”

“Forgotten all about them.”

“Olivia never seemed like a smoker anyway.”

“She was too lovely.”

“She started to get a bit of a cough.”

“Poor Olivia.”

The cough didn’t seem to go away.”

“Oh no.”

“The cough got worse.”

“This is terrible.”

“And worse.”

“Olivia assumed she had repaired from her smoking day.”

“It was so long ago.”

“But she hadn’t.”

“She hadn’t?”

“No.”

“No?

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Olivia didn’t survive that cough.”

“Oh no.”

“And she didn’t repair after quitting smoking.”

“She didn’t?”

“And she died.”

“That is terrible.”

“And Pete was left heartbroken.”

“Poor Pete.”

“And he never got over Olivia.”

“Oh, don’t smoke.”

“No.”