Confession

I go out for a drink with my ex, Noah. We rarely do that, but we’d bumped into each other the other day and we made a date.

We go to a local bar. I meet Noah there.

We sitting at the tables in the back of the bar. All the tables are full, pretty much. It is kind of busy for a Thursday night.

Noah can really put the alcohol away, he always has, and when I am with him, I tend to as well. Mostly because Noah keeps buying me drinks.

I wouldn’t say that alcohol makes Noah loud, as he tends to be loud anyway, but alcohol makes him louder, sure.

We’d been talking about the dance parties we used to go to. And how much fun we used to have together. 

Noah comes out and says, “You have the best cock of all his boyfriends.” Just like that. Over the crowded bar. 

We’d had more than a few drinks by then. Noah says it loud enough for the couple next to us to look over. She smiles. He doesn't. She looks down at the front of my pants.

I stop myself from spontaneously covering my crotch. Just. Is that an instinct for protection?

I look at the couple. I try not to laugh. I look back at Noah.

“It's got just the correct amount of girth.” He smiles. He drinks his beer.

“Shhhh.” I put my finger over my mouth. I try not to blush. I can't. I don't know what to say. I stutter.

“What about your other boyfriends,” I ask.

“What about them?”

“Well, you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Did Michael Brown have…” I hold up my little finger. Michael brown was after me, and while I was attracted to his dark Italian’esque looks, he certainly made no secret of not liking me.

“You don’t expect me to confirm…”

“Yes, I do.” I held up my little finger again.

“Yes.”

“Yes, to? “Again, I held up my little finger.”

Noah nodded.

“I thought so. He was always way too aggressive, and for no reason.” I was please with that piece of news.

“Ah Michael,” says Noah.

“Ah, Michael,” I say.

“How’s Scott?” I ask. Noah’s current boyfriend, who I can take or leave. Just a little too opinionated is Scott for my liking.

“Scott is out of town.” Noah smiles again. Is his grin just a little wonky? Or is it the eye?

Good old Scott. Developer. Luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived. His first resort, up north, on entirely borrowed money, was a financial gold mine. 

Scott gets really antsy when Noah starts calling him Blake, whenever I'm around. Last time at his birthday weekend, I thought it had gone really well, I hadn't heard Noah call him the wrong name once. On the terrace, goodbye breakfast, Noah passes his fish dish to me, he can't finish it. “Give that to Blake... um... er...” he grimaces.

We stared at each other. Scott was behind me. I didn't want to move. Noah pushes the plate at me. I spin around and Scott is waiting with arms out and mouth open.

“This is for you,” I say.

“That's the eighth time I've counted, how about you?” I hand him the half-eaten plate of snapper.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Noah doesn't find it funny when I bring it up over beers. I laugh about it.

“That's not funny.” He smiles. “Seriously, I've got to stop doing that. I tell you.”

At Noah’s last birthday, right at the end, I snuggled into him and danced dirty, just for a minute. Noah was drunk, Scott was watching, I wondered how far I could push it. I knew Noah would respond, just because we've known each other since we were kids in school, practically. He knows, and I know, that nothing is in a cuddle from me to him, other than friendship.

But, you know, does Scott?

Sure, we were a couple. Sure, everyone wanted us to stay together. But that was a long time ago.

Sure, his mother said,

“Well, you know which one I'd prefer...”

...when Noah got... what?... committed to Scott. 

“Ay,” says a mate Bradley, who over hears, playfully chiding Noah’s mum.

But that was all kids’ stuff, childhood sweethearts, we were far too young. Truthfully, that was a whole other life time ago.

We danced close. I thought we fitted. I've got lifetime status. Can you say the same thing? I thought, as I looked over at Scott. He only glanced twice. He kept chatting to Audrey... looking like he was having fun. But I could see him looking.

To Scott's credit, he didn't even seem to stress. He continued chatting; the smile didn't leave his face. But he was keeping his eye on us, just out the corner, I could see that.

“You have got the best cock,” he whispers. That’s so we aren't gazed upon as drunks, again, by the slightly up-tight couple, who are both drinking their drinks through straws.

“Well, to tell you the truth... I've never had any complaints.”

“Listen to you,” Noah says. He has the most beautiful smile, he always has.

“I knew Michael wasn't doing it for you,” I said. “You always looked in need. You always looked unsatisfied. Pissed off, even... back then. Michael hated my guts?”

“I'm not saying anything bad about Michael.”

I hold up my little finger. He nods. I chuckle.

“Hard act to follow,” he says. He sips his beer. “I'm only talking about size. Don't praise yourself in any other department... er...” he says.

We gaze over our beer glasses, as we drink.

“It was hot in there.”

“We need more beer,” says Noah.

“I don’t think…”

But Noah has left for the bar.

When we get up to leave, I realise how drunk I really am. I am glad I can walk home, it will do me good.

Noah is looking at me like he is really pissed.

“Well, nice chatting,” I say.

“Yeah, nice to catch up,” says Noah.

“I’m pretty fucken smashed though,” I say. “You aren’t driving, I hope.”

“No, I’ll get a taxi out the front.”

A taxi pulls up as soon as we step onto the footpath out the front of the bar.

“Nice seeing you,” I say.

Noah opens the car door and then turns back to me. “You wanna come with?”

“No,” I say.

“Scott’s away.”

“Good for Scott.”

“I’m lonely on my own.” 

I suddenly think he is trying to make eyes at me, but he just looks like he has something in his eye. I am equally shocked and amused. “Get in the car.”

“Oh, it would be like old times.” He is starting to slur.

I laugh out loud. “Get in the car.” I am beginning to speak through gritted teeth, I can even hear it.

“Last chance.”

I lean in close so the taxi driver can’t hear me. “You are drunk, and you are not thinking straight, get in the car.”

He runs his fingers down my chest, I assume, in a seductive way, “You disappoint me.” I just find it kind of revolting.

I give him a shove. He slides arse first into the back seat of the taxi. He stares out at me at the car window like a frozen moment as the taxi drives away.

I turn and start to walk.

My coat flaps open. The wind blows. The footpaths are, relatively empty. The breeze refreshes me. I smile about both instances, more or less, in exactly the same way.

Awake

Liam had been sitting up smoking pot, on his own on Saturday night. 

He’d fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, sometime in the early hours. He was dreaming about being lost in some religious cult. “Repent,” or something was being said. The evangelicals were blaring from the flat-screen, when he woke up with a start.

“Ah!”

That's what the lost insomniacs are given a diet of, he thinks, what they get when they are at their most vulnerable, sleep deprived, angsty, looking for answers. It's the state water-boarding gets you too, where you will admit, or accept anything. He objected to them being on late night TV. Keep that American disease in America, he thinks. Surely, old movies are better for the sleep deprived?

It seems the story of the deluded comes creeping at night, like rats. He chuckles to himself

He thinks about watching some porn, but he picks up the remote and switches the TV off instead.

It's Sunday morning, soon to be breaking. The sun would be coming up soon, he thinks.

He had a fight with Ava. It was about something stupid, isn’t it always. He is alone, on the weekend for the first time in, he doesn’t know, how long.

He signed into Facebook, but it was a waste of time, as it has been lately.

It's 5.30am, it’s early. He decides to have one last joint and then head to bed. He could probably get a few hours in before his mate Oliver comes over for them to head out to the gym and lunch and a movie. Ollie wants to see Animal Kingdom, which he described as some degenerate Aussie movie. Ollie was always late, Liam was banking on him being late this morning.

Liam flips the lid of the cigarette packet open and it is empty. “Damn,” he says.

He thinks he should just go to bed, forget about the joint, be cool, but the pot helps him to sleep and he wants to sleep before Oliver rings the doorbell.

He pulls on his hoodie and slides on his NikeAirs. He tries to encourage Gus his lazy bulldog to go with him, but Gus is snoring in his bed and doesn’t want to move.

Liam heads out the front door. He crosses his street diagonally, then he crosses the main crossroad in the same way. He is quickly on the main road that is heading to the convenience shop.

The streets are deserted, just pools of light below the street lights dotted along the footpath.

Suddenly he is wishing he’d bought his head phones, and momentarily he is thinking about going back and getting them, except he is now half way to the shop and suddenly that idea seems stupid.

Suddenly, without any sound, a voice behind him says, “I have a knife, and I will use it, give me your wallet and your phone.”

Liam is startled, and starts to turn around.

“DON’T TURN AROUND,” screams the voice behind him.

Liam had turned enough to see the large silver kitchen knife this guy had in his hand. “Hey man, what are you doing?”

The guy behind leans in close to the back of Liam’s head, pushing his face into Liam’s hair. “My instructions were really fucken clear, give me your phone and your wallet or you will force me to use this knife on you,” says the voice in a quiet, but seethingly menacing tone. “I have nothing to lose.”

“Hey buddy…”

The guy grabbs Liam by the shoulder pushing the blade of the knife against Liam’s neck. “I’m not your fucking buddy.”

“I don’t have a phone, and I only have a debit card in my pocket,” says Liam.

“I don’t fucken believe you!”

“Hey, man, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Be this way! Be this way! Fuck you! Empty your pockets.”

“Sure, no problem.” Liam reaches into his pocket and pulls out his debit card. “That’s it.”

“Empty you other pocket!”

“There is nothing in it to empty.”

The next thing Liam feels is the guy with the knife’s hand slide into his left track pants pocket. “See nothing,” says Liam

“Fuck you!” The guy with the knife pushes Liam hard in the back. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go where?” Liam asks.

“Let’s go to the shop and get money.”

“What?”

“You smell like you have money. Nice clothes. Clean hair. We’ll get some money from the ATM.”

“I’m not getting money out of the ATM for you.”

“YOU ARE NOT EXACTLY IN A POSITION TO REFUSE.” The guy takes a big breath as if to calm himself. “Remember I am the one with the knife. Now start walking and we’ll get some money from your account that you will never fucken miss! Move!” 

The guy pushes Liam in the back again, and Liam starts walking towards the convenience shop.

“Mate, I am sorry life is treating you bad,” says Liam as the two of them walk the deserted street.

“Don’t tell me about my life. You know nothing about it.”

“Well, man, is this what you wanted to do in life?”

“Of course it’s not, what shit are you talking?”

“This is not the way…”

“Easy for you to fucken say, what do you do?”

“What?”

“What do you do, it is an easy fucken question?”

“What do I do for a job?”

“Yes. Nice looking guy, hair smells like perfume, and even your shit clothes are expensive. What job do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Jesus, a fucking lawyer, making money off the misery of others.”

“I’m not that kind of lawyer.”

“A mother and father?”

“What?”

“Do you have a mother and father?”

“Yes.”

“Where your father went to work and your mum, I don’t know, played tennis?”

“She did charity work.”

“She did charity work,” the guy with the knife says with what could only be described as disgust. “You wanna know what I got?”

“Sure.”

“I got a mother that was so fucked up on booze that she never noticed that one of my long lines of uncles was diddling me in night, that’s what I got.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s brilliant, you are fucken sorry. That makes it all fucken better.”

They turn the corner to the front of 7/11.

“There’s no ATM,” says Liam.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Go inside and get me money!”

“What!”

“YOU HEARD ME!”

Liam pushes the doors open and enters the shop. The guy with the knife follows him. 

“Hey man, call the police, this guy has a knife.”

“What?” says the guy behind the counter and the guy with the knife in unison.

“He’s trying to rob me, call the police.”

“You fucken snake,” says the guy with the knife.

He stands and looks from Liam to the guy behind the counter and back to Liam. He genuinely looks confused.

“Police, please,” says the guy behind the counter into the phone. “Hurry!”

“I fucken hate you,” says the guy with the knife. “I thought I could trust you?”

“What?” questions Liam.

The guy with the knife turns and runs out of the shop.

Everyone Fails at Marriage

In every day, in every way. You seem to see them fade away. So much hope at the beginning, so much hate at the end. Whoever knew that was the way they would end.

The boys cheat. The girls cheat. The girls can’t forgive the boys for betraying them. The boys can’t forgive the girls for getting another dick inside them. And it all falls apart from there. The girls get revenge, if they can. And the boys, in some cases, are capable of something much worse. 

The boys find some younger chick to share their bed. The girls live out their days alone, regretting giving up work and forgoing their wages and super to have his kids.

The kids never really get over any of this. Their lives were better with married bliss. But how many times did the joy turn into fights?

Step fathers ensure. Step mothers moved in too soon. Blended family’s that worked, or that bled to death. So many uncles, so many wives. They never thought how this would affect their lives.

Married too young. Married for love. Did what their parents wanted them to do. Ran away just the two. Hung on too long. Never gave it a shot. Were never suitable as a pair. Their love died on the vine. Someone else turned their heads. He just liked taking girls to bed. Both too attractive for their own good. Married up. Married down. She trapped him with a child. He lied so as not to be gay, he didn’t want to live that way. They all misrepresented what they wanted for love, too young to know, too old to care, some may say stupidity all around.

And, of course, it is never going to be you, your love is for real and it is beautiful and it is forever, until it isn’t.

“She was fucking her boss.”

“What? The one with the mustang and the beach house.”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Didn’t he have a wife?”

“Yes, of 10 years. Not anymore.”

“He was fucking his mate.”

“What?”

“Andre with the curls and the big cock, apparently.”

“With all those blond curls?”

“Yep.”

“You can never trust a guy who is prettier than most girls.”

“They loved each other once.”

“Really?”

“Yes, in the beginning they were always touching wherever they were. Couldn’t get enough of each other.”

“They weren’t like that at the end?”

“The last two years they only spoke to each other through their lawyers.”

“Well, of course, her parents were the problem.”

“Her parents?”

“They would only give her all that money if she married Rob.”

“Is that why she married him?”

“And he got a lot of that money in the end, when she left him. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t what her parents had in mind.”

“They ran off to Las Vegas a week after they met.”

“They wouldn’t have known each other by then.”

“She admits that she didn’t learn his last name until the day of the wedding.”

“Wow! That bodes well for their future.”

“He wanted kids, she didn’t. She wanted to travel, he didn’t. She wanted to live in Sydney, he wanted to live in Melbourne.”

“Jesus, what a disaster.”

“They didn’t make it to 12 months.”

“They were miserable for at least 10 years.”

“It’s a long time to be unhappy.”

“We were begging them to separate in the end, none of us could stand to be around them.”

“So, their friends split them up?”

“Well, you can only be miserable for so long before something has to fucken give.”

“And it did?”

“And it did. She got out of the car half way to Echuca and the way to visit his parents.”

“On the highway.”

“Joylene had to drive up and get her. She never saw him again.”

“He was always out with the boys playing with cars. She was always at work with her big time career.”

“I never really saw them together.”

“No, they never seemed to coordinate their lives to fit the other one in.”

“They just never seemed to be into each other.”

“She took up 6 months working in New York and she forgot to tell him.”

“She forgot to tell him?”

“Ross called it quits at that point, and she never did anything to get him back.”

“It was the love affair of the ages, the two of them.”

“Really, I never saw that.”

“Oh, they were gorgeous together once.”

“So, what happened?”

“Well, Josie got fat, and Malcolm said he didn’t fancier her after that.”

“That’s pretty shallow, isn’t it.”

“Then Josie could never forgive him…”

“For not finding her attractive?”

“I know, when I say it out loud.”

“That’s terrible.”

“And it just fell apart after that.”

“After Jenny had the second son, she took up tennis lessons to get back in shape.”

“But, she’s always been gorgeous, pregnancy, or not.”

“Yes, I agree, always, the problem was the 21 year old tennis instructor, Brock, thought so too.”

“Oh, I can picture what Brock looks like.”

“Teddy could never forgive her for betraying him.”

“Those poor little boys.”

“I know.”

“Jamie liked the girls, and from all reports they liked him too.”

“He was always a good sort.”

“Apparently he was giving it to any girl that showed interest in him.”

“While Sienna was home with their baby too.’

“In the end, there were two other girls home with his babies.”

“Sienna was heart broken, she thought it was forever with Jamie.”

“How are those glamazons?”

“Davey and Katie?”

“Yes, Davie and Katie.”

“Katie ran off with one of the lawyers from her office, and Davie is shacked up with an 18 year old model.”

“Oh, the two of them were always too beautiful for words.”

“Katie dumped the lawyer from her office after a couple of months for one of the partners of the firm. Apparently, the 18 year old model is pregnant.”

“That’s one way to keep Mr Beautiful.”

“Not really a good way, though.”

“What would he see in an 18 year old?”

“You mean other than the perky tits and an arse that never quits.”

“How is she going to keep him when the baby tears all of that to shit?”

“Yeah, it will be interesting.”

“She was a stripper from a drunken buck’s night.”

“Is that where he met her?”

“Apparently, he and his mate were doing her at the same time, in the change room out the back.”

“It takes all sorts.”

“Then she got him to do his mate.”

“He did his mate?”

“She wanted to see it.”

“Drugs?”

“Sure. But they have stayed together ever since.”

“Big time lawyer and his stripper babe.”

“Something like that.”

“She got pregnant on a one night stand and then she came after him.”

“Do you think it was deliberate?”

“The pregnancy?”

“Yes, the pregnancy.”

“She picked the guy with the money then came after him for support.”

“And he had to pay?”

“He had to pay for a kid he didn’t want.”

"Does he want it now?"

"Not really."

“How is Olivia and Henry?”

“Olivia and Henry? Oh? Um?”

“Oh why, what has happened.”

“Well, Olivia says that Henry was never very passionate.”

“Oh, well, poor Olivia.”

“Then one drug fucked morning she and Henry were sitting in a gutter outside a pub after Mardi Gras.”

“Oh, we’ve all been there.”

“And Henry confessed he’d always suspected he was gay.”

“Suddenly, it all made sense to Olivia and she started to cry.”

“Oh, well, poor Olivia.”

“And Henry started to cry.”

“Oh, well, get it out, I guess.”

“They have been in counselling ever since.”

The Queensland Floods

The only trouble with the Queensland floods was there wasn't enough water. The job didn't get finished.

Ha ha, he he! 

Is this just a mean old smarty pants Victorian joke at the expense of our northern cousins? All of us waiting for that twangy accent to fire up in protest. 

Yep, I guess it is. Ha ha, he he. 

It's like being mean to your country cousins, the ones with the crossed eyes and the 6 fingers on one hand, which is always fun. More fun than flash cards. More fun than drugs. (okay, we can’t all agree on that one) More fun than leading old ladies halfway across roads, turning your back and waiting for the screech of brakes and the thud. WooHoo! More fun than denouncing Jesus in front of Madge Vickers-Waffle and watching her stammer and clutch at her pearls and finger her bible, rabidly.

More fun than a box of monkeys, or a room full of puppies. More fun than… oh, so much fun one can have keeping one’s clothes on.

The Mexicans laugh uproariously.

The rednecks cry pitifully.

Oh, I know, we shouldn’t be mean to our northern cousins, they have to spend far too much time in the sun.

They think we are insulted by being called Mexicans, but, of course, we’re not. We’re not quite so bigoted, nor as racist, as our northern ‘brethren’ so we embrace the title, anything that differentiates us from them is okay with us.

And, of course, we don’t actually want anything bad to happen to them of course we don’t, so we send our firefighters and our burly guys who get off on such work, because we grow them as big and as burly as anything that can be grown up north.

Of course, we have to send help, those barely open mouthed accents, we’d here the whining from down here, if we didn't.

Ah Queensland. Beautiful one minute. Under water the next.

“Ah, you know, Beryl, glug, glug, glug. It’s terrible.”

“Arthur wanted to move up there last year for his arthritis.”

“His arthritis?”

“Apparently, the warmth is good for it.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I said Arthur, it is an awfully long way to go just to get some relief for your arthritis.”

“You’d sell up and move the whole kit and kaboodle up beyond NSW?”

“Oh yes, Marjorie, we’d have to sell up, we’re not fucken millionaires, you know darl.”

“It’s a big move, Beryl.”

“I know, Marj, that’s what I said to Arthur. It’s a big move. It is a long way to go chasing the sun for a little arthritic relief. Arthur said to me that I used to be his arthritic relief.” Chuckle.”

“Oh Beryl, you are terrible.”

“But not since that incident with the goat.”

“Oh yes, the goat, nasty business.”

“And what happens if we don’t like it?”

“Indeed Beryl, what if?”

“I guess we could always come back…”

“But once you’ve sold up…”

“I know, once we’ve sold up, coming back again would be such a kerfuffle.”

“Oh, wouldn’t it Beryl.”

“Leaving all of my friends, who I’ve known for a life time would be a wrench.”

“I don’t think you realise how much of a wrench it would be.”

“That’s what I said to Arthur, we’ve lived down here all our lives, everything is down here, the kids, our history. I’m just not sure how I would go.”

“How would you go, Beryl?”

“I just don’t know, I really don’t. It’s not like we can try before we buy first, very easily.”

“It is a long way to go.”

“That is what we decided in the end, it is a long way to go leaving everyone behind.”

“I think you made the right choice, Beryl.”

“We decided to wait twelve months and see how we felt then.”

“Oh, is that what you decided, Beryl?”

“Arthur said he’d go and see Doc Brown and see what pills are now available.”

“Oh yes, modern medicine is a wonderous thing.”

“Anyway, just think, if we had gone, I might be up to my neck in water now.”

“Up to your neck in water?”

“And nobody wants that.”

“Nobody, Beryl, nobody.”

I don’t want to spent my twilight years treading water.”

“Oh Beryl, you make me laugh. I’d miss you if you moved up there.”

“I’d miss you too, Marj.”

There Should, Of Course, Be Jam

There should, of course, be jam in our lives. Life is too short without jam. It makes everything sweeter, nicer, brighter, happier, fruitier. It is sunshine in a jar. It is joy with a screw lid. It is brighter & fruitier than a gay cruise. (the type with a boat, that is, not the other kind) It is the basis for a lovely day.

What the world needs now is more colour, that's, lots more colour, fruity colour, colourful colour, happier colour, colour that makes you feel gay, of course. 

Jam it is lovely. The colours of the rainbow, captured in glass. Every colour under the sun.

Look at it, feel it, open the lid and taste it. Dip your finger in and lick it off. Double dip your finger, life is too short. Eat it with a spoon. Suck it up with a straw. Wipe it all over your mouth. Spread it thickly on your toast. Slather your fresh bread with butter and jam, pile it on thick, role it into a cylinder.

One of the great mantras for life, there is always room for more jam.

Red, orange, yellow and Blue

You could paint it on me, I could paint it on you

Honey be careful for what you wish

What are you saying, no bee products thanks, Trish?

None of this golden brown bee juice, thanks you so much

It might be good if you want to lacquer a box

But not if you want to paint the town yellow, pink and red

Colours to make us smile, colours to make us shine

To brighten our lives, to brighten our world

Starry, Starry night like Vincent Van Gough might

Peach, tangerine, mango and blue

Finger paint. Face paint. War paint. We cheer

Except jam is never used for conflict, my dear

Only for peace, I hear the multitudes boast

This piece of bread. That piece of toast

And we all like strawberry the most

Raspberry, apricot, Pineapple and lime

Adding banana is certainly never a crime

Whatever you think is lovely, whatever you think is sublime

Adding jam to you bread has be done all throughout time

Never Say You Are Sorry

Never say you are sorry.

Never?

No never.

Never?

You can never admit such defeat. You'd be a gonna.

A gonna?

Dead. Death. Trampled by all the others. The stronger ones, who would never admit defeat.

Dog eat dog?

Yes, that’s right. Dog eat dog.

A gonna you say?

Yes, a gonna in every way.

Every way?

Yes, every way. You wouldn’t make it out.

Never Make it out?

Never make it out.

Never make it out?

Forget it.

Forget it?

That’s right.

In every way?

A gonna.

Dog eat dog?

Dog eat dog.

Never say you are sorry?

Never.

If I want to make it out of here?

If you want to make it out of here!

Make it out of Poor Town?

You’ll never do it.

If I say sorry?

If you show any sign of weakness, you are here for life.

Stuck in Poor Town?

Believe me when I say it.

Believe you?

Well, you don’t have to believe me.

I don’t have to believe you?

Believe Bewildered Johnny or Narco Nancy.

Johnny and Nancy?

Believe Hatchet Harry or Nelly the Knife.

Harry and Nelly?

They said sorry.

They said sorry?

And look at them now.

Stuck in Poor Town?

Stuck in Poor Town.

With the scammers still picking their bones?

Like Vultures!

Ripping away the flesh?

Ripping away the flesh.

Because they said sorry?

When they should have said get out of my fucking way.

Out of my way?

That’s what they should have said.

To get out of here?

To get out of Poor Town

To get out of Poor Town?

They should have stepped forward.

Stepped forward?

On and over anyone who was in the way.

Over those who were in the way?

It is the only way

The only way?

To get out of here.

Poor Town?

The only way out.

Jump When I Say Jump

“Speak when you are spoken to, jump when I say jump.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Jump!”

“Too slow.”

“What?”

“When I say jump? Okay? Jump.”

“Okay.”

“Why aren't you jumping?”

“Was that you saying Jump?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Don't make me get my whip.”

“I’m ready, sir!”

“Jump now! Don't think. Jump!”

“Jump?”

“Yes, now. Jump!”

“Ah.”

“Was that the jump?”

Crack! KerThwack!

“Okay! Ah!”

“There you go. Well done.”

“Ay? That nearly hit me.”

“Now, we have to work on doing it at the same time.”

“Together?”

“Yes, together. Like a well oiled machine. Jump!”

“Ah!”

“Come on! Now! All of you!”

“There is only me.”

Crack! KerThwack! KerThwack!

“Hey! You nearly hit me with that thing again.”

“Yes. Better.”

“Better because it nearly hit me?”

“Again!”

“Okay.”

KerThwack!

“Hey.”

“Jump!”

“I’m jumping. Ah!”

“And again.”

“Steady on.”

KerThwack!

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Come on, don’t be a quitter.”

“Don’t be a saddest.”

KerThwack!

“You hit me with that. You actually hit me.”

KerThwack!

“Ouch! Hey. You bastard.”

“Jump!”

“Okay. Ah!”

“See you can do it when you want to.”

“Because of the fear of being maimed.”

KerThwack!

“Or injured.”

“Less yap.”

“Okay.”

“Jump!”

“Okay. Ah!”

“See, you can. Again!”

“Okay. Ah!”

“And again.”

“People are starting to stare.”

“Jump!

“Ah!”

“Good. Again!”

“Ah!”

“Jump!”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Jump!” KerThwack!

“Ouch!”

“Jump!” KerThwack!

“Knock it off with the whip.”

“Jump!” KerThwack!

“Ah!”

“Jump! KerThwack!

“Enough!”

“Jump! KerThwack!

“Ah! Stop!”

“Jump! KerThwack!

“Hey mate, are you okay?”

“No, no I’m not. Ah!”

“Jump! KerThwack!

“Hey buddy, let up.”

“Jump! KerThwack!

“Enough!”

“Jump! KerThwack!

“ENOUGH!”

"Quitter."

"This is the last time I come down the park with you for a little friendly training on a Saturday morning."

“Oh, come on, we were having fun.”

“You might have been having fun?”

“Oh, I was.” he laughed. “I was having lots of fun.”

“Sheesh!”

“You should have seen the look on your face when this…” KerThwack! “whizzed past your arse the very first time. Priceless.”