Wednesday, 27 April 2011


Bomboniere gave him the shits anyway,  Another confused closet leftie multiculturalist always
mumbling on about some Eyetie festival.  Why they all just didn't piss off home to Italy with their
donkeys and grappa, he, Cush, didn't know...........


Horsey sat beside him as Deputy Mayor, when the media contingent finally arrived.
Cush kept them waiting for over ten minutes while he fussed with his fair, straightened his jacket and
thought about what he would say.  It was all a storm in a tea-cup, he knew that.  Within a few
days it would all die down, and within a few months time,  people wouldn't even be able to
associate his name with the dirty deed. 

The first question came from a WIN Television reporter; a serious looking little girl whom
Cush thought needed her face wiped with a kleenex, it was so greasy looking.

"Mr Mayor," she asked aggressively, "Is it true that you ordered the mass killings of a roost
of flying foxes adjacent to the Cairns Library, two night ago?"

Cush nodded.  "I did.  I arranged for an experienced team of exterminators to come from
Melbourne to carry out the extermination job in the middle of the night.  I had authorised the
closure of all surrounding roads to traffic for several hours, so that the fumigation could be
safely carried out without harm to people."

Another television reporter, another hysterical young woman broke in:
"But Mr Mayor, flying foxes are a protected species, you can't just kill thousands of them....."

Cush cut her off:  "Those flying foxes were attacking people.  I have a duty to protect the
citizens and tourists of Cairns, and by God, I am going to do just that!"

Another question came from the WIN Television reporter:

"Were the animals killed humanely?"

Cush bristled.  "Look here!" he thundered.  "I'm an expert in killing,  I was in the army after all
for forty years!  I assure you those animals were killed humanely, ethically and compassionately.
It was euthanasia.  They would all have fallen fast asleep and never known a thing."

"But......but........" began the hysterical woman.

Cush stood up and waved his hands in front of him.  "You got your interview and it's finished," he
thundered,  walking from behind hid desk to the door.  That always made them leave.


Horsey looked admiringly at him.  "Very much in control there Ken," he said.

Cush sat back confidently in his chair.  "You can't take too much crap from the media.  They've
gotta be shown who's the bossman quick smart, and you know what, they all respect you for it."


It was around 5.30pm that evening when Cush finally arrived home to his penthouse apartment
overlooking the Cairns Esplanade.  It hads been a long and wearisome day, and he was
looking forward to a few nice drinks, a nice feed, and Brandi's nice cool hands massaging his
aching back.

The apartment was empty.  The bedroom was strewn from top to bottom with Brandi's clothes, shoes, handbags, and a warehouse of make-up bottles, face-creams, and all types of slop and gloop in bottles and tubes.  There was a note propped up against a large photo of Brandi wearing a bikini. 

"Darling Cushie, I had to fly to Melbourne today to do a summer shoot because the other
model flew off somewhere with her boyfriend.  Will phone tonight.  Love, love, love Your own little Brandi XXXXXXXXX"

Sighing, Cush returned to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and stared dejectedly inside.
The shelvews were empty apart from some tiny globs of mouldy green crust and a bottle of flaxseed oil which Brandi insisted was "food" for her skin.   He opened up the pantry cupboards and stared again at empty shelves,  Brandi didn't cook and they ate all of their meals in cafes or restaurants around
Cairns.  He had gained almost twenty kilograms since he and Brandi had arrived in Cairns just under two years ago, and there were many times he wished for one of the roast lamb dinners his first wife Joyce would dish up on Sundays.

To be continued............

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