Wednesday, 27 April 2011



As he reached down into the liquor cabinet and pulled out a no-name bottle of cheap red, he
thought longingly of Joyce's carefully prepared meals, the dining room table set with good
table service, and the alkaline food diet she put him on.  "We have to cancer proof our
bodies, Ken," she said.  Surprisingly, the alkaline salads were tasty.  Very tasty in fact.

He was thinking more and more of Joyce these days.  Yeah, he had many doubts as time
wore on, thinking what a bloody fool he had been marrying a tart younger than his own sons.
Yeah, the sex had been good for a few months, and he liked the look of naked envy as he
strode into a room with Brandi hanging off his arm.

But buggar it all.  He was 68 years of age.  He had a crook back, his knees ached with a
relentless deep pain all night and day long and on top of it all he now had trouble with his
dick.  Never had any trouble with it before.  Ever.  How many times did he get up to pee  last night,
he wondered?

All he wanted was for a nice feed on the table, a comfortable couch, some soothing words,
his suits all washed and pressed.  It wasn't much for a man to ask.  Nothing.

He took a deep swallow of the red and sank down on the couch, finding the remote and switching on
the TV nearby.

The local news had just started.  The story led in with a long and loving segment of Councillor
Lovelady standing on some makeshift dias.  She was making the predictable noises.  Cush belched
and farted, but could just hear Lovelady's indigant voice. "....outrageous, depraved, barbaric!" she
was saying.  "I'm  lodging the strongest complaint with the environmental authorities.  We shall avenge the deaths of those poor little baby flying foxes!"  The crowd cheered and waved their placards, but then
in the next segment the camera veered to his disastrous foray out of the Council Chambers.

Cush stared in horror as he looked at himself falling on his arse inside the Council Chambers
with Mingin cracking up behind him, then coming up and offering him his arm and hauling him
to his feet.  Next, he saw his shocked, puce coloured face, mouth hanging slackly open, as that
awful little monster of a girl carrying the placard with the baby flying foxes, shrieked up at him.

The segment in the Mayor's Office was pretty good, he thought.  He was in command, alright.
The last segment of the story on the poor bloody flying foxes, was taken downstairs again where
the cameraman who obviously had a hard-on looking at Lovelady, kept filming her on the dias.
Cush's eyes narrowed and his lip curled up as he watched both Councillors Mingin and Bomboniere
climb up and stand beside her.  "Solidarity!" Mingin called out.  The crowd roared!

He went again to flick off the remote, when he saw someone else crawling up onto the dias.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes to make sure.  But it was who he thought it was.  The Division
7 Councillor, Dom Piper, was standing there alongside Lovelady, Mingin and Bomboniere!!!

What's that bastard doing! thought Cush.  Ask for a bit of solidarity, and a gutless grub like
Piper licks his finger and holds it to the wind.  I mean he could expect that of a weak and
spineless old woman like Enzo Bomboniere, who probably had a hard on for Lovelady as

Angrily he flicked off the remote and took another long swig of the red. 

Just as he was refilling the red, his mobile phone rang.  He knew it was Brandi.

"Oooooooh Cushy, darling," she breathed in her bunged on little girl voice which now irritated the
living crap out of him.  "Poor little baby flying foxes........."

He threw the mobile out the window and in a fit of temper walked into the bedroom where he
threw open the drawers of Brandi's enormous dressing table.  There, he had found the
bastard!  He walked briskly out to the balcony and flung the $30,000 diamond bracelet he
had bought Brandi when he was out of his mind with the cruellest set of lover's balls he had
ever had in his life, well out onto the Esplanade.  He stood back then behind the blinds and
watched with great satisfaction as some walker picked it up.  Good job! 

The phone in the living room rang.  It was Horsey.  He went straight to the matter.
"Did you see the local news?" Horsey asked. 
Cush nodded.  "Yeah, I saw him, bloody gutless wimp."
"I think we might have a problem," Horsey said tersely.  "Piper suspects something, you know,
about Operation T."
Alarm bells started ringing in Cush's head.  "Aaaay, what? But he's a , a...a " Cush struggled to find
the right word.  "He's a SAVVY fellow, isn't he?"
There was an awkward silence on the phone.  Cush felt his heart beginning to beat
really fast and sweat starting to ooze from his armpits.
Finally Horsey said, "No, he's not Col.  Piper's on the level, always has been."
"Jeeeeeeeeeezuz bloody Christ,  Horsey, now you bloody tell me!" thundered Cush.
"I thought you knew," stuttered Horsey.
"No mate, I didn't fucken know!" snarled back Cush.  "I thought he was with us."
There was another awkward silence before Horsey said weakly, "No, he isn't with us."

"Oh fuck!" said Cush and Horsey together.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

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

No comments:

Post a Comment