Thursday 26 May 2011

OF WOMEN AND MICE....PART 4

"Would they have the balls?" wondered Councillor Skye Lovelady as she cycled steadily down Mulgrave Road towards the direction of the Cairns central business district.

The relevations by the wives of two of the Councillors had shaken her. She thought back to the dramatic and terrifying image of the chipmunk like Maria Bomboniere, and the violent flash-point she had witnessed earlier in Maria's living room. She suddenly had a mental image of the diminuitive Maria Bomboniere carrying out her impassioned threat to "kick Cush's balls up to his throat!" Maria's face had changed to that of a feral, rabid chihuahua. Skye had almost had a spontaneous dump in her pants. The thought made her laugh so hard, she almost fell off her bike.

But would both Dom Piper and Enzo Bomboniere have the guts to resign from Colonel Cush's Conservative Party Team, she wondered. Both were good men, she intuited, but both weak and easily intimidated. She thought back to when Dom Piper had climbed up on the temporary dias in front of the crowd protesting the mass killng of the flying fox roost. He had extended his hand to display solidarity with Councillors Mingin, Bomboniere and herself, but as she grabbed his hand, she could see he was trembling with his own audacity.

They had good, strong supportive wives, she reasoned. Maybe, just maybe the wives could persuade them to leave the corrupt clutches of Cush and his cronies. She had hopes that maybe, maybe there would be enough of them to stop the sociopath from continuing his path of destruction on the city.

........................................................

Brandi Cush dressed, as usual, in several hours, at the end of which, she was quite satisfied as she looked steadily at herself in the large bedroom mirrors. "Not bad, even though I say it myself," she preened, looking at the new yellow cotton skirt and matching jacket and noting how it brought out the best of her new dark red hair.

She had bought several new outfits in Melbourne during her short visist there, and she thought with pleasure of how she would model them for the hungry pages of the womens' section of the local "Cairns Post" newspaper. She could see the banner , "Our classy First Lady Shows her Style." She just knew the women journos would love the "new" Brandi.

Grabbing her matching clutch, she left the apartment for the luncheon date with the female journalists from "The Cairns Post".

"Darrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrling!" squealed the first female journalist, a middle aged dark haired woman, as Brandi walked into the restaurant.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," squealed her sidekick, a younger, heavily made up woman whose heavily drawn kohl lines around her eyes made her look like a sick raccoon.

"Aaaaaaaaah," squealed back Brandi in her highest pitch, as all three ran towards each other, tottering and mincing in high heeled shoes.

All three women met somewhere just inside the front entrance, and oblivious to the astonishment of the other diners, proceeded to all squeal at once in shrill shrieks.

"Mwah, mwah," squealed the first one, motioning her head forward to mimic kissing Brandi's cheeks.

"Mwah, mwah, aaaaaaaaah," squealed the second, also motioning with her head but pursing out her lips and making a delicate smacking sound.
"Oh you look divIIIIIIIIIIINe, so divIIIIIIIIIIINe, doesn't she Magenta!" squealed the older woman.
"GorGEOUS, just utterly gorGEOUS, I love it, I LOVE IT," squealed back the younger woman, Magenta.

Brandi flushed with pleasure. It was always so nice to meet with real friends who were always so honest and upfront with their opinions!

As they finally sat down together, Magenta leaned forward and asked, "And how does the Colonel like the new Brandi?"

Brandi didn't skip a beat. "Oooooh, he loves it, he just loves it! I was just so amazed at his response!" she lied, injecting as much enthusiasm and exaggerated sense of wonder into it, as she could. "He actually said I looked a lot like the young Priscilla Presley!" she added, for more effect.

Magenta dropped her mouth and shook her head. "You're so LUCKY, soooooo LUCKY Brandi to have a man like that. He is so, so, so.........."

The older female journalist broke in, interrupting Magenta's inability to find appropriate words to describe the husband of Brandi Cush. "He's so WONDERFUL, a really really gorgeous, gorgeous man, he really is."

"Oh he really really is," agreed the lost-for-words Magenta.

"He's such a MASTERFUL man, don't you think," said the older female journalist, picking up the menu. "I mean he just goes ahead and does what he says. None of this dreadful going back and fro and procrastinating over anything. He just goes and DOES it. I mean, it's really what Cairns has needed for a long time."

Magenta rolled her kohl encircled eyes, briefly looking like an extraterrestrial extra from the set of a sci-fi movie. "Remember the last Mayor and all that dreadful, I mean, DREADFUL carrying ons about a silly Cultural Precinct for Cairns? I mean, we all laughed and laughed.....How silly was she? I mean, "culture" for the people of Cairns? And then she had the sheer idiocy to ask the people of Cairns to contribute their ideas to the design of the buildings as well."

"Exactly," broke in the older woman. "Can you remember her hair........."

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" squealed Magenta, rolling her eyes around again.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwww!" squealed Brandi.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" squealed the older woman journalist.

Magenta shuddered. "How anyone could take a woman with hair like that seriously, is just beyond me!"

"Grey haired Aunty Val!," laughed the older woman journalist. "I thought that description was so perfect and did you see how it stuck. The silly bitch couldn't shake it off, no matter how hard she tried!."

Brandi jumped in. She hadn't been able to contribute anything intelligent so far, as the other two women had commandeered the conversation. "Ohh, I agree, I agree," she said genially, "so many older women are just you know so much like our Auntys and things, they should all just go home and start knitting or something! And let the men do all the work."

There was a sudden chill in the conversation and for a moment Brandi wondered if she had said anything wrong. She turned on her most engaging and winning smile, an act which always made her throat hurt, but it always worked.

The older woman shot a sharp eye up at Brandi who looked guileless sitting there with her dazzling smile.

"I've bought a whole new wardrobe of clothes in Melbourne," Brandi announced gleefully.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" shrilled the older woman, "You haven't!"
"Eeeeeeeeeeee!" shrieked Magenta, "I wanna see them, I wanna see them..."

Brandi looked pleased. "Well, if you like I can model them for you for the Weekend Magazine."

The two women journalists were suddenly quiet.

Finally, the older woman spoke. "We can't do that Brandi, well not for a while. We have our pages already planned for the next several weeks....."

Brandi looked startled. "Wha....what?" she stammered.

There was another awkward silence as Brandi looked from one journalist to the other.

"We are doing a series on the actress, Rhianna Silvers, you know, the one who was in all the soapies who married Reg Silvers, the billionaire..." replied Magenta.

Brandi's mouth fell open in shock.

"Such a gorgeous, gorgeous chicky," said the older woman journalist.

"She's just the most drop-dead gorgeous babe in Cairns," said Magenta carelessly. "And she has such a stunning array of jewellery which Reg has brought her, like you WOULDN'T believe..."

"and a brand new silver Mercedes SLR, about hall a mill. worth," gushed the other older woman.
"I mean, Reg GAVE her the Mercedes just as a gift, mind. I mean, half a mill. in a car, just as a little gift!"

Magenta sighed heavily. "Reg Silver is just soooooooooo, sooooooooo DYNAMIC! What a man!"

Brandi sat in frozen silence. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pour the water bottle right over the heads of the two journalists. She, Brandi Cush was the most beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous chicky-babe in Cairns! Frozen as her mind was, Brandi knew she had to put her plan into action as soon as she could.

Later, Brandi could not recall how she managed to get through the luncheon meeting. She knew she toyed with her chicken caesar salad, and drank a glass of mineral water. She also recalled saying "goodbye" to the two journalists by "mwahing" several times on the sidewalk. After that, she recalled nothing until she sat at her computer back in the apartment.

................................................

Joyce Cush cycled cheerfully towards the Salvation Army Secondhand Store not far from where she lived in the suburb of Mundingburra.

She had been invited to a dinner party, being hosted by one of the parents on the P. & C. of the Mundingburra State School, and she literally had nothing suitable to wear.

Since becoming poor after the divorce in which Cush and his lawyer had left her with almost nothing, Joyce had discovered the joys of "Op Shopping", visiting the various secondhand and opportunity shops in Towsnville, to buy extra clothing, or those necessary bits and pieces she required for her kitchen. Joyce had never ever known before, the treasures a person could find in an opportunity shop and she was just AMAZED after her first experience.

Not only that, but her constant forays down to the Salvation Army Secondhand Store had resulted in her getting to know the women who worked there, and also being offered some part time volunteer work there as well. Joyce loved it! Sorting out clothing, books, bric a brac, kitchen goods and old furniture, washing and ironing the clothes, and pricing them and hanging them on the racks. She enjoyed working with the women there, and had made so many friends from the shoppers who came into the shop.

"Being poor wasn't so bad," she thought, as she cycled along. She had had to find where the cheapest food was, where the best bargains were, how to reduce her electricity bill. She had joined the local library, and spent many hours in there using the internet for free. She also had discovered a whole range of free concerts in the city were held throughout the year.

She was well off, she thought calmly. She had her very small duplex, all the furniture she needed to live comfortably and a small sum of money set aside for emergencies. She had more than a lot of other people, and she was determined to make the most of what she had.



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

Friday 20 May 2011

OF WOMEN AND MICE....PART 3

Councillor Skye Lovelady carefully leaned her gleaming silver ladies' bicycle against the red brick fence, took off her helmut and wiped the perspiration from her face and neck with the face cloth she always carried, well tucked into her bra.

She had ridden her bicycle from Smithfield to Woree, to the home of Enzo and Maria Bomboniere that morning, following a surprise phone call from Maria the previous evening.
Enzo Bomboniere was the Councillor for Division 3 taking in the Cairns suburbs of Bayview Heights, Mt Sheridan, WhiteRock, Woree and Portsmith and had been elected as one of Colonel Ken Cush's team to run the Cairns Regional Council.

Only just elected by the hair of his chinny chinchin! thought Councillor Lovelady, as she recalled the Council results last year, when Bomboniere had won Division 3 from the popular Rob Pyne by the merest margin of two single votes.

She wasn't surprised to get the phone call. She and Councillor Mingin, the aboriginal represenative for Division 5, had noted the increasing discomfort of Councillor Bomboniere in the Council Chambers. He had also supported both Lovelady and Mingin in their outrage against the wholesale killing of the roost of flying foxes in the city, undertaken without Council consent or knowledge, by Mayor Cush.

She turned towards the house just as a petite, dark haired woman walked down the pathway out to the front fence. "Hello there Skye," the small woman called, smiling prettily, "I'm Maria Bomboniere, and am I glad to see you. Come inside and meet Margie Piper."

Skye followed. She had no idea that Margie Piper would be here. Margie was the wife of Dom Piper, the Division 7 Councillor, who had also joined the protest against the killing of the flying foxes.

Margie Piper rose and extended a hand to Skye as soon as she entered the neat and scrupulously clean living room where a tray of cups and saucers and plates of cakes were displayed on a large coffee table. "So glad to meet you Councillor Lovelady," said Margie, "I've heard so much about you!"

They all laughed. "Call me Skye, please." said Skye sitting down on one of the comfortable looking chairs.

Skye decided to come straight to the matter. "It is a pleasure to meet you ladies, but I am wondering why you want to meet me? As you know I represent the Green Party, and not the Conservative Party which both your husbands represent in the Council. I am also not a member of Colonel Cush's Council team, but both your husbands are."

Maria and Margie nervously glanced at each other before Margie spoke:-

"Our husbands don't know about this meeting, Skye, so we are throwing ourselves at your, your uh mercy if you like, and begging your discretion in that you keep everything said here confidential, well.... for the time being........" Her voice trailed off, as she left enquiringly at Skye.

Skye nodded slowly. She didn't know exactly what it was all about, but she did know that women like Margie and Maria were loyal wives, good women, and if they were deeply worried about something, something which prompted them to share with her, then it was in her own interests to go along with whatever they wanted. For the time being, as Margie said.

"We are taking a risk, I know," said Maria. "But we both felt we could trust you!"

"It's about that awful despot Cush of course," said Margie. "That dreadful, unconscienable sociopathic porcine shit which has the temerity to masquerade as a human being."

Skye laughed. 'Well said, Margie, I couldn't have said it better myself!"

"The man is abominable," broke in Maria. "The things he has called my Enzo! I tell you, my Enzo, he is a good man, a very very good man and I love him with all my heart. I do. But, I tell you both, he is a weak man. He has no stomach for confrontation. I'm the strong one in the marriage and if that Cush man talks to me like he talks to my Enzo, I tell you, I will KICK THE BASTARDO UP HIS BALLS SO THAT THEY GO UP HIS THROATS!" Maria shouted the last sentence and thumped the coffee table so that all the cups rattled.

Margie spluttered over her cup of tea and spilled liquid over the saucer onto the floor.
Skye was so shaken at the change of voice and expression on Maria's face, that all her could do was to stare with her mouth open. Maria's entire face had changed from that of an angelic little chipmunk to one of a rabid chihuahua, face diffused with colour, dark eyes popping and all her tiny teeth displayed in a clenching of aggression.

Skye swallowed shakily, chalking up a nota bena, to never, never cross one Maria Bomboniere!!
Margie hastily wiped up the spilled tea from the floor, apologising profusely.

"Uhh," said Margie, finding her voice and trying to cover the situation, "I think we could all do that Maria!"

"Now you tell Skye what you told me last night Margie," said Maria, recovering herself and starting to look more like her normal elfish self.

Margie heaved and sighed. "Okies. Do you know Honora Horseman at all, Skye? She's Bob Horseman's American wife. She's wife number two I think, not that it matters."

"No I don't" replied Skye. Bob Horseman was the Deputy Mayor and represented Division 6 in the Council. His Division took in the suburbs of Redlynch, Brinsmead and Whitfield.

"Well the woman is revolting. Oh, not to look at. She's got the money for botox, face lifts, hair extensions, implants, plastic surgery. She looks like a Hollywood actress and carries on like one too, even down to having a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce. I was introduced to her once at a political fund raising function. Well, the first thing she asked me was "And what does your husband do?" And when I replied that Dom was a plumber, she literally crumpled up her face and turned away from me. She never spoke to me again. "

Margie shook her head. "The woman is an icredible snob. One of those unbelievable people who truly believe they are superior because of their own wealth. Anyway, that is not what I want to tell you......" Margie took another sip from her cup of tea.

"I overheard, at that function, Honora talking to another woman. I was up close behind them for some reason, trying to get into the ladies or something and they were talking close immediately outside the door. I heard very clearly Honora say, that her son-in-law was the very wealthy Chinese CEO of a Hong Kong Corporation, and that she and Bob were flying over to Hong Kong for Christmas."

Skye immediately twigged. "How interesting? A Hong Kong Corporation bought the waterside block of land, and in fact is building a high rise suite of condominiums on it right now."

"Yes," said Margie. "You got it. From what Dom and I can make out, the initial sale of the land was to Horsey's son-in-law, but from there, it was sold to another Corporation, another Hong Kong Corporation. We think something funny has gone on, but we don't know what. Dom told me that Cush, Horsey, Hooper and a couple of others were all in Cush's Mayor's office one afternoon all celebrating when the block of land sold so quickly. He's very suspicious that they all got some sort of kickback."

"So is my Enzo," said Maria. "He told me he thinks this Council is like the mafia, corrupt and rotten and all for brotherhood. My Enzo, he isn't one of that brotherhood!"

Skye bit on the bottom of her lip. Margie and Maria had only confirmed what she and Mervyn Mingin had suspected, that something corrupt was going on with Cush and several Councillors.

"But wait, there is more," continued Margie. "Dom walked in one day when Cush and Horsey had their heads together in the Mayor's office and Dom overheard Cushy say very clearly, "Munro Martin Park is too good to have indigenous layabouts littering it up. It should be put to good use."

This was news to Skye. "So you think Cush has some devious plans for a public park, I mean that land was bequeathed to the people of Cairns by the sisters Martin and Munro?"

Margie nodded gravely. "Dom is certain of it. In fact Dom thinks Cush might try and sell it to the American Military for some sort of American venture to accommodate the American marines he wants to bring to Cairns for R & R leave."

Skye's head spun. It was getting worse and worse.

Maria had fully recovered from her violent flare-up. "Another thing we don't like is the Adult Night Clubs which Cush has approved for Cairns. There have been people murdered there, and the police are worried about more and more drugs in Cairns because of those clubs."

Skye recalled the Council vote on the Adult Entertainment Clubs and how Enzo Bomboniere had absented himself from the Chamber for the votes. Dom Piper however had voted for them.
Only Mervyn Mingin and herself had voted against the applications.

Skye decided diplomacy was best in the situation. "I agree. There are two more applications coming before Council, and I won't be voting to approve them."

There was a silence in the room, as all collected their thoughts. Skye decided to wrap everything up. "So ladies, what do we do now?"

Maria and Margie looked at each other.

"I think we need to talk with our husbands, and suggest they offically leave Cush's team, or something." Margie said slowly. "The two of us together." Margie looked across at Maria, who nodded in agreement. "Maybe we could have a bar-b-que Maria, and get them talking?"

"Good idea," said Skye, rising from her chair. "And let me know how it goes, as well."

.......................................................

Brandi Cush worked out that morning in a rage. She pounded the treadmill, until she almost collapsed. Then she tackled the cycling machines and cycled until her legs ached. All the while she was thinking furiously of how to destroy Rhianna Silvers.

She would send the Drug Squad an anonymous tip that Rhianna Silvers had a good supply of Ecstacy in her handbags. She would wordprocess it on her typewriter and use gloves so that no fingerprints were on the paper.

She was doubtful that the Police would do anything, as Reg Silvers, Rhianna's husband was a multi-millionaire and that amount of money meant enormous power. However she could only try.

However, she had two photos of Rhianna in very compromising poses. Very. Brandi laughed when she finally found them on her mobile phone.

She had been at a rave in Melbourne a couple of months back. She was monged out herself on ganga and ecstacy, but having a good time. It was all mental. A really mental, monging time. There were AFL footballers, some rockstars and a heal of models, the usual crowd. Suddenly, Rhianna appeared prancing around in hugely high heeled stilettos, and wearing only a tiny red g-string.

Brandi had then produced her mobile phone and taken some photographs just as a well known AFL star had kneeled down and grabbed the front of Rhianna's tiny g-string with his teeth. Brandi had two photographs which clearly showed Rhianna's face and front, but the back of the AFL star.

It was enough, thought Brandi. Rhianna was clearly recognisable. She would send one off to Reg Silvers with a warning that "there were plenty more where this one came from". She would keep him guessing, make him more suspicious. She would also threaten to post the photos all over the internet on the social media sites.

She thought she would write something with the photos, something like...."How do you think the voters of Division Two would like this, if they saw it?"

Feeling quite proud of herself, Brandi finished her workout for the morning and took the lift back to the unit. She had a luncheon date with two female journalists from 'The Cairns Post" and wanted to show off her new makeover. She felt very very happy.

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

Wednesday 18 May 2011

OF WOMEN AND MICE...PART 2

Cush thought he had struck it lucky again. The first thing he spotted as he rolled over and opened his eyes was a strange red haired woman lying beside him. "That old animal magnetism," he thought with a smirk, before groaning with the pain of a full bladder.
Christ, his bladder ached! Groaning loudly he shuffled off to the ensuite where he stood trying to relieve the murderous pain. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with gravel and his head throbbed. Cheap bloody wine, he thought bitterly. He wouldn't feel like this if he could afford the good stuff.

A sudden noise behind him made him swing around. There stood the beautiful redhead he had woken up with. Cush didn't recognise her until she spoke:

"Cushy, you woke me up with all your noise!"

Bloody Brandi! Cush stared at her. "What the fuck have you done to yourself, you look like jailbait?"

Brandi preened. "Oh I just had a bit of botox done and my hair re-coloured. You like?"
"No," growled Cush, shaking his dick to try and get some piss out. No luck. He would have to take a handful of pain killers again. "Go and change it back to blonde!" he snapped at Brandi.

Brandi responded by sticking out her bottom lip and saying nothing.
...........................................................................

"The Cairns Post" had done Cush proud. His speech at the Cairns Chamber of Commerce the day before was plastered across the front page. Banner headlines proclaimed: "CHAMBER APPLAUDS CUSH AS BEST EVER MAYOR!" Cush smiled to himself, as he continued to read.

He and Brandi were again at their favorite Esplanade restaurant having breakfast. Cush was devouring his usual four fried eggs, six slices of bacon, two sausages and six pieces of well buttered toast, plus a pot of black coffee. Brandi was having her usual fruit juice and piece of fruit and eyeing off the waiter, a young English backpacker, called Hamish.

Bored with trying to catch Hamish's eye, Brandi noticed a flyer lying on the table next door.
She leant over and grabbed it, as something to read. "A SUPPORT GROUP FOR SAME SEX PARENTS" read the wording on the flyer. "Are you having problems raising your child? Do you need someone to talk things over with? Perhaps you might like to join our support group and share your problems." The flyer listed a date and time and an address in Parramatta Park. Brandi carefully folded the flyer and put it in her handbag. "Coooool!" she thought. She had gay friends amongst the hairdressing and fashion industry and thought it would help if she knew more about their problems. But better not tell Cushy!

Brandi brooded on her discoveries the night before. She had spent hours going through the filing cabinet in Cush's study, but could only find one bank statement revealing a balance of $24,050 and a Term Deposit of $100,000 at one of the banks. She could find no portfolio of shares and stocks. She wondered if Cush may have documents kept at his bank in a safety deposit box or something? However, she felt, she intuited, she just knew that Cushy had lied to her. He wasn't a multi-millionaire. That filled her with horror and dread.

Cush read on, the glowing reportage by "The Cairns Post".

"The Cairns Chamber of Commerce at their monthly meeting, yesterday applauded His Worship, the Mayor of Cairns, for his strong and pragmatic leadership of the city and region.
In his speech the Mayor noted that his Council was the only Council in all of Queensland and probably Australia which had not raised the level of the general rate this year as well as reducing the overall level of operating debt."

"The Chamber were very appreciative of the Mayor's efforts in revitalising the central business district of Cairns in forging a strong Club industry within the city."

"Cheers greeted the Mayor's announcement that the waterfront land, proposed under the previous Council to accommodate an entertainment precinct had been sold, and that development of a multi-story condominium and hotel were in the process of being built by a Hong Kong corporation."

The Mayor promised the Cairns Chamber of Commerce that more developments of this kind were definitely in the pipeline. "Cairns is thriving again, with strong leadership," His Worship said to much applause and cheers.

Cush looked at the photograph of himself, taken onsite at the building of the multi-story condominium. It was a good photograph, with him wearing a hard-hat, and smiling workmen standing in the background. Cush looked down at the bottom of the page, and laughed out loud. "The Cairns Post" had also published a photograph of Councillor Skye Lovelady. The one where it looked like she had this huge bushy undergrowth under her armpits. The caption read, "Councillor Lovelady, one Councillor not happy with the nighgt clubs."

Cush turned the pages to the Editorial and his smile grew even broader. "Cairns has finally a man leading the city and surrounds in the right direction. A man of strength, vision and pragmatism, His Worship the Mayor of Cairns, Colonel Ken Cush, was yesterday hailed by the Cairns Chamber of Commerce as "the best Mayor Cairns has ever had."

Cush couldn't agree more. Idly he flicked through the rest of the newspapaper, scowling slightly when he read a very small item on page sixteen at the bottom of the page.

The Police Dept and Drug Squad in Cairns have expressed concerns at the
growth of the drug and associated crime industry in the city of Cairns following
the establishment of the night club adult entertainment industry. A further
murder has occurred at the Red Plum Men's Club which is being investigated.

Cush raised his eyebrows at the murder at the Red Plum. This was the most exclusive of the adult entertainment clubs and based on the upmarket ones in London. There was a large fee to join the Club and large fees to enter, to deter the common riffraff. Once inside, there were lap dancers and small booths where one could retire with any of the lap dancers who caught your eye. Cush had had many an enjoyable night there himself! The Club had proven an outstanding success since the day it opened and Cush found it a good place to network with the movers and shakers of Cairns.

Still, Cush thought, the murder would get the Cairns cops off their bums. For decades the only work they had to do was to pull the indigenous homeless people out of parks and off the streets.

Brandi's mobile phone suddenly rang, bringing Cush back to reality. "Why can't you turn that bloody thing off when we're eating?" he snarled at Brandi.

Brandi answered her mobile and handed it to Cush. "It's Horsey for you," she said sweetly.

Horsey was straight to the point. "I've been trying to reach you since yesterday afternoon," he spoke sourly. "Bill Hooper died yesterday. Heart attack."

"Shit, hey?" replied Cushy, rapidly thinking that Bill Hooper, the Division 2 Councillor was one of the gang of four Councillors partaking in some commissions from the sale of Council properties.
His death would mean more commissions for the remaining three, Cush thought happily.

"So what do we do about another Councillor?" asked Cush, rapidly thinking ahead.

"Geez mate," Horsey replied, "You're not gonna like this hey? You're not gonna fucken like this at all, but if we have to go to the next one on the ballot box, you know what I mean, the person who got the next highest number of votes after Bill in Division 2, we're gonna get a fucken commie in the Council and a Reverend at that. The Reverend Matthew Harmon, aged about 30, who stood for the, and get this, will ya, the fucken Socialist Workers Party of Australia!"

"Fucken Jesus bloody Christ," stormed Cush. "A fucken Sky Pilot and a commie Sky Pilot at that! Over my dead fucken body. We'll have a by-election, I don't give a shit how much it costs, I'm not having a fucken commie or a moralising holier than thou bloody happy clapper in my Council. I got two bloody alter boys in Bombonieri and Piper as it is."

"Reg Silvers is keen to get onto Council," Horsey continued. "You remember him, don't you? Retired developer from the Gold Coast, got a yacht moored at the Port Douglas marina?"

Cush did remember him. "A good man!" Cush agreed. "Yeah, Reg Silvers. I like the man. Have you asked him yet if he will stand? He shouldn't have any trouble in buying a house in Division 2 if that is the criteria anyways, he's a multi-billionaire or something, isn't he?"

Brandi pricked her ears up. Reg Silvers! What was this? Cush and Horsey were planning on getting him to stand for the Council as a Councillor??? Oh Brandi knew Reg Silvers, the seventy year old retired property developer and billionaire well. And she knew his wife, the twenty-five year old former model and T.V. soapy star, Rhianna Silvers equally well. Brandi burned with jealousy so strong, her hands shook.

That Rhianna was far more beautiful and sexy than Brandi went without saying. Rhianna was just simply drop dead gorgeous. Brandi knew she could not compete with Rhianna for the title of "Cairns Babelicious", something which the journos at "The Cairns Post" had dubbed her.
There was room for only one "Babelicious" in Cairns, Brandi thought fiercely, and that was going to be Brandi Cush! After all, she, Brandi was The First Lady of Cairns, married to the best ever Mayor of Cairns!

Brandi's jealousy burned even more deeply when she considered that Rhianna was married to a genuine, honest to God, multi-millionaire with a large yacht, a penthouse unit on the Gold Coast, a unit at Port Douglas, and a large and gorgeous home at Whitfield in Cairns. While, she Brandi, was married to a ...a....a...... Brandi shuddered.....she would have to admit it...she had married a POOR MAN!

She had met Rhianna at several raves in Melbourne. Rhianna was an "E" queen, and had in fact introduced Brandi to "Ecstacy". Rhianna said she always carried at least a dozen pills in her handbag all the time. Brandi thought deeply. There was one rave where she took some photographs of Rhianna, with her mobile phone. She glanced across at Cush who was still talking to Horsey with her mobile. She would have to do a search, see if she could retrieve those photographs. Meanwhile she thought and thought about what she should do. What she must do.


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

Monday 16 May 2011

OF WOMEN AND MICE...PART 1

Brandi stood impatiently outside the Cairns International Airport , alternating between anger and anxiety over the absence of Cush and the Mayoral car. She had left several messages on the answering machine in the penthouse unit; she had sent several text messages and she had even left messages at the Council Chambers that she was arriving back in Cairns from Melbourne at 6.30pm.

She glanced at her ring watch. It was just 7.15pm. Obviously Cushy had forgotten her! The First Lady of Cairns, stranded at the airport!

She walked as briskly as she could outside the terminal, pulling the luggage behind her, aware that every male within view had noticed her. She knew she was a stunner. Even more so, with a few sessions of botox in Melbourne, plus she had been perusaded by Nigel, her hairdresser to change her hair style to a pixie like pageboy cut and colour it a deep red. As Nigel said, with the botox and the new hairstyle, it made her look like a teenager. Nigel even scouted around amongst his pile of celebrity magazines and found a picture of Priscilla Presley taken many decades ago, when she was starring in a TV serial, long before she turned into the Joker's sister from too much botox and too many facelifts. Brandi had to admit, she did look an awful lot like the young Pricilla Presley! She was thrilled with her new look.

So too was the AFL star player thrilled with Brandi's looks. She had met him at a rave while in Melbourne, attended by many models, rock identities and AFL players. Brandi had had a fantastic time at the rave, popping a couple of "E" pills and ending up in the bedroom of the AFL star. It was one of the best nights of her life, reflected Brandi on the plane flying back to Cairns.
She had no regrets. None. None, whatsoever. Oh, she was going to stick with Cushy, because she loved being the First Lady of Cairns, the Lady Mayoress. And she loved the fawning sycophancy of the women journalists around the city and being photographed regularly in "The Cairns Post". However, Brandi reasoned, the sex between her and Cushy had sort of fizzled out in the last couple of months, so a girl had to go and find it somewhere else. Right?
However, something much worse was bothering Brandi than no sex. Something which worried Brandi so much that she tossed and turned in her bed at night, wondering, wondering if she really should pull the pin and up and leave Cushy. Cushy had lied to her about his money!

When they first met, he had told Brandi that he was a multi-millionaire. A multi-millionaire!
Brandi had been so impressed. However, this last year he had been very mean and miserly with his allowances to Brandi. He was only giving her a miserable, teeny weeny two thou a month to buy her clothes, make-up, have her hair done, lunches and all the things that a First Lady needs to do. Brandi fumed! She wondered just how much money he really did have. She needed to find out! If, and if, he had less than what he said - Well, she would make a decision.

"So what has been happening in Cairns this past fortnight?" Brandi asked the taxi driver as it sped out of the airport. The taxi driver, an over-weight sad faced man in his middle years, perked up. Picking up a beautiful woman made his night.

"Well, that Mayor of ours has fired up the city again, by killing a tree full of flying foxes," replied the taxi driver.

"Yes, I heard about that," Brandi replied, loathe to make any judgement, just in case the taxi driver recognised her later. "What else has happened?"

"Another stabbing down at one of the new clubs in town, the Open Pussycat or whatever it is called," answered the chirpy taxi-driver. "Some fella got himself killed and the cops now say that Cairns has a very serious drug problem."

"Doesn't every city?" Brandi said sounding bored, thinking that nothing much had changed in the time she was away.

The taxi-driver didn't reply and the rest of the ride to the building on the Esplanade was undertaken in silence as Brandi brooded with her thoughts.

The unit was dark, but not quite silent as Brandi let herself in. From the bedroom came the sound of snoring as loud as a chain-saw. Brandi saw the empty bottles of red, Cush's jacket and shoes lying on a leather couch in the living room, his tie draped over a chair. In the bed was Cush, spreadeagled across the king sized bed looking much like a beached whale.
Within seconds, Brandi was in Cush's office, looking for the key to unlock his filing cabinet.
Somewhere in there, she reasoned, she would find out just how much her husband was really worth!

............................................................

Joyce Cush sat at her computer, in her modest duplex in Townsville's Mundingburra. She was busy word-processing the Minutes from the meeting the night before of the Mundingburra Branch of the Australian Labor Party. For Joyce was now the Branch Secretary!

Joyce had been thrilled when the President asked her if she was interested in taking on the job as Secretary. She had never in her life held any important position in any organisation, ever. Oh, when Cush was President of the Gold Coast Lions, she did all his correspondence. She even sat in on meetings and was able to produce Minutes. She supposed that the experience there was sufficient training. In any case, the President provided her with copies of old Minutes and a Handbook which also provided more details on Minute Taking, and rules and etiquette of branch meetings, and she eagerly devoured the information.

She applied herself to her new role with fervour. She had ridden her bicycle around the streets of Mundingburra, calling on former branch members, to see if they would re-new their memberships. Surprisingly, several said they would now that the Branch had a new Secretary!
She had talked about her new role at P & C meetings, and two of the parents had indicated that they too would like to join the branch. Joyce had membership applications ready to take to the next P & C meeting.

Late at night, when she reflected on her new life and the crazy turns it was taking since Cush had walked out on her, she was often overcome with girlish giggles. How Cush would rant and rave if she had joined the Labor Party when she was married to him! Oh, in all the years of marriage to Cush, not once had she ever mentioned how much she had admired Gough Whitlam!
She learned to keep her opinions to herself and outwardly to agree with Cush. On everything.

There had been other developments too in Joyce's life. At a branch meeting one night, she had met Roy, a widowed and retired railway employee. She was aware there was frisson between the two, and it excited her no matter how she tried to ignore it. Oh, it was ridiculous, she would argue to herself. To still feel sexy at the age of sixty! Roy was thin to the point of gaunt, lined and weatherbeaten, but he had very kind eyes and a shy smile. Joyce was picturing that shy smile looking at her over the top of a nice cooked meal and a bottle of wine, one night, maybe soon! Whatever the future, Joyce was beginning to dream again. Like a young girl.

.....................................................

Berry cycled her way home to the flat she shared with Heather at Parramatta Park in Cairns.
It was late evening, and she had had a very busy day. She had prepared the posters advertising a same sex parental support group and calling for interested people to attend a meeting at the flat in a weeks time.

She wondered if she should advertise it on the Community Noticeboards on the radio and the CairnsSun newspaper? She decided however that placing actual posters up around the various community centres, health food outlets, Government services and Hospital, would be sufficient for the time being. She would however also advertise it on the internet, on blogs and email friends within the gay and lesbian community.

As she walked inside the flat, she spied Heather and Monsoon curled up together on the couch. Heather was reading to Monsoon. Berry stood still for a few seconds taking in the closeness, that stark and obvious Mother/daughter bond between the two, and it hurt like a savage kick in the guts. She felt a lump develop in her throat, and tears in her eyes. She was gutted by it!


To be continued......






Friday 13 May 2011

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH...PART 5

Cush however didn't feel so tired once he arrived back in his penthouse apartment. He noticed the red light blinking furiously away on his answering machine, but as usual ignored it. Horsey was still at the Council Chambers if there was any emergency there. And if it was that silly little bitch of a Brandi, well, he, Cush, didn't want to talk to her. Not yet. Not when he was feeling on top of the bloody world.

He reached into one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out another bottle of no-name red and settled himself comfortably on the balcony overlooking the Cairns Esplanade.

Time for a little reflection and philosophy, he thought taking a huge swig of his red.

The sky was powdery blue and cloudless, the sea twinkled with diamonds, the palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, birds sang all around him, and people lazed about on the Esplanade below. Paradise! thought Cush.

He reflected on the luncheon at the Cairns Chamber of Commerce that morning. He had given a bloody good speech, after changing it quite a bit from the politically correct nonsense and jargon the CEO had injected.

Bloody politically correct nonsense, thought Cush. People wanted to be told things how it was and he, Cush, was a man who called a spade a spade. Except of course for that big black shithouse of a Councillor Mingin, the Chucky Norris from Manunda. Cush had a sudden recollection of being hauled to his feet by a huge black arm with the strength of a fucken gantry crane, and spontaneously shivered.

Of course people liked a spade to be called a spade overall. Cush obliged them. Wogs were wogs, dagos and wops. Most Europeans, except for those with British ancestry fell into that category as far as Cush was concerned. Chinks were chinks, and gooks. Hindus were "dot heads" and "curry eaters." Sikhs were "ragheads" and "curry eaters".

None of this political correctness either for women or poofters. Cush had a huge repertoire of words to describe women. Why something which ovulated, menstruated, gestated and lactated should be allowed out into the public doman was beyond him. The Muslims had the right idea there, he thought, keep the women at home, out of bloody sight.

As for poofters, Cush called 'em that. Oh and didn't that give him the shits when those same people who swore they hated "politicaL correctness" got all offended like when he talked about poofters and turb blossoms. Like stupid bloody women. There they would sit, saying how the country was going to the dogs because of "political correctness" and when you responded by saying "Alright flossy, hows about you goes and gets a man a drink!" they got all huffy-like.
Morons! Cush couldn't stand them.

None of this bloody multi-cultural bloody nonsense either. Cush didn't hesitate to sound his opinions on that. If they come to this country, they got to learn English, or piss off home!
Cush laughed to himself. It was funny how almost all Australians today said they didn't believe in multi-culturalism, yet then they started making exceptions for the Italians, the Greeks, the Yugoslavs, the Dutch, the Germans, the Poles, the Finns, the Irish...... .

Yeah Aussies loved their Eyetie food, their Eyetie festivals, their bloody German beer and sausage, their Greek souvlaki and retsina, their Asian restaurants, their St. Paddy's day and green beer, but they reckoned they were dead set against multi-culturalism. Yeah, right.

It was like Aussies opinions on politics thought Cush, as he grew more expansive and reflective with the red he was steadily drinking.

Aussies kept on screaming out for the bloody pollies and even Local Governments to DO, DO, DO, DO and more DO. They wanted more roads, they wanted more schools, they wanted more hospitals, they wanted the guvviMINT to fund their construction industry.

Yet all of this, Cush knew, was just people who had nothing better to do, making shit-stirring noises. The two things Aussies wanted most of all, which effectively ruled out all the shit-stirring noises, was firstly no new taxes or rises in their rates, and secondly, a balanced budget or a surplus budget. It was that dead simple. Christ, even simple bloody Simon could work that out!

Aussies would cheerfully die at home in their beds without receiving any cancer treatment for a surplus budget, Cush reasoned. After all, cities like Cairns, with its growing population had been left without adequate cancer treatment facilities for decades. He tugged on his memory, becoming clouded with the cheap red he was drinking. He thought he heard Bomboniere say that Cairns only received radiotherapy facilities in 2010 or thereabouts. Well, there you go! he thought, something vital to people's life like that and the people sat back for decades and did fuck all to save themselves. Instead they thrilled to their backbones when the Federal Government which should have funded the bloody things, announced they had a "surplus" budget. How could you ignore a political reality as stark as that, Cush thought.

Most people whinging and whining weren't prepared to go any further than opening their big gobs, Cush thought. He had seen too much of it in his life. Few people were social or political warriors. The people in Cairns were all simpletons anyway. All they wanted in life was footie, sex, footie, sex, footie and more sex. And by God, Cush was going to give it to them. As he said at the Cairns Chamber of Commerce meeting, he was "changing lanes" in Cairns, for good.
None of this bloody nonsense that the previous female Mayor had spruiked about, bloody cultural centres. Christ almighty, the woman must have been soft in the head, deranged or something. "Culture" to Cairns people meant having a night out at the Open Pussycat, one of the strip and sex clubs he had approved in Lake Street.

He laughed again to himself. The sheer patronage of the "Open Pussycat" had confirmed his beliefs. The owners of the club said the place was packed to the rafters night after night.
And the Cairns Chamber of Commerce had given them all the thumbs up.

Cush's mind moved onto his future plans for Cairns. Munro Martin Park, in the heart of Cairns, was always on his mind. As he said to Horsey, it was too good a piece of land to be just lying there with only the indigenous cluttering it up. Cush didn't know who Munro Martin was, probably some long ago Mayor of Cairns who wanted a memorial to his ego or something, but apparently the land had been bequeathed to the people of Cairns. Cush didn't know much about the legalities of it, but he saw it as the perfect spot for the American Military's high rise hotel for their Pacific marines to enjoy their R & R in the city. And across the road, was the ailing and decrepit Cairns Civic Theatre, which Cush had refused point blank to spend any Council monies on repairing. As a result, it now stood empty. Oh, there had been some complaints, but when Cush stood firm, they had all faded away like bleating sheep. Cush saw the site of the Civic Theatre as perfect for another high-rise, featuring an American franchise restaurant, plus some shops on the upper floors. There could be a walkway connecting the hotel opposite to the restaurant and shops. Cush could picture it all in his mind's eye; the big hotel with American flags flying, and opposite a well known American restaurant with flags flying.

Cush and Horsey had other plans as well. The last Council had purchased all these blocks of land in and around Cairns, which he and Horsey had identified. How they both had laughed when they made plans to sell most of them and explain it away, as they did the waterfront land, as "necessary to reduce the huge debt the previous Council had left them and bring in a surplus budget."
The people would suck it up. Horsey was in the process of arranging to sell a large block of rainforest covered land, around 21 hectares, Cush thought from memory, overlooking Whitfield. Apparently the previous Council had purchased the land in 2011 for $1.5 million. Horsey's tentative feelers at this stage indicated they could sell it for around $20 million to a Hong Kong corporation. Cush smiled at this. Horsey had indicated they could all make themselves a couple of big ones each from the sale!

Life was good, Cush thought, as he drained his glass and refilled it. He had already made half a mill. and would make another couple of mill. before the year was out. He laughed out loud for a few minutes. And the beauty of it was, the people loved him, they loved him!!!



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



Monday 9 May 2011

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH...PART 4

Cush was received with enthusiastic cordiality by the Cairns Chamber of Commerce at their luncheon meeting. As he was introduced to the gathering of local businessmen and the odd woman or two, the audience clapped and cheered.

He beamed delightedly as someone called out, "Thank Christ we've a Mayor with balls enough to get rid of those bloody flying foxes!"

"Amen to that!" said another voice. "Hear, hear!" echoed many more.

Cush was amongst friends. Feeling a surge of pride he started his speech, beginning with his election campaign slogans:

"Cairns needs a STRONG leader, a STRONG man, a STRONG voice, and a STRONG direction....
I am that man. As someone said here today, a Mayor with BALLS...."

Cush stopped here and gave a self-satisfied grin. "Your last Mayor was a bit deficient in that department.....".
The lunching audience all laughed again. Except for the two women, who shot knowing looks at each other, then grimaced in unison.

Enough of a public speaker, to know he had his audience in the palms of his hands, Cush
hurried on. He was feeling peckish and, judging by the menu at the restaurant, the chow looked pretty good.

'Since being elected to Office last year, in an unprecedented landslide, might I point out, I have been hard at work, bringing the deplorable state of finance which the previous Council administration created, into some semblance of order and reducing the huge deficit. I
inherited the biggest deficit budget in Queensland....."

"That is absolute rubbish," called out someone in the audience. "Brisbane, Townsville, Rockhampton and Mackay had larger operating deficits, than Cairns Regional Council had last year."

"Aaaaay?" said Cush, looking around the audience to see who was talking. He spotted a thin, elegant looking man sitting at a table with the only two women present.

Cush rallied, instantly on the offensive. "No-one take any notice of that apologist for women Mayors," he sneered. "He's probably the old Mayor's hairdresser or dressmaker!"

There was a snickering of approval amongst the audience, as Cush continued with his self-congratulatory brag of a speech.

"I decided the city could not afford to waste good ratepayers monies on luxuries such as art, artists, potters, buskers, tin-can players, bicyclists and all the other hanger-ons
sucking off the public teat which the previous female Mayor pandered to, so generously. So I abolished completely all Community funding by my Council and I also ceased allocating funds to building more of those ridiculous hippy bicycle lanes. This gave the Council considerable savings. Added to this we sold the land which the previous Council had designated as some sort of entertainment precinct, or as some people rightly said, "A monument to an ego." This sale also provided us with some considerable sums. As a result of this sound financial management, I have been the only Mayor in the entire country, able to keep the rates at the same level as last years...."

Loud cheering and clapping greeted this, and Cush couldn't stop himself from smiling even more broadly.

"Next, I have made considerable innovations with the character of Cairns, since my overwhelming election. Unlike the previous Mayor who seemed blinded by Victorian age prudery or whatever, I have approved and supported the development of a sophisticated "Club Industry" here in Cairns. I have approved six such night clubs with another two applications currently before Council. Cairns is a sophisticated city, and our tourists need adult entertainment. I point out that since the development of the Club Industry in Cairns, our inner central business district has bloomed in patronage. People just can't get enough of the delights of our wonderful Night Clubs!"

As he spoke, Cush recalled fleetingly a visit from the local Police Superintendent a few weeks back. The smarty pants Superintendent called in to tell him, Cush, that the Sex Clubs had attracted elements of Sydney and Melbourne's underworld to Cairns. "Well, isn't that your bloody job to watch 'em?" thundered Cush, buggared why the Superintendent was there in his Mayor's office telling him this. He wanted to tell the poker shit faced Superintendent, that he couldn't give a toss, but thought he would humour him along, and make the right responses like "Tsk, tsk, tsk". It was all he could do, to stifly his yawns as the Superintendent read off Police statistics of knifings, bashings, drug deals and sightings of key underworld personalities in the Cairns Clubs. "Yeah, but how many of the perpetrators and victims are indigenous?" broke in Cush, at one point. The Superintendent bared his teeth. Fucken dickhead! thought Cush.
"The perps from the Clubs are all white," the Superintendent replied. "Oh, goodness me," said Cush, feigning some emotion. "That's a bit of a turn about for Cairns, isn't it? What're youse going to do about it then?"

Cush could see the Cairns Chamber of Commerce were pleased with the development of the Night Club industry in Cairns. At night, Lake Street in particular, was ablaze with lights, music, with throngs of people milling round. On week-ends the city was packed with local tourists, and the Cairns hotels and tourist accommodations were recording full occupancy rates.

He continued his speech:-

"I have also received an answer from the American Pentagon in response to my suggestion that the American military look to Cairns as a venue for R & R for their servicemen and women currently in service in the Pacific. I am pleased to tell you all here today that the Pentagon has confirmed that the US military is indeed interested in the city of Cairns as a major recreation centre for its servicemen and women, and that they would like to construct several accommodations, large accommodations in the city and surrounds to house their servicemen."

More cheers and clapping greeted this announcement, and many people stood up!

"It's what we need, more construction," said someone.

"The US military usually supply their own construction crews and materials," said the thin man, however no-one but the two women heard him, so busy were they cheering Cush.

Cush enjoyed himself immensely, and enjoyed his huge lunch afterwards. Washing it down with a few pots of beer, he began to feel sleepy around 2.00pm when the lunch officially ended and attendees began leaving.

Outside, he hailed a cab, and went straight back to his unit, where he intended to kip for a few hours, satisfied and well pleased with his reception by the Cairns Chamber of Commerce. As he always thought, he was the best fucken Mayor the city had ever had! Ever!


To be continued.....

Saturday 7 May 2011

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH....PART 3

It was a weary little family which finally found their way home to their downstairs flat in Parramatta Park.
They had spent the morning at Muddys' Playground on the Esplanade where Monsoon played to her heart's content so that now she was tired and grizzling.  Heather, too, was feeling bone weary, and just wanted to rest on the bed for a while.

Berry checked her mobile phone to see if there were any messages from Frank, her business partner at the Tattooist Parlour.  There were none.

Inside the flat,  Heather headed quickly for the bedroom.  "Can you unload Monsoon's backpack," she asked Berry, stifling a yawn as she did so.

Berry grabbed Monsoon's "Lil Monkey" backback and threw the contents on the kitchen table.  She stared in surprise as a very expensive looking mobile phone tumbled out with Monsoon's face washers, towel, SPF30, headless Barbie doll, soggy biscuits and much loved teddy.

"Where did you get this?" she asked Monsoon, holding up the mobile phone.

Monsoon stared and put her finger thoughtfully in her mouth. 

"Come on," urged Berry, her voice turning sharp.  "You tell me where you found this?"

Hearing the sudden change in the tone of Berry's voice, Heather returned to the kitchen.

Monsoon was staring at the floor, still with the finger in her mouth.  "She's thinking!" said Heather.

"I founded it!" said Monsoon at last.  "I founded it on the ground and pickeded it ups!"

"It's an expensive phone," said Berry.  "Now I'm going to have to take it down to the cop shop and hand it in.  Someone will be looking for it."

She turned on Heather.  "This sort of thing wouldn't happen, Heather if you watched Monsoon more closely.  God knows what she could have picked up and put in her knapsack without you noticing!"

Tired, her back aching, her swollen feet aching, Heather had enough!!

"It's always my fault, Berry!  It's always me.  You don't watch her as much as I do.  I wish you would take some more responsibility, I really do."  Heather screamed back, before bursting into a flood of tears and heading again for the bedroom.

"YOU LEAVE MINE MUMMY ALONE!" screamed Monsoon, rushing at Berry with her small fists raised.  "YOU LEAVE MUMMY ALONE!"

Berry staggered back against the kitchen table, falling unsteadily onto a chair.  How could this have happened?  How could the family dynamic have changed so, so, so dramatically so that her own daughter now saw her as an aggressor????

Berry's thought were scrambled.  She walked into the bedroom where Heather lay with Monsoon curled up beside her.

"Heather...it was like...she was like...so possessive like..." Berry stumbled.  "I was like, just standing there, and Monsoon was like she was going to attack me like. "

"I know," Heather sniffed.  "It was just so like, you know like...domestic violence like...".

"We've got problems!" Berry said.
Heather agreed, shaking her head.  "We do."

"We really really need the help and support of a group of other same sex parents," Berry said thoughtfully.  "I'm sure some of them would be experiencing the same things that we are, and you know, we all need to share and discuss all these issues."

"A same sex parental support group would be a really great idea," said Heather enthusiastically.  

The mobile phone which Berry had still be carrying in her hand, rang suddenly.  "Should I answer it?" Berry asked Heather, who nodded.

"Hello," Berry answered nervously, but had any other speech cut off by a young woman's voice which gushed away without stopping:

"Ohhh Cushy DARLING, you're not mad at me over what I said last night are you, abut those silly little flying foxes?  Oh darling, I didn't mean anything, that was the wines I had last night talking. Don't take any notice of me.  My photo shoot is finished and I'm flying home tomorrow night, so I'll see you then darling.  Oh and I have a big surprise for you.  A big surprise.  Well bye bye darling, see you then........."

The caller hung up and Berry was left staring in astonishment at the mobile phone.  "She just garbled on and on like," she told Heather.  "I didn't understand much of what she said at all!"

"You had better take it down the cop shop as soon as you can anyway," replied Heather, rolling on her side and preparing for her afternoon sleep.

"I will", answered Berry.  "And I'll do up some posters and leave them around town too, concerning our same sex parental support group."

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

                                             

Wednesday 4 May 2011

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH....PART 2

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH...PART 2

Cush was deep in thought as he finally entered the Mayor's office.  He now had a divided Council!
Still, he had the numbers to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted and if he wanted.  Then of course, he would just piss off and leave the bloody city.  Basically, all he wanted was to make himself a pile so he could retire in comfort somewhere, probably on the Gold Coast.  Whatever happened to Cairns when his term was up, he couldn't give a stuff.

He fired up his computer as he munched into the Danish pastries and checked his in-box for correspondence.  He noted the Council CEO wanted a chat with him.  He reckoned he couild give him maybe twenty minutes before he headed off to the Cairns Chamber of Commerce meeting at 11.30am.

He checked his emails, and instantly deleted five emails from Brandi.  Never saw 'em!  Never got them, he would tell Brandi later.  His eyes lit up as he spotted another one of those mysterious, anonymous emails he had been receiving in the past month.   Eagerly, he opened the email up.  There it was, sending his heart beating hard:-

Heeeeeeeeello there, you gorgeous man, you!
You are so masterful, so much in charge, so dynamic, so tough, so decisive.  A real man's man.  I dream I am marooned on an island with you.  In fact I dream about you an awful lot and it makes me wet, wet, wet..  I dream we are together in some place cosy, quiet and romantic.  Oh, let's say we will be.  We will be.  We will be soon, my hero.
From The One Who Loves You

Cush puffed up and smiled.  He had asked one of the I.T. boys to try and locate the source of the emails, (being careful just to provide him with the one email), because he reckoned it was coming from one of the women in administration in the Council offices.  However the I.T. boy had said the emails were being sent from various hotmail.com addresses, and from public internet facilities around town.  Cush's advice was that it would be impossible to find out who was sending them.   Still, Cush enjoyed them.  He knew he was attractive to many women, who found power and money wildly sexy.   Brandi was proof of that.  Although, whoever was sending the emails didn't know he wasn't as wealthy as he made out.  But that was his little secret.

There was a tentative knock on his door.  Cush yelled "Come in!" and Dom Piper nervously entered.
"Hope it's quick," Cush bawled.  "I've got a lot of work this morning."

Piper quivered visibly.  He wasn't a brave man but he had promised his wife Margie, that he would speak his mind with the Mayor today.

"Ugh," he stuttered, "It's about the flying foxes,"
Cush gave Piper his hard stare.  "What about 'em?" he snarled between clenched teeth.

Piper quivered again.  "You didn't have to kill them all!  The entire roost could have been re-located all alive to the hills or wherever.  Sydney and Melbourne have relocated roosts successfully...."

Cush broke in loudly.  "Don't you bloody think I took all of that into consideration?  And how much would it have cost the ratepayers of Cairns hey?  Hey?  And what about all the bloody bleeding heart looneys who would have turned out in force deliberately obstructing the relocation, hey?  What about that crowd of lefty looney shit faced manks you were playing up to yesterday, hey?"

Piper quivered and shook in his shoes.  Cush's voice rose higher and higher.  "And what the fuck were you doing standing up there on the platform like a mankey wanker with that black bastard Mingin and fucken Lovelady, hey?  Half the city could see you up there crackin' a fat over Lovelady standing up close to you!"

Piper took a deep breath.  The man's coarseness astounded him.  Oh sure, he knew Cush had spent most of hisa life in the army, but there were standards of civility!  He felt outraged.

"I resent what you just said!" he said firmly, surprising himself with how strong and upfront he sounded.

"Do you now?" roared Cush, standing up at his desk.  "Oh, do you now, you poncey, fairy little office accountant with the soft, lily white girly hands.  Well how about you just fuck off out of here before I give you something to REALLY resent!"

Cush looked so threatening that Dom Piper, Councillor for Division 7, didn't hesitate and he fled the Mayor's office as fast as his shaking legs could carry him.

He scurried past the CEO, Nigel Schwartz-Butler-Pegg, who was on his way to discuss the speech to the Cairns Chamber of Commerce later that morning, with His Worship, the Mayor.  Nigel thought he had done a good job, but the Mayor being the Mayor, always wanted more personal credit to be included and was quick to notice when there wasn;t enough self-congratulation in his speeches.  Fucken sociopathic fat arsed neanderthal toad, thought Nigel miserably, as he knocked on the Mayor's door.  How could the voters of Cairns get it so wrong after that last lady Mayor, he didn't know. 

He knew it.  Within a minute of sitting down, Cush had hit him with the inadequate praise in the speech.

"Listen mate," said Cush, "MY Council is the only fucken Council in the whole of Australia where we did not have to raise the rates one cent!  No other bloody Council anywhere in Australia was able to achieve that.  I reckon I deserver some cred, a fuck of a lot of cred on that.  The people loved it mate, they loved it."

Nigel nodded.  "Yes, but you should explain how that happened in your speech," he pointed out.
"You abolished the entire range of Community Services undertaken by the Council, including the ATSI Indigenous Advisory Council, the Mooroobool Community Centre, the Disability Services......."

"So I did," Cush agreed.  "All rubbish which were costing the ratepayers dearly.  I mean for fuck's sake, what the hell is a Council doing administering such rubbish as  Multicultural Information and bloody Peace Week."

"and you abandoned all the Community Grants Scheme." finished Nigel.

"Too right I did," said Cush proudly.  "Bloody wasting money on things such as a Ukulele Festival, I mean, for fucks' sake and some looney bloody arty farty thing called Changing Lanes.  Damned right, we've changed lanes!" 

Cush scanned the speech again.  "I like the way you mentioned that the sale of that waterfront land was a complicated sale, which it was." 

Nigel squirmed.  He, too suspected that some scam had been carried out from the sale of the waterfront land, however he didn't want to dwell on it too long.  He just hoped to God the scam was never uncovered.

"and we abandoned all that nonsense about bike lanes, and saved ourselves several million dollars of ratepayers monies."

"So," said Cush, "wrapping it all up, we were able to bring down a Budget whereby we didn't have to raise the rates at all, because we were fiscally RESPONSIBLE and abandoned all the looney projects from the previous administration, plus sold the land the previous lunatic Mayor wanted to build a fucken entertainment precinct on or whatever she called it."

Cush leaned back in his chair and beamed.  'The Council has done really well since I became Mayor!"

"Yes, Sir," said Nigel, forcing his enthusiasm.

"It's probably the best damn fucken Council in the whole of Australia," said Cush.

                0000000000000000000000000000000


Dom Piper scurried back to his Councillor's desk and sat shakily down.  Retrieving a handkerchief, he wiped perspiration from his forehead.  He loathed himself for his cowardice.  He had never had much guts in his life. 
"Are you alright there mate?" asked a kindly voice.
Dom looked up to see Enzo Bomboniere, the Division 3 Councillor, standing close by with a worried look on his face.
Dom stared hard at Enzo.  Could he trust him, he wondered.  He took a punt.
"Just had a row with Cush," he muttered.  "The man's a bloody sociopath or something."
Enzo stared back.  Could he trust Dom Piper, he wondered.  He decided he could try.
"In my books, he's a true blue sociopath," he said slowly.  "Lovelady and Mingin reckon he is too."
Dom gulped.  "What are we going to do?" he asked, looking up at Bomboniere.

TO BE CONTINUED

Tuesday 3 May 2011

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH.....PART 1

THE WORLD, ACCORDING TO CUSH


Cush was cheerful and buoyed as he sauntered down the Cairns Esplanade, waving his rolled up copy of "The Cairns Post" at people he knew, thought he knew or thought they should know him.  He even whistled, and had a fleeting memory of Tony Barber whistling the old cigarette commercial on TV.  What was it, he wondered?  He tried to think, but somehow the name of the cigarettes just escaped him.  Was it "Escort", "Trent" or "Winfields"?  Somehow that fact was caught up in the sludge of his sixty plus memory.

Engrossed with his thoughts, he missed seeing a little group sitting under a shady tree on the Esplanade.
The group saw him though.  "Norty mans!" said Monsoon, pointing a none too clean finger in his direction.

"Shhhh!" warned Heather, one of her Mothers.  "Not too loud Monsoon!"  Monsoon's other Mother, Berry laughed.  "You should have seen her yesterday Heather, I was so proud of her!"

Heather sat up rubbing her swollen stomach.  "I wish you wouldn't take her to demonstrations, Berry,"
she complained.  "I worry about her getting hurt with so many people around."

Berry looked at her partner with genuine confusion.  "I look after her Heather.  You don't have to worry, really?"

Heather bit her lip.  She and Berry bickered constantly about the care of Monsoon.  Heather wondered if it was because she, Heather was the birth Mother who had breast fed Monsoon for twelve months and because Berry was the other non-gestating, non-lactating Mother?  Heather didn't know any more, but she knew she felt much more protective of Monsoon than Berry did.  There was another problem too.  She and Berry had both decided that their children would call them both by their first names, and that the title "Mummy" was taboo.  Yet lately Monsoon had started calling Heather, "Mummy."   It had upset Berry.

Berry was also pondering the problem of child raising in a loving same sex relationship.  Somehow it hadn't gone quite to plan with Monsoon insisting on calling Heather, now pregnant with the second baby, "Mummy".  Berry thought it was probably the influence of other children living in opposite sex relationships wom Monsoon came into contact with at the Day Care Centre she occasionally attended.

Berry had other thoughts on her mind too as she watched the disappearing portly figure of His Worship, the Mayor of Cairns, Colonel Ken Cush as he strode out of sight down the Esplanade.

Cush! she thought.  Cush!  I know that name and I remember where it was.  Berry thought back a few months when she was doing some tattooist work in Townsville for a friend.  Berry owned her own Tattoo Parlour here in Cairns, and from time to time, she stood in and helped a friend with his parlour down in Townsville.  She was there some time ago, when this drop dead gorgeous older woman came in and meekly and hesitantly asked for a small rose tattoo.

Berry had been surprised.  It wasn't usual to see an older woman, one in her early 60s, Berry estimated, ask for a tattoo.  Moreover, the woman was sophisticated, well spoken, slender and well groomed.  However, she insisted and picked out this tiny, cute looking little tattoo.  During the conversation with Berry, she identified herself as "Joyce Cush."  Immediately she stammered, "No, I am Joyce Taylor now!"  When Berry looked mystified, the woman explained with a nervous laugh, "I'm divorced.  I'm now using my maiden name, but it has been so long, I keep on forgetting!"

Berry completed the tattoo, amazed at the woman's lovely creamy, satin smooth skin.  If she wasn't in love with Heather, she thought, she could fall in love again!

Idly Berry wondered if this Joyce Taylor was the former wife of that fat buffoon, His Worship, Colonel Toad of Cairns?  She would love to find out, just for the hell of it.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Cush continued on his walk to the Cairns City Council Offices.  He took a detour down to the Wharf areas where the Hong Kong Cororation was building its high rise apartment and hotel building.  The workers were all hard at it, and Cush spotted one of the foremen and called out to him.

The foreman assured Cush the work was proceeding without a hitch and all was well.  Cush donned a hard hat to take a quick looksee over the building, when a photographer from "The Cairns Post" suddenly arrived and took a quick couple of photographs of him with the foreman.  Cush smiled his best smile for the photographer, delighted that he would again appear in the pages of "The Cairns Post" the following day. 

Cush chatted with some of the construction workers.  "Say how do you like your Pussy Alley?" he joked, pointing his head in the direction of Lake Street, where his Council had approved six night clubs featuring sex acts, since being elected to office.  Cush now jokingly called it, "Pussy Alley."

The men all roared their approval, which only increased Cush's sense of well-being and buoyancy.  He was on toip of the world, mate!   Yeah, he had tried to tell the Councillors one day never to under-estimate the drawing power of pussy.  Bloody Lovelady had carried on like a psychotic in meltdown, so he just swtiched off her microphone, while again silently cursing the Northern Beaches, and James Cook University for voting in a WOMAN Councillor.  Bloody women!  Cush couldn't stand seeing them in public offices.  He thought proudly when he was in the Army, he made sure they didn't stay any where near him.  Why don't they all just stay at home, breeding kids and looking after their men, he thought.  The world would be a much better place.  Anyway, he couldn't wait for the day when Councillor Skye Lovelady had enough and resigned her position on the Council.

He continued his walk to the Council Offices.  Those night clubs had changed Lake Street.  From being a dirty, almost deserted part of Cairns, it was now transformed, particularly at night, with loud music, neon signs, half naked women standing outside the doors, and literally thousands of men flocking around the clubs each night.

Oh, the Churches and some women's groups had complained.  Cush's response was for the nightclub owners to "bring up some bloody male strippers for Christ's sake, so the bloody women don't feel deprived."
A week later, "Puppetry of the Penis" arrived again in Cairns for a sell out season, and no-one complained any more. 

You just have to be a bit canny, Cush thought, and know what people really want.  Cairns people were unsophisticated, simple people who wwanted their lives enriched by football, sex, football and more sex.  That was it.  Simple really.  "The Cairns Post" knew he was the best Mayor Cairns had ever had.

Cush reached the Council offices and headed for the cafe to pick up a coffee and a couple of pastries for his morning tea.  He liked to eat a couple of Danish pastries each day now.

As he rounded the corner, he stopped abruptly.  There, sitting at one of the tables outside the little
cafe were Councillors Bomboniere and Mingin chatting closely away.  Intimately chatting! thought Cush, feeling a scowl coming on.

He strode forward.  "Well, well, well," he boomed, "What we got here, if it isn't a meeting of the Anti-WASP Society of the Cairns Regional Council?"

Bomboniere and Mingin sat back guiltily.  Cush knew instantly they had been discussing something to do with him.  He stared at them both with dislike, registering that he now had a troika of three outright antagonistic Councillors to deal with as well as one very suspicious one.   He had problems.


TO BE CONTINUED......






.  

Sunday 1 May 2011

POOR LITTLE FLYING FOXES...PART 6

POOR LITTLE FLYING FOXES ...PART 6

Dom (Dominic) Piper, the Division 7 Councillor, and his wife Margie sat side by side, sipping cold chardonnays, on their big leather lounge, watching the local evening news on their gigantic wall screen.

"He's a sociopath!" broke in Margie, angrily, as Cush spoke arrogantly down to the WIN television journalist.
Dom grunted.  The thought had occurred to him many times.  He also wondered if Horsey was one too.

"You can relocate a flying fox roost," Margie said, rising from the lounge, to get another chardonnay.
Dom didn't know this.  "Is that right?" he asked, handing out his glass for a refill.

"Melbourne and Sydney did," Margie replied.  "You can check it up on the internet yourself.  There isn't any need to kill the poor little creatures."

Dom thought he would do that, after dinner that night.  Might even have a side swipe at Cush over it, he thought as the third glass of chardonnary kicked in with a bit of courage.

"You know he's up to something," he told Margie as she sat down again.  "I see him and Horsey with their heads together a lot, and one day I just overheard Cush say something about Munro Martin Park.  He actually said, and I kid you not, "It's too good to sit there just being used by a bunch of alcos and deadbeats."

Margie widened her eyes in astonishment.  "Ohhhh nooo, not Munro Martin Park!"  She was aghast.
Dom nodded thoughtfully.
"Has anyone raised suspicions over the sale of that waterfront land?" she asked.  "Or has it all blown over now?"
"No-one, apart from Lovelady and Mingin," replied Dom shaking his head, thinking back a few months when a parcel of land right along the Cairns waterfront had been sold by the Council to a Hong Kong developer.  Apparently it was  THE parcel of land which Ports North had given to the Cairns Regional Council years ago and which the last Mayor, Val Schier, had designated as the site for an Entertainment Precinct.
The community had just gone ape-shit over the proposal, with many residents believing the Precinct would eventually be paid for by the ratepayers.  The architects had designed the precinct and the community were being asked for their ideas when there was a State Election.  The Government changed hands and next minute the new Premier demanded the $40 million State Government funding back.  "Brisbane and the South East corner need the money desperately for reconstruction," he said. 

So when Cush and his Team were campaigning, they campaigned heavily on the fact that they would not build any Entertainment Precinct, or any "cultural" precinct for that matter.  Cush made it plain that Council would not "squander money" to pander to the tastes of a few silverspoons.  The public loved it!  So the Government funding which was to have built a new performing arts theatre and a new regional museum was sent back to Brisbane.  Where it  quickly gurgled down the black hole called "re-building Brisbane" and was never seen again.  The people of Cairns were ecstatic, especially when the Premier announced that the $40 million had been "set aside for the new regional hospital to commence building at Edmonton in 2020."

Oh letters flowed into "The Cairns Post" praising the good sense of the Premier.  People phoned the local radio station full of admiration for the new Premier.  That the previous Labor Government had said the hospital would not commence until 2020 was forgotten in the rush to thank the new Premier for nothing.
Cush had laughed at that.  Proof, he thought, of how quickly people forget.

One of the very first things Cush did upon taking office of the Mayoralty was to set in motion the sale of that parcel of land.  "We need to get this city moving again!" he announced in a mkedia statement.  "A Hong Kong corporation is keen to build some high rise apartment block and a hotel on the spot.  We would be negligent as a Council with a deficit operating budget if we didn't sell the land and try and bring our accounts up to scratch. Besides we need to get those cranes back up in our skies! "
Everyone agreed with the Mayor.  It was the right thing to do.  No-one had wanted the bloody Entertainment Precinct anyway.  So the people sang Cush's praises all over again.  "The Cairns Post" called him a "no nonsense, practical man, instantly demonstrating the type of strong leadership Cairns had so
desperately wanted for so long."

What no-one knew was that the Hong Kong Corporation was fronted by Horsey's son-in-law, a dubious corporate criminal by the name of Kim LeeKee, who after acquiring the property for X number of million Australian dollars, then promptly sold it to another Hong Kong Corporation for X+3 million Australian dollars.  It was all legitimate too, under Hong Kong law.  Kim LeeKee had made Horsey, Cush, and two other Councillors half a million dollars each, keeping back one million for himself, all in the time space of a couple of hours on the internet sending emails.

Somehow though, Councillors Lovelady and Mingin were suspicious.  So, too, was Councillor Piper.
Although he couldn't finger it, he just had a gut feeling something awful was going on.

                                    00000000000000000000000


Cush sat at his favorite table at his favorite Esplanade dining spot, eating his plateful of fried bacon, eggs and sausages, washed down by a pot of hot black coffee.  On a side plate, sat several slices of thickly buttered toast.  Just what he always ate for breakfast these days!  His ex wife Joyce had given him meusli, fruit juice and fruit compotes for breakfast.  Never again!

He was feeling pretty upbeat and proud of himself as he read "The Cairns Post".  There was a story about the killing of the flying foxes, on page six.  It was only a few paragraphs, and "The Cairns Post" had done itself proud by publishing the usual photograph of Councillor Lovelady with all her hair blowing across her face.  Her mouth was open and these long strands of blonde hair had stuck to her tongue.  Cush laughed.  The Editor of "The Cairns Post" had once dubbed her "Lady Hairmouth" and occasionally referred to her as the "hairmouthed Councillor".  Cush thought that was very witty.  They published another photograph of Lovelady too, one where her long hair had caught up under her armpit, so that there was this huge bushy blonde thatch under her arm.  There had been a nice little caption below the photograph of the fashionability of hairy armpits for women.

"The Cairns Post" had published a good photograph of himself, looking very grave and quoted him as saying. "The flying foxes have proven very dangerous to tourists and residents alike.  Some people have been bitten and had to have rabies vaccinations.  As a city with a tourist reputation, we cannot allow this to happen."

They had quoted Lovelady as saying it was "barbaric, cruel and insensitive."

Cush turned over to find the Editorial.  His smile grew wider as he read.  It was top stuff, the Editor writing that .."the right decision has been made once again by His Worship the Mayor, Colonel Ken Cush.  He acted decisively and promptly to save the citizens and tourists of Cairns from random attacks by flying foxes who were known to carry awful diseases. "  Cush read on....."Colonel Cush has demonstrated again and again with his no nonsense sale of the waterfront land to a Hong Kong developer, his cessation of spending on bicycle lanes and on arts and welfare, that he is a strong leader driving Cairns in the right direction."

Cush leaned back and slurped on his coffee, looking again at his watch.  8.30am.  Plenty of time to saunter back to the Cairns Regional Council offices.  Suddenly he was aware of a small presence at his table.
He looked down to see a tiny head, with two large eyes, and a snotty crusty nose resting on his table top.
It was that awful little rugrat from yesterday!  The one who bawled out to him about the flying foxes.

Cush scowled at her.  The obnoxious little troll stood back, pointed her finger at him and screamed again, "Poor little flying fuckers!  You norty, you NORTY!"
Next minute the bald headed extraterrestrial arrived and grabbed the little girl and rushed off with her.
"Stop it Monsoon," he heard the bald headed one say.

As he walked slowly to the Council Offices in Spence Street, Cush wondered what sort of person would name their daughter "Monsoon".


TO BE CONTINUED......NEXT CHAPTER, 'THE WORLD ACCORDING TO CUSH'