gullybogan

Dear Reader,

Princess was in this place called The City tonight, doing some of her charity work. Tess had the wagon, driving some of her girlfriends around in search of a cool time, so it fell upon me to drive in and pick Princess up at nine thirty, when all her charity was scheduled to run out.

I took the wormhole in [that's the Eastern Freeway - Ed], and then snuck down this dirt track called Nicholson Street. I was getting toward the glitzy Victoria Parade end of things when everything suddenly livened up.

It’s hot, OK? Quite hot. So hot that my keyboard’s USB cable has gone all soft and flexible. So hot that my studio smells of the scented candle that’s not even lit. So hot that everyone in The City was driving with their windows down and their danders up.

As i’m crawling with the traffic down Nicholson, there’s all of a sudden this screaming. Some guy in the park there was going off his fricken head.

“Mwaa! Grrerp! Yeeearrrrch!”

Which got everyone’s attention.

“Hey! Hey! Mwaagreerunngngngngngng!”

Which got everyone annoyed.

“Hey, you!” Some guy in a red car yelled back. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Myaaaark! Gruuuuuung! Heeeeeeyerng! I’ve got a gun! I’ve got a gun!”

I was pretty sceptical that he had a gun for real. But this city has a history of crazy bastards taking out their inadequacies on innocent people in cars.

But i wasn’t worried enough to ziz up my windows. Not just yet.

People were walking around on the intersection ahead. Some one and a nother person had collaborated in a car accident, an achievement in which they seemed to now have only a dubious pride. There were suddenly sirens and ambulances everywhere.

“Hey! Hey! I’m HERE!” screamed the crazy bastard with the putative gun. He took off his shirt and lay down in the middle of Nicholson Street, hoping to attract some of the flashing light attention that was going around. “I’m HERE, you cunts! HERE!”

The traffic lights turned green and i drove carefully around the busted up cars, away from the crazy bastard’s attempt at psychotic Brechtian street theatre.

I parked a bit of a way up a dusty side lane called Brunswick Street and waited for Princess to ring me and tell me where exactly in the general area she was.

While i waited, a girl in a bikini walked past.

It was, remember, half past nine at night. And i was in The City; the inner suburbs part of The City. Generally not the usual place you find girls in bikinis.

Still, it’s hot, and people do some weird-arse things in the heat.

A few moments after the bikini girl shimmied past, all boobs-in-bags and naked belly, Princess rang and told me where she was. I walked there (it was only about five minutes away), and we kissed and i told her about all of my adventures as we walked back to Amber.

“See how exciting it is here in The City?” she said.

“Yeah. Shit i’m glad i don’t live here.”

Yours parochially,
Gullybogan