Does A Bear Poop in the Woods

Tactical down time. Hans would always be taller than his sister, well, once he grew up. It’s not a hard thing to understand. Cato had been tall as well, and the walk uphill to the Expensive Earl possibly required long legs.

Responding to this particular letter, thought Vergs, was possibly beyond the capabilities of a former belly dancer, so she sat back and mused the tomfoolery of the north road instead. Many a laugh had been spent there (despite the far distant and sad memories of her former housemate’s loss), and she had the photographs to prove it, including cleaning bathtubs and strange curly-headed men wearing shower caps. There are, after all, many Waynes around, are there not?

Grouping all these memories together is beyond many people, but understanding the meaning behind it all is possibly exactly what one might be looking for here if they needed to be rest assured the memories were far from dim. Check your six.

Rainbow warriors are usually tall, milord, and never live too far away in the scheme of things. They also know exactly who their brothers and sisters are — and their friends.

Dear East Perth Lockup,

I’m wondering whether you still have my fingerprints on file. They may have changed slightly over the years, and acquired a scar or two. Many of your present day members may not remember me, but I do know (and remember) an old Ivan who may remember that night well.

It was night, to be fair, and i don’t believe it was dreary. The small, sparkly, poo-brown sigma had been the vehicle I drove at that time. It had been perhaps, purchased from another former member of your mob, and I happened to be driving it at the time I was caught wandering along Hay Street East.

My passenger, and I did have one if I recall, was a little person, but not a child, who happened to be, you guessed it, sitting in the passenger seat. My clothing, if I recall, consisted of one dress, purchased previously on Barrack Street (but not on the same night), peach, one leather belt, oddly shaped and white (it may not have been, but I did wear it with that dress on more than one occasion) and a pair of white leather slingbacks.

Your constables managed to finally get me to pull over when I considered it safe, that being on the lower corner as one turns left at the bottom of Barrack Street, possibly near where the Army Surplus Store once stood. They then proceeded to take myself and my passenger to the above address.

It may have been quite a surprise to one of the members on staff when the sister-in-law of his former “teammate” walked through the door. He may have indeed said some very inappropriate words along the lines of “What are you doing here” with a question mark somewhere in that sentence. He may have even laughed a great deal at the conundrum his former teammate’s sister-in-law found herself in at that time.

Let it be said, I never said I wasn’t a terrible teenager or young adult, but I did always manage to get to work, and the courthouse on time, regardless of distraction.

Thank you for your time.

Kate Capewell (nee Tew).

P.S. Paddy, also a former teammate, may remember his larks around the Dongara township. I think that’s on file as well, nothing to do with me, and quite a few years later.

I wish them and their families love, luck and hugs. May your ships always enter a safe harbour. CSC.

Why This?

Perhaps,

It’s the glimmer on the water

A thousand quicksilver mirrors dancing over breeze-blown ripples

Reflected below in lightning streaks of gold

The tightness of salt-encrusted skin, baking on a gritty towel

Amidst the surprisingly pleasant scent of warm sunscreen

It’s the swift gasp when one bursts from the waves or

The sweet drag on muscle as we navigate tide and current

Confident in the body’s strength

‘

Or maybe

It’s dark thunderheads on the horizon and

wind-whipped particles of sand peppering our faces, twisting our hair

And,

with an indrawn breath, the rush of ozone and salt

That lets us know there’s an adventure on its way . . .

And, more distantly, the crash and boom as the ocean throws herself wildly at the land and we

Are home in bed, lulled to sleep in the knowledge we are safe.

‘

But it could be memories

Of a toddler’s dimpled bottom staggering towards the water

Arms high, fingers plucking the air in anticipation

Or simple treasures, like spiralled seashells in sandy palms

Weathered glass, smoothed and curling wood or

Footprints glanced over shoulders, and other footprints read

Temporary stories that wash away with the next high tide

‘

It could be all those things and

Perhaps its more

Maybe there isn’t a reason at all.

Get a Hairy Dog up your Eclipse

Approximately an hour or so later after Bart had made everyone hot beverages, including himself although he definitely did not need it, he began to relate his very strange spiritual journey of enlightenment to Solway who listened politely while writing things in her ever-present notebook.

Hans just looked at him oddly, cocking his head this way and that as if Bart could possibly be some new type of chew-toy. After about twenty minutes or so of silence, Hans decided to speak.

‘A wren,’ he said. There was no emotion to the two words that had just come out of his mouth. To Bart, there seemed to be some expectation he was supposed to reply to that.

‘Yes?’

‘Is this some kind of kids’ story?’ Hans picked a leaf from the forest floor and began to fold it methodically  into small crunchy pieces. He did not break eye contact with Bart once.

Bart stilled. He wondered if he should be clearing a path for a quick escape if he needed to. Hans did not appear pleased with him at all and, he supposed, if he were listening to his own sister’s (he didn’t have one) partner talking in long exotic phrases on the virtue of speaking with tiny blue birds, he might very well be contemplating their quick demise for the sake of maintaining a gene pool of sanity in the family line.

He decided not to respond and, very bravely he thought, stared back at Hans although his hands and legs were beginning to feel slightly shivery. He swallowed. It was unavoidable. He hoped the motion was disguised by his… dammit he’d shaved off his beard.

A slow and rather unpleasant smile began to form on Hans’s face. ‘Please,’ he said gently, which was not at all reassuring. ‘Go on.’

Bart licked his lips. His mouth had become rather dry. ‘Do you like bacon?’

‘What?’

‘I’m a tad peckish, and I thought I’d make some bacon and possibly eggs, although I’m not sure how many are left, and maybe do some toast, which might require a small cooking fire, but I think it’s okay as the fire ban should be over and we did get an awful lot of rain just recently if you didn’t notice, so I assume we won’t be breaking any laws, and where do you think might be a good spot to clear some of this stuff out of the way for a cooking fire. Do you know which way the wind is blowing?’

Hans cocked his head again, and his eyes began to glaze. Bart hoped that was because he was thinking about bacon, as he was quite sure he got a very similar look on his face when he thought about it.

Solway rose gracefully from her camp chair without knocking it down, walked across to where her brother sat, and pushed him over. Bart was quite sure that only worked because Hans’s chair was the one he had sat on yesterday and it had a habit of collapsing, otherwise Solway’s push against Hans’s rather large and burly shoulder would not have achieved much, except for taking his extremely intense gaze off Bart, which was possibly what the aim had been.

‘… the fuck,’ Hans muttered from behind a pair of upright expensive running shoes and extremely white socks.

‘Stop being a prick,’ said Solway succinctly. She turned and looked at Bart. ‘You… oh.’

An extremely tall man in a feather brown suit had appeared beside her. He patted her gently on the shoulder then wandered over to where Hans had just begun to untangle himself from the camp chair. The man didn’t appear to have any feet.

Why hello there he said without moving his lips.

‘Who the fuck are you,’ said Hans, pulling an arm from between some entangled canvas.

Today, said Superb, not offering him any help whatsoever, I’m your best mate.

That was the moment Bart noticed the light was changing.

Eclipse.

Oh look, said Superb, glancing up at the sky with his beautiful brown eyes, She’s eclipsing.

Hans began to growl. It was a very deep growl and it seemed to suit the very large, dark brown, boof-headed dog he had just turned into. Bart was unsure whether he was an Akita, a Malamute or something else entirely. He glanced sideways at Solway.

She appeared to resemble some type of white Siberian Husky and Bart was quite sure, although she was looking at him with her blue eyes and wagging her fluffy and slightly curly tail in a very friendly fashion, this was not the place he was supposed to be right now. With a short and not in the slightest, masculine squeak, he ran up the nearest tree. 

All hell broke loose.

Hans had grabbed the camp chair between a set of rather large canines, shook it roughly, tossed it out of the way,  and began snapping at one of Superb’s legs. Superb grinned, performed an extremely acrobatic backflip, and landed on a branch on a tree opposite Bart. Solway, it seemed, had just started getting dive-bombed by two rather attractive females in bomber jackets which made absolutely perfect sense in Bart’s humble opinion, aside from the fact it was Solway and no one should be attacking her at all.

‘Oi,’ he hissed at the two women performing very odd limp falls at the extremely agile white dog. ‘Leave her alone.’ He wrapped his prehensile tail about the branch and grabbed some gumnuts.

Not to be mistaken for hunky nuts said the voice beside him. It was the lizard. She seemed to be winking, or perhaps had mislaid one eye, and that, in Bart’s rather fretful mind, was possibly because the sun, as Superb had mentioned, was indeed eclipsing and…. His brain went blank.

I thought you see I reyes no what I mean is she I was helping you and Understanding so many things at once as simply not for human minds to think about too deeply because raining water was the resonating factor in this eclipsing moment in time was I assured it would work question mark not exactly and yet here we are. The lizard smiled widely. She still had no teeth.

Help, thought Bart.

Let them sort it out it will all be over soon and then you can go back to your very unextraordinary life and no one will know the difference except you three and that’s the way we tell fairy stories here do you like it question mark

Why am I thinking in dollar signs, thought Bart.

That’s just the way of it apparently I went through your wallet while you were sleeping and money things seem rather important in this modern world of yours and you do not seem to have much of it did you know your cameras are still rolling because they are I wonder if they can see us in this tree question mark fullstop exclamation period

Bart decided to throw gumnuts at the very large dark brown dog standing on its back legs and scratching madly at Superb’s tree. The dog ignored him.

Ditto said the lizard for no reason at all.

Bart decided to throw gumnuts at the two reasonably attractive females in bomber jackets who were “attacking” his future wife with what resembled manoeuvres called a “tin soldier” which usually involved a pool. He didn’t throw his nuts too hard, because he didn’t want to hurt them. They seemed rather fragile, he still felt quite saddened by Superb’s recent loss, and he didn’t want to make it worse than it needed to be. He also felt like giggling insanely again but didn’t think now would be a pertinent time.

Solway appeared to have remained very intelligent and decided, right at the moment one of Bart’s terribly aimed gumnuts narrowly missed her ear, to crawl under the very expensive four-wheel-drive Hans had hired only that morning.

I’m feeling quite frisky, said one of the wrens, lifting herself up from the most recent limp fall and flapping her arms. Who is that dark brown, deep chested, boof-headed, very large dog trying to bite Superb’s legs?

I don’t know, replied the other one, preening herself under one arm, which looked decidedly odd. He should turn back into a man now so we can find out, because it just doesn’t seem fair that here we are, looking like people, and there he is, looking like a dog and uh oh I think Superb might have just overheard us because he is giving me a very serious face which I have never seen before.

Really, said the first wren. How interesting. It’s a shame it’s not springtime then, isn’t it? He’ll just have to deal with it.

You’re not going to get anywhere with him because he’ll just turn back into a man and you’ll be birds, and tonight if you are both very lucky, we can find you both some mud and make a really cool house in the middle of a wattle bush, Superb called.

I would feel slightly mollified by that said the lizard pointedly to the two women in bomber jackets.  Also I am not quite sure what millo molly great I’ve lost it not now weary friend do you want a gumnut question mark the lizard asked from beside Bart on the long, very thick and not in the least bit unstable, branch.

I’m good, thought Bart.

Yes that’s why we chose you, well more specifically I did but you are also sensible despite your rather exotic imaginationings which I think as I am definitely beginning to regain an eye should be a new word in this english language of yours fullstop period and other ridiculous things

The sun did seem to be regaining some strength, Bart noticed. He sighed, very deeply for a possum, and decided to crawl down from the rather safe branch of this tree before he fell down or his soon to be much heavier body mass broke it.

He watched, with an emotion he was unable to define, from the relative safety of his swag as everything, very slowly, began to turn back to normal. This was around the time he came up with his dastardly plan.

______________________O__________________________~~~// ~~~II** :D

It took a few moments for Solway and Hans to reassert their humanity. It took a few more moments from them to slowly come to face the reality that perhaps, just perhaps, Bart might very well be telling the truth.

Bart took advantage of their obvious confusion by making his way swiftly to the camp table, lighting the little camp oven, throwing a frypan over the flame, quickly adding some cooking oil, and tossing in a few rashers of bacon.

‘How hungry are you,’ he asked casually as Solway crawled out from under the really flash, brand new, amazingingly cool, four-wheel-drive.

 She didn’t say anything. She looked at him with wide blue eyes, then looked at her brother who currently seemed to be examining his fingernails and some very deep scratch marks on a tree trunk, then glanced furtively up at a branch where a tiny little wren sat, looking at them both.

‘You owe me a chair,’ Bart said airily.

‘What,’ growled Hans, then scowled  at the tangled piece of canvas and metal poles and cleared his throat a couple of times. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘You owe me for the hire of that four-wheel-drive.’ He stalked, stiff-legged, over to the real flash, awesome and in no way scratched deeply down one side, four-wheel-drive. ‘Oh no,’  Hans whined, then sprawled over the vehicle’s bonnet, tongue lolling. He slid off neatly and stared at the scratch.

The man seemed to have come to his senses quite quickly.

Not.

‘How about I make you a bacon sanger instead,’ suggested Bart.

Hans smoothed back his longish hair and straightened his very expensive t-shirt. It looked like he was trying not to wag a non-existent tail. ‘Alright.’

‘Awesome,’ said Bart, and it was awesome and everything was awesome and he felt awesome and he laughed a little bit under his breath because this would make a great story to share amongst themselves once these two got used to the fact they had, not only contributed to Bart’s amazing and wonderful bush experience, but had both been rather large and fluffy dogs for at least, well, he didn’t know how long, but it had been long enough.

As the bacon began to frizzle in the frypan, he casually wandered over to the camera on the tripod which, he noticed, still had a little red light on it, and switched it off.

‘Perhaps we’ll have a look at this when we get home,’ he suggested to Solway.

She smiled in a wobbly way, pranced over to him and gave him a very large hug, bottom wiggling slightly. ‘Perhaps we will,’ she murmured into his ear and not licking it once. ‘Perhaps we will.’

It took some time for her and Hans to start behaving normally again. Bacon helped.

Epilogue

As most things do, life went back to normal. Bart, Solway and Hans managed to get the spare tyre onto the Discovery without too many issues, pumped up the other three tyres, thanked their lucky stars (which seemed to be a theme) that none of the rims had been damaged, and managed to get back on the road within a reasonable time to be able to make their way back home before it got too dark.

Hans slept on their couch that evening, and no one mentioned the infestation of fleas that had Solway and Bart putting that couch out for verge collection a few weeks later.

They may have, eventually, come across some people who decided their way-too-funny and fabulous story might require someone turning it into a movie. It might even have been a bestseller, if he found the right people to share it with. He probably did, because Bart was particularly good at that kind of thing.

I would say they lived happily ever after, for they more than likely did, despite all the normal everyday things that happen to people in their everyday lives.

Hans even found a girlfriend who could deal with his not-at-all over-inflated ego eventually. She seemed nice, in Bart’s humble opinion.

And there we have it. The end of the story. If there is another story, it might very well be meant for another day.

Fullstop

“Bastards”. heroes are always heroes and we all love them very much. We just don’t call ’em heroes.

Flight

A plane appeared overhead at around eleven am. It went over once, turned rather gracefully, and came over again, dipping one wing once as if to say it had seen him.

Bart felt quite exposed. Had Solway been contacting some of those people he’d never met, to save his sorry arse? He didn’t know whether to be pleased about it or not. He decided he was pleased, and even waved as the plane slowly disappeared in a northerly direction.

He’d been making rather boring clips about the boringness of wattle, but the absolute gloriousness of what could live in it, that including many snails (which were white), birds (which were many colours), and a very large goanna who eyed him carefully as if it thought he might be rather good to climb up. The running away very quickly part, which Bart decided he should get a little bit better at, had been rather amusing when he looked back on the very wobbly video of it, and that had been just before he’d spotted the plane that had spotted him.

He was in quite a good mood. Possibly because he could no longer see the goanna.

Splendid appeared in his proper form just after the plane went, and didn’t change into a tall man in a blue suit gone brown at all. Neither did his two remaining girlfriends change into rather attractive women wearing bomber jackets. It was slightly disappointing, but settled Bart somewhat as he assumed he was getting better, mentally at least.

No one spoke in his head either.

He wondered how long it would be before Solway got there. He could kind of do with a cuddle.

Solway, driving along an unnamed highway with her brother in the passenger seat, wondered why he seemed to resemble some kind of large black sheep dog this morning. She should probably not have said that out loud.

‘You what now?’ Hans said. ‘Seeeeeerrriously?’

‘It is fair to say you possibly need a haircut.’

‘Now listen here, you cheeky shit,’ Hans said, not sounding in the least bit grumpy. ‘I’ll have you know that longish hair on men is the thing now, so there.’

‘Of course it is.’

‘Stop laughing.’ He smoothed back his dark brown hair, and shook it, which made her laugh even louder.

‘You look like… well… like a labradoodle now.’

‘You can fuck right off, and watch the road instead of me, because, despite how physically attractive I might be, which I am I’ll have you know, you are supposed to look at the road when you’re driving.’

‘I am merely glancing at you occasionally,’ Solway replied. ‘For, after all, dear sweet little brother of mine…’

‘I am quite a bit taller than you.’

‘Don’t interrupt me… I have missed you a great deal, and it is nice to see my baby brother sitting next to me.’

‘It is also probably nice for your wonderful, understatedly beautiful, and amazing brother to pay for this rather expensive rental,’ said Hans, leaning back into the comfortable leather seat and closing his eyes.

‘It is nice,’ Solway agreed. ‘Thank you, again.’

‘You’ll pay me back, I’m sure.’

‘Unlikely.’

‘That’s what I thought.’ He smiled and Solway grinned as well. This is exactly what she’d needed.

‘Okay,’ she said about ten minutes later. ‘According to Tony, Bart’s not too far from where we left the road the first time.’

Hans sat up. ‘This is the part where I should start navigating loudly in the passenger seat, isn’t it.’

‘It really depends on how fast you want me to go.’

‘Very fucking slowly, if you don’t mind. If you could possibly not scratch the paint work, that would also be desirable.’

‘I’m not quite sure –.’ Solway said, slowing down considerably.’ – whether that is going to be possible. Hang on. Here we go.’

‘Oh. Oh fuck… Weeeeeeeeeeee,’ said Hans as they turned onto the uphill track and he began to bounce around inside the cab.

He sounded happy, and for the first time in the last however many hours, Solway felt not half as worried as she had been. After all, how can one be worried when one is doing things one absolutely loves to do – one thing being seeing if you can get your little brother to hit a part of his body against something pointy in an extremely expensive, well rounded (with no pointy bits whatsoever), four-wheel-drive – and the other thing, hopefully, retrieving her boyfriend.

________________o_______________ ( <– this is representing a rising sun, or a sunrise, or a sunwalk)

It had been some time since Bart had seen the plane, but not quite as long as when he started second guessing himself and wondering if it had actually been there for him.

Nobody did things like that for Bartholomew Branson.

Then he thought about the fact the plane had indeed circled back overhead, and had indeed dipped a wing, and decided not to argue with himself about it. He forgot that decision rather quickly though, and once again started the whole argument with himself in his head until he got to the point he was getting extremely tired of listening to himself, and if anyone could just turn up magically like they were supposed to, that would be grand.

He decided to make himself a long convoluted video on the meaning of life, but had only just got into the revelations of mysterious men on hilltops when a very large and menacing looking four-wheel-drive appeared around a group of tuarts and bumped slowly towards him, making hardly any sound at all. Bart thanked his lucky stars he had put on tracksuit pants three hours beforehand and even then, had decided changing behind a tree would be an extremely good idea, because if there was one thing Bart had, it was decorum.

‘Kitten,’ he cried, and actually tried not to, when the driver of the large, terrifying vehicle smiled widely at him from under a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. 

Then he saw the guy in the passenger seat. He sincerely hoped the man was Solway’s brother, whom he’d only met once several months beforehand, because if it wasn’t, he had serious doubts he’d be able to compete against him in any way whatsoever.

The man put up his hand, wiggled his fingers at Bart in a very unsatisfying greeting then leapt gracefully from the passenger seat while the vehicle was still moving (albeit extremely slowly) tripped over something Bart could not see, and landed face first in a wattle bush.

Bart decided he liked this man anyway, regardless of how good-looking he seemed to be, and, he decided if he was good-looking it was possibly, not obviously, but possibly because he could very well be Solway’s brother because good looks run in families, or so he was told once by a very angry drunk man at a pub.

He wondered why he’d decided to remember that now.

‘Hi,’ said Solway, rolling down the ultra cool, deeply-tinted, electric window of the driver’s side of the vehicle. ‘Wait until I turn this thing off, because I haven’t quite figured it out yet and don’t know which button I’m supposed to press.’

‘It has buttons?’

’It has! Isn’t that exciting?’

‘So exciting.’

 They smiled widely at each other while Solway inadvertently turned the headlights on and off. Her brother had rolled himself athletically out of the wattle bush and leapt to his feet with gymnastic preciseness. Then he spent the next five minutes or so wiping every little piece of dirt he could find on his rather expensive looking clothing off, checked himself in the passenger side rear view mirror, and exclaimed …

‘Oh hey, You’re filming.’

‘Oh shit,’ said Bart. ‘I am too. Do you want to be in it?’

‘No thanks. I have other obligations.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Not exactly, but yeah, I don’t know whether I can or not, as I’m not sure how it would affect my business contract, and I’d have to run it past my new restaurant manager and you know what, fuck it, okay.’

‘I think you could be my new best friend,’ Bart said from under Solway’s rather rough and tumble hugging.

‘Let’s not get too excited,’ said Hans.

‘Do you need a hug,’ said Bart.

‘No. I don’t. Do you have coffee? I’d like one of those.’

~~~o~~~,~’___oo__~~,~’**8)>

Red Sky Morning, continued.

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80>

Solway called Tony Herbet at approximately eight thirty a.m.

He did not answer on the first ring, or the third ring, but rather on the seventh or ninth ring. Just long enough for Solway to wonder why he was not physically attached to his phone like everyone else in the modern day world seemed to be.

He also did not answer phones politely.

‘What,’ came the smokey, bourbon-soaked voice from the other end of the phone.

‘It’s Solway,’

‘Good for you.’ He sounded shifty.

‘Solway Endersans. We were in the swim team together.’

‘What year?’

‘There was only one year that mattered, you daft bastard.’

‘Okay good. That’s me, then. Who are you?’ Something clicked and a long slow breath hushed into her ear.

‘It’s… Oh for fucks sake, Tony. Do you do whatever it is you do, still, or not.’

‘That does not make any sense to me, and I don’t know what you’re talking about, and, I have to say I presently am doing things in a very dressed up way for the meaning of life in various countries so do not ask why I am dreaming this up as I go along.’

‘Are you drunk?’ Solway tried to wipe the grin from her face but was not succeeding.

‘Not at the moment, which I am not happy about, but I should be. What time is it?’

‘It’s eight thirty.’

‘Well, there goes that appointment. To what do I owe the pleasure, Solway?’

‘You could have started with that, for one. What are you doing today, Tony?’

‘Is this a trick question and do I need to call my lawyer?’

‘No, to both of them.’

‘Then I am probably free.’ 

‘Fabulous. Do you still fly?’

‘Yes.’ A sound like papers being shuffled echoed down the line. ‘Light planes only, nowadays, and it’s a very expensive pastime and I usually take clients for that very reason. As you can probably tell, I have lost about ten thousand dollars already today, but I do have a tank full of fuel so I may as well blow it on whatever hairbrained scheme you are going to start trying to sell to me. Annnnnd, go.’

‘My boyfriend is stranded in the middle of nowhere.’ Solway crossed her fingers.

‘That seems a very good reason for me to be flying today.’

‘I’m glad you think so. There are no airstrips nearby. Well, not where I left him anyway.’

‘What’s your point?’

‘My point?’ Solway pursed her lips. ‘I just need to know if the area has been flooded or not, and if perhaps you could spot him for me.’

‘No problem. I think. Do you have the coordinates?’

‘No.’

‘Not helpful, Solway.’

‘I can show you the aerial map though, and I can give you road names, which is obviously not going to help much, considering you’re flying.’

‘You would be amazed at what I can do when given the opportunity. I can work with that. Are you coming to me, or do I need to come to you?’

‘Whereabouts do you live now?’

Things seemed to be looking up today, Solway thought. Tony only lived about twenty minutes away, although he had requested forty-five to get to her, which, in Solway’s head, was cutting into the time she should be spending with Hans getting a suitable four-wheel-drive, and the right type of air-compressor. She sighed.

Sometimes, she decided, she should possibly rely on other people to be able to think for themselves. Hans had already proven that to her early this morning when he had made her a perfect cup of coffee, and two pieces of toast that were not in the slightest bit burnt.

Definitely looking up, that’s for sure.

11/ Slopes

There is only so much one can do when camping on the side of a hill. The first thing one usually finds out is there are no flat surfaces.

Bart wondered how he had not found this out sooner. He admitted to himself that, when he had put the swag under the only wattle bush on this slope – which was possibly a lie, but he knew what wattle bushes were like by now and had decided to grow fond of them, he’d put it (the swag) facing up/down and had realised at some point during the night (when he had not thought he was a possum) his head was likely facing in the wrong direction. It had not occurred to him to turn the swag around – just himself, which hadn’t been comfortable, as the swag was definitely not built for that.

So, with great aplomb and little else, he looked around for somewhere better to put the swag.

The sun peeked through the clouds at him every now and again, just for fun, but it did not rain again. Unfortunately, because the weather seemed to be at that time of year where it hadn’t decided what it wanted to be yet, it had now become decidedly humid, and Bart, standing in the middle of a clearing by the side of a track, for the first time in a very long time, was contemplating removing his shirt.

This was not a choice he’d be making lightly, although the removal of said shirt would likely result in the word “lightly” having a completely different meaning.

‘I wonder what colour of floury or pasty I will be,’ he wondered, for he did not usually look at himself too much when having a shower, and had not considered what exposing certain parts of himself to sunlight might mean. That he’d never been described by anyone as floury or pasty (because they didn’t know what it meant) did not enter the equation.

Then, he wondered, if he did expose himself to the elements, if someone would turn up just as he was removing his shirt and think they had come across some kind of bushman peep show, because that might actually happen, and he was slightly concerned by that.

And then he wondered, if he was going to consider doing any filming at all, because he had actually been thinking about using his time wisely this morning, if waltzing around pale and shirtless like Gollum from Lord of the Rings would send the right message to people who wanted to go camping.

The answer to that was possibly not. Bart looked at the rest of the clothes he had packed. One t-shirt faded orange, two fleecy long sleeves too hot, one…

‘Bugger me,’ he said as he pulled the existing long sleeve over his head to put on the tee.

No one turned up. It was quite a let down. Orange had never been his colour, so he put it down to that.

Now, he thought to himself, scratching himself under the chin, I could either have a shave or I could set up the camp table on the least slopey-slope bit here somewhere, or perhaps get the shovel and see if I can dig one side of the table into the dirt a bit, and okay I’ll do that because I’m getting rather peckish, but first I need to water some shrubbery.

He rubbed his hands together and grinned. If he was lucky he might occupy himself for the entire morning and never even know how much time had passed although passing something right now would probably be a very good idea.

Off he wandered into the bush.

 He didn’t get lost once.

After Bart had set up the table, made himself a lovely cup of tea, and eaten a couple of boiled eggs (which had taken far too long to cook, in his humble opinion) he wandered down to the closest puddle, avoided looking for that fairy wren’s feather, and decided to check out his own reflection to see if he had become any more handsome in the last twenty-four hours.

He definitely needed to brush his hair. His mother would have admonished him severely by now and called him Mr Fluffy because Jesus Christ, what the hell had he done to deserve this? The bags under his eyes and the wildness of his, still-short-enough, beard were not going to get him on the front page of any magazines soon, that’s for sure.

Sunglasses. That’s what he needed. And a plastic surgeon, but he wouldn’t find one of those around here, and possibly a barber who had an excessive amount of hair gel available at half price, because that was gonna be the only thing that could fix his hair, and …

Sunglasses and a hat. His floppy hat, which had so kindly protected him from the elements, had been lost the previous day under circumstances his tired old brain no longer wished to think about. Therefore (and here he grinned, remembering a childhood maths teacher) he would have to see if Solway had left one of her many peaked caps in the fourby.

He also wondered, and not for the first time apparently, whether it might be a good time to have a shave, as having whiskery bits in humid weather could be extremely uncomfortable and he might get a rash, and nobody wanted that, least of all him, so if he was particularly lucky (not something he considered himself to be under the current circumstances) he might find a razor that perhaps, just perhaps, Solway had left behind, because that woman seemed to shave her legs under very strange conditions sometimes  and who knew, perhaps his luck would change, at least for today.

‘Right then.’ Bart stood up, didn’t trip over anything, and began to sort himself out.

He only questioned himself once or twice over the next four hours as to why he was so concerned about his appearance, but then reminded himself if he really did want to take some good footage, he should probably look a little bit professional, for a change.

Red Sky Morning

“Red Sky Morning” (Normally, I’d let a long-ish story like this sit for a while before turning it into something with a little more teeth. As I don’t have the luxury of giving it the maturity it deserves, I apologise. Perhaps one day I’ll pick it apart again and make it worth something. At this moment in time, and myself not a script writer, it reads more like something one might just throw out in eleven days, which I did. It is certainly not worthy of being a decent novel. Not yet. After this year, possibly not ever. We’ll see.)

Dawn had just begun to colour the sky when Solway woke up.

She’d fallen asleep on the couch, slumped sideways, a cushion under her neck and her head half hanging off the arm. It was not comfortable. She wiped the drool from her mouth and regarded the uncurtained window of the living room.

‘Oh God it’s morning.’

The notebook she’d scribbled everyone’s names in lay open on the carpeted floor. Most were from the television industry, but there were a few names from her time in the swim team years before, those who she’d kept in touch. One of those names stood out to her now as someone who might come in very handy indeed. She wondered if he still had his pilot’s license.

Her digital watch had gone flat. She scrubbed at the crusty feeling on her cheek and stumbled towards the bathroom. Her mobile rang just as she grabbed the door handle.

‘Solway, it’s Hans,’ said her brother, which was good as she hadn’t looked at the screen. ‘Are you up?’

‘Is this a trick question,’ she muttered.

‘Oh good. I have to wait for places to open before we can hire a four wheel drive, but I have found somewhere, and I’ve also found somewhere where they hire out portable air-compressors that are really not that big.’

‘Thank you.’ She wiped her eyes. They definitely felt crunchy. ‘God I must look like shit.’

‘Probably. Look I’m going to pop around in about half an hour, so have a shower and get dressed will you? I’ll make you breakfast.’

Solway perked up. ‘Will you? Awesome. What will you make me?’

‘Whatever’s in the fridge, I guess. Maybe not. Does it matter? Just have a shower.’

‘Okay.’ She lurched back towards the bathroom, bumping open the door with a shoulder. ‘I think we’ve run out of soap.’

‘Not something I can help you with,’ Hans said. He was beginning to sound slightly annoyed. ‘Can you hang up now please? I’m in my car and haven’t set up hands-free properly.’

‘Okay, whatever, bye.’ She put the phone next to the sink, remembered to shut the bathroom door, and got in the shower. It felt beautifully warm.

______________o______________

Bart crawled out of the swag and waddled down to the edge of the track, It was still very early and the sun had not yet risen. Splendid sat on the edge of a large puddle, looking at his reflection in the water. In his fingers, he twirled a tiny, fluffy, white feather.

‘What happened,’ Bart asked, his heart sinking. He sniffed at Splendid, who smelled sad.

‘Owl. It was Tawny. She’s quite territorial.’ Splendid glanced at him sideways, his beautiful brown eyes liquid with unshed tears.

‘Oh.’ Bart sat down and curled his long, prehensile tail around his feet. ‘Who was it?’

‘Elfie. She was my best layer.’ Splendid cocked his head at the sky and ruffled his shirt. ‘Three eggs. Every time. She’d get confused about what time of year it was though, you know?’

‘You shouldn’t have been up so late.’ Bart traced a line and a half-circle in the sand with one claw.

‘I know. She told me that. But, you know, with all the weather going on it was very exciting, and seeing her for the first time was quite exciting too, you know?’

‘You’re repeating yourself,’ Bart said.

‘It’s what we do. Part of our song, see. I know you see, Bart. Not many do.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Bart, and he meant it. ‘Maybe later we can hold a funeral for her.’

‘That would be nice.’ Splendid wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeve. Most of the suit had turned brown now. ‘You should go back to bed, Bart. Possums are nocturnal creatures. You need to get up high.’ He stood up, shook himself and stretched his arms, knotting his fingers together above his head. ‘It’s time to wake up.’

Bart woke up. The sun had just started to rise.

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80>

The feeling in his chest was an unusual one, and not something he’d felt for a long time. He could also feel it in his throat, sort of like a lump he couldn’t quite get rid of. He didn’t like it much.

Bart crawled out of the swag and put on his boots. The sunrise on the edge of the track had coloured the water sitting in the wheel ruts orange and pink. It seemed fitting.

Red sky morning, Shepherds warning.

Slowly, he walked through the dead leaves and scattered rocks to the bottom of the hill. Next to the water’s edge, impaled on a slender twig, sat a tiny breast feather. Bart sat down next to it and, for no reason he could think of, began to cry.

Two distant ravens started calling to each other, their harsh back and forth echoing across the landscape. Shortly after came some other bird calls he couldn’t quite decipher. Above him, in the low branches of a karri tree, a kookaburra began to laugh.

Bart swore softly under his breath. ‘Fuck.’

It didn’t seem enough. He stood up and turned around, staring back up at the hill and the stillness of the trees and the loneliness of the sanded track and the fallen logs covered with old scars from long ago bushfires.

‘Fuck,’ he said louder, and, ‘FUCK,’ again. His voice echoed through the bushland.

Nothing replied.

Carefully, he bent down and untwined the feather from its little stick. Just as Splendid had in his early morning dream, he twirled the tiny feather between his fingers, marvelling at its softness.

It’s natural, the voice said from beside him. This is what happens. He’ll get over it, eventually. He’ll find another bird and add her to his collection and he’ll move on. That’s what happens.

Bart didn’t turn his head. ‘Why?’

It’s just the way it is. Nothing has changed. Were you expecting a miracle? It’s just a bird. It’s not like it’s human, like you. Are you human, Bart?

He looked down at himself. He was not covered in fur. He did not have four legs, nor did he have a long, black, prehensile tail like he had in the dream. His eyes were not large and brown, and, although he did have an urge to start rummaging in the box of food he’d put under the wattle bush further up the track, he was definitely not a possum.

‘I’m human.’

Glad we got that sorted out. The voice was all business now. Right then. You need to get yourself some breakfast, consider what you are going to do with that vehicle, and decide how organised you need to be. You do not have a time frame for if and when your girlfriend is coming back, so you should probably come to the conclusion, and rather quickly I might add, that you could be here for at least another day. Make yourself a decent camp, and start living a little. Look after yourself.

‘I am looking after myself,’ Bart said, and he turned to see exactly who it was that was talking to him. No one was there.

‘I am looking after myself,’ he repeated. ‘I am.’

He sat down again next to the puddle and placed the feather on the rippling water. It floated there for a little while, and he said all the things that Splendid had told him about the bird it had belonged to.

Then he went back to where the swag and the vehicle was, and began to make camp.

The “Explaining Myself” shirt.

If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?

It’s funny, isn’t it. You tell people you don’t want to be stuck at home, you have no interest in psychobabble, and yet they keep throwing it at you like you need it, and make you put on the display shirt again.

The difference between psychobabble and someone listening, by the way, is the ones that listen actually understand every word you say or write.

So, why the harrassment from people with no life skills? Because it’s funny for them.  They haven’t got anything better to do. They enjoy it. The real people, with real issues, lives, and families — those people don’t come into it. They’re just there for entertainment and to be harassed.

What also pisses me off, as an Australian, is the people saying, ‘No one has emotional depth anymore, or any emotional feeling.’

It’s possibly because those people saying it are drugged up to the eyeballs, on anti-depressants, or completely off their tits on something else. It’s also possibly because they don’t understand when someone does something understated, doesn’t scream or laugh, or uses easy to read words.

Swearing as an adult is totally off the table if you’ve got sensitive ears or too much of a fluffy little heart. Why would someone put that in a story meant for adults? Goodness me!

(Don’t forget, these are also the people who like to read porn style romances, as long as there isn’t any swearing and it’s “inclusive”.)

Maybe it is simply because they don’t listen.

I’m gonna put it down to that.

They don’t listen, or if they’re reading, instead of listening, they don’t think it isn’t real.

When they find out later that some things are very real, they still don’t care because that is just the way some people think.

They can’t help it. They’re just not very bright.

I’m not apologising for them. They can do that themselves.

Just as an aside and to throw you all out of whack, my own father, who was in WWII, didn’t march in any ANZAC Day parades until the Vietnam Vets were recognised — which took quite some time.

Have a good day.

Voices — Waitawhile

10/ “Voices”

 Bart could feel a headache coming on. The lizard had departed the swag, which made it a lot more comfortable, but now she stood directly outside of it and was yelling in his head.

It sounded much like how his mother would scold him when he had been a little boy, and possibly because of that, he did not wish to hear it. He was pleased about one thing though, because the scolding and shouting was not directed at him.

It was directed at the man he now knew was called “Splendid”.

Splendid had indeed been close by, just as the lizard had thought He poked his head through the swag’s “doorway”, which had been rather rude in Bart’s opinion, took one look at him and the half-naked woman the lizard had been portraying at that moment and started laughing. He’d laughed so hard, bits of the blue suit began to fall off.

Then the man had stood up, looked down at himself, said in a very sad voice, “I’m molting” and had flown onto the lowest branch of the closest tuart, somehow, and started making strange peeping sounds – which, to Bart’s overtired and extremely agitated mind, was very disturbing indeed.

That had been when the shouting started.

You know better than to be up at this time of night you are a day creature not a night one why do you think I made you this colour you shouldn’t be this colour now anyway it’s the wrong time of year and where are your women question mark the lizard yelled in his head. She began to get larger at rather a rapid pace that Bart’s eyes could not keep up with. Her tiny hands, which were attached to extremely small legs, were waving about madly and trying to pull Splendid down from the branch he had alighted upon.

Don’t touch me, you old bag, Splendid said. I don’t even know you. You’re way too old to be my mum, and I’ve never seen you before in my life. Where’s the younger one? She’s much nicer and feeds me insects and stuff and this is honestly the first time I have seen you, so what do you expect me to do when you’re chatting up some caucasian-ish looking man in a tiny tent made for one?

Don’t you dare speak about him like that you, you, you bloody BIRD I made you Why aren’t you sleeping Everyone knows miniature wrens should sleep at night time and look at you grown up and larking about like some relevant object I don’t even know what I am saying who took my worms question mark I have no legs. Look Bart I am taking breaths.

‘Congratulations,’ muttered Bart.

Thank you see he understands what I’m trying to do what is wrong with you creatures I didn’t make you to be like this exclamation mark

My wives will beat you up like the wrinkly old lizard woman you are, you huge and not very pleasant meanie. Do not touch my branch with your teeny tiny arms, or I will peck you to death.

Bart wondered how the man would do that, when he, very obviously, did not have a beak. ‘I need something to eat. I’m way past my expiry date,’ he said quietly. Perhaps if he pulled his beanie back down over his head, everyone would go away and he could get some sleep.

Who’s that? The very feminine voice came from behind the tent. Ah HA! Found yourself another girlfriend, have you. Three isn’t enough is it? Look, girls, he’s chatting up some behemoth with no arms and legs. We’re really hitting the bottom of the river bed now.

The sound of three sets of footsteps came from both sides of Bart’s swag.

You’re kidding me. I was just about to go and get ready to lay a freakin’ egg and sit on it all winter and–

Oh stop lying, Elfie, everyone knows we don’t start the egg thing until Springtime.

Isn’t it springtime yet?

No. It’s autumn. Look, pull your feathers up and go and get Splendid off that branch before he breaks it. If he does that, there’ll be hell to pay, let me tell you, and wow, who is that huge and ludicrous creature with the really big yellow eyes?

I’m your mother you wren exclamation mark What is wrong with you avians can’t you see it’s nighttime who taught you all it was okay to be awake right now, don’t you know an owl could get you question mark do I have to do everything myself fullstop breath.

‘Right, that’s it.’ Bart stood up, then realised he was still in the swag. ‘Okay, that didn’t work.’ The five creatures now standing on the slope (three of them looking almost identical in their brown bomber jackets and blue jeans)  all stopped shouting and turned to stare at him. ‘Give me a minute,’ Bart growled. ‘I’m coming out, and I’m not happy.’

OoOOOooooh, said Splendid. Oh stop it, you’re scaring me. He grinned.

The lizard stood even taller. Not as much as I’ll be scaring you boyo oh look at me I must have swallowed an irishman at some point I wonder when that was it certainly wasn’t in the last seventy years or so. How could I have oh look Bart I breathed again oh I know what happened. She sat on her rather long tail, which curled like a spring underneath her. Never mind, long story, don’t worry I’m sure he was found later on. She blinked.

Bart noticed, rather belatedly he had to admit, that the lizard had three sets of eyelids. ‘Wow,’ he said as he scrambled out of the swag on all fours. ‘Does that make you a mammal?’

What question mark. The lizard shrunk slightly and looked at him with its great golden eyes.

‘You have three sets of eyelids. Did you know that? I wonder how many creatures have three sets of eyelids. I know cats do. And ravens. Maybe it’s a warm blooded thing.’ Bart scratched his head. ‘I don’t know too much about three sets of eyelids. What I do know though, is I am absolutely positive now that you’re not some kind of snake.’

I am pretty sure I told you that said Splendid, who had formerly been known as Superb. Don’t you remember me saying that she was not exactly a snake, I told you that, you moron. Wow. Nobody listens anymore. He turned back and looked at the lizard. Okay, I know who you are, and I know we are related but you shouldn’t be awake. You are possibly my great great great and a lot more, grandmother, which also makes you kind of his – he nodded at Bart – great great great and a lot more grandmother as well, which, when you think about it, might be pretty awkward if anything happened. Of course, he added quickly,  the relativity of that relationship is so lost in time it hardly matters anymore so if you did happen to get up to any weird and wonderful magical rumpy-pumpy business, then good for you and I don’t want to hear anymore about it because it kind of reminds me about hearing Dad help Mum make those eggs that time when I hadn’t quite left the nest early enough, but you know, I was a late starter, so there’s that.

‘Please stop talking,’ said Bart. ‘And whatever it is you mob are fighting about, could you take it somewhere else, try not to get eaten by owls, and… whatever. I’d like to get some sleep.’

You heard him isn’t he beautiful come on you little bastards I’m taking you back to the wattle bushes and in the morning you can all have some floating insects which I’ll make just for you and then Splendid can do some of his wonderful aerial acrobatics for you and everyone will be happy fullstop breath, Let’s go. 

(Just as a little aside here, thank you Delta, I thought it was Let’s go jogging, and I just heard someone think they thought it was Let’s go shopping. We do know, now, it was Let’s go, Jump In… at least, I think that’s what it is. I’m not allowed to look it up.)

Bart didn’t wait to see what they did next. He went back to bed.

As the voices got quieter he heard someone say He should be a naturalist or something

No, someone else replied, a naturalist is someone who looks at plants and animals. He should be a nudist.

No, a third voice interrupted. That is quite wrong. A nudist is someone who doesn’t wear clothes. He should be a… what’s a dictionary?

Is this a magic question and do I need a wand?

What’s a wand?

No idea.

Someone should look this up. They were definitely heading off down the track now. If I knew what looking something up meant, that’d be great.

Shush. I think I hear an owl.

Blessed silence, thought Bart, tucking himself into his sleeping bag. At last.

Worry, continued

~~~~~~,~’~~~~~.~’~~80> let me know if any of this sounds familiar, especially today. As I wrote it all back in March, it’s terribly exciting it all comes up as I post it, isn’t it.

Solway had written a very long list of people she’d never thought she’d speak to again. Many of them had job titles that not even she knew what they meant, but along with those job titles came experiences and fancy toys that Solway thought, if she asked very nicely, she might be able to get them (the people) to use to save Bart.

Not that she was sure if Bart needed saving.

But, it might help her get some sleep knowing he could be saved if he needed to be.

Solway did not think she would be getting too much sleep tonight. Her stomach was turning over and over, just like her mind, which seemed to be performing acrobatic cartwheels around the fact she had left her partner in the middle of the bush all alone, possibly stuck in a creek without a paddle. She picked up the phone and searched up a name she had not looked up in quite some time.

He answered on the first ring. 

‘Hans Endersans,’ he said in a very official sounding voice.

‘It’s me.’

‘Long time no hear.’ Her brother sounded relaxed. ‘Could you make it quick, Sol? I’m on another call.’

Her stomach dropped. ‘Oh. Um… How long is the other call going to take?’

‘Not too long, I guess. We’re wrapping up shortly. I can feel it.’

Solway started to laugh. Her brother could always “feel” things, but he didn’t always get it right. ‘Would it help if I gave you a time-frame to wrap things up by?’

‘Could you? That would be great.’ She could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Fifteen minutes. If you’re not done in fifteen minutes, you owe me five bucks.’

‘You’re on.’

Feeling slightly better about herself, Solway decided to make a cup of coffee. She put on the kettle.

______________o______________

‘Put some clothes on,’ said Bart from under his beanie. It was a sentence he never thought he’d utter in his life, but here he was saying it, and meaning it, because this thing was not Solway, and he knew that because, before he’d pulled the beanie down over his face he had seen, quite clearly, that not only were its eyes extremely round and golden, but when it had smiled it had no teeth.

Which was not all it was cracked up to be, in his humble opinion.

Is that thought based on a dirty joke I think it is I don’t have clothes this is what I came here with I used a plastic poncho from your car do you have clothes I can wear then oh wait a minute she dropped something earlier on and I pulled it out of the wind  I’ll put that on okay I look like you now see if that’s better

Bart raised one side of his beanie very, very slowly and looked at the lizard.

‘Are those Solway’s knickers?’

I guess so am I wearing them correctly

‘No. They are meant to be worn, you know, down below… not on your head.’

You are wearing your knickers on your head

‘Nope, I’m not.’ Bart pulled the beanie back down to cover his chin ‘This is a beanie. It’s official headwear, in my humble opinion. What you are wearing is not headwear, it is underwear and you are meant to wear it on your under regions.’

My feet question mark I think if I wore these… do they go on both feet or just one there are two stringy bits do they go between my toes do I need to jump instead of walk you know I only just developed these legs and I do not think I have learnt how to use them yet

Bart could feel his cheeks getting very hot. He did not, under any circumstances, wish to remove the beanie.

‘Put one leg in one hole that one string makes and put the other leg in the other hole and make sure the cloth bit is in the middle and then pull them up your legs.’

He could hear shuffling. 

‘Pull them right up to the top of your legs and make sure they cover everything there if…,’ he remembered exactly how much those knickers he had bought Solway last Christmas did not cover. ‘…If you can. Don’t pull them too high though because..’ He heard a screech, which thankfully wasn’t too loud. ‘It might get uncomfortable.’

Now what

‘I think I can now probably help you find a blanket to wrap around yourself. I am coming to terms that you have absolutely no understanding of decorum, or how off-putting this is for me, so I am…’

I do understand it is perfectly natural this is what animals do to make more animals is it not I think I can help you make more animals but you are thinking this is not right because I am not Solway what an interesting idea are all humans like this you know there are many birds and animals that are like this so I suppose it makes sense okay I think I have a feeling what a blanket is and I can get it and I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. There I made a fullstop in my thoughts just for you and I have also warped a blanked around my hung on this isnt right something else is here its that bloody fucking splendid man he understand this better than you do where the hell is he it must have stopped raining I hope he has not bought the girls He has more than one

Bart pulled off his beanie.