BunyipoftheBlackwood

Chapter 4 continued (and a bit more)

For reasons known only to himself, and not even he knew what they were, Hans wanted to take the rest of the day off.

Announcing he was “bored” and “didn’t want to play anymore” seemed slightly childish, but he couldn’t think of a really good excuse for walking out on everyone. It was likely for that reason he now stalked back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen trying not to bite anyone’s head off.

Like, literally, he thought to himself. He wondered if there would be a moon tonight or something, because it seemed to him that things were just really weird today. There had been a third incident just before the dinner rush between Gretal and some unannounced jumped up performer-looking dude and a fourth one during it, which had started off with a chipped glass and ended up outside, thank goodness, and frankly that was WAY TOO MANY things, because things only happen in threes, not fours. Everyone knew that.

The Canerican, who pronounced her names as Shane (although it said Shianne on her name tag) didn’t appear to be too happy doing the dishes. It may have had something to do with the fact she was not dressed appropriately at all, but, she’d wanted to start immediately, and Hans had indeed simply shrugged and said (after his initial terrifying admission to himself of what the truth looked like)…

‘I’m not paying the insurance.’

Fennel, at that point had stormed off swearing under his breath, and Hans seriously began to question himself, because under normal circumstances he would not have done this, and really, if the woman wanted to take him to court (if, Hans, if, not when) she would win because he’d allowed her in the kitchen.

She did not appear to understand what he meant just after the dinner rush when he said, ‘What you’re wearing is inappropriate.’

He knew this because she’d started spouting nonsense about her rights and other things, which really had him questioning his choices again.

‘Listen, Shane…’

‘Shianne.’

‘That’s what I said. Please don’t interrupt, as I’m about to teach you something.’

‘Fine,’ she said, which really got his goat.

‘As you are working in the kitchen, Shane, you should be wearing trousers, and covered work shoes. Why do you think this is, Shane?’

‘Shianne,’ said Shane. ‘I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me.’

‘Why don’t you start showing me a little respect and I will.’

Fennel and the other kitchen staff began to do things really loudly then, because they all seemed to get incredibly busy all at once and there were lots of pots and pans banging, and shouting of “Where’s the cheese sauce,” and other things, so Hans decided it may possibly be the time to escort Shane, without touching her because that would give her something else to complain about, into the short hall between there and the dining room.

‘Because,’ Hans said quietly because it was quieter. ‘You need to be covered up so you don’t get burnt, or scalded, or anything else that will require you taking an extended leave of absence because you haven’t followed our occupational health and safety rules, which are there for a very good reason. That’s why.’

‘Then why did you put me in the kitchen,’ she asked.

‘Because,’ and he took a very deep and calming breath because seriously he wanted to strangle her right now. ‘You wanted to start straight away. You do not seem to understand anything else about anything else, and I took pity on you and now you are here, and really you don’t have to be here. After all, it’s three days of free work I’ve taken out of your life and you could seriously be working for somebody else.’ He sucked in another breath. ‘That’s why.’ He spat out the words like they were on fire. ‘Would you like to go home now?’

He crossed his fingers inside his pants pockets. Then he saw himself in the hallway mirror, straightened his hair and his tie, carefully made sure his flea collar wasn’t showing, and gave himself a wink.

The Shane woman seemed to be staring at him.

Well, it wasn’t really a surprise because after all he was amazingly handsome and people seemed to do that a lot.

‘I just can’t seem to make up my mind,’ she said.

‘About what,’ he grinned because apparently he had a fabulous, cheeky grin and it made one old lady’s heart go all gooey once, or so he’d been told.

‘Whether I should be listening to the man who seems to know what he’s talking about, or looking at the man who seems to think he’s God’s Gift when he really, okay well… Okay so I’m not going home permanently but could I go and get changed. Please.’

Hans felt much better. ‘Don’t take too long,’ he warned. ‘Closing is in three hours.’

It was after she’d left that he realised her eyes were green. He decided he shouldn’t have noticed that.

‘I’m going now,’ he informed Fennel five minutes later.

Fennel looked surprised. ‘Why? You usually stay until close?’

‘I just am. That’s all. Sometimes you just get a little too personal, Fennel.’

Fennel held up his hands. ‘Hey, I’m not arguing mate, you’re the boss.’

‘That’s right, I am.’ Hans restrained himself from saying “So there”.

Maybe there was a pub within a twenty minute radius he could find because, as much as he liked the kitchen and wait staff here, he had been spending too much time with them, and with the arrival of the Shane woman, who was very disturbing, he simply didn’t want to be here anymore.

‘Have a good night,’ he said to Fennel, who gave him a brief wave.

That’s when he decided to go home, drop off the car, and head out to any kind of club or pub he could get absolutely smashed at. He glanced through the possibilities and found a Karaoke Bar.

Tonight he’d be singing, “Born Free”. Well, that would be the first option he’d go with, and if they didn’t have that then he’d choose something equally fitting for the animal he’d become.

Chapter 4 continued…

The slamming of the back door had Hans turn around just as he’d been contemplating why they didn’t colour skip bins purple, and why it should be a thing.

It was Fennel.

‘How did it go,’ asked Hans.

Fennel sighed, ‘Well, we do need someone in the office occasionally, and she does have a background in admin, but…’ and he held up a finger. ‘She doesn’t know the first thing about, well, anything to do with hospitality.’

‘Then stick her at the sink.’ Problem solved, thought Hans.

Yeah, no, that’s not going to work because we specifically want someone to replace you, Hans, which is –‘

‘Highly unlikely,’ finished Hans. ‘After all, I’m irreplaceable. Obviously.’

‘Not really the point, mate. You have a lot on your plate, and you can’t be in several places at once. Besides that, she’s… Well, I’m not sure whether she’s Canadian or American. She didn’t say.’

‘Surely you could have figured that out from her resume.’

‘It’s a little vague.’

‘I’ll look at it later. What’s the problem with being Canerican?’

‘Canerican?’

‘Yeah, Canadian American. What’s the issue?’

‘For starters, she’s completely bamboozled by temp checks.’

‘Why the fuck would that be a problem? You take the temp gun around, check the temps, and let people know if there’s a variance. You know the drill, Fennel. Too hot, too cold, oh-no-its-broken. It’s not fucking hard.’

‘It is when you don’t do Celsius.’

That stopped Hans from stalking back and forth across the courtyard. ‘I didn’t think of that. But still, whjy would that be an issue?’

‘She’d need to learn what the correct temps are supposed to be. which isn’t difficult when it’s all written down, that’s true. But… She just couldn’t understand why it’s important. Kind of blew me off, to be honest, and I did not like that.’

‘That doesn’t sound good. So, you took her around the whole place then?’

‘Yep, we did the full walk. I ran her through everything basically. Obviously not going to be cooking. Turned her nose up at kitchenhanding, which is sorta kinda understandable but not at the same time. Really wanted to be in the office and that’s about it.’

‘No good to us then.’ The mix of relief and disappointment Hans felt confused him. ‘I mean, we could use her as an accountant but if she doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to understand how the place is run, that’s no good to me. Tell her we don’t have anything then.’

‘Yeah, about that.’ Fennel scratched his head. ‘She’s really not taking no for an answer. She wants to talk to you before she goes. Kind of insisted.’

Hans frowned. Something smelled fishy about this whole thing. He made a decision.

‘Okay listen, I’m not going to talk to her alone. It’s just a feeling I’m getting, okay?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘I need to tell you something. I’ve met this woman before.’

Hans explained the entire scenario from the other evening while surreptitiously leaning against the back door of the building so no one could wander out. Fennel grabbed a milk crate and sat down. He took off his kitchen cap and scratched his head.

‘So, what you’re thinking is she’s some kind of… what?’

‘A plant. I think she’s a plant. This is a cutthroat business, Fennel, and a lot of the hospitality mobs don’t like me much. After all, where they’ve failed, I’ve succeeded, and I have acquired a few places in a reasonably short amount of time, as you know.’

‘Are you sure you’re not being overly suspicious,’ asked Fennel. ‘After all, there are a lot pf people trying to get work, and they do not care what area they work in. Maybe she’s just not used to having to step down to our level. You know, us lowly plebeians who serve people like her… It must be odd begging for employment in a place like this.’

‘I should be offended by that, but I’m not,’ Hans replied. ‘Mostly because it’s true. I’m still not seeing her alone though.’

‘Sook,’ said Fennel. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

If Hans had been anything other than human at that moment, his hackles would be rising. This while situation didn’t feel right at all.

^^_______O_______^^

When they walked back out to front of house there was another woman standing at reception. She was talking to the waiter.

‘You will give me a job, yes,’ she demanded. ‘Where is your boss?’

Oh dear, thought Hans. What the fuck is going on today?

‘Off you go,’ he said quietly to the staff member. ‘I’ll handle this.’

She gave him a relieved look and wandered further down the bar to polish some forks. Hans tried not to smile. He didn’t blame her for wanting to hang around.

‘Can I help you,’ he asked politely.

This new woman smiled at him, which was too bad for her because he’d already seen how she treated the staff.

‘Hello, sir,’ she said. ‘I am looking for work and you will employ me, yes.’

‘No,’ said Hans. ‘I’m sorry, this is the hospitality industry, and we like our people to be hospitable.’

‘I have many years experience.’

‘I don’t care.’

It was like watching someone turn into a monster. ‘You will employ me or I come back with family and dine here and you will be nice and a slave to us.’

Hans rubbed his chin. ‘No. I don’t think that will happen.’

‘Why not.’ God, if she stamped her foot, he’d start laughing.

‘Because, from this point on, you’re banned.’ He pointed at the CCTV.

‘Hell will rain down on you and your loved ones and you will be destroyed,’ she screeched.

Hans could not believe it. He actually needed to physically escort her from the building. He was rather glad he was the owner because anyone else would have been sacked for “touching someone” even if it were to remove them from the building.

‘What the fuck was that,’ Fennel asked as he came back into the dining room, straightening his shirt.

Hans shook his head. ‘I think it’s going to be one of those days, Fennel. Don’t go anywhere, we still have the Canerican to deal with.’

She was sitting in the office and curling her hair. That is not coming off as particularly professional, Hans thought. Just kill me now.

Fennel stood in the corner and crossed his arms.

‘I feel like I’m at the Inquisition,’ said the Canerican.

Hans pursed his lips and tried not to smile. ‘I’m sorry. Fennel just brought to my attention a couple of things, and I’d like to get them out of the way before we move on.’

‘Okay?’ She frowned slightly.

‘How badly do you need work,’ he asked.

‘Quite badly.’ She smiled. ‘I’m on a work visa, and my other job fell through. My plan is to continue with this until I get naturalised.’

‘That’s very honest of you.’

‘It’s the truth.’ She shrugged.

Hans tried not to curl his lip at the casualness of her body language. ‘So, you won’t mind working in the kitchen when you’re not doing the books.’

‘Hans,’ muttered Fennel. ‘We still need a restaurant manager.’

‘I can do that,’ said the woman quickly. ‘The restaurant manager thing.’

‘Do you know about Silver Service,’ asked Hans.

‘No. But, I can learn.’

‘Unfortunately our restaurant manager needs to know all those things immediately to be able to run our restaurant,’ Hans said quietly. ‘It’s not something one can just walk into, regardless of how good you are.’

‘Oh,’ said the Canerican. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Most people don’t. To them, things just happen like magic and everything’s grand… Which is great because that means we’re doing our jobs.’ He stared at her. ‘Frankly, you’re quite useless to me. so I don’t even know why I’m considering this.’

‘Hans…’ said Fennel again.

‘Put her on a three day trial,’ said Hans as he left the office. ‘In the kitchen. Unpaid. Take it or leave it,’ he said to the Canerican on his way past. He didn’t wait for a reply.

What the fuck and he just done? Insurance wouldn’t cover this. Why the fuck had he done it?

‘Fuck my life,’ he muttered.

to be continued…

Chapter Four__ Untitled (3 weeks later)

Waking up at three-thirty am was not something Hans had planned. Waking up with a tail and in a cold sweat was not something he had anticipated so, when he got up and sat out the back of his house on the long verandah and studied the extremely wide and open night sky over his back fence, he wondered if he should go back to bed.

The tail swishing through the gap in the rear of his chair told him it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. He decided to make a coffee and listen to what (he assumed) the lizard had to say.

Very well then, the lizard said (at least he thought it was the lizard) I am not going to make it easy for you because we simply will not get along if you think I am going to tell you the meaning of life because this is not why I’m here fullstop In three hours time the sun will come up and you will go for the first run you have had in six months comma possibly consider freshly made butter from a cow might be a thing and then wonder if you have made a terrible mistake remaining in the restaurant business.

‘That’s just great,’ Hans muttered into his coffee.

I told you we wouldn’t get along, the lizard replied. Bet you don’t care much for my voice in my head now do you pretty man.

My voice in my head? he thought.

I do not distinguish between you and me I am the lizard and this is what we do when are you going to be a real man Hans and remember what you were meant to be considering from all that time ago question mark.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Maybe if we actually speak to the okay you called her a yank well that must be a thing okay well when are we going to talk about why you haven’t hired her yet comma this is what you are meant to be doing three weeks has gone by and you are too comfortable being back in a restaurant do you even know what’s happening with your other restaurants how come you haven’t hired the American woman yet dearly beloved we are gathered here today oh I am singing isn’t this lovely

‘How do I turn you off,’ asked Hans seriously.

How can you even ask that question you are a dog now didn’t you know dogs hear everything I wonder if the American woman has a demonic beast inside her shall we find out or do you just want to think about why you are even thinking about her in the first place question mark

‘I have not been thinking about the American woman,’ replied Hans.

Obviously, which is one of your favourite words and I am going to teach you how to use commas because I learnt them from Bart, And fullstops because people need to breathe who knew. Obviously, this might take some time. Obviously you have been thinking about the American woman or I wouldn’t be telling me this

Hans stood up, dragging his tail behind him. ‘Obviously I need to go for a run now.’

It’s still dark, said the lizard.

‘Then I’ll run in the dark,’ said Hans grumpily.

Obviously, said the lizard.

Somewhere during his run, Hans contemplated becoming ‘an athlete, a gymnast, a model, an actor or a priest. He didn’t realise he’d said it out loud until much later in the day, which was around the time the American woman came into the restaurant and the words came back to haunt him.

That was when he decided he should have been a priest, and he didn’t know why.

She was wearing a skirt.

Hans decided, at that very moment, skirts should always be very long, at least ankle length, and not in the least bit showing any skin. Then he wondered if he should have been thinking about changing his religion because this did not seem to be something he would normally be thinking. Then he thought about the fact he didn’t really have a religion so why had he been considering being a priest?

She smiled.

Hans remembered what the lizard had said about hiring her and that was when he realised why he should have been a priest. He did not have relationships with anyone he worked with, ever, and this looked like it would be a very long day indeed, because apparently that’s why she’d turned up.

‘Hello again,’ she said.

He sighed. She remembered him. Well, this was just great. The last time he’d seen her, if he remembered correctly, he’d been reaching for … No Hans, no, we don’t think about these things.

‘How can I help you,’ he asked and high-fived himself mentally.

The restaurant was not packed, because it was just after noon, and no one else was there except the waiter behind him who seemed to be chortling quietly to herself which made no sense whatsoever, until he realised he was scratching his arse. Dammit.

She, not being the waiter but the woman in the skirt which was not long enough, held out a manilla folder and smiled again. ‘I was wondering if you guys had any work going? I haven’t had much luck lately. I learn quickly, so if you have something, anywhere at all, I would really appreciate you considering looking at my resume. Please.’

Hans considered this. He possibly considered it for a little too long without saying anything because the woman’s smile began to look a little strained and the waiter had apparently left the building.

‘Sorry,’ he said politely. ‘But …’

‘What can you do,’ said Fennel from behind him. ‘We do have a couple of positions available, and Hans, as you can see, is a bit rusty in the old, “Welcome to our restaurant” business. Give me your resume and we’ll have a chat in the …’ He paused and looked at Hans. ‘Can we use your office, mate?’

‘Sure,’ said Hans.

The woman looked at him, mouthed, “Your office? ” in such a way that he tried not to smile, and he did not look at her parting bottom once as she wandered off with Fennel.

‘Fucking Fennel,’ he mumbled.

Then he went and found the the waiter, who happened to be hiding in the kitchen with the kitchen hands, sent her back into the dining room, and went out the back to look at the skip bin for the next half an hour.

to be continued.

Chapter Three __Untitled (Bunyip of the Blackwood)

He managed to make it through the morning without biting anyone’s head off, and even managed to have a laugh with a few of the kitchen hands in this most recently acquired restaurant and that was possibly because it was run by the woman with the gelled back hair. She, apparently, had forgotten he was coming. It was wonderful.

‘You didn’t send me a reminder text,’ she said as she unlocked the glass door at the front of the building just after midday.

Hans saw no point in replying. Some people just got up your nose and that’s all there was to it. As he liked to think of himself as having a certain degree of self-honesty he assumed it might be a personality clash, so, the aim and test here, at least for himself, was to see how long he could last without wanting to shove the woman in a skip bin.

‘How are you,’ he said politely after she’d let him inside (it had taken a few moments). It looked like she wanted to scuttle back off to wherever her office was in this place.

‘I’m well, thank you Hans. I do have some catching up to do though, so if you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t mind. Let me know when you’re done.’ He tried not to scowl because, although he could think of nothing a restaurant manager would be doing in her office just after opening, he did want to look at the books after she’d completed whatever it was she needed to do. ‘I’ll just have a look at these improvements you said you’d made in the kitchen.’

‘That’s fine,’ she replied, which he really, really tried not to scowl at. Of course it was fine. He owned the fucking joint.

‘I appreciate your patience,’ he said instead, and wandered through to the heart of the building. A lovely big chest freezer sat in the corner of the kitchen. Hans decided that it might be a good sitty spot.

‘Are you guys getting anything out of this in the next half an hour,’ he asked the chef whose name, if he remembered correctly, was Fennel.

‘I fucking hope not,’ the chef replied in typical cheffy-chef-like fashion.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Do what you like,’ said the chef.

Hans popped himself up onto the lid of the freezer and watched them all working for a little while, to see if Nora’s “improvements” made any difference. This was around the time the kitchen-hands noticed his socks, and likely when they all started having a good time. It was the kid at the sink who said something first.

‘Do you like Homer Simpson,’ he asked, grinning.

Hans pursed his lips and tried not to smile. ‘Not really.’

‘Who got you those then,’ asked the kid. ‘Your wife?’

Brave kid, Hans. He held up his unringed fingers. ‘No, my sister. Personal questions, mate.’

The kid ducked his head, his face turning bright pink as he began scrubbing furiously at a chopping board. ‘Sorry.’

The chef glanced at Hans from the stove. ‘Don’t be a prick, Hans.’

Hans laughed. This was around the time he began telling the kitchen staff about how he’d started out in the restaurant industry.

‘…And when they realised I couldn’t cook for shit, which didn’t take long let me tell you, they decided instead to take advantage of my fabulous good looks and put me on the floor,’ he finished with a grin. One of the sous chefs smiled at him brightly and he tried not to give her a wink. The girls always said he had beautiful brown eyes, but flirting with the staff was simply not something he did if he could help it. It wasn’t fair on anyone.

It had been a good lunch, so far. Everyone worked smoothly together, the menu had not been changed from the one they’d decided worked best at all his restaurants, and even the kitchen-hands knew the fryers were always set to one hundred and eighty degrees.

Hallelujah, thought Hans.

Forty-five minutes had gone by though, and he still hadn’t seen the restaurant manager. What the fuck was she doing?

He thanked the chef politely and decided to go and find her. She wasn’t on the floor, she wasn’t at reception or the bar, and she wasn’t having a sneaky durry out the back. That left only one place. The woman must still be in the office.

Hans had dealt with people like this before. Once they hit a certain level, they seemed to decide their place was not dealing with the customers anymore, choosing instead to reward themselves by hiding away and keeping themselves entertained playing card games on the computer or doing something equally irritating that in no way contributed to the running of a restaurant.

It was a combination of arrogance and laziness, in Hans’ opinion. After all, whether they liked it or not, they were supposed to be “people people’ and part of that was actually dealing with people properly and showing everyone else (that being the staff) what they should be doing, not, and he really started getting angry now as he strode towards the office, thinking themselves all high and fucking mighty and better than everyone else. The real problem, and eventual outcome, would be that the manager became so removed from their staff, and so distant from the everyday workings of a business, they lost touch with what happened within the business itself, and that was when everything started to go downhill.

The office door was locked.

‘You are fucking kidding me,’ he muttered. There really was no excuse for this. Prep had likely started at ten a.m. if not earlier, and the manager would have (should have) been on site by then. Any “banking” or paperwork would be over and done with by this point, if it hadn’t been done the previous evening, and any excuse for the office being locked from the inside at this time of day would need to be a good one.

He didn’t bother knocking.

The one thing Hans always made sure he did when he purchased a joint, was to make sure he had a set of keys. In this case the previous owner had only one set for himself, and Hans had made sure, not only to get those for emergencies but to have two more sets cut, just on the off chance someone had lost them, or didn’t know who else might have put them in their pocket, forgotten about them and gone home. It happened quite a lot.

He didn’t usually bother telling the managers at the seven restaurants this and more often than not they were pleasantly surprised when he saved their arses. He didn’t do it for them though. As he’d always said, it was about making money, and no one could operate a place if they couldn’t get in.

He unlocked the door.

The Dora Nora Flora woman sat at her desk drinking a cup of coffee and eating what looked to be black forest cake with extra cherries. She did not look in the least bit remorseful, and even had the balls to raise an eyebrow as he shut the door carefully behind him.

‘I didn’t hear you knock,’ she said.

‘Hello,’ he replied. ‘You’re fired, who’s next in line.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ She put down her cup and stared at him. ‘What’s your reasoning for this?’

‘Never mind. I’ll figure it out myself. Get your purse, or your handbag or whatever it is you come to work with, and fuck off. We’re done.’

She didn’t smirk, but there seemed to be a hint of one. ‘Nobody knows how to do this. You need to give me more notice so I can find a replacement.’

‘I know how to sit around and drink coffee all day, and I know the correct time for when I should be on the floor and when I should be in the office, and I can do every single thing you can do and, more importantly, I can do it better,’ he replied. ‘So.’ He leant back against the door and folded his arms. ‘Give me a reason why you’re in here with the door locked doing nothing, and if it’s good enough I won’t fire you.’

There was silence for a short moment and he watched her face. It felt like the woman was considering her options. She looked like one of those people who thought, just because he was devastatingly handsome, which he was (of course) he was also possibly a little bit of a pushover, or dumb, or both, which he wasn’t (of course). She didn’t smell in the least bit concerned either, which proved to him who the stupid one could be.

‘I don’t need a reason,’ she said, ‘My reputation should be good enough, and the staff can run the restaurant perfectly well without me being in there all the time.’

He growled. ‘Then why are you working here?’

She looked at him properly then and finally something registered. Her eyes went wide, the little silver fork she’d been eating her cake with dropped to the carpeted floor with hardly a sound, followed soon after by the plate with the cake on it. Such a waste.

‘You’ve got ten minutes,’ he said and left the office. He tried not to cock his leg on the door as he walked out.

to be continued

Chapter 2 continued (section three)__ Untitled.

Solway had left half an hour ago, he’d cancelled his meal and had pulled up a stool at the bar. Hans current challenge to himself was to see how much of the hanging, upside-down bourbon bottle he could drink and still be able to book an Uber.

‘Anothery,’ he mumbled at the bartender.

‘It’s getting late, mate.’

‘Don’t care.’

‘We’re closing soon. This isn’t a pub.”

‘Jush gimme anothery and shush up.’ That sentence was possibly the politest thing he’d said all night. He smiled at himself in the mirror behind the bar and blew himself a kiss. ‘You’re a shpunk,’ he said to his reflection and gave himself the thumbs up as well for good measure.

‘Hello,’ said a feminine voice from beside him.

‘Goodbye’ he said without turning. ‘I’m fairly shoor I’m nart opp to whateva it ish you’re funking, so yeah, nope.’

‘Did you want some of my vegemite sandwich? I’m not sure what to do with it.’ A plate hovered under his nose.

‘Nope, I shed. Go ‘way. Or, send it to the kids in whatever cuntry it ish you send food to nowdaysh.’ He smoothed back his hair and sipped his drink, or smoothed back his drink and sipped his hair. It was one of the two, or both, or something.

‘Whish one,’ he wondered.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Navermend.’

‘I think you may have had one too many,’ said the American woman.

‘I’ve not had one enough, or shumfink.’ He looked at the lights above his head. ‘Oh noh.’

‘Oh noh?’

‘Yep. I’m fink I’m gunna chock. Go’way now. Bad fings.’ He waved a hand dismissively, fingers brushing against something soft and squishy. He turned his head. ‘Helloooooo.’

‘You might not wanna do that.’ admonished the bartender. Hans looked at his hand which was reaching out for…

‘Oh darr. Shilly moi wish ish me or …. shorry.’

The woman looked at his hand, which he’d been slowly withdrawing, then looked back up at him. Her face was unreadable.

‘Huh-oh. Jigger me nunkies,’ said Hans, and tried not to fall off his stool. He rose from it as swiftly as he could and headed for the… ‘Where’s the dunny goon?’

‘That way.’ The bartender pointed to the corner of the room. ‘Please try to make it.’

‘Okay-dokay.’

He stumbled off, not tripping over anything at all. Behind him he heard soft laughter. When he returned half an hour later, accompanied by the helpful bartender, the woman had gone.

‘Fank Gid,’ he said, then looked at the fuzzy screen of his phone. ‘I wonder if I can cull an uber.’

‘I’ll do it for you,’ said the bartender.

‘Gidoidear, You de man.’

‘No problem,’ replied the bartender. ‘You are too.’

For no reason at all that was the funniest thing Hans had heard all night.

Chapter Two continued (section 2) __Untitled

The restaurant had a boardwalk type thing that sat over the water of the harbour. For some reason, Hans felt drawn to the smell of the salty air and the distant stink of marine diesel, so once he’d made his order he grabbed a number by its silver pole and wound his way through the tables, apologising to the other mindless patrons wandering around without a care in the world.

He didn’t call them arseholes out loud, but he thought it loudly and he hoped they heard him.

I’m being ridiculous.

The tables out here were like picnic benches, polished yet worn, uncomfortable, horrendously awkward, but offering a peace that he simply wasn’t feeling.

The chair part things were also attached to the table somehow, and he only just prevented himself from performing a spectacular trip as he went to sit down. At least the lights were dim.

He should have ordered a drink.

Sailboats sat in the murky water under overhead lights that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in years. There was even the occasional high powered “yacht”, which had never been a thing in the town until recently.

‘Yatch-ett,’ Hans muttered under his breath. It had taken him quite some time as a kid to say that right. He knew they were “yotts” so why some damn fool had written it like that was beyond him.

Then again, much of the English language was beyond him when it came to spelling things out. It was the one thing he’d had a problem with in school. Maths hadn’t been an issue, science made sense most of the time, history was like storytelling but with real people, but English itself, written down, was stupid. Well, it was or he was, and he preferred to think it was, because no one had ever called him stupid aside from Solway, and she only got away with it because she was his sister.

He took a deep breath of the harbour air. Maybe he should have been a whaler like Granddad. They didn’t have to spell shit. The fact no one was a whaler anymore because it wasn’t nice and there weren’t too many whales, was not the point. It was the idea of being out on a big metal ship and fighting the elements, being shoved from one side of the boat to the other by massive waves while you had a rope tied around your waist, and being whacked by various loose machinery that should be tied down but wasn’t. . . That was what he liked about it.

It is highly possible I’m having a thirty-something crisis. He grinned to himself. Cool. At least it isn’t boring.

He’d never seen a large hairy dog on a ship before, so he supposed it might not have worked out for him. How he’d managed to get into the Hospitality industry was beyond him as well. Then again, he hadn’t had the tendency to turn into a dog when he’d started so . . .

He’d been mumbling to himself. ‘I can’t even cook.’

‘That’s why you’re here.’

The voice came from beside him and he glanced sideways. ‘Oh good, you’ve arrived. Finally.’

Solway frowned. ‘You’re being more of a prick than usual, Hans. What happened today?’ She sat down opposite him.

‘You look nice,’ he replied. ‘Not too nice though, so my chances of pickin–‘

‘God, you’re an arsehole.’

He grinned. ‘I never said I wasn’t.’ Then he frowned. He hadn’t even checked out the other table to see what else was on the menu. This was highly unusual for him. ‘I need a drink.’

Solway ignored him. ‘You’ve picked a nice spot.’ She looked around. ‘You can see the entire restaurant from here.’

‘And they can see me, which is more to the point.’

‘Are you putting yourself on show again?’

‘When do I not?’

‘True.’

‘Let’s talk about you for a change,’ Hans muttered, trying to change the subject.

‘That’s not why I’m here.’

He growled.

Solway growled back, then took a deep breath. ‘We can’t do this here.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know.’ She shoved a lock of blonde hair behind one ear. ‘If we get angry with each other, you know what happens.’

‘Oh right,’ Hans scowled. ‘Dogs. I need a drink right now. Please go and get me a drink, Sol. I’ve had a shit day and I need a drink.’

‘Then maybe you should go and get me a drink too,’ Solway grinned. ‘That way, you’ll pay for it and I won’t have to.’

He shrugged. ‘Good point. What do you want.’

‘Whatever you’re having.’

‘Bourbon?’

‘Sounds good to me.’

Hans got up. smoothed down his dress pants, realised he was still wearing his elastic-sided boots, shook his head and began walking to the bar. He could have picked up three women on the way, but he didn’t. He just wanted to spend some time with his sister tonight, so if the universe could get that sorted for him, that’d be grand.

On the way back to the table, a woman grabbed at his sleeve. He stopped, and tried not to glare.

‘Can I help you,’ he asked politely.

‘Do you people do sandwiches?’ She smiled. He may very well have detected an American accent.

‘I beg your pardon?’

The smile faltered slightly, then came back with a brightness that almost blinded him. ‘Do you work here?’

‘No.’

‘Oh. How do I get someone’s attention around here?’ She seemed pretty enough in a normal, not too exciting, kind of way.

‘Usually, you go to the front there and make an order.’ He looked at his sleeve. She still clutched it. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, I do.’ He pulled his arm out of her grip. ‘Have a nice night, lady. See you later.’

‘See you later?’ A frown puckered her forehead.

‘Not literally. Just let go of me. Oh.’ He grimaced. ‘You have. Well, anyway. Bye.’

‘Bye?’

‘Yes.’ He stomped back to Solway, not shouldering anyone out of the way and definitely not spilling a drop of their drinks. ‘Drink it quickly,’ he snarled. ‘I’m going back for more.’

Solway started laughing. ‘What’s happened now?’

He told her. She laughed louder. ‘Priceless,’ she said.

‘You think?’

‘I do. Thank you,’ she added as a nice young lady dropped some bread rolls in front of them.

‘Oh look,’ said Hans sarcastically. ‘No whipped garlic butter. Amazing.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Never mind.’ He drained his glass, ice clinking against his teeth. ‘Hurry up.’

‘I shouldn’t have anymore, I’m driving.’

Hans sighed. ‘Can I not get you an Uber or something?’

‘No, Hans. I just came down because you sounded off.’

‘Look, it’s not that bad. I’m just being dramatic, which as you know, should be fairly normal to you, being a girl and all that.’

‘I am not going to say the first word that came into my head then, Hans, because, as a “girl”, I would not usually say it, but let me tell you one thing. It was not a very nice word.’ Solway glared at him. ‘At all.’

‘Okay. Sorry.’ He wasn’t sorry. ‘My bad.’

‘Don’t be pretentious.’

‘That’s a big word, Solway.’

Her eyes got all squinty. ‘Stand up.’

‘What?’

Stand up. You said you were going to get another drink, so stand up you, you… not very nice person.’

‘Why?’

Because I am going to smack your arse like the child you are being.’

‘I dare you,’ Hans stood up.

Solway slapped him hard on the backside and it actually really stung.

‘Ow. Fuck. You bitch.’

‘Get another drink, areshole. If you’re lucky I’ll still be here when you get back.’

‘Fine.’

He stomped back into the restaurant, realised there were several women watching him and grinning quite openly (they had possibly seen Solway whack him), stopped stomping, smoothed down his hair, avoided the table where the American was now studying what seemed to be a vegemite sandwich from the kids menu, and headed to the bar.

‘Make it a double,’ he said. ‘Clearly, I need one.’

‘Clearly,’ said the bartender and made him one without delay.

Chapter two to be continued…. :)

Chapter Two __ untitled

Before Hans headed out that evening he took the newly hotmixed road to the top of the hill, parked his most recently acquired sporty little car in the cul de sac, and scowled at the windrows of dead trees sitting above him on the piles of sand. Nothing of any importance came out of his mouth because the words he was thinking were so vile he did not wish to say them out loud.

It took some time to control himself but when he calmed down, just a little bit, he opened the car door, pulled on the old elastic-sided boots he’d placed on the passenger side floor, and got out. He closed the car door as gently as he was able to in this current mood, shoved a cap low on his head and trudged up the recently made sandhill to the very top of what remained of the ridge.

The tree still lay where he’d last seen it, not yet whirred up into tiny wood chips, its horizontal trunk taking up quite quite a lot of space amidst the great, big, huge and very dismal sandy expanse where native bushland had once been.

He took off his sunglasses and stared moodily down the slope into his own backyard. He’d contributed to this, only in a small way he knew, but he couldn’t get out of it that easily because every other house below him had contributed to it as well and with all those contributions came loss, and what that loss looked like clearly resembled the shit he now stood in the middle of, wondering why the fuck he hadn’t bought himself an old rundown house in the middle of nowhere instead.

Hans sighed, then wandered over to the fallen tree. He felt like covering up its exposed roots with a blanket to give the tree some kind of dignity but that thought, he knew, was slightly ridiculous. Besides that, someone else would probably wander up from below the hill, look at him like he was a complete lunatic and possibly, knowing what people were like in this day and age, call the police for no reason other than the fact he’d likely made them feel uncomfortable.

He took a picture of the names burnt into the trunk and decided to take it down to one of the local joints the following day, the kind of place where they allowed you to blow photographs up and put them on shiny paper and then, when he got the chance, he’d frame it and go and stick it on Jake’s grave just for shizz and gigs and no other reason whatsoever.

‘Howja like them apples,’ He said to no one at all. Then he nudged the bottom of the tree with his boot and wandered back to the car.

Nobody else came up the hill, and he was not actually surprised by that at all. A bottle of bourbon, a heartache, and a plate full of fish and chips later, and he probably wouldn’t even remember it himself.

On the way to his dinner for one, Hans decided to call Solway.

For reasons he’d never been able to understand Hans couldn’t keep his sunglasses on when talking with people on the phone so, as he coasted down the hill from the cul de sac, he kept his sunglasses off, removed his cap, straightened his wavy, not curly, hair in the rearview mirror and cried “Solway” at the top of his voice.

Two seconds later, not that he was counting, she answered with a “Hans!”.

‘What are you doing,’ he asked.

‘Wondering why you’re calling me,’ she replied. There was a moment of awkward silence.

‘Is Bart there?’

‘Yes, he is. Did you want to speak with him?’ Another long expectant pause.

‘No.’ He stared out through the windscreen.

‘You called me, Hans.’

‘I know I did. What are you doing for dinner.?’

‘Oh.’ She signed softly. ‘We’re having dinner at home. You know, with the current economy and all that…’

‘Blah blah blah blah,’ he said rudely.

‘What’s up your arse?’

‘Nothing. The usual. Can’t I just talk to my sister on the phone?’

‘It would help if you actually talked.’

‘I am talking.’

‘Okay, well that’s fantastic. Are you going out for dinner are you?’

‘Yep.’

‘This is like drawing blood from a stone. What’s going on? You sound dumb.’

‘Well, you sound stupid,’ he replied in his most menacing voice.

‘Are we, like, five?’ Her tone was getting that exasperated edge he remembered so well from when he’d been a kid and done something evil and she’d had to clean up after him. ‘You’re upset about something. What is it?’

‘I’m bored.’ He began tapping the steering wheel.

‘No, you’re not. It’s something else.’ After a moment of silence he heard something metallic hit something else like she was stirring something. ‘If it’s about the fleas…’

‘I thought we weren’t going to talk about the fleas.’

‘Yet here I am, talking about fleas.’

‘I don’t want to talk about fleas.’ He glared at the road.

‘I am trying to be kind, Hans. Don’t make it hard.’

‘I don’t want to hang up on you Solway.’

‘I know you don’t buddy. What is it?’

‘Nothing. You wouldn’t get it. I don’t get it. It’s okay. I’m okay.’

‘Now I’m worried. Where are you having dinner then?’

‘That fish and chip place on the foreshore.’

A rustling sound and a soft murmur came through the line. ‘Okay, I’ll come down. I won’t be eating, but I’ll come down, okay?’

‘Okay, Don’t look too attractive.’

‘Don’t look too… Do you want me to come down or not?’

‘Yes.’ He scowled and flicked on the indicator.

‘Okay. I’ll see you soon.’

‘Good.’ He hung up.

He felt like tossing the phone into the back seat, then felt like tossing it out the window. He put it on the leather passenger seat instead. It was going to be a shit night, and a shit meal, and everything was going to be shit. He pulled up at a stoplight and checked his teeth. Perfect, as usual.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t going to be completely shit. Maybe it would be okay. He wondered if they had tartare sauce.

to be continued.

Chapter One __Untitled, continued

Hans sat on the freeway for what felt like forever in the midday traffic. It took an hour and a half to get back from these stupid bloody meetings. God knew why they couldn’t have Zoom meetings instead, although, apparently, a rather clever chap by the name of Zed Van Burton (who maintained his websites) had assured him that having in-person meetings were far more unlikely to be hacked into than Zoom ones, not that Hans knew that was a thing although, he supposed, if it were possible, someone had likely done it already.

Zed, being rather clever (if Hans remembered correctly) had assured him it had indeed been possible and if Hans perhaps remembered the story about the priests meeting where someone had left on (or maybe even added) those little extra wonderful bits to the online service that time (Hans remembered that story very clearly) then Zed may have accidentally not at all have known someone who might have had nothing to do with it.

Sometimes, Hans’ web designer spoke in rather roundabout ways about certain things, and Hans quite enjoyed it. Not that he told anyone that, because that would be “betraying the trust” or something equally ridiculous, yet important.

It had been around that time Zed had kicked him, not in the least softly, under the table.

Hans shot back to the present, remembered he was driving and felt rather pleased with himself he hadn’t done what Bart had done that time a couple of years back, and instead had kept his hands on the steering wheel.

He checked his hair in the rearview mirror, admired his own chin, made sure his eyebrows were neatly trimmed, and winked at himself because, when one was as amazingly “adorable” (he tried not to cringe at that one) as he was when he wasn’t working, one just had to remind oneself of how utterly amazing one happened to be.

He did this regularly. It worked for him.

‘Where was I,’ he said to the radio, which happened to be playing loud and awesome music with lots of guitar and headbanging.

The radio kept doing its own thing and didn’t reply.

Hans wondered if the line of traffic he was currently in, would actually reach over fifty kph, or whether he’d still be doing twenty k’s in another hour’s time.

He decided to change the radio station.

‘At the third stroke it will be…’

… Something that no longer existed. Bloody ABC.

Maybe he should take selfies for social media and… Get picked up by the traffic cop who’d just turned up in a patrol car nnext to him.

Okay then, social media “I’m bored” shots were understandably out of the question, which was lucky because he was thirty two, not ten, and really didn’t need all that wonderful feedback from randoms at all, ever.

Not even a, okay, just a little bit.

But not now.

Definitely not now. The cop’s partner, who was the one not driving, had poked her head past her partner’s shoulder and was currently giving him a little wave, despite the frown on the driver’s face.

‘Hellooooo,’ Hans crooned, giving her a mouthful of shining white teeth to admire.

The constable in the driver’s seat did not look impressed. He glanced at Hans then looked back at the road pointedly, before glancing at him again.

Hans sighed. God, even the police were boring.

Who knew? Apparently, everyone did but him… and the sweet little police officer who was giving him a very pretty smile from the passenger seat of … He slammed on his brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of him, the patrol car sailed past him without the driver giving him the finger at all, and Hans came to a complete halt.

‘God I hate Monday,’ he muttered.

He didn’t get home ’til two p.m.

There were actually many reasons why Hans didn’t like Mondays but this afternoon’s reason was all the noise coming from the top of the hill.

He’d already said goodbye to Jake’s tree early that morning, but decided, perhaps when the man in the whatever-it-was, which was extremely loud, had knocked off and gone home, he’d see what else had been destroyed in the name of progress.

Hans laughed at himself. He’d never been too interested in the past about why things like construction sites were done a certain way, but in the last two years (possibly around the time he’d found out he occasionally turned into a large, brown and slightly terrifying dog), he had felt more connected to nature (for what were fairly obvious reasons, not all of them being the fact it was Monday).

He adjusted the flea collar under his shirt as he sat on his long back verandah and sipped on an espresso.

‘Wankers,’ he said to no one in particular, and tried not to lift a leg and scratch himself under the chin. Growling, he stood, opened the french doors, and grumbled his way inside.

He’d pulled off his paisley tie earlier, thrown it over the back of the couch, stripped himself of the ridiculous (yet extremely cool) brown leather shoes which he’d left halfway down the hall and now, simply because he didn’t want to sit out the back and watch trees being knocked over, decided to pick it up and toss it all into the very long walk-through robe thing, and check himself out in the floor to ceiling mirror he’d purchased for himself on Boxing Day.

‘You’re a hotty and don’t forget it,’ he said to himself, very seriously, and didn’t burst into flames once — then wondered why he thought that might be a thing. After all, bursting into flames was not conducive to getting a new girlfriend, was it? No, not at all. ‘I like you,’ he added, refusing to back down from the mantra he’d uttered at his reflection every day for the past two years.

His reflection did not reply, and Hans felt rather pleased by that.

He wondered which restaurant he’d go to tonight. The local places were all friendly and simple, and he was pretty sure none of them had whipped garlic butter.

Hans pulled out his phone, opened the Maps ap, shut his eyes, and began twirling a finger over the screen. he refused to think about the heated discussion he’d had with bloody Nora earlier that day on why restaurants should be closed on Mondays. These were different kinds of restaurants to his, and that’s all there was to it.

Tonight, he’d be dining at “Carbaretta’s”, who apparently did seafood. He hoped it wasn’t too oily.

Chapter One — Untitled

Hans Endersans was not a happy man. He’d been to one too many “bored” meetings, as he called them, and each and every restaurant manager felt exactly the damn same to him. They were pretty, pretentious people, made to carry a tray of Cognac, or a semi-inexpensive bottle of wine, made to greet people at the door with a smile and a slight bow, made to pick on the harried, sweating kitchen hands and argue with the greatly feared chefs of the seven restaurants Hans now owned.

Not a one of them seemed to have the brain capacity for new ideas.

Apparently, thought Hans, this is my fault for not “allowing” them to sprout their rubbish into my ears for hours on end, or listen to their thoughts on a new type of whipped garlic butter, or allow them to be ashamed when I’ve told them it’s all been done before, but ….

‘Sure,’ he said loudly to the severely gelled woman at the other end of the table. ‘Whatever you think.’

She smiled and picked at the tablecloth in front of her with fingernails Hans would never have allowed in a commercial kitchen. ‘I’d like the thoughts of my fellow managers if you don’t mind, Hans.’

The other managers, who knew Hans far better than she did, held their breaths and leaned back, or held their breaths and slumped down, or held their breaths and …. He glanced at the man closest to him. It did kinda look like he was trying to dig a hole into the carpet with one patented shoe. Hans frowned, and tried not to let his baser instincts get the better of him.

There are no bones under the table. There are no bones under the table. The scowl deepened and he rolled his shoulders, trying not to glare at the ridiculous woman with the gelled back hair.

‘I beg your pardon,’ he asked politely.

‘I said,’ said the woman, not completely understanding everyone else’s reaction. ‘That I would like the opinions of my –‘

There came a chorous of positive responses arounfd the table.

‘Absolutely.’

‘Oh yes, what a wonderful thought.’

‘I am in complete agreement.’

‘Never would have come up with that one myself,’ said one participant, who nearly swallowed his own tongue after Hans shot a glance at him. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Too much?’

Hans tried not to grin. It had been a sarcastic comment, but he should not have found it amusing. He cleared his throat.

‘There we have it,’ he said, waving a hand in the air. ‘Are we done yet? I’m hungry. How about you bring one of your whipped garlic butter whatsits in and we’ll destroy it with some lovely crunchy bread rolls, and then you can all go back to what you should actually be doing and take the fucking day off because it’s Monday.’

‘What does Monday have to do with, well, anything?. The soon-to-be-fired restaurant manager asked from botox injected lips.

Hans raised an eyebrow. ‘How long did you say you’d worked in Hospitality,’ he asked. Did he really need to go back and check her resume?

Her mouth closed with a slightly gummy sound them popped open again. This woman had a death wish. ‘I know, traditionally we don’t open on Monday’s Hans, but…’

‘There’s a reason for that Nora. Tell me what the reason is,’ he said.

‘The reason?’

‘Yes, the reason. Tell me the reason we don’t usually run our restaurants on a Monday.’

‘Well, traditionally, we wouldn’t make much money I suppose, but –‘

‘You suppose?’

‘Yes.’ She sat up straighter on her vinyl covered chair, if that was possible. She’d already looked like there was a carrot stuck up her arse. Now it looked like it was a cobweb broom with an extendable handle.

‘Well,’ said Hans. Let’s just suppose I like making money, okay? Let’s just suppose that, shall we? Let’s not kick “tradition” in the arse, just because you have come up with this “new” and “amazing” whipped garlic butter which has never been done in the past, ever, apparently, by anyone else at all, and think about this sensibly for a change.’ He stood up. ‘I like making money, Nora. I do not like losing money. I also like to give my staff the occasional day off. How about you?’

Finally, it looked like the woman had grown a brain. ‘Oh.’

‘Oh, indeed. Speaking of staff, when you’ve pulled that one out of your backside, perhaps you’d like to come and visit me in my private office and we’ll discuss how much you like your career.’

‘Let’s see how those crunchy bread rolls are going, shall we,’ said the man with the patented shoes.

‘Let’s,’ said Hans.

Chapter One to be continued…

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.