life

Chapter Seven — UNTITLED

He woke to darkness and a brief glimpse of a falling star over the back fence. It was blessedly quiet. Hans lay there for a while, letting his senses come to terms with the fact he was awake. The distant freeway held no noise of speeding traffic, and the skies were silent.

It must be Sunday.

He didn’t have to go into the restaurant until at least two p.m. He rose from the wooden floor of the back verandah and stretched, not feeling in the least bit stiff (which was unusual considering where he’d slept) and headed for the shower.

He’d definitely be going for a run this morning. He had time, he certainly didn’t have any physical issues, and it might even clear the brain fog he seemed to be experiencing.

Hans had to admit, yesterday had been one of the most seriously dumb-downed days he’d ever experienced. It was all fine and good he had issues writing words, which was an actual condition thanks very much, but having that that transfer to his mind had been slightly terrifying. He never wanted to sound that stupid again, and he was pretty sure no one else wanted him to either. It was not conducive to good leadership skills if one couldn’t pronounce words with more than four letters. and it was not who he was, that’s for sure.

Going for an early morning run would clear one of the F’s the lizard had been talking about from his head. Exercise would be a good way of getting rid of any excess “energy” so hopefully he wouldn’t want to kill anyone today. He thought it likely worth the experiment of trying it out.

First, he needed to find himself a pair of shoes he didn’t mind ruining on the dirt track.

The shoe finding thing proved slightly difficult as all his shoes were expensive, and two pairs of his running shoes were white. Hans settled on a grey pair that didn’t look too great but were extremely functional. After all, it was still dark and no one in their right minds would be following a decently sized guy down a bush track just to check out his shoes.

Although, he thought to himself, one just never knows nowdays.

He realised, as he was walking out the front door, that another part of himself, which thought it was smarter than him but wasn’t, had decided to hang around with him on the off chance he got himself into trouble. He hoped it was the dog part, because if it were another part he didn’t know about he didn’t know what it was, and the dog part of himself had pretty good instincts for this sort of thing.

Hans jogged down the footpath to the nearest bush track. He much preferred running on flat surfaces when the sun had not yet risen. There’d be less chance of turning an ankle. The early morning air smelled sweet and new, and a faint breeze ruffled the hair on his head as he turned onto the track. Shapes were beginning to form in the pre-dawn light which made it a little easier to navigate, but this would be the time of kangaroos and crawling creatures, so he really needed to make sure he didn’t go chasing one off into the bush.

Not that I ever contemplated chasing one off into the bush before but… I really don’t want to hurt myself… Or them, he thought belatedly.

This is supposed to be a good day, he shouted at himself two minutes later as he spotted a dark bouncing shape and went into overdrive. Stop it now, stop it now.

It did seem the other part of him he’d brought with himself this morning had a certain amount of brain power as, instead of running off under the trees, he took off down the track as fast as his legs could carry him.

Which, apparently, was very damn fast.

Well, this is interesting, said the lizard in a very reasonable tone that he couldn’t react to because he was tearing up this track like he’d never done before. You’re definitely not a greyhound.

Then what the hell am I? He was pretty sure he’d just done a broggie around a corner, and was also pretty damn sure humans, well most of them but not him apparently, didn’t usually skid around corners like he’d just done.

Not a running, hunting dog, said the lizard. Her eyes appeared next to him like twin golden lanterns. I would say more of a protection type dog. You should slow down because you will run out of energy too quickly otherwise.

Easier said than done, thought Hans. Any more roos’ turn up and I’ll just do this again. He flared his nostrils in what was a most unbecoming way. I think I smell something.

Ah yes well that makes far more sense. The floating eyes beside his head looked at him and blinked oddly, almost like another set of vertical eyelids were under the first pair.

Hans slowed down quite abruptly. For a moment, just a short moment but a moment nevertheless, he’d felt like he might be very tasty to something a lot bigger than himself. Oddly enough, he still felt safe, which happened to be a very strange feeling indeed. He wondered if saying he’d smelt something had set of some kind of natural instinct in the lizard, which made sense because she seemed to be everywhere at once, and there was only one “she” that he knew about who could do that, and “she” didn’t exactly have a sense of what was humanly right or wrong, as far as he knew. She just “was”.

By the time he’d got back to his front door and checked his time, he’d shaved at least five minutes off his best run, and felt like he needed to apologise to someone or something. It also felt like he’d cheated himself out of something that might have been a lot more enjoyable if he hadn’t had dog-like tendencies.

Still, there would be no point in mistaking himself for someone who gave a shit because he didn’t. He just hoped he’d left some bacon in the fridge because, aside from the fact it would be easy enough to cook if he could convince himself to leave it in the pan long enough, he really didn’t want to try to find a decent place open this early on a Sunday morning.

After that, he’d have to figure out what else he was gonna do with himself until two pm when he needed to go to work. He had a lot of time between now and then, and he had no idea what to fill that time with.

He decided he’d visit Solway.

to be continued…

Chapter Five – Untitled

Hans felt pretty sure he hadn’t slept last night.

He wasn’t absolutely positive, but he was pretty sure. There were crunchy brown leaves attached to his dress socks, which he was still wearing as he sat on the edge of the king-sized bed that morning, deciding what to do with his life.

He had a vague recollection of chasing kangaroos on the crown land quite close to his home, and another vague recollection of not being too good at it.

The last time he’d seen Bart and Solway in person they had discussed exactly what kind of creatures they resembled and Bart had given him a broad description of himself (that being Hans, not Bart) being large, stocky and hairy with a boofhead and big teeth.

Hans scrubbed at his eyes. Being large and stocky as a dog had not really transferred itself into his human form. He was tallish, yeah, good shoulders, yeah, but not exactly stocky. More lean, in his opinion.

He undid the dress shirt he was still wearing and took off the collar. Possibly a little too lean, which was likely due to the stress he’d been putting himself under lately. His mother, bless her, would have been extolling the virtues of eating well, right about now, because she’d always said, “You need a little extra weight, Hans because if you get sick at least you’ve got something to lose.”

He looked at himself in the full-length mirror on the way through to the bathroom. He didn’t have too much to lose.

He’d have to make himself a huge breakfast if he had any food in the fridge, and if he didn’t have any food in the fridge (which would be highly likely as he didn’t seem to have time to do normal things and go to the supermarket), he’d have to wait until he got to the restaurant and ask Fennel to cook him something because he wasn’t wasting any more money on ordering in.

Maybe this was why he’d been feeling out of sorts lately, he thought, staring at himself. There was hardly a skerrick of spare fat on him at all. He still had muscle, but that would be disappearing soon if he didn’t start being careful.

‘I would not survive in the wild, regardless of how big a dog I think I am, because there is nothing to effing survive on.’

He decided maybe, just maybe, he’d go to the supermarket before he went to work and buy at least two dozen eggs, a kilo of bacon, and whatever else he could find that would help put some fat back on himself.

But first, he’d be having a very warm and lovely shower and try to figure out how crunchy brown leaves got in his underwear.

Half an hour later he was on the phone.

‘Fennel, I’m not coming in today.’

‘Okay?’

‘Put Gretal in charge of the house.’

‘Okay? What about the books?’

‘Can you do the books?’

‘It’s been a while, but I’ll scrape by. It will be a bastard getting prep ready, but I’m going to need to trust these kids at some point, I spose.’

‘Have we got any reservations?’

‘Not too many, no. Most will be walk-in’s, as per usual,’ Fennel puffed.

Hans could almost see him flying (not literally) around the restaurant looking at everything as he spoke. He’d seen Fennel move quickly before, which was quite exciting to watch when someone was as “healthy” as Fennel was.

‘Take your time, old man. I don’t want you having a heart attack.’

‘Easier said than done,’ muttered Fennel. ‘You’ve kind of sprung this on me, Hans.’

‘We need more staff, we need more chefs, and we need more everything,’ grumbled Hans.

‘Not really a possibility when we don’t have the hours to put said staff on, or the turnover to… Anyway.’ There came the sound of paper rustling and Fennel sighed. ‘Okay. Let me sort this out, Hans. I need to make some calls.’

‘Can I trust you with this?’ Hans opened the fridge and grunted to himself. Empty, just as he thought.

‘Of course you can. If you couldn’t, you’d be here by now,’ Fennel said crankily. ‘What time do you have the new girl coming in?’

‘Same time as everyone else. She’s not special.’ Hans crossed his fingers, which he seemed to be having a habit of doing lately.

‘I’m starting to think you’re trying to avoid her, Hans.’

‘I don’t trust her, Fennel. That would be a good reason not to avoid her, don’t you think?’

‘Fair enough. Okay. Do what you need to do, and don’t worry. The place will still be standing when you get back.’

‘Good to know.’ He hung up.

After he’d fed himself, which he would be doing as soon as he got back from the shops, he’d start advertising for his replacement. Things could not go on the way they currently were, they were heading into what would traditionally be the quieter season, and he needed to be getting some new ideas happening to keep these restaurants open and thriving.

He just had to figure out how to do it, and for that he needed time… And food.

Before he left the house, he made himself a note and left it sitting on his laptop.

“Think about transferring staff between restaurants”, he’d written. The way he’d set things up, this should be entirely doable.

^^_____O_____^^

Hans decided to call his web-developer from the car.

‘Zed,’ he said to the bluetooth connection.

He waited for at least twenty seconds, which just didn’t seem right. The man was all data and logistics and making websites work. Why the f*ck didn’t he have a phone built into his brain?

‘No,’ said the man on the other end.

‘Is that how you always answer your phone? What the fuck took you so long,’ Hans demanded.

‘It’s morning. I don’t do morning.’ A very large yawn came through the cars speakers. ‘So, no.’

‘You’re doing morning today.’

‘No I’m not. You don’t pay me enough.’

‘What do I pay you?’

‘Not enough. That should answer your question. So, whatever it is you want me to do, because I’m sure it’s another one of your hair-brained schemes, no. That’s all. Bye.’

The line went silent.

‘What the actual fuck,’ Hans muttered to himself. ‘Zed,’ he shouted.

If anything, the man was smart. He picked up the call. ‘What.’

‘You’re awake now, right?’

‘I’m trying not to be.’

‘Where do you live?’

None of your fucking business. Why?’

‘I need to run some ideas by you.’

‘I fucking knew it. Are you buying me breakfast?’

‘It’s half past nine.’ Hans looked at the passenger seat. Okay, so everything sitting there was food for breakfast. He decided not to mention that.

‘So, are you buying me breakfast or not,’ Zed said.

Hans pulled into his driveway. ‘I can make you breakfast.’ I thought I wasn’t mentioning that, he thought.

‘I thought you couldn’t cook,’ said Zed, who seemed capable of thinking too.

‘I can when I’m not being hounded by crazed chefs and hungry sisters, which I shouldn’t be explaining to you, Zed. Do you know where I live?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.’

‘How far away are you?’

‘Not far enough.’ Zed sighed. ‘Give me an hour, and don’t eat anything before I get there. Also, you’re paying for fuel.’

‘I am?’

‘Yes. Like I said, you don’t pay me enough.’ He hung up.

Hans decided not to call him back again. He got out of the car, looked down at the tracksuit pants he was currently wearing, wondered when the hell he bought those, decided it was okay, and fine, and okay, unlocked the front door, went into his kitchen, and wondered where the hell he kept his frypans.

It took him thirty minutes to figure out how to crack an egg without getting shell in the pan. By that point, Hans had gone through half a dozen eggs, which was just fucking marvellous considering he’d heard there was an egg shortage.

He thought about that for a few minutes. The fact there was an actual egg shortage could really mess with his restaurants. He made a note to speak with his suppliers and see if they were having any issues. Maybe he should offer them extra…

peacekeeping mission said a voice in his head.

He dropped another egg. ‘Fuck.’

Not that I’m aware of hello fullstop how are you I see I am turning up at good times comma fullstop because today we are going to practise your tendencies to turn into a dog yay you fullstop exclamation mark

‘I really don’t need this right now. But, while we’re at it, how come you’re inside my house?

insects fullstop how about you get some fleabombs

Hans growled and realised his perspective had changed somewhat as he was now looking up at the counter rather than down at it. He wagged his tail. Maybe he didn’t need to cook after all. He licked the broken egg off the floor.

Something was in the backyard. He trotted to the glass door and stared out, nose to the pane.

‘Cat,’ he barked. ‘Cat-cat-cat.’

I really need to learn how to control this.

That’s the idea, the lizard replied.

‘Lizard. Lizaaaaaard. Lizard under a bush. Lizaaaaaaard,’ shouted Hans. Jesus Christ he thought. This is ridickleeows. Oh-noh.

Exactly said the lizard. And the longer you comma personally comma are in that form the worse your thinking will bec space pause You will lose the ability to pronounce words correctly comma to think intricate thoughts comma and to see in colour fullstop This is your destiny as a dog

Then I don’t like it, thought Hans. Turn me back.

You need to turn yourself back breath You need to learn how to control it pause I am surprised you had not thought of this earlier very well then that’s your single simple lesson for the day Now you will realise how to do this you will not have so many urges to fornicate with everything that moves comma if that is a t all possible as it seems to be in your nature anyway fullstop period Stranger at the door

Hans stalked down the hallway and sniffed deeply at the bottom of the door. He let out a low warning growl and smelled fear and it was good.

‘Took your time,’ he said opening the door to Zed.

Zed peered past him. ‘You got a dog?’

‘No? I have way too much going on in my life to own a dog. Don’t be ridicklee ou….’ Hans stopped himself. ‘Daft.’

‘You sure, man?’ Zed didn’t look very happy. ‘I really don’t like dogs, and that thing sounded big.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Hans patted the smaller man on the shoulder. ‘Come in. Let’s see if I can feed you, and we’ll talk about adding a staff portal to the website.’

‘Oh for fucksake,’ Zed groaned, seemingly forgetting all about the so-called dog. ‘Don’t burn my breakfast. I’m gonna be here for a while.’

Hans tried not to sniff his arse. Something like that would require a very long explanation he was not willing to give.

‘I’ll make you a coffee first,’ he said as Zed unslung his laptop bag and sat at the table. because that’s what you do when you invite people into your home you fucking fool, he thought to himself. Not greeting people by sniffing their fucking arses. ‘How do you have it?’

‘White, no sugar,’ said Zed.

‘On it.’

Chapter Six coming soon.

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

DON’T BRING YOUR KIDS HERE

without an adult who can read and write English. This is not a free-for-all, it’s a personal blog. If you or your child is upset by swearing, this is not the place to be. If you or your child is upset by my personal experiences, this is not the place to be. If you have a husband or wife who you think represents a horse, check your eyesight, because horses are real, live animals. Have a nice day.

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.

Sentinel

“Is it an African Elephant or an Indian Elephant?”

When I was a kid and interested in all sorts of things, I learnt a little bit about two types of elephants. Back then, the above is what they were called. I assume the names have changed now, but there was one very clear way to tell the difference.

The size of its ears.

The Indian elephant has much smaller ears.

I guess, if one looked at the map of the world online, or were lucky enough to own an Atlas, like we did when I was a kid, one would see that reflected in the size and shape of the two different areas. One is bigger, one is smaller. Unsurprisingly, as in the size of the elephants ears, India is smaller.

Now, as I was not born in either of those countries, rather one of quite a unique shape and size, I can’t compare my smaller ears to someone else’s. I also do not pretend to be African or Indian. I’m Australian.

I have a little voice in my head saying, ‘Just remember to keep calm.’ I’d say that would be a reflection of a certain amount of my heritage, but not all of it. You see, I’m not quite sure where the other side comes from.

As I have said many times in the past though, ‘Now is not the time to go jumping on your white charger and go galloping off into the sunset. People may get hurt.’ Life is a jigsaw, and sometimes parts of the jigsaw are missing. It is just the way of it.

When someone, or something, has passed away, it takes a very long time to get over it, if at all. The memories still linger, and occasionally we still allow ourselves to grieve. What we choose to do with those memories, though, is up to us. I don’t feel I need to repeat other things written in the past over and over again, if it has already been said.

What I do like to do, though, is have the opportunity to hone my skills. If that opportunity is taken away, the skills remain, not fresh, but struggling. Some people are particularly good at choosing words immediately. Some people like to carefully pick their words so the exact thoughts and ideas are presented in such a fashion no one gets the wrong idea.

I prefer to be methodical in my approach to things, personally. When I “fly by the seat of my pants”, I do it through using all my previous experiences. I do not believe I have ever jumped into something without first checking the depth.

Of course, when one is not given a depth, and one is pushed, issues arise. Problems can occur. Accidents can happen. ‘Sink, or swim’ is not an adage in my book. ‘Watch, and learn,’ is.

When I write, ‘The only way to do it is to fly,’ I am not referring to leaping off a cliff with no thought for my personal safety. I’m talking about hard work, and determination, and the wish to make sure things are done properly. If I were to ‘jump off a cliff’ in any way, shape, or form, I would be making sure I had numerous safety measures in place, I will have double-checked and triple checked things myself, and not simply relied on other people’s say so.

This is often not the case when one is surfing the internet.

There is so much misinformation on the internet, so many different points of view and unhinged, unreliable personal opinions not based on fact, it becomes extremely difficult for someone (or something) with no experience to navigate. What is truth? What is fact? Do I rely on the amount of things that say the same thing? Are they from different places in the world? Different sources? What does history say about these things?

If that isn’t working for me, the only thing I can rely upon is experience. If I am unable to have the experience, I then need to rely on a source who has had the experience. Then, I must assume they aren’t telling me lies. How do I do that? I don’t know. How do I discern the difference between fact and fiction for the fun of it? I don’t know.

So, what I do, is draw upon my own personal experience and hope that not too much has changed. I carefully weigh up my options, check and double check my safety gear, and then decide if I am going to fly. I will not let myself be weighed down by indecision once I have made this choice. My choice does not change. I see it through, because I am the one to have made this choice.

This month (February) has many meanings to many people. To myself personally, it is pretty important. A lot of very special things happened for myself and my family in February. I am here to make sure it all goes correctly, as much as I am able.

After all, as a mum, that’s my job.

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.