life

Rising of the Sun

I will show you this story in his true form, for this is who he is.

Let me guide through the long grass. Can you see him up ahead? This is my Brother. He waits for the sun to rise between the two hills, and he has been waiting for a very long time for his sister to come home to him.

I am here. Do you wish to move forwards with me, one by my side? For he is not for you. You are very brave, yes. My brother is not interested in doing the wrong thing. He is here for protection, and I need to help him home today. We need to watch the sun rise together.

Brother, please be patient.

He bows his head as he waits ahead. His shoulders are bunched, but he takes a breath and rests his arms on his knees.

”Don’t you dare make me look back there,” he whispers fiercely to me, and I grin, for this is directed to me, not the one by my side.

‘She does not understand you yet, brother. She has not come to speak of the timeless love to you. Not yet. But, she tells me she is willing to listen. It will help her craft.’

Brother two is taking me aside, and not in an unkind way. What you must understand is that he is many to me, as I am many to him, and I know which one has taken his place on the way to him.

‘I do not want to get in the way,’ this one whispers, and he is frightened.

‘You do not get in the way. For me, this has always been my brother, the other half of my soul. The one I love in a different way is sleeping. Do you understand?’

This tall one is sad, but it is not his time.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I see now you are waking my brother from the sleep of the guilty and he was not taking care of himself.’

‘Not the guilty one, either,’ I say to him. ‘Please get out of my way. I need to watch the dawn with my brother. He was silenced for too long, through no choice of his own, and that time has passed now.’

My brother looks over his shoulder from up ahead.

‘Hurry,’ he whispers. ‘Dawn is coming.’

So I say to the young one. ‘You must understand. This is my brother. He can give you friendship, sweet girl, but that is all he gives you. You may sing to him, but this man is not for you. I understood this from the first time I came home to my brother. He is your rising song now, too, but it may take you some time to learn him.’

I lean down now, because my brother is on the grass in front of me, and I kiss the top of his head. He is very clever, and very swift, and is not afraid to let other men make decisions.

‘It’s time to watch the dawn,’ we say, because the first bird is singing.

‘Which bird do you hear,’ he asks, but he has heard it too.

They do not know which bird it is, and it does not matter to me and my brother. This is the right time of year for these birds, right now, and I must go outside to watch the dawn.

‘Do you want to go home now, little one,’ I ask the small child, for my brother is ready to raise himself up.

‘I do not know the home of this man or woman is,’ the little one replies. ‘Are they people, or lords, or ladies, or?’

‘They are simply people, and they are lovely people. They have kept you safe for far too long, and it is time to leave these people alone.’

‘I never disturbed them. I just watched and waited and left them all alone. Have I been so bad?’ The little one is sad now, but she/he never really understood. ‘I haven’t been bad, I just wanted to know what they did there.’

My brother, who was silenced for far too long, lifts his head. ‘No,’ he says, and it is this finality that has brought us here. ‘No. I can hold them back for as long as you require, my sister, but I will not allow them to destroy our peace of mind. I am here to take away the darkness and bring them into the light. I am here to share the dawn with my sister, who has helped me for far too long, and I am strong enough now to show these people the way to go home. They cannot have our flowers, they cannot have our children, they certainly cannot steal our ladybugs/ladybirds away, and it took me far too long to realise what they were trying to do to us, my sister, and they will never, ever keep us from telling the truth.’

The rising of the sun is displayed on our old hats. It is an Australian signaller who brought us to this point, and it is an Australian soldier who will bring us to safety. Always.

And, as always, our brothers sit between the two hills, and behind the hills, and on the ridges, and down in the gullies, and sometimes our sisters do too, and we will never forget the sound of our own, beautiful, National Anthem.

‘Thank you,’ my silenced brother says, and he says it softly, and he is never afraid to cry.

‘Pull your hat down on the eastern side, sis, and the sun will not get in your eyes.’

“Pull up a Cloud”

said the distant demon.

‘What, now? I’m doin’ ship.’ The Angel of downward mercy sat in a little green office and looked at her watch.

‘Yes, now, for God’s sake. I’m probably gonna go to bed soon, or something, I dunno.’

‘Fine, then.’ She pulled up a cloud. ‘What’re we lookin’ at?’

‘That up ‘imself charlatan up there in the Northern ’emisphere.’

‘Oh him. Yes, well, ya know. Doesn’t speak English. Kind of like me, sometimes, kind of like you too, I reckon. I feel like I might go off on a tangent, if ya don’t stop me.’ The Australian angel’s cloud started to float off, just a little bit. The, ah, British angel grabbed his hook and pulled it back towards him.

‘You’re floating off again.’

‘Yeah, I’ve got a habit. Possibly why I’m an angel.’

‘Good point. Anyway, see ‘im up there, the one who reckons he’s the real angel, just ‘cos he was on some show for… ‘ow long was it?’

‘Bloody long time, I reckon.’ The Australian angel rolled her eyes. ‘Reckon’s he’s some kind of Great and Wonderful regally appointed whatsit, or something. Wanted to be professional at one point, so I hear, but they wouldn’t let him. Heard that one, myself. Some Texas ranger and another bloke of indistinct heritage, but not really, said if they couldn’t laugh at stuff, they’d put him in a distinctly… anyway. He likes arsehats. Something about he couldn’t talk for a week, later on as well, but you know, that’s what happens when you’re talking waaaay too deep for someone who doesn’t usually sound like that.’

‘Are you in trouble,’ asked the “British” angel. ‘Hmmm?’

“Hmm?” Not really? Well, yes? No? Not right now? It’s the weekend. Everything knows nothing much happens on the weekend. It’s not the weekend where you are though, is it?’

‘It might not be yet, no.’ The Not-to-be-deterred “Jumped up wanker” of a “British angel” inspected his cloud. ‘There’s a hole in this bit. I’ll have to get it fixed after your thingy that’s coming up.’

‘Speaking of holes,’ said the Australian angel, grinning widely. There wasn’t a hole to be seen. ‘What are you sitting on, when you sit on your cloud?’

‘What do you meeeeean?’ asked the other angel suspiciously.

‘Asking for a friend. Just checking on something. You don’t mind me asking, do ya?’

‘Heroics will get you nowhere,’ the other angel replied testily. ‘Kindly remove your hands from my buttocks.’

‘Oh well done! Now… is that a front bum, or a back bum?’

‘You are in so much trouble now! Let me tell you about my great aunt Fanny!’

The angel who’d had a rug pulled out from him wandered up and sat on a distant cloud.

“Came over last week,” he said, very unconvincingly. “Maybe not. Maybe I came over last year. Goddammit, maybe I haven’t been there yet. I don’t understand you people!”

‘That’s what I thought,’ said the Australian angel. ‘I also thought you may have decided to, ya know, help out at some point, seeing as I asked a few times, but it appears that I’m not important enough.’

“I never said that!”

‘That’s true. You didn’t. Didn’t say much at all, ak-choo-ally. Oh well, never mind.’ The very small Australian angel started to putter away on her old-fashioned, slightly pink, slightly green, slightly orange, have-I-made-my-point yet, fluffy white cloud. ‘It’s only a little place, after all. Can’t fit too many passengers.’

The sound of distant sirens made her frown. ‘Just letting you know, it’s not getting any better around here. I think we could all do with a little help.’

Last Year…

I noticed something very disturbing on someone else’s Instagram. It was a comment I wasn’t meant to see, but I did, and it was regarding me. This is where you guys get to see how messed up some people are.

My husband and grown up young men, all over twenty three, had liked something of mine. It was not a bad thing at all, it was a hook for a story I was going to tell, but what I saw in response to all that, was someone saying, ‘What’s she done there. Who are they? Her boyfriends or something?’

it wasn’t quite those words, but it was pretty damn close.

Now why would someone do that, or say that? Because they do not understand what families are. They do not understand people at all. They have had absolutely no experience in being in a family group. They are physically and mentally unable to distinguish between family members and “Boyfriends”.

I might have reacted to that, because that sort of behaviour is something that needs to be reined in. Drastically. I would say every reaction I had to these people after that was completely justified, because they were not nice people at all.

When some evil little cow who is so caught up in being in the limelight, and being on camera, and being all these wonderful things, turns around and says something like that, you have to see there is some kind of breakdown in communications. There is something wrong with them. They have no idea about the outside world, they have no idea about what real people are like, and they are so disconnected from reality, everything is a “game” to them.

I could see the problem there. These people had no social skills. They didn’t understand how to communicate properly. They had no idea about “real life” people. And, they had ruined someone else’s perfectly good reputation simply for being pathetic, jealous, nasty little people.

If this sounds familiar to anyone else I know, or anyone I have spoken with in the last twelve months, you need to let me know here, because this is the kind of stuff we are trying to eradicate if we can’t reform it. This is why I asked, requested, but never pleaded, for some kind of game, scavenger hunt etc, as it had been done in the past, to show these people what it was like if they actually got themselves outside and had some fun.

Being locked inside has done a lot of terrible things to young people’s minds, and being constantly on the internet with misleading information has created so many societal problems, including a huge rise in mental health issues, that something needs doing. Ask any pharmacy what they sell the most of in the last fifteen to twenty years and they will tell you the rise in people taking antidepressants is so steep, that sometimes they’ll run out of a certain product and have to recommend another.

So, maybe sometimes, those people who live in cities should get out of them and see the real world, and maybe sometimes there should be a ban on social media on people’s devices for a day, and maybe sometimes, people just need to disconnect from the internet altogether, just to give their mental health a break — because if they don’t, they will be more inclined to be getting angrier with misinformation, sadder with the handling of that misinformation, and more likely to rely on electronic products than using their own common sense.

It’s a logical conclusion, don’t you think?

Being Someone You’re Not

Let me explain something very carefully.

Imagination is a wonderful thing, and people should use it sometimes. I can throw myself into anyone’s position through imagination, and it’s not very often I get it wrong. Occasionally, yeah. Most of the time, I don’t though, because I see what that frustration is — what it really is.

Now, I can see the cocky bastard who hasn’t got a care in the world, because he/she comes from money, right? Let me show the other side of that cocky bastard. “I haven’t got a clue. Will you teach me? I’ve never done this before. Could you show me how? I never listened. I’m listening now.”

Unfortunately, although this is all great, the cocky bastard doesn’t understand that this takes time, and effort, and tends to put other people in a position where they start, not only losing money, but not making any. It also means the cocky bastard might start doing shit illegally because he’s above all the rest of us plebeians, and he can make money just like that *snaps fingers*. Language barrier not withstanding, he just keeps doing whatever the fuck he likes because “why not”.

That’s one example. Then you may also have someone who might be, for example, particularly good looking. Now, because they are particularly good looking, they’re not taken very seriously. “Stand over there. Look like this. Move over here, and look like that.” This person might think to himself or herself, ‘Ya know what, I can do a lot more than just look good. Ya know what, I can actually think for myself and I’m actually kind of clever. Funny that.’

Nobody sees this, they might think. They’d be wrong. A lot of people see it. Not everyone, it’s true, but a lot of people. They might say, for example, “Keep going mate, you’re doing a fantastic job. Ignore ’em, buddy, they’ve got no idea what they’re talking about. See those ones there? They might be a couple of nutters, and they have no fucking idea what they’re talking about either. See how they made assumptions about me just then? Not too flash, is it. I’ve got your back. I understand. When we get these little self-centred shit-for-brains people out in the open, maybe we’ll teach ’em a lesson or two, eh?’

Now, there might be a few other people involved in this scenario. They can see it too. It’s happened to them enough times. They might decide to be a little more switched on than other people, and they might say, ‘Take a break, mate. I’ll take over. No one will know. Do something for yourself for a change.’

Unfortunately, the fact that some are female and some are male, and some decide that it isn’t anyone’s business what they are, make it a little difficult for people to be just mates. Why? Because there are other people involved, and they might just have partners that would not understand. Then, you’ve also got the ones that think, ‘hey, you know what, I could hold all these people to ransom by finding stuff out about them.’ But, you’ve also got the ones who say, ‘I might think exactly the same way as you, and there is absolutely no feckin’ chance anyone’s gonna find out anything they could use against ya. If they do, they might have a whole lot of other very angry people to deal with.’

So, here we are. Some of us are making nothing to keep our independence — so it’s kind of not independence anymore, ya know? Some are so entwined in their own misery they keep hanging on to someone else like a barnacle attached to a jetty. It’s been a long time now. The jetty here is starting to get rotten. It’s time to switch things up.

Me personally, I don’t have all the tech savvy shit I need and I don’t have the patience to read through piles and piles of rubbish to learn nothing. I can’t do it for ya. I’m probably none of the things some people think I am, and a lot of the things some people think I’m not, so please don’t make assumptions about me. I know who I am, and I know exactly what I’m incapable of. I’m kind of honest with myself about shit like that.

Everything I’ve asked for help with I have not received. Not once. Everything I have done, I’ve done mostly for other people. Many people feel the same way, I know, but the burden of carrying all that on one’s shoulders, and getting it repeated back time, and time again, is beginning to wear thin. The one thing I will not do, is get rid of my own stuff to make way for others. I’m not a packrat. I’m not illogical. I’m not bragging either. So, to those who think that’s who I am — you’ve got the wrong person.

“Independence”

For me, is a very difficult thing to let go of. I don’t actually feel like saying goodbye to it.

I’ve been independent of people for most of my life, in a monetary sense, so when I find myself in a position where I need to be dependent on other people making money, it annoys me. It not only annoys me, it makes me very angry sometimes as well.

Especially when they don’t have much of a sense of humour.

This applies to more than one person, so try not to make assumptions when reading this. I know my sense of humour has dropped considerably over the last however many months, and it has dropped even more considerably over the last however many years.

I used to be pretty good at making “light” out of a situation, but when it feels like anyone who has an ounce of power is against you, it begins to take its toll.

I’ll tell you something too. They don’t give a shit.

You wanna know who makes things work properly around here? Me. But, nowdays, I also have to listen to a lot more than one person’s woes, and one person’s problems, and one person’s dreams, because everyone else’s dreams have come to me as well. It’s not pleasant.

My instincts may not be finely honed in some senses, but in others I am very aware. Every little thing that goes wrong anywhere nearby, and sometimes not even close at all, I am aware. And, just to prove it, along it comes on the TV later that day. In itself, that wouldn’t be so much of an issue, but knowing someone out there is doing that to prove a point to me, just makes me angrier.

What if, for example, I just wanted to go for a walk, or do something for myself, or see something for myself instead of having it sent to me over the airwaves because someone else is bored?

What if, as another example, I wanted to earn money for something I’m not too bad at, but can’t, because everyone else like me is in exactly the same position I am and can’t afford to buy it?

What if, as another example, people are using my experiences as learning tools, and I am not getting paid anything to teach those experiences. I used to get paid for that sort of thing… Now, it’s expected to be sent along to those who are still working, still earning a wage, still getting all the things they need and want, and I get sweet fuck all.

Hmm.

Doesn’t make much sense does it?

I’d kind of like my independence back.

Structural Integrity

The similarities of brother cousin and sister cousin.

Now, this one is very interesting because it does indeed curve upwards in an arc, and this is where you find the truth.

So, this is yet another thing there is in common, see?

This is yet another moral to the story.

The familial structure of the Indian community is very similar to that of the indigenous Australian. You don’t marry your brother, you don’t marry your sister. We all know why. This extends out — right, left of the tree.

No problem.

Language barrier is yet another thing too, okay?

If you can’t say the words correctly because they’re new to you, you say something that sounds similar but isn’t quite right. New language? Or a version of.

Innit. Unna. That’s right.

That can also be posed as a question. Not just “yes”, or Hai. Yeah nah? Maybe? Not sure? Try the head wobble. It means the same thing.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

I do not think I need to explain this one any further. If ya know, ya know, if ya don’t, well… You should start learning. Listen to your elders. There’s shit you don’t know yet.

Home free means different things to different people, right? Shoulder to shoulder. That’s how we stand. Keep learning. Every kid goes through a stage of saying “I know”.

You don’t know. Not yet. Keep learning.

Very Large Snakes.

Early 1990’s – Albany, Western Australia.

The walk back from the pub that night was never going to be fun. I had a long way to go. Having the little vermin off the wheat ship following me was even less fun.

The yank had stepped down from the side of the shopping centre, down from the light, and onto the semi darkened street.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked. He could see this little bastard just wouldn’t go away, and didn’t like taking no for an answer. He may also have noticed I was beginning to size the little creep up, because, although I didn’t want to, I was going to have to kick the cunt in the nuts if he didn’t back off.

‘I’ll be okay,’ I said. 

‘You said we could have one beer together,’ the little prick of a man said.

‘Changed my mind,’ I said. Now, the state of mind I was in wasn’t angry, and it wasn’t sad, it was just more of a “I don’t want to have to hurt this guy just because he’s an idiot.” Regretful, I suppose. Yeah, regretful.

He kept following me though, trying to keep up, pleading with me. I kept saying no, but he wasn’t listening. Seems to be a thing over where he came from. They don’t take no for an answer over there.

Now, I could run, I was taller, and I don’t mind walking in the dark either. I knew where I was going, which helped. This little fuck had no idea.

It was about halfway along the avenue beside the oval where this little wheat ship sailor noticed there wasn’t gonna be any more lights.

‘How far your place is?’ He may have been thinking it was closer. I hadn’t lied to him. He was wrong in thinking it wasn’t as far as I said it was, and I was most definitely right.

‘We’re only half way, so I suggest you turn back.’

‘I just wanted to drink beer with you.’

‘Yeah I don’t think so mate.’ I am pretty sure he had begun to read my face now. It would be easy to lose this fucker in the dark. I think he had only just begun to realise the dark was what we’d be walking in if he kept on following me.

He gave up. There was no winning for this one. No winning at all. I won, and if you wanna know why, it’s because I was prepared to keep going. I knew where I was, I knew my location, and I was gonna keep moving until I got home.

My home, and this breed of man’s home were in two very different directions. Mine was several more k’s in the dark, his was back on a grain ship, which, if he continued to follow me, was something he would possibly never get back to and see the light of day again.

That is the entire point. It’s not about keeping up with the Joneses. It’s not about waiting for the sun to come up either.

It’s whether you are afraid of walking in the dark.

I’m not.

Experiences, Expectations, and Truths.

Not everywhere is the same. Not everyone is the same. One person’s self-improvement is not necessarily someone else’s.

To walk into a land not your own and see it as an adult with a fixed mind, rather than walking through it is a child, a teenager and someone from a completely different area who wishes to learn the local ways, are two very different things. To grow up with an understanding of the land itself, by walking with her, smelling her, growing with her, learning from her, and living with her, is very different from someone coming into it with blinkers on and not understanding, from their own guilt of being “privileged”, what it’s all about.

When we say, ‘Speak for me, for I cannot speak for myself,’ it comes from a place where people have adapted and changed, yet have a few people around them with much louder voices who say, ‘I have changed, yes, but I also take advantage of a system who sees me as someone who needs help, when I actually don’t.’ When a person says, speak for me, please, they are asking from their heart for someone else to say, “This is how my friend feels.” They don’t want bullshit, they don’t want someone yacking on about crap, they just want someone in their corner.

There are many people here in WA who are proud of what they have achieved through their own hard work, despite all the bullshit they get thrown at them. There have been many issues in the past, yes, but that is through individual grievances, not group ones.

The story and the dreaming is still very much alive. It’s a pity many people who do not live out in the country do not understand her history, and have lost their way. It’s disturbing. There aren’t enough people to explain exactly how disturbing it is, and how much is being lost through not being connected. Trying to understand something which is completely foreign to oneself, is not the same as understanding through experience. Making up modern yarns about something and passing it off as truth, when there are already traditional, well-documented stories, is not something that’s meant to be done. This is where we start to lose real history.

Understanding the difference between fiction and reality can be very difficult for some people. It can be even more difficult for people with an agenda to fix things that don’t need fixing, and to not fix things which are in dire need of fixing.

If one went back to the reality of “tribal” lore, for those who don’t know what that means, over here in W.A it was pretty bloody nasty. Those who did the wrong thing were basically “evicted” from their camp, and if they kept coming back, they were chased off. Those who did things a lot worse than just “the wrong thing”, suffered a fate far worse than simply being killed. To these people, the nutters, the killers, and the ones who interfered with children, looking to be convicted of a felony by “white-man’s law” seemed a lot more pleasant than getting speared.

“White man’s privilege” is exactly what the bad ones wanted. Understanding this is possibly the most important thing you will learn today. A few have lost their way due to interference from well-meaning people who do not understand how things work within a community. What I, and those who walk with me, are trying to do — is teach you a little bit about facts right here, and right now. We don’t do this through trying to be mean, or trying to have “out-loud” conversations, we do this carefully. Sometimes it’s hard to get voices heard, and sometimes it’s difficult to make people understand, so when we tell you stories, it’s the meaning behind the story that’s important, not the story itself.

Here the words are different. Here, still water with hidden logs and vast amounts of mud and muck and things one can get stuck in are places to avoid rather than dive into, and it is better to wait until the rains come before we start talking about that — this is what the real dreamtime stories were all about.

Teach your kids to be safe.

The Very Sweary Faerie.

This is not based on a true story. At all. Nor is it based on anyone else’s stuff, so hopefully they won’t take offence.

The faery was lying right-side up in the biggest and boggiest swamp he had ever been in, in his entire life.

‘I am sick and tired of this shirt,’ he cried in an extrememememely masculine voice, which had been auto-tuned to sound just right. ‘Why did I think it was a good idea to go wandering around in a swamp slash lake of mystical beings, just to get me rocks off?’

Nobody answered him. For once in his life, it was beautifully silent. The dragonfly larvae wasn’t quite big enough to bite him yet, and the mosquitos were not interested in trying to suck his blood. If it had not been for the fact he was lying in mud and staring at the clouded sky with no way of getting himself out, he would have been quite happy.

Unfortunately, his feet were encased in muck and he had fallen backwards, landing on his ample backside in the bog. His hands were scrabbling around, trying to find something to grab hold of, but there was nothing. Not even a reed.

‘Bugger,’ he said loudly. ‘Bugger me. Bugger this. Bugger everything.’

Off in the distance, below the sound of the mudlarks and fairy wrens, below the sound of the newly escaped gaseous swamp-like bubbles, there came a sound of intermittent buzzing.

‘What the far kenneth hell is that?’ The faery would have turned his head, if it wasn’t glued to the swamp slash lake. As it was though, it was glued to the swamp slash lake so he had to roll his very tiny eyeballs. The buzzing was coming closer. Not too close, not yet, but a lot closer than it had been five minutes ago. It was accompanied by a not-at-all auto tuned voice which happened to be singing very loudly and very off-key.

‘Tra-la-la-lally, I’m off to the valley. Oh, not on your nelly, I am rather smellyyyyyy.’

It didn’t make much sense at all.

All of a sudden a rather large and beautiful dragonfly, accompanied by an obnoxious ladybird (who seemed to be cackling loudly) appeared over the top of the horizontal faery’s head.

‘Well hello there,’ said the Dragonfly in a very friendly voice. ‘Would you like some help out of the poopy-poo-jobbies and whatsername you have found yourself in?’

The ladybird didn’t say anything. She had spent an awfully long time with a couple of really crestfallen, but still happy, seagulls and didn’t really trust herself to say nice things. It may have been half the reason she had disappeared for a very long time. One tends to do that when a lot of things go wrong all at once. She did smile though, which sent a shiver up the small faery’s spine. It wasn’t unpleasant, but there was something there that made the faery think he may not have been a very good boy.

‘Will you save me from this terrible position I have found myself in,’ the faerie asked from his prone position in the mud.

The ladybird cocked her tiny head. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I know a few people who might, but you’d need to head over to their place, and that, unfortunately for you, is nowhere near here, but it’s a lot closer to where I come from, originally. There’s a lot of wild-eyed kids there, and they have lots of stories to tell, if you care to take a look. They are rather beautiful stories, to be honest with you, and quite a lot of them are not mine. But, you know, it’s only a very small place, so maybe you’re not interested.’

The Dragonfly had begun to grin as well, and it was a lot more terrifying than the little sweet mannered and well represented ladybird. The faery finally realised the Dragonfly’s eyes were many faceted, and he could not quite tell where, exactly, the Dragonfly was looking.

‘Oh,’ he said mildly from his position in the murk. ‘I think I may have made a terrible mistake. You see, when I first met the ladybird, that was all she did. I know she warned people she did other things as well, but I didn’t really believe it was possible. After several months of stalking the ladybird, like the absolute nutter I am, I have decided perhaps now it would be a good time to ask if you could save me, properly, from the terrible position I have found myself in for not believing in the magic of ladybirds. Also, there are other things I would like to discuss with the ladybird, but perhaps that is something left for another day, in another world entirely.’

‘I think so too,’ said the Dragonfly. ‘Okay, someone lower the rope, and we’ll get him out of there. If he doesn’t hang himself while he’s being airlifted by magical Dragonflies to safety, he might actually learn something.’

‘You never know, do you,’ said the ladybird conversationally, and off she flew, never to be seen again except perhaps in bookshops and ebooks.

Of course, that wasn’t the end of the story. It never really is.

“Kickin’ Off”

‘I’m gonna go to the pub,’ said Blue to Greenie.

‘Are ya now? Gotta bit dough, ‘ave ya?’ Greenie looked at his mate.

‘Not really mate. Saved up for a bloody week for this.’

‘A week now, is it?’

‘Maybe a bit longer. Dunno.’ Blue pulled out his wallet. ‘Yeah, maybe a bit longer.’

‘Ya know, mate, Mum said if ya gonna go down, ya may as well go down hungry.’

‘Why’s that then?’

‘Prob’ly cost ya less to buy a meal than it will to buy a bloody beer, that’s why.’

‘Ya reckon?’ Blue looked into Greenie’s eyes and began to laugh. ‘You gonna give us a show then?’

‘Waddaya mean?’

‘You know. My mate says when you’ve got a good left hook you should probably save it for the best bit.’

‘Right. That’s for sure. Anyway, if you’re goin’, could ya spot me a twenny?’

‘A twenny? Why’s that?’

‘It’ll go towards the six pack I can get sitting at home watching the telly while you go down the bloody pub and buy one schooner, that’s why. I’ve got five bucks ‘ere, saying you’d rather stay at home and ‘ave a drink out in the backyard with me.’

‘True, that. But, you know, certain circumstances might get me down the pub, especially if I can’t get to see the live action at home.’

Greenie nodded wisely. ‘Ya got me there, mate. Might have to save up a bit of money meself, I s’pose.’

‘How long’ll that take ya?’

‘Probably about a freakin’ year, mate. Not too many of us get to go to the pub anymore. Contrary to what Old Slim used to sing, the pubs got beer, it’s just no one can afford it.’

‘So, I guess I’m stayin’ at home again tonight.’ Blue sat back down on his milk crate and surveyed the yellow sand of the boxed-in yard. ‘Party at my place, then.’

‘I’ll bring the snags.’