nature

Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot’s Pepe Talk

Ambrosia had, somewhere along the line, become Pepe’s guardian angel.

Aaaargh had always been her lead pilot, but he had become tired, and overwhelmed and needed to get back to his little family of Silvergulls.

Pepe had really only just begun to realise the little voice inside his head was not only a voice of reason, but also the voice of the tiny ladybird who sat on his shoulder most days when she didn’t need to fly off to look after other things, and check on other creatures’ adventures.

‘Well, Pepe,’ she said in a very reasonable tone that reminded him of his mum when he hadn’t been able to go to sleep at night as a baby bird. ‘You have been a most magical, kind-hearted and giving human bean when you’re not a bird. You have not let down your side once and, because you’re bigger and stronger, you’ve been able to keep the wind off Aaaargh most days, and you know what? Sometimes I don’t think he even noticed.’

‘He noticed,’ said Pepe.’ But it’s what I’m supposed to do. Aaaargh is the lead pilot, and I am supposed to protect him.’

‘But who looks after you,’ Ambrosia asked ( – for if you remember, Pepe had grown up never really knowing who or what he was. He was not quite a silvergull, he was bigger than most, AND he was not quite sure what his father had been AND, unlike most silvergulls, he did not like being called by his shortened name, because Pepe’s real name was Pepe Louis O’Patrick, and when that was shorted it turned into PLOP, and Pepe’s reaction to being called PLOP had always been a very obvious physical discomfort that no one talked about, at least if he had anything to do with it).

‘I do, when I’m here. You do, I suppose, and my real mum does when I’m at home…. And all the rest of my family, but sometimes they’re a long long way away, and I feel very lonely,’ said Pepe.

‘You know,’ Ambrosia said so very, very softly he could hardly hear her voice. ‘It’s okay to be lonely, and it’s okay to be sad. I’m not very good at saying how I feel sometimes either, just in case you didn’t know. Sometimes I get really mad.’

‘I noticed.’ Pepe began to smile. ‘I get mad too, but I might not be quite so expressive about it. I’m not allowed to be. Sometimes I have to simply content myself with kicking tyres and telling everyone I’m fine, when I’m not.’ He stretched one wing and then the other. ‘This whole year has been a total waste of time!’

‘Has it though?’ Ambrosia found her special crash-helmet sunhat and strapped it onto her head.

‘Yes it has!’

‘I don’t think it has. Not really. You’ve learnt a lot. You’ve learnt how to become a team player, properly this time, and what all that means, even if it does mean someone else is going to win the races. Sometimes, that’s what team players need to do, because they’ve been told to do it, or because they’re the youngest, or the biggest, or the more strategic, and the more careful. You’ve shown a lot of personal strengths, and that is something to be incredibly proud of.’

This didn’t make Pepe feel much better. Not really.

‘Can I tell you something,’ he whispered very quietly to Ambrosia.

‘Of course you can,’ she said.

‘Sometimes, I want to win too. Just one time. Just to prove that I can. Just once.’

‘Well, I believe you will,’ she said. ‘If you know you can, as much as I know you can, then I believe you will. Do you know you can?’

‘I know I can,’ Pepe said fiercely.

‘Then you will.’

 Ambrosia patted him on his feathery shoulder with one tiny little ladybird leg and Pepe lifted his wings and began to run along the tarmac.

‘Then I will,’ he said, and off they flew.

P.S. Behind them flew a loveliness of ladybirds on all sorts of other birds, because Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot planned on heading home, and she was taking all her children with her.

(You see, when in the rhymes, they tell the ladybird to fly away home, they had NOT realised she had all her kids with her, and her house had not been set on fire either. All it meant was that no one really knew what Ladybirds do to keep people safe. Perhaps that is the moral of the story :) ) –Kate Capewell.

Another Secret Santa Letter :) xxx

Dear Aussie,

We’re here with you, all the way to the moon and back.

You are strong. you are smart, you think of other people. That’s what we love about you.

You know this track, this trail, this road, this place like the back of your hand. Every curve, every roundabout way of breaking records, and making them. You’ve done it all your life. Let’s get this thing done together, kiddo.

If you’re burning up the track, our flaky pastry, then you’re doing what you’re supposed to do.

Remember this: England might be your mate, but we’re the ones who survived a country and lived to tell the tales.

You’re the winner here. We’re the winners here. Come on Aussie.

Love,

Aunty.

P.S. Sorry Chuck. Sometimes we gotta show a bit of National Pride, for all our kids overseas. The magic word is “Yet”, and “yet” is what we are going to do to win. ” Yet, I… can” “Yet, I will.” “Yet, I did”.

The Sea Eagle.

It had made a nest on top of the antenna — a nest which had been there for many years by the hill near the police station, so the white-bellied Sea Eagle found herself in the perfect position to see the Silver Gull land at the river’s mouth.

It cocked its head. The gull had a larger bird with it, which had just landed, and the eagle could not make out what kind of bird it was. It looked very similar to the seagull (which is the common name for the silver gull that had alighted on the beach) but it seemed, if not half as big again, at least a third as big. Why the sea eagle found this amusing, it did not know.

It flew down a little nearer, landing on one of the many sheoaks closer to the river’s mouth. These trees were coated with shag (cormorant) poop, and smelled awful, but it did not deter the eagle from watching the two birds as they made themselves comfortable by the large piece of driftwood sticking out of the sand.

They seemed to be having quite an animated conversation.

The Sea Eagle had never been particularly good at reading lips and the fact the birds did not have lips but beaks, made it even harder. All she could really hear, from her precarious perch on a tree limb (which was much too fragile to hold a bird her size) was loud and obnoxious squawking.

Perhaps they had found something to eat?

The smaller bird strutted back and forth on the golden sand, arching its neck and glaring down at its orange legs for reasons the eagle could not fathom. She glanced down at her own pale feet where her talons grasped the thickest part of the branch. Those birds did not appear to have talons. In fact they seemed to be wearing flippers, or fins, on their feet which, in her humble opinion, wouldn’t catch any decent food at all.

She’d never really thought about this before. If they couldn’t catch food in those ridiculous shoes, how the heck were they going to be able to eat anything? Perhaps it was the reason why the smaller bird (which seemed to be yelling at the top of its voice while the larger one stood there looking slightly nonplussed) seemed to be so angry?

‘Maybe I should go down to that beach and see what the heck is going on,’ the eagle thought to herself. ‘I can help these two ridiculous birds get some food, and then they can leave.’ 

She had already decided having new strangers in her town, especially birds she had never seen before (the taller one was really very odd-looking) was not something she felt comfortable with, especially if they were going to continue being as loud and as noisy as they currently were.

The silver gull tried to peck the bigger bird.

‘Right, that’s it,’ thought the sea eagle angrily. ‘I’m going in.’

She flapped her strong wings once and then twice as the springy branch underneath her bounced up and down, then let go with her talons and swooped towards the two gulls, scaring the bejebus out of them as she landed on the piece of driftwood.

‘What the by-crikey-Jimmy-Joe-Bobs is going on,’ she asked. ‘And who the heck are you?’

./   ./   

Pepe, after recovering from the huge bird landing so closely beside them, glanced at his smaller companions. ‘Uh, so this is Aaaargh, and the tiny one is Ambrosia.’

‘Ambrosia? Where?’ The sea eagle glared at him. 

She really was quite large, Pepe thought. He didn’t mean that in a bad way. She was just really big. Her wing span, something he’d noticed as she’d flown in towards them, had been at least two metres across.

‘The ladybird.’ He gulped. ‘The ladybird is Ambrosia. Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, if we’re going to get picky. Which we’re not,’ he added quickly, noticing the hook on the end of the eagle’s beak.

‘A ladybird?’ The eagle cocked its head. ‘I haven’t seen one of those in quite some time. Where is this ladybird?’

‘On my back,’ said Aaaargh loudly.

‘She’s not deaf, you fool,’ hissed Pepe. ‘She’s an eagle. She’s got good eyes.’

‘How does that make you not deaf,’ Aaaargh squawked.

‘I don’t know. How come you’re blind, when you’re also supposed to have good eyes,’ Pepe hissed again ‘This is a sea eagle we’re dealing with, mate. I suggest you be on your best behaviour.’

The eagle ignored their chatter. ‘Where is this ladybird?’

‘I told you where she is. She’s on my back.’ Aaaargh began to jump up and down in a most unsightly manner.

‘Show me,’ the eagle demanded.

Pepe noticed Ambrosia crawl out from under one of Aaaargh’s silver-white feathers.

‘Hello,’ said the ladybird. ‘My name is Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot.’ She lifted her bonnets and wiggle-flew over to the eagle’s beak, landing quite carefully right on the end of the hook.

The white-bellied Sea Eagle crossed her great golden eyes slightly as she stared at the tiny beetle. ‘Hello,’ she replied. ‘It is nice to meet someone with good manners. I’m Leucogaster. Your companions are very noisy.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Pepe. He was beginning to feel quite cross. ‘I’m Pepe, and I’ve been very polite.’ He glared at Aaaargh. ‘It’s this not-very-nice gull that’s been making all the noise.’

‘I have too,’ said Aaaargh. ‘And, as I said, it’s because there’s weather coming in, and you’re standing around telling me everything’s fine, and everyone’s fine, and they aren’t fine, and we’re not fine, and we have to catch the next stiff breeze if we’re going to be on our way, so why you decided here would be a good place to stop is beyond me, Pepe, because we need to get Ambrosia further north before she falls asleep. You know what happens if she falls asleep, right?’

‘What happens when you fall asleep,’ the sea eagle asked the tiny ladybird sitting on the end of her nose.

‘When I fall asleep in the winter time I go into hibernation,’ the ladybird replied. ‘And when I wake up the world is like new again, which is wonderful, but,’ and Ambrosia wiggle-flew back to Aargh and landed on his head. ‘I forget everyone I’ve ever met, and I just don’t want to do that. Not yet. I’m not ready to forget things.’

‘Sometimes it’s good to forget things,’ the eagle replied quietly. ‘I try to forget all the eggs that didn’t make it, and I try to forget all the people who keep trying to remove my nest from the top of that big aerial back there.’ She glanced back at the hill. ‘And I just try to get on with living my life without being harassed all the time by people who don’t know what they’re doing.’

‘I understand that,’ Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot said from Aaaargh’s silvered temple. ‘But I have children, little people, to get back to, and gardens to visit, and aphids to eat, and I just ate my last one. Winter is upon us, and I’m just not far enough north to stay awake yet. I can’t go to sleep. Not yet.’

‘Then why did you stop,’ the sea eagle asked.

‘Aaaargh can’t keep flying, no matter how good a pilot he thinks he is,’ Pepe replied, wincing as Aaaargh pecked him on the shoulder. ‘He needs to rest.’

‘Then I will make sure we get you to where you need to go,’ said the Sea Eagle. ‘I have family, other Sea Eagles, all the way up this coast so we will be able to get you to a warm place, Ambrosia. I promise.’ She would have smiled, but she had a beak not a mouth, so smiling was not possible.

‘Thank you,’ said Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, adventurer extraordinaire. ‘That is all I’ve ever asked for. When it does become springtime, I will try to make it all the way back to my favourite little person, and perhaps I will be able to bring children of my own.’

‘Oh good, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out,’ said Aargh. ‘Now, where’s the nearest pub? I feel like some hot chips.’

The eagle huffed and fluffed up her feathers. 

‘Typical seagull,’ she said, but it was not unkindly. She turned to look at Pepe once more, her golden eyes narrowing. ‘What kind of bird are you, exactly,’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen anything like you before.’

‘I don’t really know,’ Pepe replied. ‘I know my mum was a Silver Gull, but I don’t know who my dad was. I’m bigger than normal seagulls, but smaller than the Albatross and bigger than a Pacific Gull. I just can’t figure it out.’

‘Then you must be a very special bird indeed,’ said the eagle as she rose gracefully from the driftwood branch. ‘Come on then. Let’s go.’

Pepe blinked. It was possibly the nicest thing any avian had ever said to him. 

Whether you wear black shorts or sunglasses, have Supernatural tendencies, or like to run around yelling out code words with your cousins while you’re playing a game of pool, whether you like dressing up in skintight red suits, have hands with long scissors, or think you might be Out of Time, there is always a Sea Eagle, and always a Ladybird, and always a few raucous seagulls. You can find these birds in the strangest locations sometimes, and often where they aren’t meant to be.

That is the magic of storytelling.

C.S. Capewell aka Kate Capewell.

P.S. When we got our very first home loan several years ago, we were helped by a wonderful group of individuals from a number of different teams and businesses who helped us realise our dream. I will never be able to thank them enough. I still owe someone some chocolate, and I have never forgotten.

Kate x

For the original story of Ambrosia Honeybun Polka Dot, head over to the wonderful team at https://wildeyedpress.com.au

If you need insurance there is also a wonderful group you can get hold of, but they are pretty good at doing their own advertising. There are also a couple of wonderful banks, health insurers, and TV stations in WA and in the Eastern States you might want to watch if you ever come to Australia. There are decent people in the world, you just need to know what to look out for.

Chapter Ten continued — untitled

Apparently Fennel had allowed them to turn the radio up in the kitchen. Hans shook his head at the distant thumping and threw himself into the chair opposite Bart.

‘So, you and my sister huh.’

Bart looked confused. ‘It’s been two years, Hans.’

‘Yeah well. There you go then.’ Hans sighed. This small talk business wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Where the fuck was Fennel and that cognac?

Solway nudged him with an elbow. ‘So, about the tiny person.’

‘Don’t start.’

‘She’s very cute.’

‘She’s Canerican.’

‘A what now?’ She turned to Bart. ‘Do you know what that is?’

Bart shrugged. He looked confused. Excellent.

‘We can’t quite pick the accent,’ said Hans. He smiled.

Solway grimaced at him. ‘Enlighten me, stupid.’

Hans growled. ‘I made it up, okay? Which proves I’m not stupid, just so ya know. Bloody hell, Sol, can you give me a bloody break?’

‘So…? What does it meeeeeeean?’

‘Canadian or American, or something.’ Hans sighed dramatically. Why the hell did she not get the joke?

‘Couldn’t you tell from her resume? Or a passport? Or something? Won’t she need to fill out paperwork?’

‘I don’t do that stuff.’ He waved a hand airily.

‘Then who hired her?’

‘I did.’

She gave an exasperated sounding noise that reminded him of a kettle boiling. ‘Did anyone look at her resume?’

‘Ah Fennel!” Hans grinned and leapt up to grab the bottle from the weary chef’s hand. ‘Just in time. Did you bring glasses?’

Fennel sighed. ‘No, I didn’t. I’ll get some now.’

‘Never mind, I’ll do it. Back in a tick.’ Hans left as quickly as he could.

‘You are not getting away with this you bloody coward,’ Solway called after him.

Hans looked down at his swiftly moving feet. ‘Looks like I am though,’ he muttered under his breath.

He decided he’d give the glasses an extra polish while he was there. With a bit of luck. Fennel would be answering all of Solway’s questions right about now, and when he got back to the table they could finish the cognac.

Gretal was still folding the tablecloths.

‘I thought you were sitting with your friends,’ she said.

‘I am.’ He smiled. ‘I was merely escaping for a short moment because my sister was asking me questions I couldn’t answer.’

‘That’s your sister? Oh that makes sense.’ Gretal looked over at the table. ‘She’s very pretty.’

‘Thanks. She’s very clever too, which I tend to forget at the most inopportune moments.’ He sighed.

‘I think we’ve all got a brother or sister like that.’ Gretal grinned at him. ‘Sorry. Was that too personal?’

‘That’s alright. I think we can relax the rules for one night. I’m very proud of my sister, so moments like these are very special to me.’ He grabbed a couple of glasses and cleared his throat. ‘It’s probably good if the staff know who my family are anyway. It stops the rumours from flying.’

The waiter blushed. ‘I might have something to apologise about.’

Hans shot her a sidelong glance. ‘You might have, yes. I’ll let it go this time. I will say one thing before you explain it to your friends in the kitchen.’ He winked. ‘This is the reason we don’t talk about personal things. It’s a perfect example, don’t you think?’

She frowned slightly. ‘I suppose… but, if we’d known, wouldn’t that have prevented it from happening in the first place?’

‘Are you making excuses?’

‘No, but…’

‘Lesson one.’ Hans smiled. ‘Be discreet. It’s part of our job, okay? When you’re at work, don’t discuss the customers, don’t speculate about them, don’t stare at them — especially when they can see you. It’s none of your business. We are just here to make things go smoothly, and give them the best dining experience. That’s our job and our reputation. I can’t stress this enough.’

‘Okay. But…’

‘I understand what you’re thinking and believe me, if I think my staff knowing something about someone they’re serving is going to make it better for the person they’re serving, then I would absolutely let you all know. Okay?’

‘Okay. I suppose things could go badly if the wrong information about someone got out.’

‘Things could go wrong if the right information got out too,’ Hans said softly. ‘Not only have I experienced it personally, I’ve seen it with other people. So has my sister. I wouldn’t want the same thing happening to you. So… Me having faith in you guys to be professional while they’re here is something I don’t want to regret. Alright?’

‘Got it.’ Gretal folded the last of the tablecloths. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Hans smirked and shook his head. ‘No problem. I’m going to give you a few minutes to talk to the guys in the kitchen. After that, I’m coming in and we’re going to talk about the next most important thing.’

Gretal gave him a wide-eyed stare. ‘Is it bad?’

‘No. But it’s in your best interest, and the best interest of the people you are working with. Off you go.’

He gave her five minutes. It was more than enough time. Going into the kitchen was like entering a warzone of words.

‘Nobody tells me anything,’ Shane was squeaking as he walked in. ‘I should have known!’

‘I beg your pardon,’ Hans asked.

‘Oh.’ At least she looked a little contrite. It didn’t last long. ‘If you’d just told me…’ she said.

‘If I’d just told you what?’ This sounded interesting. Why had she decided it was her business?

‘Never mind.’ She began filling a mop bucket with water, effectively cutting off any further conversation.

Hans realised at that point how many deep breaths he’d taken in the last half an hour. He decided he wouldn’t start counting them because he’d probably give himself a nervous tic. Shaking his head he stepped over to the sink and turned off the tap. She glared at him and turned it back on.

‘Don’t,’ he said softly. This lady was really pushing his buttons.

She froze. Hallelujah. The bloody woman was listening for a change. Let’s see how long that lasts, he thought to himself.

‘I’m assuming Gretal has updated you all on my “current relationship”,’ he announced to the world in general.

Gretal snorted. He tried not to roll his eyes.

‘I’ll take that as a yes. Right, next thing. You already know this,’ he added to the sous chef and Gretal. ‘But I’ll repeat it for Shane’s sake.’

‘Shianne,’ said Shane, and Gretal snorted again.

Bloody hell, thought Hans. Have I walked into a piggery? ‘Anyway,’ he continued. ‘This is for all of you, and especially you Shane, if you are going to continue working with us.’

She opened her mouth and he held up a warning finger.

‘Can you just not talk for a few minutes.’

The sous chef started making a weird cackling sound. Okay, not a piggery. More of a farmyard. She sounded like a bloody chicken.

‘As you may have noticed,’ he said to Shane. ‘People in the hospitality industry are slightly insane. In a good way,’ he added hurriedly as she began to frown. ‘Anyway, I’d like to get to my point if you could all control yourselves. Please.’

That shut them all up, for a moment at least. ‘I’m going to say this really quickly before you all turn into raving lunatics. If you guys ever have a problem with any other staff members, or with one of our patrons behaving inappropriately or rudely towards yourselves, please let me or your immediate superior know know as soon as you can. This is really important, okay? If you can sort it out yourselves, then great. As long as no one draws blood I’m happy. I’m joking. I do mean this though because you all have the right to feel safe in your work environment, and if you don’t for any reason then we should be hearing about it. It does not mean…,’ He glared at Shane. ‘… that you should be complaining because someone looked at you the wrong way or has told you off for not doing your job, okay?’

She didn’t say anything, which was probably quite fortunate.

‘Good. Now you can all be idiots together. I’m going to spend time with my sister. Bye.’

Hans straightened his collar, smoothed back his hair, and left the kitchen. On the walk down the hall he checked himself in the mirror. Perfect. The radio in the kitchen sounded like it had been turned up yet another notch, probably due to the rain on the roof, and someone decided to start singing loudly and off-key.

Hopefully it would be a good ending to a bad afternoon. Hans put his hands in his pockets and crossed his eyes. The more interactions he had with the staff around here, the more obvious it had become he needed to get the restaurant manager’s position filled. He snatched up the polished glasses on the way back through to the dining room and deposited them next to Fennel.

‘Is Shane’s resume and information still in the office?’

‘It’s Shee-ann,’ said Fennel. Clearly he’d been trained by the crazy woman in the kitchen on how to say her name. ‘Yes, I left it in the top drawer. Is something bothering you?’

‘Quite a lot is bothering me,’ Hans replied. ‘You’re right, Sol,’ he said patting his sister’s shoulder as he passed her. ‘Something is definitely going on and I don’t think it’s what you think it is.’

Solway put down her fork and gave him a concerned look. ‘Is she one of those?’

‘Let me get that information first and then we’ll decide.’ He turned back to the chef. ‘Fennel, I’ll definitely need that drink.’

Fennel had already taken off the lid. ‘I’m on it.’

to be continued…

Chapter Nine– continued (still Sunday)

Solway appeared to be approaching him across the room. Hans tried not to smile. She still had it. Apparently, the other patrons of the restaurant had noticed that too, as had his waiter, Gretal, who blushed furiously when he cocked an eyebrow at her. She knew the drill, and would not be asking any personal questions.

He glanced pointedly at table four and back at Gretal, who left to see them reluctantly.

‘I’ve got your drinks here,’ he said when Solway reached him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Something’s going on. I’m running on instinct and something is definitely wrong here.’ She held up a hand. ‘Don’t talk, little brother, just listen. I don’t know why you’re reacting the way you are to us or anybody else, but I’m thinking it’s pack mentality. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, of course I do. I’m not a complete moron.’ He was beginning to find it hard to think again.

‘I’m going to check out the kitchen,’ she said, looking at him carefully. ‘Can I do that?’

‘You could poke your head in there I guess, but don’t get in anyone’s way. I’m sure they already know you’re here.’

‘How’s that?’ She looked curious now.

‘I noticed Gretal sneaking off the first time I came over to see you.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Wow, this is hard. You need to get away from me. I’m starting to lose it.’

‘I’m not though. Don’t you think that’s weird?’ She stared at him. ‘I can’t read you.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t read you. I’m not getting any vibes off you, thought-wise. Never mind. Can you take the drinks over to Bart? He’ll order for us.’

Hans sighed. ‘Sure, Sol. That’s my job. Please don’t upset anyone.’

She winked over her shoulder as she started the walk down the short hall. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’

He sighed again. This time it was much deeper. These people had no idea who Solway and Bart were, and they had no idea of their relationship to him. He’d experienced this before. ‘Just go with it,’ he muttered to himself as he lifted the tray. ‘Just go with it.’

Solway poked her head around the kitchen door, not entering, just as Hans had told her to do. The chef glanced over his shoulder at the movement, then turned around.

‘Can I help you?’

He seemed nice enough, for a chef. Not that she’d had too much to do with chefs but she’d heard some interesting stories from Hans about them over the years.

‘I’m with Hans,’ she explained.

‘Alright? Did you need to see anything, or is there something I could help you with?’

‘That’s very accomodating of you, but we don’t work together.’ She smiled. It was obviously what he’d thought.

‘Oh. Okay. Just doing a little private tour then?’ The chef’s mouth turned up at the corners. He seemed friendly enough.

‘Is that okay?’

‘Sure.’ He glanced down at her feet. ‘Don’t come in too far. You’re not really dressed for it and he’s already gone off at someone today.’

That was when Solway noticed the little kitchen-hand, who had turned around and was staring at her in a very odd way.

Well this is interesting, she thought.

‘I’m Solway, by the way,’ she said to the chef.

‘Fennel. I’d shake your hand but I’m kind of busy.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her and she chuckled.

‘That’s okay. Can I just watch for a while?’

‘Doesn’t bother me at all.’ He smiled again. As long as you don’t ask too many personal questions.’

‘You’ve been working with Hans too long,’ Solway laughed. She’d almost said “brother” but for some reason restrained herself. It probably had something to do with the teeny tiny kitchen-hand. There was some serious moodiness coming from that direction. The other staff looked a little curious, but that one… she was something else again.

‘I probably have,’ replied Fennel, bringing her back to herself. ‘He’s a good man, but he needs to get back to what he should be doing.’

‘Oh?’ Solway frowned.

‘He’s been with us for over a month now.’

She must have looked confused. She certainly felt that way.

‘Every day,’ he added.

‘Oh!’ That didn’t sound good. ‘Have you lost some people?’

Fennel’s eyes narrowed and he turned back to the stove. ‘He hasn’t spoken with you then. I might have overstepped.’

‘It’s okay,’ Solway replied. ‘I’ll ask him myself. I’m just so used to seeing him doing his thing I didn’t even think it was unusual.’ She crossed her arms and leant against the door jamb, trying not to frown. Hans was running several restaurants and needed to be checking in on all of them at least once during the week to make sure standards weren’t dropping. Staying in one place would not be helping him run the business at all.

The chef looked slightly relieved as he flicked a tea towel over his shoulder. ‘Did you want to try some of this sauce?’

‘Well, of course I do,’ Solway smiled.

She glanced at the kitchen-hand again. The way her head was angled suggested she had been listening very carefully and that glare Solway had received upon first entering had been quite “odd”. The woman hadn’t tried to hide it and the only reason this could be happening was because she had the hots for Hans.

What an interesting situation indeed.

‘Why hello there,’ said Solway brightly. ‘How are you?’

Fennel shot a quick glance at her and then at the kitchen-hand. Solway heard him sigh.

The tiny person turned around and put down the tea-towel she’d been holding, which was when Hans decided to ruin everything. He poked his head over her shoulder, making her jump, and she turned, nearly bumping noses with her brother.

‘What are you doing,’ he hissed.

‘I’m meeting the staff. Why?’

‘Has she been bothering you Fennel?’

‘Not me,’ said Fennel.

Hans frowned. ‘Come on maggot, let’s get you back to the table.’

‘You are no fun at all,’ muttered Solway as he escorted her from the kitchen. ‘Wnho’s the person at the sink?’

‘The new kitchen hand?’

‘Yes. The tiniest woman in the world is doing your dishes.’

Hans laughed once, quite loudly as he sat her back down next to Bart. ‘She’s not that small.’

‘OOoOOOOOhhhhh.’ Solway grinned at him. ‘Have we got the hots for someone?’

‘I’m working you idiot.’

‘Bart. Hans has got the hots for someone.’ Solway grinned toothily at her partner.

‘No, I don’t.’ Hans said calmly. ‘Stop it. You aren’t going to get me into trouble, obviously, but you are going to set off the rumour mill if you keep this up.’

‘Yay.’ Solway clapped her hands.

Bart frowned at her thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never seen you like this before.’

Hans glanced at him. ‘I haven’t seen it for quite a few years myself, but she was usually right about something, which…’ He glared at Solway. ‘…We are not going to discuss now. Alright?’

‘Fine.’ She felt like pouting but she didn’t. ‘You need a replacement for you-know-who though, and it’s been a long time.’

‘Not now, I said.’ Hans stepped back from the table. ‘Drink your water. I’m bringing over some appetisers for you as soon as they’re ready.’ He scowled. ‘Which should be now.’

Solway watched him leave. She was pretty sure he was trying not to stomp.

‘Ahem,’ said Bart.

‘Ahem?’ She giggled.

‘Tell me what’s going on.’

‘You’re going to love this.’ Solway leaned across the table. ‘I don’t know whether you’ve noticed this, Bart, but my brother is slightly good looking.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ he said dryly. ‘We’ve been together a while now.’

‘What? That makes it sound like you’ve been with my brother for a while. Should I be jealous?’ Solway laughed.

Bart smiled. ‘You know I didn’t mean that. Why the heck, and I’m not complaining mind, I’m just curious, are you acting like someone in their twenties?’

She thought about it for a moment. ‘I suppose that’s when he started getting all that attention. I would have been around twenty five and looking at changing careers, so he’d have to be around twenty.’

‘Okay? Explain it to me. I’m very curious about the way your mind is working at the moment.’

‘What happens is he sometimes gets really pissed off that people notice him, and sometimes he gets really pissed off they don’t. Sometimes, back then, if I was there, people seemed to get really pissed off with both of us. I am seriously sounding like a kid right now.’

‘Why would people get pissed off with the both of you though?’ Bart looked confused. ‘That doesn’t make any sense at all.’

Oh stop lying. How did you feel when you first met my brother?’

‘Ohhh.’ Bart remembered it well. ‘I was jealous, okay? I don’t know why. I hoped to God he was your brother, but it was like… It’s hard to explain.’

‘There we go. I suppose it’s some kind of instinctive thing, like you feel you need to compete. But, guess what…’ She couldn’t help herself. There was a big giggle inside and it was going to come out very soon.

‘What,’ asked Bart.

‘The leprechaun in the kitchen doesn’t know we’re related yet.’

‘The leprechaun in the kitchen? What the hell are you talking about?’

Solway swore the sound Bart started making was like a jiggler on top of a slow cooker. It made her own cackling louder.

‘There’s a staff member in the kitchen who looks like she wants to murder me.’

Bart stopped jiggling and looked confused. Then his face cleared and he slapped the table.

‘Ha! That’s what you’re talking about! This is awesome. We could sell tickets!’

‘I know!’

‘I hope you two are enjoying yourselves, acting like teenagers.’ Hans stood over them with two very well presented plates. ‘I really don’t want to kick you out, but I will if I need to.’

That very possibly made them both laugh a little louder than they should have.

‘Another beer, my good man,’ Bart said bravely.

‘Make it two,’ said Solway.

‘Fuck my life,’ said Hans.

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 Six–Untitled

Zed had left for whatever the hell his next destination was several hours before, after Hans had cooked him an absolutely okay breakfast (much to both of their surprise) and gone through everything they needed to do on the website. Apparently, it had been quite a lot. Now Hans sat on his back verandah and wondered why all he wanted to do at the moment was curl up with his tail on his nose and go to sleep.

It may have something to do with the fact he felt sad about the lack of trees over his back fence, the fact he hadn’t slept properly for days, or that he’d been practising turning back and forth into the large boof-headed dog he’d admired on his walk-through robes mirror. He had noticed one thing extremely important about what happened when he flipped back and forth between dog and human. When he turned into a dog, it felt easy and he hardly noticed it.

But, when he turned back into a human and himself, it took quite some time to adjust. The one thing he noticed more and more each time, was that his instincts seemed to stay heightened for longer and at the moment, despite the fact all he wanted to do was lay on his back with all four limbs in the air, those instincts were letting him know there were things over the back fence he wanted to chase away.

Narrator: Who knew what those things were? There were many ongoing arguments about that. “We want to take turns” does not seem feasible but apparently is. “Apparently”, a lot of “fairly obvious” people want to take turns, but not in the way other people might think.

He’d learnt quite some time ago about the difference between need and want, although it had been brought back to his attention by some word lizard in a mask of heightened stupidity and freshly made bread buns.

Okay, so his head was going haywire and he didn’t know why. He’d thought this might happen today, for reasons he did not know, but yes he definitely had realised that today would be the day he completely lost his marbles. That he also had the impression it may only be for a short while did not make it better.

But it did make it fun.

The first question he wanted to ask himself, and he did not mean himself but herself which was someone else entirely who was not him, was this:

How the freaking hilly dreaming hell do I go the freaking toilet?

The lizard appeared beside him in a slightly breezy and see-through way. She was quite small today, which was more friendly, and she didn’t seem to have her big eyes in. Well okay, they were smaller than they had been in the past.

You have two choices, said the lizard, realising he was talking about going to the toilet where he wasn’t going to be peeing but, you know, doing the other thing.

Okay?

You don’t dig a hole in the backyard because only cats do that so sorry not sorry.

He growled.

You can figure out how to squat on the actual toilet.

He looked at his dog body and wondered if he’d possibly break the bowl.

Other than that I suggest you get yourself out of the house and go for a lovely run in the bush and find a likely tree and shit under it like every other creature I know does.Oh look Hans, I’m into punctuation again. You must be feeling particularly stupid.

I am not feeling particularly stupid. You must be feeling particularly intelligent.

Indeed, replied the lizard and gave him a very large toothless smile.

‘Kill me nowwwwww,’ howled Hans.

You do realise your friendly neighborhood watch man is just across the road and you don’t have a dog, correct? Perhaps you should be a man again before you completely lose your bowels.

Hans turned back into a man, jumped up quickly from the wooden boards of the back verandah, slowly, ever so slowly, readjusted to his human body, and commenced stumbling through the house to the nearest loo. His brain seemed to be malfunctioning slightly but he was going to make it … slowly, Hans, slowly… to the loo before he shat on the floor… he made it just in time.

Not much later, but later enough for Hans to realise it was getting dark, he threw up.

‘I’ve eaten too much,’ he said to the lizard, who currently glinted from the sky.

She didn’t reply, she just mooned.

He knew he had to go back to the restaurant tomorrow, and he knew he had already come to the conclusion he needed to do something about the Canerican, and he wished to know just one more thing.

Why was she so interested in being in his office?

It wasn’t like it was his actual office. It was a restaurant manager’s office. But, as Zed had been connecting all the restaurant managers offices and computers up together, Hans knew that if he allowed the Canerican to do any accounting whatsoever, if she had any brains at all, which he was inclined to think she did, she would be able to connect to their main server, and if she had any thoughts of foul play, she could likely do a great deal of damage to the business.

It wasn’t something he really wanted to contemplate. He put it down to the fact he was really quite dog-like in his thinking that everything needed to be protected (which was why he’d sent something off to a friend several months before) and really (something he kinda already knew) really quite dog-like in that he definitely understood the rules of the game, and the three F’s, which most dogs, but not all people, knew instinctively.

The lizard left one eye in the sky, and sat down on the verandah beside him. It looked like he had a permanent wink.

The three F’s she thought. Remind me of that one again. I haven’t heard it in quite some time.

Hans felt like blushing, which seemed ridiculous, but apparently it was true.

You know.’ He gestured vaguely at nothing at all. ‘I don’t want to say it.’

Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a grown man.

I know but I’m too much of a great big foolish dog to think I should be saying this out loud, If I… Well… promise not to tell anyone, he thought.

The lizard, if she had any eyebrows, would likely be frowning right about now. The closest way he could describe the expression on her face was a confused, not very intelligent expression that reminded him of a great big fat owl that wanted to eat him, which did not make any sense whatsoever, but he was going with the feeling it gave him when he felt he was being pushed into doing something he didn’t really want to do.

‘Fine,’ he spat. ‘The Three F’s are fighting, food, and fornication. Okay?’

Oh I see, You’re being polite. Why?

I have no idea. It’s just not something I think people should be aware of. If you had children, which I obviously do not have, would you be telling them that?

If I was a man or a woman who had children and they happened to have a male dog, then yes I would, said the lizard in a very logical, reasonable tone that made Hans want to throw up again.

‘I don’t think I want kids then,’ he said out loud. ‘I also happen to think I may very well possibly and absolutely be the biggest fool I know, because why I think this is an issue right now, when I habitually turn into a dog, is something I do not understand.’

I don’t think you’re supposed to, replied the lizard. I also think you may be extremely overtired, Hans. Why don’t you go to sleep and get some brain rest, and I promise tonight you won’t dream of anything at all, and tomorrow you can go and fix all the mistakes you made in the last four months, which are many and endless, and then you can figure out which one of The Three F’s you are going to approach your “Canerican” friend with. Fighting? Food? Or fornication?

‘Do I really need to do that,’ asked Hans.

I’m afraid so, If you don’t, then you won’t be fixing the situation, and if you do, well, at least you have a choice about which one you’re going to use. Go to sleep now, Hans. Go to sleep.

Han’s eyes were closed before he knew it, and he felt something warm being put over him while he lay on the cool boards of the back verandah. Instinct told him he should keep one eye open, and be listening out for anything unusual, but the feeling of a presence far greater, and stronger, and safer than he would ever be, sent him into a deep dreamless sleep that he felt like he never wanted to wake up from again.

The last words he heard before he heard nothing much at all, were these;

Always trust your gut feelings.

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.

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.