The Glass Kingdom (19 page)

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Authors: Chris Flynn

Tags: #FIC020000, #FIC050000, #FIC016000

BOOK: The Glass Kingdom
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Oh! That was an especially deep thrust. Has this illicit encounter just become a touch more thrilling for you, my lord?

Silence, wench. The Eagles, eh? I'll show you what the Dockers are going to do to you lot this year. Not literally, of course. We're not going to enter and ejaculate inside your bodies. That would be gay, and everyone knows one hundred per cent, no doubt whatsoever, that not a single footy player in the game today or in fact ever, anywhere, at any time likes to boff other dudes.

Uhh…what about the photos? I'm sure I saw photos of a knight with his squire's jousting pole in his mouth.

Mere horseplay. Good-natured banter. That doesn't count. Besides…

[
ENTER,
stage left, The Leopard Man, twirling his whiskers in a villainous manner. The fornicating couple is unaware of his presence.]

[
ASIDE
] And what have we here? Oh ho, that appears to be my wife with her legs over the shoulders of a strapping young lad. Despite his startling resemblance to a clean-shaven Gerard Butler, this will not do! I will step in at an opportune moment to bring this unholy rutting to a halt. I certainly shall. Any moment now. Hold on, just a second, I want to see this. Really? I didn't even know you could bend it that way. Oof, that looks painful but someone seems to be enjoying it. Wait, I recognise that expression. Here it comes. Shields up. Goggles on. And whoosh! Old Faithful's got nothing on that geyser. I should congratulate the boy on a job well done. But first, I'm going to kill him.

Oh husband, I did not hear you come in, being as I was otherwise occupied with this hunk o' spunk. Would you be so kind as to pass me a towel?

Didn't you put one down? Gah, woman, now I'll have to scrub the mattress again.

Hey there, Mr uh, Man. Is Leopard your middle name, or what? Please don't get the wrong idea—this is not what you think. I am but a wandering minstrel who, while passing, saw the lady in distress and rushed to her aid by removing a painful blockage from her cookie jar with an old family recipe of mine. The crisis has been averted! Chillax, dawg. Put yo' pearl-handled dagger away. That will not be necessary. Hey, watch what you're doin' with that, homie. You'll put some motherfucker's eye out. Hey. Hey!

Mikey. Hey. Get up—you can't sleep here.

Wha? Who dat? Where am I?

It's Leo. Brother, you're practically underneath the dumpster. How can you stand the smell? Does Ben know you're out here?

Uh yeah, he, uh, he cut the old apron strings. Gave me a set of training wheels.

Looks like you went a bit overboard. Haven't tied one on in a while, eh?

Naw, yeah, maybes got a bit carried away, huh? Help me up here, I seem to have fallen in some kinda hole. Thanks buddy. Hey, how's the, umm, missus?

She's good. Thick, lustrous coat, as always. I'm just heading in to comb her back. You want to come visit? Looks like you could do with a peppermint tea or something. Although it does kinda smell like you pissed yourself. Boy, when you let loose, you really don't hold back, do you? Go home and get cleaned up. It's one in the morning, Mikey. The party's over.

Mercury must be toppin' forty degrees an' still they be comin'. I knows they must be used to it an' all up here but damn, hot damn, this ain't no kind of way to live. Sideshow alley be packed full of folks in thongs, shorts an' singlets like they be at the beach. Didn't nobody in this state get the memo 'bout skin cancer? Slip, slop, slap, throw on a train driver's hat? I done seen more angry-lookin' moles today than at the Freo Centrelink. Get those unsightly blotches checked out, homegirls. An' put a lid on your fucken kid's dome. He's only five years old an' already he look like he been working in one of Gina's open-cast silver mines. Little fucker got a thousand-yard stare on him from squintin' 'gainst the sun all day. Clock of a thirty-year-old sniper on a child's body. Just ain't right.

Sweaty nut sacks an' titties a-go-go all up in here. Stink risin' off this crowd like someone done pissed on a dead fox. Can practically smell the Chlamydia. Four chickadees already slipped me their numbers an' it ain't even lunchtime yet. Sad thing is, I threw 'em all away. Cray, huh? Here's me with a head full of fucked-up fantasies, desperate to bust a nut, an' I still wouldn't slip my bookmark in none of these local cookbooks. Man, I wouldn't even turn down the corner of a page. Ain't exactly brimmin' with hotties round here though there was one with a nice rack come through earlier. I'd motorboat her titties, but that's about my limit, dawg.

Been so busy I ain't even had time to drain the lizard but it don't matter none anyways. Think I done sweated out all the fluids in my body, probs couldn't squeeze out three drops of piss. Target Ball stand be pumpin' even though it's like a fucken microwave oven in here an' my shorts is so soaked with sweat they's turned a different colour. My damp appearance don't seem to be particularly off-puttin' to the local populace, though. They loves the cheap games, an' mine is 'bout the cheapest on the alley.

Actually might make more chedda on the hoops than slingin' crystal today, though it only takes a couple of buys to seriously boost the poke. Too much like hard work, all this arguin' with sunburnt motherfuckers who think they been screwed by the game. Which they have, but I ain't about to tell them that, dumb fucken clems. Angry, scrunched-up clocks, fat bellies, muffin tops and kids with sauce and ice-cream smeared all over their chins. An endless fucken procession of whingein', dribblin' mediocrity. Sugar, the big fucken pineapple and K-Rudd. This is Nambour. Welcome to Queensland. Still, ain't no diff really to the other side of the border.

Just when I's gettin' comfortable with my prejudices 'gainst the wrinkled squinters, thar she blows, waitin' patiently in the queue for her turn. Pretty obvious she ain't linin' up to win no giraffe for the kiddlywinks. Cheeks pinched an' lips thin, hair pulled back tight in a ponytail so's I can see every crease on her forehead. Eyes flittin' 'tween me an' the crowd, watchin' for Five-O.

My guts do a back flip an' nail the landin' so sweet the judges are holding up scores worthy of gold. Fuck a duck, it's her. Some good Samaritan musta taken her in that night in Mudgee, fixed her up an' pulled her out the mess I done left her in, but she don't look so good now. Hit the glass highway, looks like.

Ay carumba. What'm I gonna do here? What if she makes a scene, blows the game wide open? An' why she comin' to score in the middle of the day, right in front of all these clueless clems? How'm I gonna justify handin' out a blue koala when all an' fucken sundry can see exactly what's goin' on? Maybes I'll tell her to come back later, or see me on my break, pretend she's an old flame or somethin', which she is, kinda. I seen her cooch anyways, s'pose that counts.

Wait up, dawg. False alarm. It ain't her. Nah, it's just some other chick who been suckin' the pipe a l'il too much lately. Damn, I coulda sworn. Fell for that ol' chestnut again, Mikey. Basic rule of crank dealin' one-o-one—no matter what the tweakers look like when they gets started, even if they is Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie-resemblin' motherfuckers, couple months shootin' up shards an' they all looks like Steve fucken Buscemi. No offence to the guy, he's a great fucken actor an' all, but you don't wanna be imaginin' the motherfucker all trussed up in leather thongs like the Pittster in
Troy
, do ya?

Hang back, girl. That's right, stand over there till I gets rid of these chump jerkwads.

Yo, takin' fifteen for lunch over here, people, so I'm closin' up after this gentleman completes his turn. Yeah, I'm real sorry 'bout that, missus, but I ain't got nobody to relieve me over here, an' I is in sore need of some relief, you feel me? Less'n you wanna spot me? Naw, that's what I thought. Come back a l'il later, darlin', I'll give you five balls for free, straight up.

Okay then, sir, how'd you go there? Two from five ain't bad now, most folks strike out quicker'n that. This half pint your daughter? Alakazam there, honey. Yup, that's what us carnies say to one another 'stead of hello. S'like the magic words, you know? She's a cutie, ain't she?

Tell you what, buddy, since you been the only customer ain't shouted at me in the last ten minutes an' not accused me of cheatin', here's a genuine unicorn for the little one. You like that, honey? See how he's got a magical horn comin' out his head? You keep your eyes open if you's ever in the forest, an' maybes you'll spy one fo' reals. Hey, no problem, brother, it's my pleasure just to see the little un smilin'. You take care now an' have a good day here on the Kingdom. Watch your heads, I gots to lower this shutter.

As for you, miss, come on round the side here an' I'll let you in.

Damn, girl, what's the dally-o comin' round lookin' to score in front of all the families an' shit? You gots to be more discreet than that.

Sorry…It's just, I heard you was holdin' an' I really need a fucken hit, you know?

A'ight, a'ight, cool your jets, it's all good, girl—I got your six. Just a point you be after?

Fucken oath. Thing is, though, I've only got forty but I thought maybe you could help me out, mate.

Seriously? This ain't no soup kitchen, girl. Who told you I might cut you a deal?

Nobody. I just thought, you know, the show's in town for a couple of days, I'll sort you out next time. C'mon, mate, I'm good for it, I promise.

First up, quit callin' me ‘mate'. I ain't your friend, an' no use pretendin' otherwise, a'ight? Secondly, why should I do you a solid? I ain't never seen you before, girl.

All right, look, fuck, what's it gonna take? God, please don't be weird.

That is not how I roll, sweet cheeks. Throw that shit right the fuck out yo' head, an' Christ, what the fuck's wrong with you anyways, offerin' up your cooch for crank? Ain't you got no self-respect left at all? Aw now, don't be cryin', Jesus—look, let's sit down for a minute, huh? There you go. Dry them tears an' don't be worryin'. I'll give you a fucken point for forty even though my boss would bust my balls if he knew I done it, so this is just 'tween you an' me, a'ight? An' don't be thinkin' it was the waterworks done it, neither. I'm lettin' you off here 'cos you reminds me of someone I knew a little while ago.

And it ain't my place to say this, but I'm gonna go right ahead in case you gots nobody else tellin' you but, girl, you needs to kick, you hear me? Kick while you still gots your teeth. Lemme see that face. Damn, I bet all the boys asked you to the formal, huh? Yeah, it ain't too late, you know? It ain't never too late.

Damn near broke my heart seein' that messed up tweaker chick. Maybe it's 'cos she come round when she did in the day an' maybe it's 'cos she was the spittin' image of Deb from Mudgee an' maybe it's 'cos this whole dirty fucken scenario is weighin' on my shoulders but whatevs, all I can think of is gettin' out. Must be cray even considerin' it after what Ben done told me would happen if I didn't stay put but I's backed into a corner here an' there's just got to be a way, right?

I kept my nose clean long 'nuff for him to let his guard down a little, an' the way business is goin' he be rakin' in so much paper he's got his hands full jugglin' what to do with it. Tricky thing 'bout the proceeds of crime—whatcha gonna do with all the cold hard chedda? Can't keep frontin' up to no bank with pocketfuls of cash, ten grand at a time. They's only gonna get suspicious an' call the Five-O or the ATO. Fucken unpaid tax. That's how they brings down all the greats—Al Capone, Wesley Snipes, Paul Hogan.

Demand for ice is practically outstrippin' supply. Some days I's runnin' real low an' Ben has to make some furious fucken calls to secure me a re-up. Some toy manufacturer in China probs had to hire an extra dozen street urchins just to sew up all the additional blue koalas we ordered. Yup, we's a regular cottage industry over here on Target Ball, keepin' 'bout a hunnerd Aussie meth workers in jobs, 'scuse me, workin' meth
families
is I believe the correct expression, not to mention the thirty-five cents a day we is lavishin' on our junior employees in the People's Republic.

Fact is, Ben ain't been around much lately. Seems to me he must have a couple of big labs out bush round here somewheres. Plenty of quiet spots in the hinterland where you could stink the place up an' nobody'd bat an eyelid. Obviously he's off takin' care of bidness, an' if it weren't for his lap cat Steph hangin' round tryin' to act like she a gangsta's moll now or somethin', I'd be all on my ownsome. They ain't got the personnel to man the size of operation they got now, an' I figure that means I got two options. Either I goes to Ben an' demands a promotion, or I gets the fuck out of Dodge 'fore Wyatt Earp an' his posse of lawmen come ridin' through. Don't want my clock on no wanted poster, dawg.

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