Monday 9 January 2012

There's a dead cockroach next to my ashtray

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I "used" to have a daughter.
Well step-daughter to be truthful.
She turned out ok. Except I have this nagging feeling that she blames all her sorrows on me.
Basically because the last time I saw her was some 15 years ago and the last thing she said to me was:
"I blame it all on you."
Er... Ooookaaaayyy... Sort of puts a wet blanket on things.
As per her somewhat forceful request, I've stayed away.
Anyway, when she was very young she used to sing a lot.
I say "sing" for some values of "sing" that include wailing.
(There was gnashing of teeth involved... Mine mostly. Eh. She was young.)
No matter. She used to paraphrase songs. Like when KLF did the... wait... Let me provide her rendition:
"Doctor POO-OOO, Doctor POO. Doctor POO-OOO, Doctor POO. Doctor POO-OOO, Doctor POO."
Er. Yes.
And she once assaulted me with the question:
"Why do porpoises need tents?"
Took a while. Ah. Yes. "To all intents and purposes."

Now. How did I get here?
Oh yeah.
The cockroach.
It's f**king hot at the moment.
I'm upstairs in what is laughably called my 'office'.
I came upstairs to type a post and realized it was 32C (as per the display on the portable air-con).
You gotta be joking!
It's 10:30pm!
I turned on the air-con and beat a hasty retreat downstairs to let the room cool down.
Went outside and sat down with a bourbon and soda.

You forget sometimes you're in Australia...

As Dylan Moran put it: "3/4 of a mile from the surface of the sun!"
Then what felt like a brown armored mouse hit me in the forehead.
Big bugger.
Glittering brown Queensland cockie flying at warp speed.
Right between the eyes. Couldn't protect myself*.
(*for the Monty Python fans)
2 inches of flying brown titanium at mach 2.
Nearly knocked me out.


After I flailed about trying to get it off me, it did a barrel roll and crash landed next to the ashtray and expired.
Upside down with residual nervous twitches.
Within seconds, ants started coming along and began the disassembly process.

Like I said, sometimes you forget you live in Australia.
Even the cockroaches have a hard time.
F*cking love it.

No comments:

Post a Comment