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Mediation with Bradley Cooper

This piece contains sexual content and coarse language not appropriate for all ages.

Hey Guys! This is another piece for university that I have decided to upload to my blog. This has been work-shopped by my class and after adding their editorial corrections thought I might open this up to a wider audience. If you see any errors with spelling, grammar or sentence construction, may you please alert me? Thank you!

Bradley Cooper, sat at one end of the table, his orange hair tidily placed atop his head. His eyes were a dull green, with a couple of freckles lining the sides of his nose, his breath slow and strenuous. He wore a checked blue top and black jeans, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he stared at the individual sitting across from him. His name was Steven Carnes and he was the reason why he was there.
Steven had jet black hair which was beginning to recede at the front, his eyes being just as dark. His lips were rather crooked and his eyes were narrowed dangerously as he eyed Bradley, his arms folded neatly across his dark brown leather jacket, a belt buckle visible beneath it which was holding up his loose blue jeans.
Between the two of them at the front of the table sat the appointed mediator, Michael York. He had a round, boyishly handsome face, which was strange for someone who was breaching 60. His hair would have been all but gone if not for the transplants which only managed to cover half of his scalp in a dense light brown colouration of fluff. His eyes were small and blue, his face looking a little crinkled, whilst his blue suit and red tie gleamed pretentiously upon his person.
The door behind Steven opened without warning and another individual stepped into the room. He had graying hair and large black rimmed spectacles that covered half of his face. His nose was rather large for a face his size, his eyes looking as old and frail as the rest of his body did and yet, he walked with a lively passion for life as though every step promoted some excitement. He wore a grey suit with blue stripes down the front and red ones along his shoulders which continued down his sleeves. A checked orange tie completed the image, his entire attire being so well designed it could only ever be described as ‘loud’. It was so ‘loud’ in fact that if it were to speak it no doubt would have screamed.
‘Who’s this douche bag?’ whispered Bradley in the direction of the mediator.
‘That’s Jeremiah Delaney,’ replied Michael out from the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving. ‘He’s every plaintiff’s wet dream. They call him the terminator; hasta la vista baby!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Jeremiah, sitting down beside Steven. ‘I was busy having lunch with our prime minister.’
‘Glad you could make it,’ grunted Steven in the direction of his lawyer. ‘I was about to start paving the town with flyers if you didn’t show up in the next few minutes.’
‘Watch your tone boy,’ retorted Jeremiah. ‘I didn’t take this case because of your smile. As long as you can provide the sum I agreed to you needn’t concern yourself with my tardiness. I see Michael York is the man hired to supervise our mediation. This should be a walk in the park. The man is well into his dotage.’
‘He’s not the only one,’ shot back Steven under his breath.
Jeremiah pretended not to hear his client as he cracked his fingers before noting ‘I’ll handle this, you just sit there and look pretty unless called upon.’
‘I see someone doesn’t have a lawyer,’ said Steven mockingly, his voice loud enough for everyone else to hear as Bradley shot him a menacing glance.
Jeremiah took a quick breath before announcing ‘okay, how about we get this show on the road? I have numerous other venues to appear at today and do not wish to be kept waiting.’
‘Is he always so blunt?’ continued Bradley softly towards the mediator.
‘Pretty much,’ replied Michael. ‘May the plaintiff provide his name and age for the record,’ he said, turning to face Bradley.
‘Bradley Cooper, 32, no relation to the actor.’
‘May the defendant do the same’ enquired Michael in Steven’s direction.
‘Steven Carnes, 31.’
‘Now Bradley,’ continued Jeremiah, ‘why don’t you explain to us why you have gone to such lengths to call this enquiry?’
‘Well,’ began Bradley, ‘two months ago I was at home and I made my way outside to admire my front lawn. You see, I had a very beautiful lawn. It had won lawn of the year five times in a row. I took great pride in it. It was my livelihood, the only thing that had never betrayed me. You can tell a lot about people by the type of lawn they have. Me, I had one hell of a lawn.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Jeremiah, ‘your lawn never betraying you I mean?’ he added as Bradley nodded upon realising what he meant.
‘My lawn has remained by my side through thick and thicker,’ explained Bradley. ‘Unlike my ex-wife who ran off with the kids several years back, my lawn has never been anything but good to me. It has, did I mention, won lawn of the year?’ he asked, his teeth sparkling as he smiled.
‘Yeah, I caught that part,’ said Jeremiah, rolling his eyes.
‘Anyway,’ said Bradley, ‘I made my way outside one morning to find my lawn had been desecrated! It had been torn to shreds by a lawn mower and the centre of my lawn had been set alight. My roses had been pruned to death and one of my gnomes was missing. And the culprit for this malicious crime was none other than the man sitting before me!’ shouted Bradley, pointing a disapproving finger in Steven’s direction.
‘How you can be so sure that my client was the man responsible for this heinous offence?’ asked Jeremiah.
‘I looked over at his house, which is opposite my own, and saw him watering down my lawn mower which he had borrowed from me several months before but never returned,’ explained Bradley. ‘At the time he had run off with my lawn mower as though it were Julius Caesar’s balls! Also, my stolen gnome was standing directly beside him, and the name ‘Steven Carnes’ was burnt into my lawn.’
Jeremiah shot Steven a menacing look before continuing. ‘Perhaps there was another Steven Carnes?’
‘Another Steven Carnes?’ exploded Bradley. ‘In my neighborhood at 10 a.m. in the morning washing down my lawnmower? I doubt that very much, one’s enough isn’t it?’ Bradley took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Now, I want some justice. That, is my dream.’
‘I had a dream last night that a thick shake was drinking me!’ exploded Michael with a smile, the other three people in the room turning to face him before continuing with the proceedings.
‘Is he alright?’ asked Steven, pointing in the direction of the mediator, ‘or should I call the men in white suits and arrange for a rubber room to be prepared for Mr. York’s indefinite stay?’
Once more his lawyer ignored his outburst as he continued with the proceedings. ‘And where were you when these actions occurred Bradley?’ asked Jeremiah, giving Michael a strange look.
‘I told you, I was at home,’ explained Bradley.
‘And what were you doing?’ asked Jeremiah. ‘I want to know the precise actions that you were undertaking whilst my client supposedly ransacked your lawn.’
Bradley swallowed before answering the question. ‘I was in my bedroom, rubbing my ‘away itch’ formula onto my testicles.’
Michael shook his head whilst Steven sniggered.
‘I think it only fair that we turn the attention to my client and receive his half of the story,’ explained Jeremiah. ‘Were you in any way responsible for the occurrences which took place on Mr. Cooper’s lawn?’
‘You’re damn right I was!’ cried out Steven as Bradley looked as though he wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement for much longer.
‘Excuse me?’ questioned Jeremiah. ‘I think we need to take a moment here.’
‘I don’t think we do’ said Steven with a bright and cunning smile.
Jeremiah wrenched Steven out from his chair by his ear and dragged him kicking into the corner of the room, away from prying eyes. ‘You seem to think you have a choice here boy’ shot back Jeremiah in a harsh whisper that despite his best efforts reverberated throughout the room. ‘You asked me to assist you and out of the goodness of my heart I agreed. Now, I have not lost a single proceeding in my life and I will be damned if you are going to break my record you arrogant little prick! So how ‘bout you and I step outside for a moment so I might educate you on matters concerning our legal system; beginning with how to break it.’
‘I’m not going to deny it’ retorted Steven, Jeremiah realising it was hopeless to even try and coach his client as the two of them returned to the table. ‘And you know what,’ continued Steven, ‘I have the single most perfect and legitimate excuse for doing so as well. Mr. Bradley Cooper slept with my sweet baby sister.’
‘Define slept, said Michael.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Steven with a dumbfounded expression.
‘I mean it’s a very loose term,’ stated Michael, ‘and leaves room for speculation.’
‘He knows damn well what I mean by that!’ roared Steven, menacingly staring at Bradley as he spoke. ‘He was in her bed and he was in her, you know! Do I really have to say? This is all very disconcerting!’
‘So, sex’ said Michael, ‘yes?’
‘What do you think I’m talking about here, you stupid old fart!’ exploded Steven.
‘Really?’ asked Jeremiah, his eyes lighting up with interest. ‘What was she like?’
‘She certainly wasn’t how Steven described her’ stated Bradley. ‘She was like a wild fucking animal! All of this panting and growling and clawing. We went at it for hours.’
‘I bet the hounds would have been after her,’ smiled Michael.
‘Yeah,’ nodded Bradley, ‘the hounds of the Baskervilles.’
‘What?’ spluttered Michael as those on the other side of the table looked at him peculiarly. ‘Mrs. York apparently took a vow of abstinence when I wasn’t looking so I have to take my action where I can get it…’
Steven cleared his throat, in a failed attempt to garner the attention of the others in the room, continuing to explain his actions regardless. ‘I clearly remember the day it happened too. A couple of days before I destroyed his lawn he came over to my place and met my sister for the first time in years. She had been residing in Brisbane studying at an arts college. I remember his pick up line too,’ expressed Steven as the moment played out in his mind, remembering back to a time when he and Bradley were not bitter rivals.

It was several months earlier, with a gorgeous sunshine descending across the grounds. Steven opened his front door after hearing the doorbell and was instantly thrown a plate of blueberry pudding.
‘My mother baked them,’ noted Bradley as Steven allowed him entrance into his humble abode. ‘Ever since I kicked her arse into an institution she has been making this,’ he said, looking a little disgusted.
The landing was constructed of wood, with stairs opposite leading to the higher levels. The living room was adjacent to the landing, which was where an old creaking arm chair was placed in the corner containing the body of Steven’s decrepit, lifeless, snoring, burping, farting grandfather whom nobody wanted to go near.
‘Why are you here Cooper?’ asked Steven.
‘Can’t a friend visit every now and then?’ retaliated Bradley with a smile.
‘Not if this friend is intending to steal secrets about what I am planning on doing this year to win the lawn of the year award,’ retorted Steven.
‘The day I take advice on lawns from you will be a sad day indeed,’ said Bradley, leaning up against the door frame.
A creaking on the stairs alerted Bradley to another presence in the house. Jeanette, Steven’s sister, was making her way down the staircase. She had long, light brown coloured hair with blue eyes that shone out like street lamps. She wore a pale violet dress that clung to her body and jet black knee high boots.
‘Wow, fancy seeing you here,’ said Bradley with a smirk.
‘I live here you twerp,’ shot back Steven’s sister as the two of them smiled at one another.
Steven instantly recognised that something very wrong was happening in the house he currently resided in. Or was it an opportunity?

Returning to reality, Steven had a look of pain spread across his features. ‘Bradley found her impossible to resist because she has the body of an hour glass.’
‘I’m sure many women would love to be shaped that way,’ exclaimed Jeremiah. ‘I know my wife would especially. Unfortunately for me she happens to be shaped like a pear.’
Steven stared at Bradley wickedly. ‘What you two had in common – remains a mystery’ he said. ‘Bradley has always preferred women who were made from sugar and spice and my sister is quite the opposite. For one, she burps.’
‘She burps?’ questioned Michael with a weird expression.
‘Yeah,’ nodded Steven. ‘When our car broke down in Darwin she got out behind it and burped it across five states.’
‘Seriously?’ asked Michael.
‘All the best stories require a little exaggeration’ shot back Steven with an annoyed look. He shook his head before progressing onward. ‘But what really shakes me up is that he simply used her. I mean, if he wanted some smelly snatch he could have gone anywhere in town, but no, he chose my house to conduct his malicious sexual desires.’
‘For a man who went to so much trouble to defend his sister’s honor you saw have a funny way of showing your affection for her,’ said Michael, looking rather unimpressed at the terminology that Steven had used. ‘You seem like quite the chauvinistic misogynist.’
‘Well shit old timer!’ cried Steven. ‘Perhaps I should watch my fucking language? It’s not like that worm of a man inserted himself into your sister!’ he roared, pointing a finger in Bradley’s direction, ‘so excuse me if I am a little fucking infuriated right now!’ He took a deep breath as to calm himself down before beginning to speak once more. ‘On top of that I don’t know what my sister saw in him. I’d always given her credit where it was due and believed her to have sufficient intellectual capabilities. She told me Mr. Cooper had informed her that her presence helped open a window to his soul. Well, I can tell you I once looked through that window, and screamed at him to close the blinds.’
‘I don’t see why I have to be humiliated by this man!’ shouted Bradley, ‘besides, how did you find out about any of this in the first place?’
‘How do you think?’ retorted Steven. ‘My sister and I don’t keep secrets from one another. She told me all about how you firstly couldn’t get it up, and then how you couldn’t get it in.’
‘That is a blasphemy!’ erupted Bradley. ‘Just because I took his sister’s virginity!’
‘You did what?’ cried an astounded Steven, ‘oh you mother fucker!’ he shouted, launching himself across the table before Jeremiah could contain him. Steven grabbed hold of Bradley’s hair, who struggled to be free from his grip. ‘That’s just great!’ shouted an out of control Steven as he ripped at Bradley’s hair with all his might. ‘Not only does her vagina have to be fumigated because you decided to desecrate it with your filth, but you were the first one to give her the snake. Terrific! She’ll be remembering you until the next friggin’ apocalypse!’ he cried, just as a great ripping sound echoed about the room and Bradley’s hair came off in his hands.
‘Oh my fucking God!’ shouted Bradley as he felt the naked flesh atop his head. ‘First my lawn now my toupee! Give it back to me you bastard!’
‘Never!’ shouted Steven, jumping back to his side of the table.
‘Release the hat back to its owner,’ said Jeremiah to his client through pursed lips. ‘Male baldness is no laughing matter. After you do so, perhaps we might continue this ridiculous mediation.’
‘Oh, I’ll release it!’ shouted Steven, spit flying out in all directions, ‘I’ll release it into the fucking atmosphere! Would you like that?’ he laughed in Bradley’s direction.
‘Hey!’ shouted Bradley, ‘you sent your sister over to my place to spy on me in your last desperate attempt to win the lawn of the year award! You used her to get to me, and then you complain when we fall in love?’
‘Fall in love?’ roared Steven. ‘What the hell are you on chrome dome! I sincerely doubt the feeling was mutual baldy.’
‘You should have been there on our first night together,’ said Bradley with a smile plastered across his lips. ‘I made love to her smack bang in the centre of my lawn in front of an audience of several dozen gnomes.’
‘I don’t think we needed to hear that,’ stated Michael.
‘You are sick!’ roared Steven. ‘Who has sex with gnomes?’
‘I said we did it in front of gnomes!’ retorted Bradley. ‘Besides, I don’t know why you are complaining. Your sister is a consenting adult. She was nineteen at the time! I thought she would have seen a million of ‘em by then!’ he said, looking down at his crotch as he spoke. ‘Besides, you should have known what I did to her if she indeed tells you everything!’
‘She had a boyfriend up in Brisbane!’ roared Steven. ‘I thought she would have played doctor with him.’
‘I guess she wasn’t your prized informant after all!’ said Bradley, stifling a smile.
‘Just because of that,’ said Steven angrily, ‘you’re not getting this back now’ he said, shaking the orange hair hat in Bradley’s face before thrusting it into his pocket.
‘Well,’ began Jeremiah, halting the fight as to continue the legal proceedings. ‘I personally concur that this particular occurrence, along with my client’s testimony regarding the events which took place is a sufficient excuse to explain his actions, malicious or otherwise.’
‘What?’ roared Bradley angrily. ‘But what about justice? That is what I want.’
‘Mr. Cooper believes that Mr. Carnes should reimburse him twenty- five thousand dollars for the pain and destruction he has so wrongly caused him,’ expressed Michael.
‘No,’ said Jeremiah with a shake of his head.
‘Okay, how about twenty grand,’ said Bradley, receiving the same answer.
‘Fifteen thousand?’ enquired a desperate Bradley.
‘No,’ replied Jeremiah once more.
‘Ten thousand?’ asked Bradley, his face beginning to droop.
‘Not on your life,’ explained Jeremiah.
‘Okay, I can go as low as a grand, but that is it,’ said Bradley.
‘No,’ restated Jeremiah, his arms clasped over his chest.
‘Not even nine hundred dollars?’ probed Bradley, grasping at straws.
‘No, not even nine hundred dollars,’ replied Jeremiah in an unchanged, unemotionally zealous tone.
‘Eight hundred dollars?’ pleaded Bradley.
‘No,’ shot back Jeremiah.
‘Five hundred?’ questioned Bradley, his hands clasped together as though he were about to pray.
‘Not in this life time,’ exclaimed Jeremiah as Steven smiled menacingly beside him.
‘One hundred?’ asked Bradley.
‘What did we just say?’ retorted Jeremiah with a chuckle.
‘Okay, how about fifty. Fifty dollars?’ cried Bradley, realising his chance to be reimbursed for his losses was slowly dissipating.
‘Not going to happen,’ said Jeremiah.
‘Twenty?’ asked Bradley.
‘Nope,’ replied Jeremiah.
‘Ten?’ cried Bradley, with what looked to be a tear making its way out from the corner of his eye.
‘Not today,’ said Jeremiah with a smile, knowing full well he had won.
‘Okay, how about four dollars and fifty cents for the train ride home?’ questioned Bradley.
Jeremiah nodded. ‘Sure, we could do that.’


Jewel Thief

SYNOPSIS: Christos, a young man who recently lost his fiancé to an Italian athlete decides to break into her residence to retrieve the wedding ring he gave to her, with the help of a few friends.

A head’s up, this piece contains some explicit coarse language.


Jerry watched the glasses get topped up once more by the barkeep as the sound of roaring laughter and constant profanities filled his ears.
‘Drink up!’ smiled his friend, downing the glass in one gulp.
‘I think you’ve had enough’ stated Jerry, nodding at the barkeep to acknowledge what he’d said, who simply replied with ‘how many fingers am I holding up’, placing three fingers in front of Christos’s face.
‘Ah, twelve?’ questioned Christos as the barkeep smiled. ‘Close enough’ he said, pouring him another shot as Jerry rolled his eyes, unable to believe that a woman could have possibly done this to his friend.
‘She was my life’ said Christos emotionally, chugging the entire glass and indicating for the barkeep to pour him another, Jerry not even bothering to tell him otherwise this time.
Christos downed the glass once more. ‘I was her Orpheus and she was my Eurydice.’
‘It’s no wonder you didn’t last’ said Jerry.
‘But not to worry folks!’ shouted Christos, holding out his hands, ‘for I have a plan!’
‘Here we go’ grunted Jerry, tossing his head back.
‘I’m going to break into my ex-wife’s house and steal all of her jewelry’ smiled Christos.
‘Oh, right, that’s totally going to win her affection back’ said Jerry, clapping his hands. ‘Bravo, bravo!’
‘No, no, it’s not that at all!’ shouted Christos angrily, requesting another top up of his glass before continuing. ‘She ran off with some athletic Eyetie bastard, who runs around on a treadmill all day for a living, when she could have had all this!’ he shouted, thrusting out his hands for all to admire his body.
‘I bet it was a hard decision’ said Jerry, ‘the smell of indecent sweat in exchange for the smell of alcoholic abuse.’
 ‘I want some compensation for such unnecessary and barbaric treatment.  She left me, and I was left humiliated and disgraced’ said Christos, a tear rolling down his face. ‘And the compensation I require is the ring I gave to her in exchange for her promise.’
‘What?’ questioned Jerry. ‘You mean you wish to re-obtain the ring you won in the Kinder Surprise egg?’
‘I didn’t win it!’ shouted Christos. ‘I bought and paid for it with my own blood and sweat, and I believe I deserve it back, along with the rest of her jewelry. Which is why we’re going to break into her crib and snatch it!’
‘I’m all for the snatch part’ commented Jerry. ‘That I could really use right now, but there is no way I’m going with you to Cynthia’s place to steal her jewelry. Now, I don’t care if you paid for it, as soon as you gave it to her, it became hers.’
‘It ain’t gonna be just you and me on this gig’ smiled Christos. ‘I’m bringing Evelyn, my ex-girlfriend along, you know, the woman from way back.’
‘And why do we need her?’ asked Jerry.
‘Because, we need at least one professional on this job’ nodded Christos. ‘Besides, I’m a little terrified of her.’
‘You’re terrified of a woman?’ laughed Jerry. ‘How could you possibly be terrified of a woman? They’re all made up of sugar and other sweet, delicious things.’

‘What the fuck are you doing you dumb son of a bitch!’ roared Evelyn. Now this was the way a real woman behaved. Her mouth salivating, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes a bright red in fury as veins began to protrude from the corners of her pupils. ‘You fuck this up one more time and I’m gonna snap your fucking neck!’ she shouted, the attendant behind the register cowering in terror as he attempted to give her the right amount of change back for the twenty dollar note she had handed him for the packet of tampons she’d purchased, not to mention the several liters of fuel for her ride; a hybrid mustang.
Evelyn’s phone suddenly rang as she flicked it open, grunting ‘what?’ into the receiver before grabbing the man behind the register by the scruff of his neck and holding him over the counter. ‘Swap me out the proper change, or I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, before ripping out your eyes and skull fucking your brain!’ She watched the attendant attempt to procure the change from the register as she nodded in response to the call. ‘Yeah, I can be there’ she said, before putting her phone away and eyeing the attendant coldly.
The correct change was suddenly thrust in her direction as she caught it in mid-air preparing to leave before grunting ‘and one more thing.’ She turned around to the attendant and knocked him out with a right hook to the side of the head, leaping over the register and beginning to empty out the entire till.

Jerry shuffled in the cold, his hands in his pockets as he waited out on the side of the bridge that led towards Cynthia’s house. The ground was frozen in a dense layer of frost as his breath came out before him, his legs shaking in the cold of the night. A pair of headlights were visible on the highway up ahead as Christos’s BMW drove up beside him, the roof being disengaged as his friend smiled up at him. He was not alone however, another man who was considerably plump sitting in the backseat.
Jerry indicated for Christos to exit the car and talk to him in the privacy of the trees, his friend grudgingly following Jerry’s lead.
‘Why do we have to steal your ex-wife’s jewelry when you’re riding around in that piece of ass?’ cried Jerry.
‘I blew all the money on the car’ grunted Christos with a sideways glance as Jerry rolled his eyes.
‘And what about the jolly fat man sitting up back?’ probed Jerry. ‘I thought it was just going to be me, you, and your ex.’
‘Change of plans’ said Christos out from the corner of his mouth. ‘My aunty isn’t going to be home tonight and so asked me to take care of my cousin, Marty. He’s a little slow in the head and needs constant supervision. He has a few strange obsessions and hobbies, so don’t mind him either, and whatever you do, don’t mention we‘re going to steal anything. I have him believing we’re going to Disneyworld.’
‘Right’ nodded Jerry, making his way over to the car. ‘Hey Marty, we’re going to go steal some shit, wanna come?’
‘Awesome’ smiled Marty as Christos gave Jerry a dirty look before grunting ‘would you mind sitting in the back?’
‘Is there anything else you wouldn’t mind me doing?’ barked Jerry. How ‘bout I wipe the windows while I’m at it,’ reluctantly doing as his friend requested.
‘Can you drop something?’ asked Marty as Jerry sat beside him.
‘Oh yeah’ grunted Jerry between clenched teeth, ‘this is going to be a real pleasure cruise’ he said as Christos gave him a look before beginning to drive on towards Cynthia’s place.

Barely twenty minutes later they arrived outside of Cynthia’s. The residence was an extremely gargantuan mansion sitting on top of a large hill overlooking the surrounding plains. A metallic fence ran around the entire property as the three men admired the place. Christos stopped the car as the headlights ran over shapes before him, Evelyn beginning to walk over to them after peering in through the fence at one of the windows, entering the vacant seat up front.
‘Who the fuck is this?’ barked Evelyn, indicating at Marty as Christos said ‘don’t ask.’
‘Glad to meet you again Evelyn’ said Jerry, reaching out his hand as she swiped it away. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she cried. ‘I’m not your whore!’ She calmed down before continuing. ‘I’ve checked the place out. They left a couple of hours ago, so I don’t know how long you have.’
‘You mean you’re not coming?’ questioned Christos in a frightened squeak as Evelyn shook her head. ‘It’s your party.’
‘Jerry?’ asked Christos.
‘Why don’t you ask Marty, he looks as though he’s dying to come in there with you’ retorted his friend.
‘Drop something!’ smiled Marty.
‘And look, he’s already in the mood to vandalise shit’ grinned Jerry as Christos exited the car. ‘Fine, I’ll do it on my own you bunch of pussies’ he grunted, moving towards the gate.
‘Come back over here and say that’ yelled Evelyn. ‘Bitch!’ she muttered, watching Christos make his way over the fence and collapse on the other side before disappearing into the darkness around him.

Ten minutes later Christos had still failed to return, Jerry becoming aggravated in the back seat.
‘Drop something’ said Marty suddenly as Evelyn rolled her eyes. ‘How ‘bout I drop a turd, would you like that!’
‘That would be funny’ commented Marty.
‘Yeah, right on your friggin’ head’ grunted Evelyn as security alarms suddenly began to ring out from the household, a great crashing sound being heard as pieces of glass were showered across the grounds. Christos leapt out from an upstairs window before rolling across the lawn, making his way back over the fence and into the car with a couple of bags tucked under his arms.
‘I got the dough’ he smiled.
‘You got something’ mumbled Jerry, the car beginning to pull out from the house and onto the highway.

The next morning the BMW was parked outside of a McDonald’s drive-in, Marty being left to protect the vehicle whilst the others made their way into the fast food outlet to grab themselves a bite to eat.
A few minutes later as Jerry, Christos and Evelyn walked back into the parking lot they could instantly tell something was terribly wrong. Especially upon discovering the car missing.
‘Did we lock the doors?’ asked Jerry, looking around the parking lot as if hoping to see it parked somewhere else.
‘I don’t know’ stated Christos. ‘But I did leave the keys in the ignition.’
‘Did you happen to leave the engine running as well?’ barked Evelyn. ‘Hell, we should’ve put a sign up saying ‘please steal this car because these barmy shits couldn’t lock the fucking doors!’
‘What about Marty?’ asked Christos.
‘Screw him’ retorted Evelyn, ‘I’d be more concerned about the loot we left him with. And who’s to say he didn’t double cross us?’
‘He can’t drive!’ shouted Christos, Evelyn looking about to take a piece out of him as a police car suddenly drove up beside them, its sirens blaring as two officers sprung out from its interior.
‘Put your hands in the air where we can see them!’ they commanded as Jerry swore under his breath, Christos reluctantly doing as they asked before finding himself with the others in the back of the car.

Christos found himself in the confines of the dark interrogation room which was immediately flooded with light, an officer making her way into the room.
‘We found your car’ stated the officer, sitting down before Christos. ‘We also found your cousin in the back seat. We would have charged him with complicity in your crimes, but he’s been treated leniently because he didn’t know what he was getting himself involved in. Jerry too has been acquitted because it seems he’s quite a pillar of the community, stating he only became involved because he didn’t have the heart to say otherwise. As for Evelyn, she has a rap sheet bigger than my arm, and we just can’t be bothered going through the paperwork to charge her with something else. You however, you’re ours. I went through your file and found your educational statistics.’
‘School’s not for everyone’ stated Christos.
‘Yeah, well who wants a university degree anyway when you can receive an even better education from the Crayon Cabana. It appears you received an even more efficient education from your prior employment as well, the Majister of Meats’. She paused before continuing. ‘You know what I see before me? I see an incompetent individual who no doubt is on his way down to a place I wouldn’t even attempt to imagine. Have you anything to say for yourself?’
Christos grimaced. ‘Did you find the ring?’

Party to Die for

SYNOPSIS: A man relives the occurrences of a party that was quite unlike any party you, the reader, has probably ever been too. 

I sat in the cold, dark interrogation room at the local police station, my breath being visible before me as I exhaled. My back was drenched in sweat, my hands timidly moving before me on the frozen metal table. The lights were suddenly switched on as I leapt back in my seat.
The door opposite opened, a man in a plaid suit which appeared to be cutting circulation off from his brain entering the room, cradling a file in one hand and coffee in the other. He had jet black hair that was greased back across his head with eyes that were just as black and sinister. He looked more like a criminal mastermind than a law enforcement officer. He sat before me, dropping the files onto the table whilst fixing up his tie with his now free hand, taking a terrific gulp of coffee immediately after doing so.
‘Mr. Henderson’ he said in a raspy voice, ‘I am detective Lachlan Mitchell. I’ve been assigned to this case because of its distinct peculiarity. I’ve looked over all of the information and I must say, it doesn’t look good for you son, nor for the two chuckleheads I have placed in other rooms just like this one. So before I slap the cuffs on you I would like you to explain to me in your own words what happened two nights ago.’
I tilted my head backwards, taking a deep gulp of air whilst rubbing my eyes, before beginning to divulge the events which had taken place.

I had drawn the short straw. That was why I found myself in the mortuary on the night of my best friend’s birthday. Andrew and Michael were sitting patiently out front in Andrew’s Mustang, smoke billowing out from the exhaust, Michael advising they keep the engine running in case they had to bolt.
I crept timidly down the halls of the mortuary which was located a few metres adjacent to the medical facility. Darkness surrounded me around every corner, my mind concocting scenarios of security being around every turn. Michael had made schematics of the entire building from his night shift at the hospital, the map in front of me not only being incredibly small, but being terribly difficult to read under the dim light of the torch I grasped in my other hand.
On the walls were numerous rooms that were locked, a door with a pane of glass located in front of each which cast eerie shadows across the interior of the complex as my torch connected with such secured areas.
I swung open a door before me and found myself in the lab where the bodies were to be prepped for the funeral arrangements. A putrid odour of death and decay hit me like a tonne of bricks as I stumbled backwards from the killer stench, attempting to hold my breath. In front of me in the centre of the room was a metallic table that shone brightly as though it had been kept pristine over the years. A body, who I presumed to be deceased, was placed atop of it, wrapped in a white cloth that extended across the entire body. The shape of the human form, which I presumed to be male, was all that could be made out. And all I honestly wanted to make out.
A stand made from the same metallic alloy was placed on the left side of the table, with numerous locked drawers located upon its lower most sections.
The walls were a dark blue in colour, with window panes located upon the ceiling, the full moon being visible up in the sky above. Across the walls were posters advertising different medical procedures and the ways a corpse was to be prepared, such things making a shudder travel up and down my spine.
Drawers where the deceased were kept were located on the wall, my hands reaching out and quickly beginning to drag them open one by one. I must have opened up seven, each of them either being empty or filled with some person who died in an incredibly insidious way, before I managed to discover the one which held my best friend; Warrick Childs.
He looked quite peaceful under the torch light, for a dead guy I mean. I’d being half expecting his guts to be hanging out of him like undigested offerings that a bunch of carnivorous hounds would have left behind after digging into him.
He had bright orange hair that looked rather untidy, yet considerably pristine. His green eyes were closed and he had numerous freckles located across his cheeks.
I slowly began to move him out from his confinement, his body crumpling to the floor at my feet as I closed the creaking drawer which clicked into place.
I suddenly felt Warrick’s hand shoot out and grab my leg, my body nearly falling backwards in fright, my torch darting around the room before I came to my senses, realising it had been the cat in the corner which had touched me, the creature of the night hissing from its hiding place. I shook my head before slowly picking up Warrick’s body and swinging it over my shoulder, my legs buckling beneath me under his dead weight as I made my way towards the door.
Just at that exact moment when I was about to make my fantastical get away (if I must say so myself) after implementing the perfect crime, I heard the creaking of one of the cabinets sliding open. Turning my head, I noticed the body of a near naked woman hanging out from the long line of cabinets, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I gently placed Warrick onto the operating table atop of the other corpse.
‘Don’t mind me’ I said, hoping that neither of the corpses were at all homophobic.
I hurried over to the open cabinet and attempted to slide it back into place, the prosthetic breasts of the young woman’s deceased corpse preventing it from property sliding back in. Every time the head and neck of the young woman made their way inside the confines of the cabinet I felt a sense of joy. That was of course before the exterior of the cabinet connected with the huge breasts which bounced it backwards, many times the drawer nearly colliding with my crown jewels. The woman’s breasts themselves were like two cannons sticking out from the side of a pirate’s vessel, bouncing up and down in place. If that was not bad enough they were so lusciously beautiful I found them almost impossible to resist, just wanting to grab a hold of the gorgeous creatures to see how they felt. Such a job must have cost several hundred thousand dollars and were deliberately placed there to be admired and groomed, not to be left to rot in the drawer within a mortuary for Chrissake.
I took a deep breath, attempting to keep my mind on the problem at hand. If the doctors came back down here and saw the body outside from her home then they would certainly know without a doubt that there had been a grave robbery. I jerked and jabbed with the cabinet, the body rocking all over the place as though it were listening to Whitney Houston’s Greatest Hits collection. Finally, after a sickening squelching sound issued forth from the cabinet’s interior the body was rammed successfully back inside.
I breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing my hand over my sweaty forehead, before grabbing Warrick’s body off from the table, grunting in agony as I did so before hurrying out of the mortuary with his head banging up against my back like a drum.
Reaching the car, I dumped Warrick’s body into the trunk, hurrying into the back seat as Andrew revved up the engine.
‘Okay boys; let’s go have ourselves a party!’ I cried, the car flying into the distance, the rest of the night after that being nothing more than a blur.

The detective nodded his head as I concluded the story, before pulling out a laptop buried beneath the files he had brought in with him. He opened the computerised device, which was already on line to an internet site which had aired coverage from the night of the party.
Before me was streamed a film of Andrew, Michael and I at a table, with our deceased friend Warrick located directly in the centre.
Michael had skin that was heavily tanned, his hair being a pitch black in colour that was cut incredibly short. He wore a dark blue shirt with stripes of a white colour going horizontally down the front.
Andrew had blonde coloured hair that was raised high up on the left side of his head but lower down on the right. His eyes were a blue colour and he had a devilish smile about him, a light blue shirt placed across his chest.
Warrick on the other hand we had managed to shove into an orange and blue shirt that was comprised of stripes going vertically across the fabric, with white trousers located on his legs. A party hat was perched atop his head which was continuously tilting forward, his body unable to remain upright for long.
We each chugged down a few beers before emptying a number of overloaded glasses down Warrick’s cold, dead throat, cheering after such an accomplishment had being successfully orchestrated by our dead friend. A great amount of the alcoholic fluid dribbled across the shirt we had applied over the white gown the mortuary staff had tied around Warrick’s body to hide his genitalia.
Andrew suddenly moved out from the camera frame, before placing a giant mud cake in the centre of the table. ‘Make a wish!’ he cried to Warrick, who tilted his head to the side before collapsing on top of the table, the cake splattering into a few thousand pieces beneath him.
‘This went on for some time’ noted the detective, fast forwarding the image. ‘Then we get to this disturbing scene’ he said, clicking the play reticule, the video beginning to continue once more. A woman dressed in a sleazy black outfit stepped on top of the table, beginning to do a rather sexualised dance in front of Warrick. Her hair was curled into some kind of afro, her eyes sparkling like glitter in the night. The only clothing she had on her person was a black bra and panties with a couple of notes thrust into the side of the threads. Her breasts reminded me a lot of those that belonged to the woman I had managed to ram back inside the cabinets at the mortuary. ‘You’re one year older big boy!’ she cried in a high pitched voice, moving herself on top of Warrick and wrapping her legs around his body. She grabbed his crotch before crying ‘whoa, your penis is so hard and erect, like a cadaver!’ Warrick’s head suddenly titled onto her chest as she purred, grabbing hold of his head and thrusting his nose deep inside of her cleavage as to allow him to get a better look, appearing not to notice the current predicament he was in.
The detective suddenly turned off the video, his face conveying an element of shock as I sat speechless before him. ‘I am glad to say that we did locate his body’ noted the detective after taking a short breath. ‘It was found outside of a park on Rockchester Avenue, nearly twelve kilometres from your place of residence, which according to the video and the forensic evidence taken by the police officers was where the party ensued. Some of that same evidence was located at the mortuary which we’ve linked to your DNA, presumably sweat’
‘Well if you found his body, shouldn’t you perhaps let me off with a warning?’ I questioned.
‘I said we found his body’ grunted the detective. ‘It was decapitated.’
I raised an eyebrow at such a statement.
‘It took us a further nine hours to find his head’ commented the detective. ‘It was located fifteen kilometres east of his body, in a football field between two goal posts. What it was doing there is beyond me, but I doubt he was there to watch the big game.’
I went to speak but the detective quickly cut me off. ‘You would be pleased to know that we attached the head to the body, all in time for the funeral which was held late yesterday afternoon instead of the initial scheduling which had been booked for the morning, for obvious reasons which I doubt I will have to explain.’
‘Well, I guess everything sorted itself out in the end’ I said.
‘However’ said the detective, quickly cutting me off once again, ‘there’s more. We later discovered alcohol in the deceased’s system, apparently planted there after his body had been abducted. This was found after the funeral. It appears the embalming fluid and the alcohol mixed together in the stomach of your friend and caused a chemical reaction, which further caused his entire stomach to explode during the funeral precession. His body was blown into a thousand pieces and scattered across the entire chapel, his head coming to rest in the lap of his poor mother, Daniela Childs, who unfortunately died of complications to the heart at the scene.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that’ I said with a stutter.
‘Okay, now let’s go through the list of wrongs you and your gang have successfully orchestrated thus far’ began the detective, counting them off on his fingers. ‘We have breaking and entering; public mutilation to the deceased; some sexually explicit actions which I am proud to say I did not air to you this evening; public drunkenness; destruction of property; littering; attempted vandalism; successful vandalism; reckless driving under the influence of alcohol, among other substances which stripper Lucky Lucy has attested to providing you and your happy team members. Along with this she admitted to the performing of numerous erotic and illegal actions which the five of you were involved in for a number of hours. We have mortuary theft; attempted grand theft auto; vicious slander towards strangers who wish to remain anonymous; urination in a public place; the unintentional murder of sweet Miss Daniela Childs and the desecration of the deceased. Both Mr. Warrick Childs and Miss. Hilary Watson, whose cadaver was found crushed inside her assigned cabinet within the mortuary, her body, apart from being beyond recognition also appearing to be coated in the same gel found in prosthetic body parts, breasts for example?’ he noted with a raised eyebrow.
I tilted my head to the side, having absolutely nothing to say for myself.
‘I guess what I would like to ultimately know is why throw a party for a dead man?’ continued the detective. ‘It seems a little redundant if you ask me, but then again I’ve always considered myself to be quite the normal individual, I don’t get off on all the fiendish and satanic mumbo jumbo you and your gang orchestrated on the night of these viciously vulgar occurrences. What? Haven’t you anything to say for yourself?’ he probed as I shook my head, the detective beginning to stand to his feet. ‘I’ll be back in a while after I’ve interrogated the other culprits involved in this orgy of insidious criminal activity.’
‘But, you can’t leave me in here!’ I crowed as the detective reached the door, ‘what if I catch my death of cold?’
‘Not on your life’ grunted the detective, the lights dimming as the door closed behind him.


Restaurant of the Year

SYNOPSIS: A reviewer of restaurants has his work cut out for him when he finds himself in the presence of quite possibly the single most terrible restaurant he has ever reviewed in his life

 Barry Bardronsky sat in his red Porsche outside of the Overboard, the new restaurant which had recently opened in Melbourne. Bright red neon lights flashed in front of the restaurant, allowing all to be bewildered by its brilliant physical tranquility. He rubbed his black beard and sighed, hoping that this was not going to be yet another insufferable evening of unsatisfying products.
Barry was renown across the state for his reviews of new restaurants in the newspaper, becoming quite unpopular amongst many of the owners, especially when they closed down after the supposedly slanderous words that Barry used to describe their venues. It wasn’t his fault if their food was less than adequate to satisfy his tastes. After all, it was his job to warn the people if there was a problem with the food, not endorse venues that were unable to accommodate a pack of turkeys, let alone human beings.
He rubbed his hands down his blue shirt, admiring his black jeans and brown boots as he stared around at the other vehicles passing by his. He noticed one license plate specifying the owner as ‘KIKASS’ whilst another stated ‘PEN15’. Barry shook his head, not having time for humor much these days in the line of work he was in.
He gingerly stepped from the vehicle, holding a clipboard in his hand and a pen in the other as he made his way to the sidewalk and briskly marched through the cool winter breeze towards the restaurant doors. A man dressed in red opened the door politely for him and the other patrons as they stepped inside onto a magnificently constructed landing. The carpet laid out across the floor was a bright red in colour, with yellow lining around the sides. The walls were decorated in black and yellow patterns, whilst musicians played tender dinner music in the far corner.
Each of the patrons were dressed in fine luxurious clothes, Barry finding himself to be a little underdressed as he fixed his shirt collar, attempting to blend in with the rest of the crowd. The maitre d’ at the front of the restaurant who was allowing the queue of individuals hoping to enter recognised Barry, clicking his fingers for two of the waiters closest to escort him directly into the restaurant proper.
Barry had to admit already that if the rest of the evening persisted in quite the same manner that it would be one of the few restaurants he had ever credited.
He sat down at the finely organised wooden table, with blue napkins, sparkling cutlery and red menus that were each placed before him in a formalised fashion. He pulled the menu close to him and began to quickly skim over what he could possibly order, many of which he had tried at previous venues, each meal becoming a bad memory that he so desperately wished to forget.
The man who had allowed him entry suddenly appeared at his side, holding a gargantuan plush teddy bear in his hands. ‘Here sir, this was left for you.’
Barry didn’t know what to say as he took the plush toy and studied the card attached to its left ear.
‘Good luck at this new restaurant, love Carol’ stated the card as he smiled. It appeared his co-worker was not without a sense of humor as he noticed the strange looks he began to receive from the other patrons. Barry nodded at the man who returned to his post, whilst Barry placed the bear in the seat opposite him.
A waiter appeared moments later beside him, eagerly awaiting to hear what he wished to order.
‘I see you have quite an exquisite list of delicacies here’ specified Barry as the man nodded. ‘Tell me, if I order sausages, how long do you think they will be?’
‘I can’t be too sure sir’ replied the man, ‘but I would assume eight centimeters.’
Barry tilted his head to the side and sighed before continuing. ‘Moreover, do you serve crabs in this restaurant?’
‘Yes sir’ answered the man. ‘We serve anyone.’
‘I’m sorry, have I done anything to offend you?’ questioned Barry.
‘I’m the ‘idiot’ you insulted at the Royal Galah last month. And the ‘imbecile’ you insulted at the Skipping Kangaroo a few weeks before that.’
Barry nodded, failing to remember such insults, but coming to realise that he insulted nearly every waiter at every venue he had ever attended, so it was quite difficult to keep track.
‘In that case I’ll have the crocodile soup with your finest Merlot. On top of that I would like to have a breadstick. And step on it, I really don’t have all night here you know’.
The man nodded before turning to the plush teddy bear figurine. ‘And you sir, what would you like. Oh, I’m sorry, you obviously don’t want anything because, as I can see, you’re stuffed!’
With that the waiter turned on his heel and left back the way he came, a couple of the patrons sniggering at what had just occurred as Barry rubbed his temple. It was going to be a long night he thought as he put a mark down on the service at the Overboard.
A man dressed in white and black attire suddenly made his way out, bringing a plate over to Barry’s table with what he had ordered. Barry picked up the breadstick and shook his head. ‘Why has my bread been squashed?’
‘Well, the waiter said that you wanted me to step on it because you were in a hurry’ replied the man.
‘Not figuratively you moron!’ hissed Barry.
Barry took the spoon from the plate and had a quick taste of the soup he had ordered, spitting it back out in disgust. ‘And what’s more this soup tastes funny!’
‘Well, I don’t hear you laughing about it’ stated the man.
‘None of you are taking me seriously’ grunted Barry, becoming aggravated. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want what I’ve ordered. Instead, I would like a medium salad with egg and vegetable soup on the side’.
The man before him nodded slowly before taking away the products which Barry had refused as he yanked the cork out from the bottle of Merlot and took a great swig of the alcoholic beverage.
A few moments later the new order that Barry had asked for began to be brought over to him on two different plates, the man quickly retreating back to whence he came after deliverance of the products.
Barry took a forkful of salad before applying it with egg, placing the fork into his mouth, a foul expression coming over his face as he turned to the soup to look for something to wash it down. He quickly turned away after seeing what was in the adjacent meal, taking yet another great sip of Merlot and crying out for the nearest waiter to help him.
‘Yes sir?’ questioned the man as he arrived.
‘Waiter, this egg is awful’ explained Barry.
‘Well don’t blame me sir’ replied the waiter, ‘I only laid the table.’
Barry gave him a dirty look before proceeding with his complaints. ‘On top of that, there is a fly in my soup!’
‘Oh, don’t worry sir, the spider in your salad will get it!’ smiled the waiter as Barry quickly checked to see if he were been serious.
‘I’m joking sir’ grinned the waiter.
‘I don’t think you quite understand the situation’ grunted Barry. ‘There is a fly in my soup!’
‘If you like I can arrange for you to have a bigger one’ suggested the waiter.
‘No, I don’t want a bigger one’ shot back Barry angrily. ‘I already have one and I am telling you I did not order it!’
‘Please sir be quiet, or else everyone else will want one’ said the waiter as a man who happened to resemble a garden toad sitting near Barry’s table looked at his order and noted to the waiter ‘I’ll have what he’s having.’
The waiter beside Barry appeared to look a little upset as he continued on. ‘At least the hot water killed the fly. It could be a whole lot worse; it could still be swimming.’
‘Don’t you understand what is happening here you temperamental twit?’ cried Barry, beginning to attract some unnecessary attention. ‘I wish to talk to the owner, immediately!’
The waiter nodded as he began to escort Barry in the direction of the kitchens, making his way past the cooks who each eyed him dangerously before reaching a young woman in a gray uniform at the far end who was talking to the head chef. She turned to Barry as he arrived, her dark hair flying across her face before smiling.
‘You must be Barry Bardronsky’ she said. ‘I was just about to come out and talk to you.’
‘Yes’ nodded Barry, ‘well there’s no need now, is there?  As for why I am here, I think it is plainly obvious. I’m looking for the ring leader of this circus.’
‘Well you found her’ smiled the woman. ‘Abigail’s the name and cooking’s the game.’
‘Good’ nodded Barry with a nod of his head whilst pointing at her with his finger before noting, ‘great slogan too. Is there somewhere we could talk in private?’
‘Right this way’ nodded Abigail as she escorted Barry into an office at the back of the restaurant that was incredibly small and compact, Abigail seating herself in a small chair behind an even smaller desk.
‘You know’ commented Barry. ‘I’ve seen mental asylums saner than this dive. I can see you have a real handle on things here.’
‘Do you have an actual complaint you would wish to bring to my attention?’ questioned Abigail bleakly. ‘Or did you just come here to bitch?’
‘Is it just me, or do you and your little gang of nitwits enjoy getting everything purposefully wrong?’ cried out Barry. ‘I mean, what is wrong with you people? I mean, do you have any endeavours to do apart from live and die in this rotten restaurant? What do you wish to be when you’re older?’
‘A weather girl’ stated Abigail.
Barry threw his arms in the air. ‘What can I say to that? This place is filled with the most incompetent ignoramuses I have ever had the incredible misfortune to meet in my entire life!’
‘Well, you would know, wouldn’t you’ commented Abigail. ‘You know, a little bird told me you were an ass. I didn’t actually listen to her at the time, but don’t worry, I shot the little bugger before the news spread any further.’
‘I can’t take anymore of this utter rubbish’ grunted Barry as he began to leave the office.
‘It’s such a shame that you’re leaving us’ said Abigail, shaking her head with a laugh.
‘Yeah, I’m grief stricken too’ retorted Barry. ‘Especially since I won’t be able to see you go through puberty.’
‘Tell me Mr. Bardronsky, before you leave’ began Abigail. ‘You have quite a stomach on you, along with an appetite for been a total arsehole. Has anyone ever told you that you should work out?’
‘Work out?’ asked Barry with a snigger. ‘You see this?’ he laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth. ‘I’m working out every time I bring the fork up to my mouth’ he said before leaving.
Abigail shook her head before sighing. ‘Idiot!’ she whispered.
‘I heard that!’ cried out Barry as he exited through the kitchens and back through the restaurant, grabbing his plush teddy bear before making his way to the exit. ‘Come on’ he grunted as he grabbed the teddy by the arm, the chair he had been seated in falling to one side with a loud clunk. ‘We’re leaving’ Barry hissed once more as he continued to head in the direction of the entrance.
Whatever the case, Barry was certain that by this time next week, the Overboard would be no more. His column in tomorrow’s paper would easily attest to that. It was true what they said – revenge was a dish best served cold.

Final Run

SYNOPSIS: Read it and find out! Just a heads up; contains a couple profanities.

The pharmacy; a ridiculously brutal environment with a bright light illuminating the aisles, the potent stink of inebriating female perfume causing me to choke as I traversed the many aisles, desperately searching for pain medication in an attempt to leave this wretched place. Suddenly I noticed her; my competition, dressed in a short pink skirt and blue shirt, her upper thighs, cleavage and belly being entirely exposed. Her red dyed hair flew out behind her as she suddenly spun around, eyeing me dangerously. Shit! She recognised me. Marsha her name was. Once we had dated, but our chosen occupations had caused us to become bitter rivals. Taking a deep breath, I began to walk over to her with the intention to say the first intelligent thing that came to mind.
‘Damn, look at ‘em titties!’ I spontaneously cried, unable to stop myself.
Her hand flew out from beside her, connecting with my face as the unexpected force threw me backwards, causing me to plow into a stack of cans which flew out in all directions as I crumpled to the ground. Marsha stared venomously down at me before storming from the store, her hips moving so fast that they collided with the Panadol sign outside, causing it to tip over. I groaned, attempting to pick myself up as the Asiatic pharmacy owner who was a leprechaun of a woman came hobbling over to me.
‘You trash my store, you idiot!’ she cried. She looked up at me as I stood to my full height and gasped. ‘You look no good. I have something, clean you right up it will!’
‘I’m fine’ I said with a wave of my hand, suddenly finding a small package being shoved into my hands with what looked to be grains of sugar inside. Shrugging my shoulders I swallowed the contents, a bitter awful taste over-powering my senses. ‘What is this?’ I cried out in protest.
‘Oh, that’s just some crushed elephant penis’ smiled the pharmacist.
‘What!’ I exploded, spitting the remnants of the elephant’s reproductive organ onto the floor.
‘Now, what can I help you with my son?’ asked the woman as I shook my head.
‘No thanks, I’m going back to the twenty-first century where I can receive actual medication; not some shit a cow defecated, gigantic cockroaches, or any other vile concoction you’ve got brewing out back’ I shouted, racing out of the store with my hair standing on end.

I closed the door to my apartment, breathing abnormally fast as I did so. But if I had wished to escape to a more attractive environment I had come to the wrong place. The entire lounge room was representative of a nuclear weapon being dropped onto the city of Melbourne. The lounge suite was repulsive; raggedy and unclean. The floor was coated in old clothes, cellophane wrappers and other indescribably inconspicuous products. Who knew what other nocturnal creatures roamed the dark corners of my home as I threw the keys onto the coffee table which was a mass of Chinese take-out and ancient pizza.
The kitchen which I unfortunately entered next was just as vulgar and uninhabitable as the rest of the premises. I looked around at the used plates and cutlery, my eyes coming to land on the table. It was a mass of papers and books; my desperate attempt to gather an insightful education in order to acquire an occupation that was less embarrassing than the one I currently found myself enjoying very little. I looked inside the adjacent bathroom, the toilet, funnily enough, appearing to be the most hygienic thing in the apartment thus far. Hell, I could have probably eaten off the God damn thing and received fewer germs from it than from the kitchen table that I ate off every single night.
I returned to the lounge room, thinking of kicking off my shoes before noticing something skitter across the carpet, which instantaneously caused me to change my mind. I hit my voice mail, beginning to listen to the messages as I made my way over to the closed blinds which hung over my window. I rolled my eyes as I listened to my super drone on about how I was six months over due on the rent. I pulled back the shades and cautiously looked through them. A person in my line of work could never be too cautious.  Unfortunately my window was directly opposite the rooftop of the adjacent building, which was the perfect vantage point for snipers. There were an awful lot of people who would have wanted to rub me out from the equation, believe me! A hired gun was simply the easiest choice when dealing with such delicate matters. It meant not having to get your hands dirty whilst at the same time leaving no trace between you and the one who took the contract. With no proper paper trail the police would never be able to tie the murder back to anyone; just yet another cold case that was never solved. I’d be a frozen Popsicle in the ground and nobody would be any the wiser.
Now, yes, you could become all sympathetic to my cause and all, but I am yet to tell you my profession. And if I am real lucky, I could go through this entire story and not have to mention such a fact to you. With that said, one could suggest that I move back with my parents, but that would seem damn well insulting. Me; a twenty something year old man who left his parents suddenly decides to crawl back and move in with them once more? I don’t think so. Not for my sake at the least, but for theirs. I have enough trouble without having to bring all of it to their door. Besides, they don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. A man in my career manages to find a way to alienate every single person that once loved him.
My second voice mail furthermore, indicated I had failed to receive the part in the Laundromat commercial because apparently I wasn’t tall enough. I was seven feet tall for Christ’s sake! Who did those bastards want, God-fucking-zilla?’
‘What do you mean I’m not tall enough?’ I heard myself cry. ‘I’m so tall, one day I forgot to look both ways before crossing the road and got hit by a friggin’ plane!’
I returned to the window, gazing down at the street for any potential secret agents. A man on a cell phone, two workers digging up the pavement, a woman pushing a pram which I presumed was hers, two women kissing beside a taxi. None of whom looked too dangerous as the next message on my machine announced a potential job offer from a law firm.
If anyone needed my expertise I was interested, but a person in my field wasn’t hard to obtain. Anyone could do it. They simply needed no life, no dignity and no brain. I recorded the address for the venue where the meeting would take place before making my way to the bedroom, praying I would find something luxurious tucked away in the moth ridden closet. Even though I mentioned anyone could pull off such a job, such a person would still need to show up looking rather extravagant. Even big businesses who resorted to such ludicrous extremes wanted to hire somebody who looked remarkable, you know, someone who could blend in with the rest of their cliental whilst conducting this mutual business arrangement. Like I said, I only hoped I could find something that would fit.

I’d arrived for my appointment earlier than expected, sitting back in the comfortable lounge chair in the law firm’s waiting room awaiting the interviewer. An attractive blonde woman in a magnificent blue dress made her way towards me, explaining she was there to escort me to the one who was in need of my abilities. I went to say something intelligent, but quickly changed my mind as I remembered how that it previously turned out. Instead, I decided on a joke.
‘Hey, what did the Pope say to Pamela Anderson whilst in the life boat?’ I asked whilst walking down the hall. ‘No, I said hand me the buoys!’  I sniggered. The receptionist didn’t. If only she’d being born with a sense of humour I could have been making love to her on the floor right here and now.
She escorted me to the room before leaving, the female lawyer behind the desk ushering me in. The office was immaculate, not an item out of place as I sat down before her, all of a sudden feeling so unkempt. I don’t think I need to mention how in comparison to my place of residence such a room was borderline Heavenly. But I guess I just did.
‘Mr. McKay, glad you could make it’ smiled the lawyer. ‘I’m sure you know why you were requested’.
‘Normally in such situations a streaker would be unnecessary’ I stated.
And now I mentioned my occupation. Congratulations Nick on attempting to keep that secret throughout the entire story. You’re what, just over halfway through the segment, on the final stretch towards the end and you just have to give away the most embarrassing aspect of your life that you were trying so hard not to tell everyone! You are awesome!
‘Yes’ continued the lawyer. ‘Well, our client has a problem with the football federation. He claims that Barry Blueteski of the Kangaroos accosted him and they have failed to provide him with compensation. We feel that if one were to disturb their precious game by erupting through it whilst indecently unclothed would cause them to become increasingly motivated’.
‘Well, I’ve already dug my own grave’ I began. ‘Why not do this. I’m sure you’re aware of the expression how one should never throw stones in glass houses. Well, I’m treading on such thin ice right now I wouldn’t throw paper in my house’.
‘Yes, you do look a little pale’ stated the lawyer. ‘You sure you’re alright?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing’ I said. ‘After this I’m gonna go home and suck on some elephant penis.’
The lawyer looked a little taken aback at this comment before nodding; obviously having no idea what I was talking about as we began to agree on the date and time I would implement my run through the football stadium.

My clothes lay in a pile at my feet as I stood in the locker room of the Kangaroos football team, the sound of the gargantuan crowd outside egging me on. I quickly tied a red cape around my neck, feeling quite uncomfortable with what I was about to do, despite having done it numerous times in the past. Believe me when I tell you, you never get used to this career. I hurried outside, the cool tiles under my feet sending chills down my spine, my heart beating like a drum in my ears.
I ran onto the field, my hands in mid air, the cape swinging out behind me, the screams of the crowd becoming increasingly louder, watching myself on the massive television screen above the grounds whilst sprinting through the game. Kangaroos: 76, Essendon: 49.
I felt the wind in places I had never felt it before, my breath clearly visible in front of me as I hyperventilated whilst running across the field.
My genitalia bounced around between my legs while my pubic hairs billowed in the breeze, the cold air making my nipples tighten upon my skin. I only hoped that my penis would not shrink too. That was the problem with indecently exposing oneself purposefully to prove a point. If you were a man and you were captured, you never wanted to end up with your picture on the front page of one of the leading newspapers with your normally five inch long penis relegated to nothing more than two centimeters. It was any streaker’s worst nightmare; to find themselves presented as though they had not being well endowed by their parents gene pool.
I felt the perspiration racing across my body while I ran towards the goal posts, racing past both the Kangaroos and the Essendon players who watched in mild bemusement as I, the near naked man with the exception of a bright red cape maneuvered around them at impeccable speed. Upon reaching the posts I found a juice box tossed at my head, protestors before me screaming from the stands at my wildly inappropriate track across the football field. I stood on the spot and danced around, mooning the crowd as I did so, my dignity, if I had any to start with, completely deserting me while I looked up at the stands and threw my hands in the air.
My penis danced around in-between my legs in its crazy attempt to do the Macarena. Whilst standing there, my heart racing a mile a minute, sweat running down my neck, I surveyed the crowd, my heart skipping a beat. Or did it stop completely? I could not be sure. All I could be sure of was that my mother was in the audience – and she did not look impressed. She covered her eyes with her hands, not wanting to see the indecent display before her, my body failing to move from shock, just as a great sweaty tub of lard landed on top of me. 
The sweaty gorilla of a man pinned me to the ground, my penis being flattened against my skin, my back becoming drenched in the sweat of some brainless piece of Euro-trash, whilst I felt my chest become wet with the liquid that coated the grounds. I looked up, thinking I might be able to crawl out from under the great sheet of flabby skin, when suddenly a player from the opposition jumped on top in an attempt to catch the ball, which rebounded off from the top of my skull and flew away in the adjacent direction. I swallowed as a menagerie of footballers began to hurry in my direction trying to grab at the football, my brain coming to the realisation that what was about to happen would truly hurt – dignity or no dignity.

I sat in a cold dark holding room at the Melbourne police station, with nothing but a red towel around my waist. The police had taken my cloak away from me – the bastards!
My whole body ached from having the entire Essendon football team leap on top of me. No wonder they hadn’t won the last Grand Final. Each of them had great difficulty in catching the friggin’ ball. They sure caught me though. But it wouldn’t have been too damn hard; after all, I must have remained still for at least a few cool minutes. Perhaps to win their next match all the ball would have to do would be to stand still somewhere. Perhaps I should get into the coaching business and mention it to them sometime. I know I may have provided all of the negative connotations that come with such a gig, but the pay is usually quite sufficient. People are willing to hand over large sums of compensation when someone is willing to destroy their dignity for them. I guess my point is that at the end of the day I may eventually find myself with quite the retirement plan.
The lights suddenly came on as a police detective entered the room, throwing a file onto the desk which I unfortunately realised to be my own; the door closing behind him. He wore a dark brown coloured suit that looked to have been a distant cousin of the one I had worn to the legal practice who had assigned me my last job.
‘Mr. McKay, we have placed you at a number of events in which you have purposefully disturbed the peace’ he noted, looking about to say more before sneezing, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. ‘Damn, I must be getting a cold’ he grunted. ‘Anyway, do you have anything to say for yourself?’ he asked.
I smiled. ‘Perhaps you should go eat some elephant penis.’