Chapter 1.6

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[edit] Chapter 1.6 (like a fish)

The many crates and bottles rattled along with the old red Landcruiser in a crazy tattoo as it travelled down the dirt track away from the beach. The spotlights illuminated the bush all around as the three men peered out the dusty windscreen.

After a small arguement on the sand, Tango sat comfortably in the passenger seat while Troy was demoted to the middle, leaving Troy muttering under his breath about how he hated sitting in the middle "where the gearshifter smacks against his balls all the time" and complaining constantly about the ringing in his ears.

"Aww, stop fuckin wingin" grunted Des as a pair of Roos jumped the track in front of the swift Cruiser and fled in terror through the shoulder high grass that walled both sides of the track. "why dont ya finish that fuckin book your always tellin me about, ya big girl." added Des as he reached for another cigarette. Tango looked over at Troy "What is this book." he asked, intriuged. Troys eye's lit up like a little kid at the circus. "I'll show ya" he said exitedly, pulling a leather journal from the dash and handing it to Tango. "have a read of that, mate". The assassin opened the book to a random page and began to read.

I look through the smoky glare to the clock above the bar. I’ve been drinkin' for about four hours now and the steady stream of Bundy and coke is beginning to hit me. The unshaven barfly on my left, so full of interesting yarns and opinions all afternoon, has now become a bit of a fuckhead. The goddam know-it-all should run for office considering how highly regarded he views his vaunted political rhetoric. The barmaid, plain at first, then beautifully unattainable, has now become a cow, her sole mission in life to ignore my presence and to serve all those around me instead.

I light a cigarette and inhale deeply, my throat objects but I don’t give a fuck. the irritation gnome has got me by the balls at this point. I give the barmaid an evil eye and hold up my redback, a moment later a small glass of black rum is placed in front of me, along with a pile of change and a mumbled apology.

I spin around on my stool to look up at the footy game on the screen but some tall yuppie wanker is standing in the road. I contemplate asking him to move but I’m not really watching it anyway. It's been nil-nil for 65 minutes and not about to change.

The barfly beside me taps me on the shoulder repeatedly while he reaches the climax of a story he’s spillin' to the fat bloke next to him. This slightly annoys me, but I laugh along with them anyway. The fat bloke reaches past the barfly, I cant remember his name, and introduces himself. His name goes in one ear and out the other like all the others and I find myself starin' at his throat, I notice he has no discernable Adam’s apple. He’s in the middle of telling me somethin' and I get the feeling from the look on his face that it’s supposed to be funny, so I grin a bit and try to look interested. I feel an awful headache, the kind that sits right behind your eyeballs.

My hand snakes out instinctively and grips my glass, I skoll the rest and begin to crunch pieces of ice with my teeth while this fat bloke with no throat blabs shit to me for the next couple of minutes. I’m just about to tell the cunt to shut the fuck up when I see the reason I’m here.

He walks in like he owns the place. He walks like someone with an army behind him, walks like someone who’s never felt the fear.

I smile genuinely for the first time all night. This is going to be fun. He walks up to the opposite corner of the bar and is served almost immediately. I see two heavy-set guys take up their positions just behind him, a bit to each side.

I'm wonderin' if that’s how they stood when he did it, when he took her dignity and pride. I'm wonderin' if that's how they do it in the movies. He’s quite a big bugger, not like a rugby player, more like an AFL player, Maybe six three, 105. his mates are a bit more solid. I can see from the way they stand that they’re a couple of pussies though. Kinda flatfooted with slouched shoulders, ya know?

I stand up and light another smoke and stare at the stained carpet while I put all me possessions in me knapsack and tick off me mental checklist, making sure I haven’t got any identifiable shit left on me, I take a quick look at me targets, just to make sure they aint going anywhere, and duck out the door and into the car park.

I throw me knapsack in the back seat of the old XF falcon, (351cleavland if you wanna know) and hop in the front seat. The car is cold, dark, and quiet. I like it like that.

I pick up me phone and call anne. I ask if she still wants this to happen and shes sayin' it’s for the best and that I should come round for dinner the following night for a roast, I eventually accept and she tells me to be careful. I laugh and we hang up.

As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil, for I am the evilest son of a bitch in the vally. I read that when I was a kid, engraved on the side of a zippo that had travelled through the jungles of Vietnam a long time ago. I repeat it to myself now as me feet scuff softly across the gravel of the carpark back towards the pub.

I reach the door and the bouncer smiles at me knowingly. People hear things and people know things and people hear things about people they know and so sometimes people decide not to see things for people they know. If ya know what I mean.

I take a deep breath as I re-enter the pub. There's pissed idiots everywhere. I excuse and apologise me way across the drinking hole and approach the bar until Im standing on me targets left. He looks at me and I smile, I hold me left hand over the bar in a gesture for a drink and turn back around to face him. I ask him if his names not Craig and he asks me why I want to know. I don’t say any thing, I just keep smiling as I bring me right hand out of my pocket. Craig looks at what me right hand is doing.

Big mistake.

Me left hand, which has been reaching over the bar comes flying around at full force and catches him on the side of his jaw. A split second later me right connects too and he goes down. The barstool beside him holds his head and shoulders off the ground though, so I give a hard stomp to the middle of his face for good measure. People start to yell and scream and try to get out of the way now and it makes it a bit more difficult to get to his mates. But after a while I find myself in the perfect position to land a straight right to the first mugs head. His nose explodes as he swings his stubby little left arm at me like the rotor of a little toy helicopter. I follow up with a one two that would make Muhammad Ali look like an amatuer and finish the job with a left knee to the jaw.

I look around as the bloke falls and see his mate sneak out the door in the confusion. I laugh as he runs across the road and is nearly hit by a taxi.

I pull a sixteen ounce claw hammer out of me jacket pocket and walk over to Craig. He’s starting to come around now as I drag him a couple of metres towards the pool table. I reach down and pull off his shoes, he tries to resist but I kick him in the face again and he goes for another sleep. A crowd of spectators finally beginin' to show some life in a dissonant chord of morbid encouragement gather 'round standing shoulder-to-shoulder. I grip his calf and bring the hammer down full force on his left ankle, the sound of bone smashing on tiles reverberates around the now almost empty pub.

A man, standing and watching over by the bar spews his lunch all over the floor and runs for the door as I repeat the procedure with Craig’s other ankle.

I look up to see the bouncer come stalking towards me. He blasphemes and asks me what the fuck I've done in a rhetorical and distant way.

Ultra-violence can put some people in a kind of numb trance and this bouncer was mentally empty. He just stands there with his mouth open and watches as I pull Craig’s jeans down and cut off his balls with a pocket knife. I gouge out and take his right canine too, just for good measure.

As I get up and put his balls in my jacket pocket, I apologise to everyone for the mess and wander past the spellbound bouncer, out the door and into the carpark. I get in the XF and fire up the old V8. She idles beautifully and as I exit the driveway and hit the road, the guttural roar of a worked Ford V8 completely drowns out the primal scream of a man who has just woken up and realised his balls have been stolen.

Nonchalantly, I strike a match and watch as the embers in my pipe brighten and glow, the BC hydro crackling as I gas it. I go smokin' down the road, flip off the guys at the petrol station, changin' out grandma Jones' automatic transmission like a madman and a few miles out I toss the balls, hit cruise control, put on a battered Johnny Cash cassette and light a well deserved cigarette.

Tango closed the book and handed it back to Troy with a smile "My friend, you are even more disturbed than I had been told. is it a true story?" Troy was about to answer when Des slammed the anchors on and the Cruiser came to a skidding hault. "Fuck" he shouted as he banged his hands on the steering wheel. "What?" questioned Troy.

The Four-wheel-drive's cab was earily silent for a few moments

"I forgot the fuckin mozzie nets." mumbled Des absently. "Fuck" grunted Troy, staring out the window with a slightly fearfull expression on his face "We're fucked."

"Oh, come on boys, mosquitos aren't that bad" suggested Tango as he toyed with the small gold coin tied around his neck with his fingers "I have been bitten many times."

Des and Troy stared at each other in disbelief for a couple of seconds, then they both started laughing.

"What is so funny" Asked Tango seriously. "Nothin mate, nothin." laughed Des as he shook his head and punched the old girl back into gear "You'll see" he added quietly.

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