So, one evening ‘The Brain’ calls up and says ‘Hey, ‘Scary Bob’ has taken ‘Snap’ away for a week on the boat. I’m over at their place now. Let’s take ‘Snap’s’ E-Type jag out for a spin…’‘Are you fucking delirious, Brain. ‘Scary Bob’ will kill you if you touch ‘The Cuntmobile’. He’ll kill you if he even finds out you’re there while they’re away.’
‘Aw fuck her, and fuck Dad…we’re just going for a drive. Grab Tania (the Croat) and let’s go into Kings Cross for the night.’
So we did…where we went from bar to bar while ‘The Brain’ tried to pull a chick and take her back to his parents’ place to bone her senseless. Around midnight, smashed like three crabs, we found ourselves in a low joint called ‘Les Girls’, a tranny-dance club, where ‘The Brain’ managed to convince an off-duty hooker to come back and party with him. She might have been 18 years old, about 30 kilograms and looked like she’d been dead for a month.
We all piled into the Jag and went back to Lane Cove…
The Jag lived in a garage with an automatic door. Driving into the garage, ‘The Brain’, about five times the legal alcohol-limit (0.08 in those days) misjudged the door’s opening-speed and managed to ram the door with the windscreen, which simply cracked in half and fell onto the dashboard.
Ooops.
Deciding he had a week to fix that, we put the open-plan Jag away and went inside for a mini-party. The hooker went straight to the fridge, took about six foils of heroin from her purse, put one in arm and placed the rest in the cheese-compartment for safe-keeping.
We partied on till about 1-30am, when Tania and I excused ourselves and went downstairs to crash out in one of the spare bedrooms, leaving ‘The Brain’ and the hooker upstairs…still partying.
At 1-45am, ‘The Brain’ barged into our bedroom and shook me till I woke up.
‘What the fuck ??’
‘Fingers…you gotta come upstairs and have a look at something.’ ‘The Brain’ was borderline hysterical and he wasn’t the sort of guy to panic easily.
We went back upstairs, where he pointed out the hooker, lying fully-clothed on the lounge-room floor…unconscious.
‘I think she’s dead, Fingers…’
To be continued…
44 comments:
Sue you? Why on earth would I do that? My mum's name is Sue. And that would be oh so very wrong...
wow, that was far more interesting than the cement story....so then what happened?!
Okay, I've drawn a little diagram of the characters, with lines connecting who is screwing whom. And it was so f***ing long since the first instalment that I had to do a re-cap, but dying to know what happens next. And maybe the hooker was too.
BT: I hope your mother isn't my neighbour. That would be embarrassing.
Kate: Really ?? This was the low-key part, the stage-setting. The best is yet to come. Trust me.
Fanny: I'm doing a diagram of your activities too. It looks like a bowl of spaghetti...
A friend of mine (and this is true) picked up a girl and went back to her flat. She did a similar thing to The Brain's date, except she disappeared into the toilet. Despite knocking and calling her name he couldn't rouse her - so he did what any decent man would do ...
... wiped his fingerprints off every surface in the flat and made his exit sharpish.
E-K: I love it. Fucking brilliant. No doubt a fellow bobby by the sounds of it. Well, stay tuned...coz we weren't quite as gentlemanly as your mate...
I wanna party with you man, as long as the brain isn't involved. P.S. I could've fixed the jag.
So let me guess. You guys had your way with the dead hooker and then took her for a ride to a local bar and left her out with the trash. Well sounds about right to me...
Love this!
Hum, I like it. It's like a Quentin Tarantino script, but with 'fingers humor' sprinked in for flavor. Bravo. More please.
Ciao babes.
I would never have picked you for someone who indulges in Necrophilia!
Bobo- Yes. You. No.
Let me guess, fingers saves the day and gives the hooker mouth to mouth?
Bob: And I wanna go flying with you man, as long as that plane of yours isn't involved.
NM: That would be the obvious tactic. But no.
Cat: Watch this space.
Spiky: Do you see a sign outside my house that says 'Dead Hooker Storage' ??
Steph: And I'd never have picked you for a Big Brother watcher. Kylie - yes. You - no.
Emmak: You don't kiss hookers. It's the code...
This post reminded me of Dianne Brimble, dun ask me why!
Keshi.
Please tell me this is not the same hooker that cleaned your apartment out?
You obviously need a bigger boat because girls on the pay roll keep featuring in your stories.
XL: The E-Type gets off lighter than everything else.
Keshi: Well, there is a cruise involved shortly...
Im not joining it!
Keshi.
Necrophilia. The irresistible urge to crack open a cold one.
Fingers, are you Bo's father? This sounds remarkably like one of his stories....
Phishy! that's vile!
Do I see a sign outside your house?
Like yeah. Ha, you silly...signs don't talk. Um, but hey...let me take your pulse, then I'll let you know...if your alive or dead.
I really did mean it when I wrote that I liked your story. To be compared to Quentin was praise. The man is brilliant.
Ciao babes...nice sign you have there on your front yard. :)
Josh: Technically she was a hooker but she was off-duty on this particular evening.
Keshi: Plonker.
BT: Morgue humour. Delightful.
Jen: If BooBoo had written this I'd be drinking lighter fluid and be up to my back wheels in the hooker's ass.
Jayne: Shall I just e-mail you the ending ??
Kate: Leave the vile skank alone.
Spiky: I think you missed the gag, baby...
You fucked her up the bum while she was passed out didn't you mate. Yeah....you definitely need a bigger boat. And I've got just the one for you. I'm in negotiations to buy Hermann Goering's old gin-palace. Check this out - CARIN II
Thinking of getting a consortium together. Do it up. Flog it to some Russian mobsters or neo-nazis or some fucking thing. Whadya reckon? Would look pretty cool tied up at the CYC. And is that a machine-gun I can see under wraps on the foredeck?
Looks like the fruits of the creative writing class are coming to fruition...
Lombay: Yes, good idea. Restore her to her former glory, paint a big fuck-off swatsika on the funnel and moor it right next to Frank Lowy's yacht.
Trav: Fruit will tend to do that...
Ahh the old smacked out junky hooker unconscious on the lounge-room floor, a personal favourite. They are usually good for at least to first half hour, after that it’s just wrong.
I feel like a junky reading these last two posts Fingers. I need another hit.
Steph- I put the sensual back into non-consensual
wuteva!
Keshi.
Who are you calling vile?
Oh crap...sorry. Sometimes things just fly past me.
Hey...what was that?
Ha...I'm gonna blame it on the booze. I so have to wean myself off the Wild Turkey. I'm going back to LSD.
Ciao babes...I went to UCLA but dropped out towards the end of my third year.
BooBoo: I'm just considering the question of whether my devoted fans can handle the truth about what really happens next.
Keshi: No sulking on TWG.
BT: I think she meant you, Phish. I'm surprised too. I thought you two were mates.
Spiky: Hey did you see the guy that invented acid died the other day...
Hey! I did NOT call my best scrabble playing girl 'vile' ....I said that joke she made was vile which was actually sort of a compliment.
Phish you're my boy, blue.
Fingers..you're stirring troubles again. So I'm wagging my own finger at you!
Kate: Oh, right...so you were using the word 'vile' in a positive manner. Now I see.
(someone call the police...)
So drive the Jag out to a ditch somewhere, plant the hooker in the driver's seat, and drop the remaining vials of smack on the floorboard. All problems solved.
BoBo, I'm yet to see you DO sensual. Do Sensual for me!!! :p
*sulks*
Keshi.
EA: She gets charged with auto theft and we get a new windscreen on insurance. That seems both practical and fair.
Steph: Please don't use my blog to pick guys up, or I'll be forced to come over and make a mockery of your highly academic BB discussion over on your blog.
Keshi: OK, now pout a bit...
*makes 'faces' at 'fingers' using her 'brows'*
haha!
Keshi.
My favourite author uses the line
'The English. The only race that will insult you if they like you, and be perfectly polite if they can't stand you.'
Kate and I are both of English heritage. Aren't we slapper?
Seems like you are too Fingers.
Keshi: Ok, now get your papadams out...
BT: I'll be the thorn between you two English roses then. Hey, was I being polite...
Steph: Insider buzz is that your BB blog is about to be evicted...
'bout time someone taught you some fucking manners!
Ohh you been snooping on the forum haven't you!!! How you know so much bout my BB shenanigans?
I'm in suspenders, here, Fingers. What happens next?
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