 Immersed up to ones' ears in losing raffle tickets and apple pie wrappers while standing on tiptoes in the local storm water drain, is not all that comfortable; especially when your chattering teeth are stopping you hearing yourself think!
My crotch was hurting, the heart pumped ice-cubes and the hangover was no help either. Bits of concrete broke off the drain wall as King Kong crunched up and down the road trailing the heavy curtain rod from its muscled paws. The muttered Die! Die! Die! Was a touch unsettling.
Night descended like a wet security blanket. After two hours the earth tremors from the killer subsided into a dull, intermittent seismic shudder. Sneaking out of the ditch stopped looking like a fatal option, so I took stock of my predicament. The G-string was trying to sever the legs from my lower body, jeans had shrunk in on whatever remained untouched or unbruised by the panties, no shoes, no money, no cigarettes; Oh well, things could be worse I suppose!
One by one, the comforting house lights went dark as control was transferred to the powers of the night. Large fluorescent yellow, green and red eyes lit up in the dark. The local cat gangs got wind of an intruder in their midst. For an unfit self-admitted pizza lover I could turn on a fair show of speed, even if I do say so myself. The packs of felines lost interest in their nightly rumbles and ganged up on this poor bastard whose only fault was in being caught at the wrong time, in the wrong place, smooching with the wrong girl who had the wrong sized boyfriend, how unlucky can a guy get!
Managing to avoid most of the Kamikaze fur coats, I hurdled the last rubbish bin, which blocked the laneway and came out into the brightly lit main road and safety. Well that's what they told me when I came out of the coma. Adding, in an apologetic low voice "just before we ran you over with the ambulance on an urgent mercy mission!"
The hospital was very good to me. After a week of Psychological tests, they let me leave. Still not sure if I should be happy with the results. If you're sane, it costs you a fortune; if you're crazy, it's gratis, thanks to the Health Department; it didn't cost me a cent. On my return home, Mum passed out, Dad swore loudly and punched the wall, dog ran out of the house and the neighbors started boarding up their windows and stringing razor wire across their fences.
Ahhh!, it's great to be home.
E-mail to Ray Agius: Ramel@bigpond.com
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