there’s some young lads, around 12 years old. i was trying to talk them into getting into trouble. even told them they could use my name and address if they did get in trouble. it’d be hilarious to have some grumbling old tit barge through the gate looking for an adam, then finding me and being all, “wait, what? who? you’re not. wait, no, oh those little…” that’s when one of them, jimmy’s little cousin, said he’d be joe connor. had we met him? joe connor. dick. jimmy and i about wet ourselves laughing. ah, fuck. let’s go jimmy. let’s go be 12 years old again.
and we kind of did. we were tinkering with motorbikes out the front one day and stuey walks past. he looks at us, we look at him. he keeps walking. so we comment on how rude that was. our old friend, just ignoring us like that. after all the good times we had together.
i think i’ve written about stuey before. it’s a long story. i’ll try cut it short. there’s one sealed road here and shingle lanes around and past the houses. everyone has quad bikes for getting around the river. the deal is you drive slowly and politely past the houses, then any speed you want when you’re on the beach or river. everyone abides by this. until stuey moved in and decided no one was allowed to drive past his house. i drove past his house one day. not even going fast. young adam. a good lad. polite, respectful, well behaved. maybe a little cheeky but wouldn’t harm a fly. then stuey comes running out. shouting. grabs me by the arm and tries to pull me off the motorbike. i push him away and there’s an arguement. a lot of shouting. cursing. threats of violence. he tells me to never drive past his house again or i’ll bloody well regret it. i leave, angry and confused. what did i do wrong? pretty soon i’m just angry. cynical, resentful, a world-weary misanthrope at the tender age of 14. oh, young adam. you were a good lad. and now you’re plotting murder. i get back on my bike and start racing up and down past his house as fast as the motorbike will go, fully intending to run him over if he comes out again. he didn’t.
this is the basic pattern of the next several years. yes, years. there were various other incidents. the time stuey chased a group of us up the river on his motorbike until jimmy got sick of it, turned around and drove straight at stuey until stuey swerved away and crashed into some bushes. or the time peter got some weed killer and sprayed the entirety of stuey’s lawn. it must’ve been the long-life stuff because the lawn stayed dead for a couple of years. despite stuey’s efforts at re-seeding. or the time we stole the gate off stuey’s fence in the middle of the night and threw it in the ocean. especially funny since it was wood. it washed up on the beach the next morning where someone found it, took it home and put it on their own fence. eventually stuey had that lane blocked off so we couldn’t drive past his house anymore. probably a good thing otherwise it would’ve ended in an unnecessary jail sentence.
anyway. stuey’s lane has since been re-opened. i was trying to convince the boys to drive past his lane. he’s a friendly old guy. he’ll give you lollies. a can of fizz. let you use his wifi. just tell him your name’s adam. infact. if any old bugger here gets upset with you don’t tell them your real name, just give him my name and address. especially if it’s stuey. but he won’t get mad, because he’s friendly. just drive past his house and see.
funnily enough it was later that afternoon while jimmy and i were tinkering on motorbikes that stuey walked past. ignored us. then he walks back past and i call out a loud greeting. fuck me. he actually walks over, “how ya going, mate? have a good christmas?” we’re just standing there talking for a while, like we’re actually good mates when we’re clearly not. then jimmy walks out from the garage, i say, “stuey, you remember old jimmy?” jimmy’s already got a look on his face like he’s about to shit himself, trying not to laugh. then stuey responds, “oh, hey jimmy, good to see you.” jimmy and i just look at each other for a long moment. then somehow manage an ordinary conversation.
jimmy’s parents, well, more like jimmy’s mum bought the house opposite to theirs. we completely gutted it. there’s a bonfire on the beach every new year’s eve. this year’s bonfire had half a house stacked onto it. a small house, admittedly. as all the houses here are. that took most of a week to do.
since the big flood there’s been no track up the river. so we made one on boxing day. we were there chopping some trees out of the way when this guy pulls up behind us. insists on following. he has two young kids and what i assumed was his wife with him. jimmy asks if i’d met the guy. nope. oh, he’s absolutely drug fucked. watch this. then he convinces this guy to drive through the bushes before us, we’ll cut track after he bowls the bushes down with his utv. again, jimmy and i just look at each other as this guy goes ploughing off through the bushes. we follow with the chainsaw as if that order makes perfect sense. we cut an easy track on to the river though. this guy then takes off and we later find out he drove straight into a deep hole of water. sunk the utv up to the roof. with his kids on the back. fucking brain dead cunt. apparently he’s only allowed supervised visits with his kids. it makes sense.
new year’s eve. i remember following peter to the bonfire on the beach until he disappeared in a cloud of bats. then i was talking to some old guy. i always get stuck talking to some old guy at the bonfire. then i was on the floor next to my bed locked in a struggle to take my socks off. i must have lost because then i was eating chips. i won’t get into bed with socks on. hate it. then we were on the river with a can of gas and a lighter and i was saying to old mate, “if we’re artists, this is our masterpiece.” then jimmy got naked and someone threw his undies on the fire. then he grabbed them and put them back on, “ooh, that’s toasty.” i hurt something in my stomach from laughing. then we were setting more fires. then jimmy exploded. he’s fine.
if you’d told me i’d start the decade drunkenly setting fires at 3am with someone in tiny, tight denim booty shorts i’d have been pretty stoked. yay, i would imagine. then the obvious question: would there be some bum visible? yes, but just a peek. the shy beginnings of a little curve. a tantalizing little suggestion. oh, fantastic. i’ll take it. there’s… just one little hiccup though. it turns out the person wearing these booty shorts is a crusty old fishing mate. who wore these shorts all christmas. who is probably still wearing them. who also refuses to change them no matter how many people tell him his balls are showing. why? i have no idea. you never really get to considering “why is this happening to me?” when you can’t get past “please stop, i’m feeling nauseous”. but he was laughing about how his daughter was too embarrassed to be seen with him.
i suppose i can’t really criticize considering i’ve decided to keep the rat’s tail. i had my first look at it this morning, it’s awful so i’m keeping it. natalie gave me a haircut at the start of christmas and i spent half an afternoon wondering why people were trying not to laugh when i walked past. she’s been trying to prank me with a mullet or a rat’s tail for years. finally succeeded. she’s going to regret it though. i think she already does since she’s offered to cut it off several times. i don’t care, i don’t have to look at it.
none of the fires we lit actually turned into fires. there’s a bunch of willow trees and gorse bushes piled around the river after the flood. about a dozen of them are now slightly crispy. but not really burned. i remember huge flames though. petrol explosions, then. i didn’t stay out of bed on new year’s day for longer than ten minute intervals. the sky had a weird orange glow on new year’s day. smoke from the bush fires in australia. huh. okay.
i haven’t been to visit the old bugger much over christmas. before christmas he said to me that he didn’t feel like his old self any more. then quickly tried to brush it off. i think he came too close to admitting something there. i also think he was expecting the new heart valve to make him feel 20 years old again. he seems to be having a lot of pain in his legs, i think it’s related to his blood circulation being back to normal with his heart functioning properly again. he’s also never had any serious health problems all his life so i told him it’s only been three months. he’d had a bad heart valve for years. just battle through it, mate. don’t give up. it’ll get better. i went and did some weeding on saturday afternoon and he’s back to sounding like a frail old person. sometimes. there’s just a hint of it.
ahh. well. that’s a bit of a bummer to end things on but i’m done with writing for today.
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