Dognapper's Dilemma

by Brigsee

The early Nineties, global recession, Australia's social fabric forever changes, generational welfare and unemployment set in. A diminutive man, early thirties, a virgin, settles into a life of crime to avoid the dole queue and loss of dignity. Identified by police must jettison his valuable stock of dogs, what next? Best mate sets up a Blind Date; finally jettison his cherry?

2. High Noon

Looking for a quiet drink? Don't go to High Noon. Jukebox booms, T.V. soapy competes only meters away and they're racing at Randwick on another screen. Spirited competition echoes across pool tables. Drinker's raise voices conversing with mates mere feet away. A decibel event; one newcomer amongst a dozen regulars when Splinta enters. Downing his middy the newcomer exits, hands over ears, ignored by Splinta. Unusual behaviour? Quite usual here. The dognapper looks around the bar. No Wizard!

Three exhaust fans, strategically employed in low false ceiling drone on inconspicuously. Three glossy posters, strategically placed about the bar, advertise exotic dancers. Lovely Lara, a Finn, performs tonight; her first performance at High Noon. The punters enjoy new fluff, especially new fluff raffled. Drones to a new Queen. Exotic dancing pulls umpteen punters, not just regulars into High Noon. Three exhaust fans toiling tonight. Busy, busy expelling smoke and erotica, fantasy and fallacy.

Maggot's photo, holding high a three kilo trout in one hand and beer bottle the other, identifies the fishing club's corner. By the bye, Maggot breeds his own bait. Alongside his photo, names nominating for next week's outing, a weekend up the coast on chartered trawler. Only eight nominations, the minimum is twelve. No worries! The same fisho's always nominate early as requested. Another half dozen are sure to go after getting half pissed and informing their wives the night before. Fisho's bring home a bounty; scaled, gutted, filleted fish and domestic situations appeased. Spousal harmony endures for the fisho's. Only Macka's onto a second wife and Maggot's the one current divorcee. Do the regular monthly weekends away from family, attribute to this phenomenon?

Dressed in greasy work overalls, Maggot demonstrates superior dexterity, feeding two hundred dollars through a card machine.

Unlike the fisho's, the punter's club includes women. Val bets this Saturday; selections and outlays chalked-up on blackboard. Twenty eight fellow members help ride her horses home. Last year Val set a record, nine successive winning weeks. Club membership doubled this year. Power point beneath blackboard accepts the punter's club radio, adding another decibel dimension to High Noon.

Another corner, another list, the schooner's club. Every Saturday, dead on high noon, a lucky name drawn from a schooner glass. Lucky name must be present and paid up. Maggot holds the record; forty one free schooners from noon to closing, collapsing or chundering, which ever comes first. Along side this thirsty list, a poster. Large lettering proclaims "JESUS IS COMING." There is no Bible Club here in High Noon, nobody admits hanging the poster or adding below "and ain't he pissed!" An honorary schooner club member, name often drawn first, Jesus is yet to front up and collect his prize.

Recessed in the top shelf, hangs a movie poster framed in glass. Gary Cooper's six gun and grim pinched face looks down on High Noon. Behind the bar Gary Cooper's devout fan pours beer. Hazel, aged mid forties, works the bar, a permanent casual for the past eighteen years. And this occurred only three weeks before.

Maggot hold his arms up high as if under arrest when approaching the bar for his many schooners. The charade intends to upset Coop's most ardent admirer. Hazy as every one calls her dismisses Maggot as the village idiot. She did, until this day. Maggot drew a water pistol and shot Coop fair between determined eyes. As Maggot blew pretend smoke from the barrel, his schooner's contents sailed over the bar. Then Hazy unleashed the soda siphon upon the irreverent Maggot, suddenly busy wiping froth and bubble from his red clowning face. The regulars joined Maggot in laughter until Hazy screamed the four letter "F"word. In eighteen years serving behind the bar, the lady never once even said "Bloody".

Hazy then only eight, yet sharply etched survives her father, broad tall and trim in khaki and slouch hat. His chest, her chest swelling with pride, as he marched past family saluting. Hazy returns salute holding back tears, the last she will see him before he bleeds to death in a Korean blizzard after stepping on a land mine.

The eldest of four children, Hazy shared daddy's passion for Gary Cooper movies. Mum's letters to Korea always contained a page from Hazy. The last letter included Hazy's crayon drawing; Coop the cowboy and in her neatest print, news of High Noon, Coop's latest movie. No Gary Cooper ever enters Hazy's life.

Splinta sits at bar's corner, his usual space, and rolls a cigarette, waiting to order. Hazy pours beer for the pool players. 'Gidday' says Splinta to a pool player, no reply! He then spots a new sign on the top shelf.

" G". Splinta scratches his head and as Hazy approaches asks 'What's that sign up there suppose to mean Hazy?'

'The publican's trying a new promotion. When you order, if you can tell me the meaning of the acronym, you don't have to pay for your beer and ... And. you receive a voucher for a free schooner on Friday night.'

'Acranym! What's an acranym?'

'Splinta! Didn't you go to school?'

'Yeah! Course I did. .. Didn't learn much.'

'It's like this. Instead of saying, for instance, Australian Capital Territory, a real mouthful. People say the A C T. Just the initials; much easier.'

'Oh', replies Splinta. 'Have ya seen Wizard? He's suppose to meet me here.'

'I expect he's gone to the TAB. He was in. Only had the one.'

Splinta pushes twenty dollars toward Hazy.

'Don't you want a free beer?' She asks.

' G. It doesn't spell anything.'

' You have to tell me what the letters stand for, if you can, you don't 'ave to pay for your beer. Then I put up another ac-ro-nym and the next person to guess the right answer gets a free beer too. Do ya understand?'

'But what's an acranym?'

'Here comes O'Possum ask him to explain.'

'Gidday Splinta! ... Have I walked in on your shout?' O'Possum O'Grady wears light blue, beginning to fade open neck cotton shirt, meticulously ironed. Blue jeans bought faded, perfect creases, testify to a dab ironing hand. O'Possum's moustache, neatly groomed, compliments a strong chin. Blue eyes border on aqua. A smidgen under six foot O'Possum dwarfs Splinta, chin barely two inches above the beer mat. 'Must be a higher stool 'round here somewhere.'

'Why don't you find it then sit ya useless arse on it?'

'You a bit touchy already mate?'

'Tell me what that spells up there and I'll shout ya a schooner.'

'That's easy enough. Wizzywig!'

'Hazy! A schooner for O'Possum.'

'Do ya think I was pouring this for myself?' she calls back from the taps.

'Wizzywig.' says Splinta when Hazy serves O'Possum's schooner.

Hazy strikes a models pose. Hand on hip, the other cupping auburn hair curling into white blouse collar. 'Splinta I'll have you know that this is, for better or worse, my own natural hair. I've never worn a wig and I'm a bit long in the tooth to start wearin' one now. Where's ya money?'

'Not ya hair Hazy. Wizzywig! That's the answer to the acranym.'

'No it's not, money please.'

'You're useless O'Possum.' Accuses Splinta then turns with a wink to the barmaid. 'Give us a hint will ya Hazy?'

'I'm not suppose to.'

'What's goin' on?' asks O'Possum. 'Why am I useless?'

'Hazy, come on. One little hint.'

' I'm afraid Splinta when it comes to words and spellin' and vocaburee. You missed that much school, I could tell ya the answer and waste my breath.' She takes Splinta's money.

'What's going on?' Asks O'Possum.

'Ask Hazy to explain it. All she's done is confuse me.'

'She's busy.'

'All ya 'ave to do is tell her what the acranym is. Then get a free schooner. It's a game.'

'Sounds easy enough... Aconym' O'Possum ponders. 'Aconym' ... 'Sounds like ummm! Did she say what an aconym is?'

'You don't know?' Splinta scornfully shakes his little head. 'And you're the one who went to fourth form. ... One rule I do understand O'Possum. Ya can only guess the acranym when ya orderin' a beer. So I guess you won't be gettin' many guesses.'

'Birgit didn't give me a bean. I'm broke 'till Friday. You know I put me dole form in tomorrow.'

'I don't know any such things. I'm not on the dole. Don't ever want to be on the bloody dole. ... I'm self employed. Un .. der .. stand?'

'Hope you don't mind shoutin' a couple of beers 'till Friday'

'I'll shout ya all ya want if you can tell me. Tell me one person. Male or female, doesn't matter. Tell me one person who's been on the dole; got off the dole then. Then amounted to anything. Go on.'

O'Possum scratches his neck.

Splinta waits. ... 'All ya can drink.'

O'Possum's scratching fingers wander to the crowns, teasing dark brown hair.

Splinta waits. ...

'Must be someone.' suggests O'Possum.

'A name! Give me a name, all you can drink.'

Scratching and pondering continues.

Splinta waits. ... 'Snakes bloody alive O'Possum. Ya can't. And I'll tell ya why ya can't. Because they all end up like you. Bloody useless.'

Hazel returns with Splinta's change. 'Guess what?'

'Blimey!' gripes Splinta raising beer to mouthj. 'Guess this. Guess that. Guess what? I'm sick of guessing.'

'Sometimes you can be an impatient little so and so.' quips Hazel.

'You tell 'im Hazy.' chimes O'Possum.

'Sir Bob said he saw The Wizard going to the library.'

'Lying Royalist idiot.' calls O'Possum loudly in Sir Bob's direction.

The short, thin, baldy, bespectacled pensioner, ignores O'Possum and retires to his usual table. Sir Bob will patiently wait, puffing his pipe and occasionally sipping beer, waiting to extol Liberal Party virtues to anybody drunk or silly enough to argue him. This is Labor territory which much amuses Sir Bob because Maggot's the only regular with a proper job.

The Wizard arrives at High Noon as Splinta shouts O'Possum another schooner. The acronym unsolved.

'Will ya explain acranym to Wizard Hazy?' requests O'Possum.

'No need to. He was in earlier, I explained it then.'

'A middy for the Wizard please Hazy.'

Wizard winks at Hazy serving the middy and says. 'What you see is what you get.'

'You won't win Hazy's heart with corny lines like that.' sniggers O'Possum.

'Why are ya changin' the acranym Hazy?' asks a puzzled Splinta.

Hazy replaces WYSIWYG with C.S.I.R.O.

'I remember learnin' 'bout that at school. Blimey! Can't remember what it stands for. O'Possum can you ... Where's he gone?' Splinta looks around for O'Possum. Discover him studying "The Lovely Lara's" glossy poster. 'Do you remember what those initials mean Wiz?'

'Commonwealth ... Serum. .. The rest will come to me. No worries Little Splinta.'

'After you go to the library again?'

'Sir Bob! Couldn't keep his mouth shut walking into a plague of bush flies.'

'You went to the library. Got the answer to the acranym. Didn't ya?' Accuses Splinta.

'It came up in conversation.'

'Who with?'

'You haven't yet met the librarian with the big tits Little Splinta. I invited her to the singalong.'

'What did she say?'

'Love to come along for a singalong. You get to meet her Friday little mate.'

Maggot fronts the bar, orders a schooner and sheepishly answers the acronym.

O'Possum returns. 'You blokes staying for the strippers tonight? I wouldn't mind having at look at the Lovely Lara.'

'Still thinkin' with ya dick?' scoffs Splinta.

'No harm in havin' a look. Isn't that right Wizard?'

'No harm at all. .. You have a little Lady waiting at home. You can pretend she's "The Lovely Lara" when you go to bed.'

'Snakes alive Wiz! I don't want to hear 'bout the things he does in bed with me sister.'

'I've never said anything about our sex life. To you blokes or anybody else. I don't plan to either. All I asked was simple enough. Do you's want to have a look?'

'No point in tryin', wouldn't see anything.' evades Splinta.

'The short blokes go to the front, close to the action. You'll see everything.' explains O'Possum.

'Let me through, right! Bastards wont let me back out. Been caught before.'

'Here? When?'

'Not here you idiot. In a pub, close to the city.'

'What pub?' asks O'Possum eagerly.

'Buggered if I know. I was that pissed. It was me twenty first birthday.'

'Come on Splinta mate.' invites O'Possum. 'You've never told us about this.'

'Not in front of Hazy.'

Discovered eaves dropping, Hazel wanders away collecting empty schooner glasses, placing them in the washer.

'She's gone now. Tell us what happened.'

'No! Another time. Maybe. Besides it's something I'm not proud of.'

'Tell us.'

'I said no.'

'Did you have a good day O'Possum?' asks a tactful Wizard.

'Have a guess what me nut case neighbour did?' O'Possum continues not waiting for any guesses. 'Bought himself a second hand metal detector and had a practise run in ...' O'Possum's laughs before continuing '... in the backyard. He .. He dug ... He dug fifty holes or more and ... And ... Then his mother came out with .. With a pair of joggers and made him take off his ... His steel capped boots.'

They all laugh, including Hazy.

'What's his name again?' asks Wizard.

'Nobby. You met him. Didn't ya Splinta?'

'Yeah. Once. That was enough.'

'How old is he?' asks Wizard.

'Early twenties but with the brain of a ten year old.'

'Why don't ya bring him in one day?' enquires Hazel.

He's the meanest streak of misery ya could wish on ya worst enemy. He'd ruin the pub Hazy. ... I tell ya how mean he is. One of those charity clubs came to the street. For one dollar, one measly dollar they'd paint your street number with glow paint on the gutter. Easy to find in the dark. Nobby was the only one in the street to send 'em packin'. And the bit that gets me, he doesn't have a number. Anywhere!'

'If you say he's mean he must be mean.' Splinta's sarcasm glides past O'Possum.

'He's mean all right. And he's boring. And thick! '

Splinta's eyes rise to the ceiling with embarrassment.

'Thicker than your mum's gravy Splinta.'

'Blimey!' Splinta springs from the stool. 'What's my mum got to do with this bullshit? First ya complain about me sister now ya on about me mother.'

'Nothing! Nothing!'

'Must be my shout.' says Wizard. 'What's the new acronym?' All three glance up: A.A.

'No wonder nobody's claimed it.' says Splinta sitting back on stool.

'Alcoholics anonymous.' O'Possum calls to Hazy pouring three beers.

'You have no shame O'Possum. None at all.' says Splinta, little head shaking with disgust.

'Tell us more about the thick neighbour.' requests Wizard.

'His mum hardly ever let him go to school. Too embarrassed. He's so illiterate, couldn't fill in the dole form, so they put him on a pension. Even the Mormons avoid ... '

'Hazy!' calls Splinta loudly to the barmaid posting another acronym. 'You honestly expect us to guess that. Do you?'

'I just work here.'

'What's wrong Little Splinta?'

'Another acranym.'

The Wizard and O'Possum exchange a glance; "NATO".

'Take it down Hazy.' demands Splinta.

'I was told to keep them in order.'

'Piss the whole lot off then.'

Hazy looks around; no boss in sight. 'Okay! I'm sick of them too.'

'Good!' Splinta rolls another cigarette.

'Keep cool Little Splinta. What were you saying about the Mormons O'Possum?'

'They avoid him. Walk on the opposite side of the street.'

'He must've abused them.' comments Wizard, hinting admiration.

'No! No! You don't get it. He welcomed them into the house. Then proceeds boring them to death. He's lonely and by God he's gonna stay that way. Blacklisted by God's disciples. 'cause when he gets an idea or an opinion 'bout something that's when he's most boringly dangerous. His mum won't even let him watch the news or any documentaries. And I told you's about the time, it was just after moving there. He .. He took home a stray dog. Kept it hidden under the house. 'cause his Mum's allergic to fleas. She broke out in rashes and welts and God knows what. Hospitalised for two weeks. When she got home, found the dog. Can ya imagine? A growin' man belted by his mum with a broom in the front yard. I guarantee one thing, he'll never bring another dog home. Even Nobby's not that stupid.'

Wizard winks at Splinta and pulls five dollars from his pocket. 'O'Possum! The Maggot just got off that machine. Should be full of money. Want to put in five Splinta?'

The dognapper organises five dollars change on the bar.

'Play it slowly.' insists Wizard.

O'Possum heads toward the card machines. This is unexpected. Only on pay he can afford to play cardies then wonders why he's broke for the next fourteen days.

'Did ya have another win on the horses?'

'Got one winner up. Supposedly an outsider, only paid twelve dollars. Covered all me bets. ... Still want to get rid of that dog?'

'Yeah! 'course.'

'Pick me up about ten tomorrow. Have the dog with ya.'

'A present for Charlie?'

'Nope! Dropping it onto O'Possum's neighbour.'

'But O'Possum said. Even the neighbor can't be that stupid.'

'Wizard's love a challenge. Especially where dills are involved. So mum's the word with O'Possum.'

'Mum's the word Wiz. ... Why do people say that?'

'Good question. But who cares?'

Beer flows for the next few hours. The Dognapper thirst insatiable after the drought. O'Possum enjoys a nice run on the cardie vacated by Maggot.

'You bloody ripper.' O'Possum's jubilant yell attracts a crowd.

Reluctantly joining the on-lookers, Maggot's face furrows, turns sickly grey. Schooner glass smashes on the floor. Maggot exits High Noon.

O'Possum excitedly waves three fifty dollar notes under his mate's noses.

'What ya get?' asks Wizard.

'A Royal Flush.'

'Mate, well done!' The Wizard congratulates O'Possum splitting winnings three ways.

'Yeah! But it was you who picked the machine Wiz.' offers Splinta. 'And upset the Maggot.'

'Three mates laugh.'

'These schooners are startin' to pour through me now.' concedes Splinta dismounting the stool and off to the Gents.

'You know what psychology is?' asks Wizard.

'Should do. Missus uses it on me all the time.'

'Curious to find out what happened to our little mate on his twenty first?'

' Of cause!'

'I'll pump him. You act disinterested. Reckon you respect his privacy. That sort of thing.'

'Okay.'

'Here he comes. He's got a few in him so it shouldn't take much. Play ya cards right.'

'I'm playing them right tonight.'

Splinta rolls a cigarette. The Wizard asks O'Possum 'You still staying for the Lovely Lara?'

'No Wizard. No way. I'll get home to the missus and kids after another couple.'

''bout time ya woke up to ya self.' comments Splinta.

O'Possum ignores his brother-in-law. 'Seen one ya seen 'em all. That's right isn't Wizard?'

'More a question for a gynaecologist. ... Little Splinta? Ever aspire to be a gynaecologist?'

'Fair dinkum Wiz. What sort of question is that? What sort of bloke would want to spend all day looking at women's ... You know? Should be a job for women doctors.'

'You ever seen one real close up Little Splinta?'

'Yeah! Thanks very much. My twenty first birthday present.'

'Couldn't have been that bad Little Splinta?'

'Told you's. I don't want to talk about it.'

'Fair go Wiz.' interjects O'Possum. 'He's got a right to his privacy?'

'Sorry Little Splinta. Sometimes it's better to talk about bad experiences instead of ...'

'You deaf or something?' responds O'Possum. 'He doesn't want to talk about it. Can't ya get the message. Talk about something else. Fair dinkum!'

'Who are you? Getting up Wiz?'

'Splinta! He's got no right. I won't have anybody talking 'bout my best mate that way.'

'Best mate?'

'He's ... ' O'Possum points his finger into The wizard's chest. ' ... trying a con. Wants your guts about that strip show. Don't let him fool ya.'

'Crickey! You're going off ya head about nothin'. You're a bigger idiot than ...'

'You'll be the idiot. It's a con.'

'What are you on about? You'll be jealous.'

'How could I be jealous? I don't know what happened?'

'Because you're a dead set deviate. Ya dick does all ya thinkin'. That's why ya such a dead beat.'

'I'm jealous of something that ... Ummm!'

'You callin' me a liar?' Splinta jumps from the stool confronting O'Possum. 'Are ya?'

'How could I?'

'You saying it never happened? I tell ya it did.'

'But you didn't say what happened Little Splinta. So O'Possum can't accuse you of telling lies.'

'I've had enough about this. Okay?' Splinta sits back on the stool.

'Good on ya Splinta.' O'Possum slaps the dognapper's shoulder before turning to Wizard. ' You've got to get up pretty damn early if ya want to catch Splinta.'

'What's he goin' on about?' Splinta asks Wizard.

'I'm afraid Little Splinta. ... He's right! I'm dying to listen to the story of your twenty first. O'Possum was awake to me from the word go.'

'He's doing it again Splinta. Don't ...'

'My story not good enough for you? Well I'm goin' tell you's. Soon as you get ya hand in ya pocket.'

'Three.' calls O'Possum to Hazy, not commenting, carrying three beers just poured.

'I was working with a builder, on a job in town. I asked him to my twenty first birthday party at the Rose & Thorn on Saturday. This was on Wednesday. "So ya turnin' twenty one on Saturday Splint. Sorry mate. Can't make it." I said actually it's me birthday today. "Well! Let's have a few beers tonight on ya real birthday." So he took me to some pub, he knew most of them in there. Told everybody 'bout me turnin' twenty one and no bull ... Shit. I've never seen so many schooners. The publican even shouted me a few scotches. Friendliest mob I ever met. By the time the strip show started, I was pretty pissy.'

Splinta brakes the story, swallowing long from his schooner before rolling another cigarette. Hazel positions herself within earshot, out of Splinta's vision.

'Anyway! Full of ink and everybody insisting. No harm in havin' a look. " Make way for Splinta." They made sure I got a front row view. Next thing I get me own chair. No sooner did I sit down, some joker brings a fancy glass, bottle of champagne and party hat, with the elastic under the chin.'

Splinta lights up his cigarette.

'I should of twigged. Must 'ave been real pissed. "Is it true ya still a virgin Splinta?" Some mongrel shouted out loud. Everybody bloody laughed at me.

'What should you have twigged?' asks O'Possum

'A set up. Bright one.'

'Only harmless fun mate.' invites O'Possum.

'That's right Little Splinta.'

'Harmless! Bloody harmless. Blimey! Never been so ashamed in me life. Then the so called dancer came on. She did a bit of a dance, not much good. Then peeled off her gear.'

'Everything? Straight away?'

'No! Kept a G-string on. But that's all.'

'Was she buxom Little Splinta?'

'They weren't whoppers. A fair size with little suction cups over her nipples and tassels with balls on the ends.'

'Say that again mate.'

'Blimey! Tassels! Tassels with balls on the ends. Next thing she's got her back and shoulders moving and these balls start spinning in circles. 'round and 'round like propellers. Soon hits top speed, straight over to me.'

Splinta dismouns his stool and demonstrates circular motions with shoulders and chest, and bends forward.

'Right in front of me eyes.' Splinta's bug eyes revolve. 'Watching the balls, right up in me face. No bullshit! Must 've been hypnotised. Didn't have a clue she'd dropped the G-string. All I saw were balls whizzing round and round. She put her hands behind me neck, massaging me. Next thing she stood up, pulled me face straight into her….. '

'Snatch!' pronounces O'Possum. 'Tell me Splinta. Tell me this is all bullshit.'

'Ha! Jealous. None of it's bullshit. It's true. Sorry bloody true.'

'What happened then Little Splinta?'

'It gets worse.'

'You mean better.' says O'Possum.

'Better? It only got better for the perverts and sadists. My humiliation just beginning. I grabbed her hands, got 'em off me neck. Bloody hell, she was strong! I tried to bolt. But the bastards behind kept sitting me in the chair. So I escaped straight between her legs. Crawled across the stage. All I could see were drunken, laughing faces. Some idiot screamed "Don't let him escape." Then they grabbed me. I punched one rat fair in the balls.'

Splinta uppercuts to O'Possum's crotch, pulling the punch at the last moment. O'Possum's doesn't move.

'Doubled him up but more mongrels took his place and pinned me on my back. Arms stretched above me head, legs pinned at the ankles.' Splinta pins his hands mid air.

Hazel's fascinated. Pool players impatient for beers add to Splinta's audience.

' Then she sat on me face. Gyrating. Kept them balls spinning.'

'Did she cum on ya?' O'Possum's excitement more urgent and obvious.

'Cum? Thought she was pissing on me.'

'Did ya stick ya tongue in?'

'What? .. 'cause not. Held me breath.'

'Good thinkin' Little Splinta.'

'They ripped off me jeans and undies.'

A pool player says loudly to another. 'Dangler! Ya think the runt's bullshitting?'

'He can't be making this up.' contends O'Possum.

'Who asked you?' Threatens Dangler. Taller, wider than O'Possum. Smothered in tattoos.

'Hazy!' Calls Wizard. 'Get the two gentlemen their beers.'

'Did you here that Dogs?' Exclaims Dangler. 'The old fart called us gentlemen.' The two rufians burst into exaggerated mirth.

Hazy soon arrives with their schooners, they pay and return to the pool table. Wizard beckons with his hand for Splinta to continue.

'Yeah!' Splinta laughs looking toward the pool table. O;Possum places a hand on one of Splint'a shoulders. The Wizard likewise on the other. 'Yeah! .. Arsehole Druggies.'

'Come on Splinta!' Pleads O'Possum.

'We want to hear about ya twenty first.' Wizard adds his support.

' Ok!' Continues Splinta turning back to his mates and Hazy lurking close by. 'Then she leaned back, balls still twirling and put her hands between me legs. Least I could breath again.' Splinta takes in a deep breath, mouth wide open.

'Did ya get it up?'

'What do ya think with all them blokes watchin?'

'What happened?'

'Next thing she turned herself around. Stuck her thing back on me face and put her mouth over me dick.'

'Ya must have got it up then?' O'Possum's taunt fist shaking.

'Not straight away. Most disgusting thing, the two blokes holdin' down my arms. What I saw. Well! If you's don't believe me? I won't blame you's.'

'Tell us. Tell us.' begs O'Possum excited and loud. The pool players shoot him a glance.

'They were biting her on the arse. Not hard, sort of growling at her cheeks. Then kissing and licking her thing and lifting their necks and howling, like dogs to the moon. Did me a favour 'cause she lifted her arse to get more. Gave me breathing space. Two filthy dogs taking turns. Lapping and licking and howling. This far from me eyes.'

Splinta indicates two inches with thumb and first finger. 'No shame. Clowns.'

'Did she keep going down on ya?'

'Yeah!. Eventually got the better of me in front of who knows? Fifty or more cheering and yelling drunken perverted maniacs. One bitch on heat. Worse than dogs.'

'Some twenty first Little Splinta.'

'Splinta! Splinta mate. You're right. By God! I am jealouse.'

'I knew! Knew you'd be jealous. Because you're a DOG.' Again looking toward the pool table. 'Like the DEVIATE DOGS at that pub. Ha!'

'What happened next Little Splinta?' Then Wizard turns to Hazy. 'Make sure that broken pool que is handy. Might need it.'

'Grabbed me jeans. Couldn't find me undies. Got dressed near the bar. The barmaid poured me another schooner. Didn't blink. Crikey! Like being in another world.'

'You wanted her to have a look. Didn't ya?'

'Typical! No way I was going into the toilets with a bare arse. I'm doing up me zipper when over strides the boss "Enjoy ya present?" Punched him fair on the nose. Instant claret.'

'Shit! Ya punched the boss.'

'The bastard who set me up.' Splinta downs his schooner and heads to the toilets.

Dangler and Dogs decide to follow Splinta as Wizard accepts the pool cue from over the bar. 'One at a time you arseholes!' Wizard calls menacingly.

Splinta returns fronting his brother-in-law, who prepares to leave. 'And ya not me best mate. Got it?'

'Not stayin' for the Lovely Lara after that story.' Wizard asks O'Possum.

'Na! Goin' home with champagne from the bottle-O. Bloke might get lucky.' Then back to Splinta 'Who is ya best mate?'

'He's dead.' says Splinta gathering change and tobacco from the bar. 'See you's later.' With a hint of sway the dognapper exits High Noon. The Wizard turns toward the pool players, now involved in an argument between them selves regarding the legality of a shot.

'Who's dead?' Wizard asks O'Possum.

'He means his dad?'

'Oh!'

'Another two? asks Hazy.

'Not for me thanks.' replies O'Possum. 'See you tomorrow Wizard.'

'Another middy?' asks Hazy.

'Why not Hazy? Why not?'

'Do you think Splinta dreamt that story?' asks the barmaid serving The Wizard's middy of beer.

The Wizard sips before answering 'What do you find so hard to believe?'

'What woman would do that sort of thing?'

'I'd hazard a guess and say Little Splinta's boss paid enough to make it worth her while.'

Impatient pool players, wait for schooners again.

'But the way Splinta went on. Sounded like she enjoyed doing it.' Questions Hazy going to the beer taps.

'Made it worth her while. Simple as that. And maybe she did enjoy putting on a show. It takes all types in this world.' Wizard avoids both pool players eyes, focused on him. He spots Harvey and Robbo and wanders over to join them.