Green/Red

I’ve spent the morning walking back and forth to the fridge, waiting for something manifest – food, entertainment, death, whatever. The results have been disappointing. For relevant quotes Google the Rolling Stones and their work on the topic of feeling satiated. There’s no one in town. Some ceremony thing has drawn them out in droves. Or drove them out in their drawers. Hard to tell.

The peace and quiet seemed like a perfect opportunity for my neighbour to take another run at his Peal Jam albums – relive that ear-ringing period of his life when he thought he was still young enough to listen to cool music. In support, a flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos have sidled up to the palm trees in the house opposite. Ahh, the stamped cats of the sky. I’ve never had one, but I’m pretty sure I know what an aneurism feels like.

Everyone was trying to get in on the act. So much so that I heard something that I hadn’t heard in a long time. ‘Woop!’ the police siren blasted through the thick hot air. There was no emergency or crime in progress. I think they just like to break it out once a month to see if it still works. They’re more like family court mediators than police officers. ‘Sort it out amongst yourselves. I’m just here to make sure no one gets stabbed.’

I’ve been trying to spend as much time as possible in the sun. I’m trying to get a tan or skin cancer, because let’s face it; I’d rather be dead than pallid and pasty like some godforsaken ginger. I’m having difficulty at present trying to tan the skin on my legs between my knees and my balls. Luckily that area is only about an inch and an half. Skin elasticity is a fragile thing, kids. Preserve it. One or two more party tricks and I’ll be kicking my man-marbles along the sidewalk like a tin can. A tin can with my balls in it.

But it’s embarrassing to be so pale while all these Aboriginals prance about with their beautiful, velvety black skin. The kids that float around my office have become fascinated with me. ‘Look! Green! Green!’ they squeal, pointing and prodding at my arm veins. I’m the translucent man to them. A sideshow freak. A bearded lady. An openly gay Republican. So I took my pocket knife and pinned one kids hand to the table. ‘Look!’ Red! Red!’ … the office has been quieter ever since…

It gives you some perspective… you know… stabbing a child. It proves that, no matter what your skin colour, the police are never there when you need them.