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June 13, 2006

Subs diary #3

OK. I meets this fella on the 12:35 stoppin all stations and we gets to talkin. He got this big ol head and smiley eyes, beardy all bushy like a birds nest and bugger but don he talks and talks. Tall tales that taller than a tree and stories fetched so bloody far they fair beat the sun to its distant settin. Now this bit is important for yous to remember for later. This bloke got him a boomin voice thatd shake the rafters off ya barn. So he starts to tells me this mumbo jumbo bout the reincarnation. Tells me this old blackfella done told is pop who told is son who told im and now hes gunna tell me.

He says to me that when you cark it theres some business t’attend to. Says to me theres this snake that sleeps right inside what he calls the sacrum bone which is near your arse. And when your ticker stops this snake she breaks out of this bone and starts a crawlin up ya spine and out your ead. “Fancy that?” I says, “right out ya ead hey?”. “But ya cant see it” he says, its visible only ta the man upstairs. Now this snake she gets ya soul in her mouth, cause she nabbed it on the way past your heart which is its natural home. Only shes real gentle, like it was one of her eggs see, and then she takes off and out of the one that carked it cause shes on a mission. “Mission?” I says sartastically. “What kinda mission she on exactly?” Smart arse tell me ta keep me mouth shut and he mights geta it. Now this snake she got a real sensitive tongue that smells. I starts to ask how this is possuble and he gives me the greasies so I sew the lips. Snakes they got real good sense o smell. Now shes on the lookout for sometin particulars. She lookin for a girl that’s up the duff see, but its gotta be three months on, cause that when the feetus is prepared ta takes a soul on. I rolls me eyes cause on the count of my mouth been incriminated already but he gives me the double greasies. So here she come, slitherin in when the ladies asleep, in the belly button she goes and real careful she puts the soul inta the feetus and whammo you got yaself a new baby.

“Bullshits” I says. “Honest to truth” he says. But this aint the end of the tale, cause he tells me that sometimes the snake she just cant find a woman that fits tha particular requirements and she gotta be rid of this soul before it gets cold. He says that sometimes the snake she gotta find herself an animal instead ta puts them while she waits. “Now the interstin thing to the story is this” he says. “And that is you can tell the ones that gone had some time in the animal cause he takes a feature o the creature into the feetus. “BULLSHITS” I scream at im. “If ya tink Im tellin a tall one then cop this” he says. And proceedings to tells me that he was put in a dog, and that the evidences is available for perusal in his own gob. “Me back teeth are as pointy and vicious as a Rottweiler and I tells no lie, an if yous don’t believen me then I invite ya to takes a look for yaself”. An like a cardy shark I calls is bluff and tells im I'll takes that gander. Now we all gots ourselves a comfy zone that nobody allowed in unless ya invites em, an ta lean in on a bloke who got is own zone leaves a man vunerables, theres no denyin it. I holds me breath and starts to lean for a closer inspection and gets ta within inches of his gob, all me concentration on the task of lookin up back for the pointy teeth. And then all of a sudden quicker than a fly onta shit he lets outa almighty bloody bark right in ma face “RRRUFFFFF”. Well me legs they gave ways under me and i lets out this whimper and falls on me arse in shock. This fella gon laugh is fuckin arse off, pointin his bony finger at me and makin me feel like an all day sucker. I lets out a screeching “MOTHERFUCKA” from me perch on the floor and he just doubles is cackin. And thanks God and strike me dead if me Mum wasn’t right about me being a tight arse, cause if I wasn’t one then I woulda fair shit meself.

June 12, 2006

Subs diary #1

Im sittin here a swayen and a bumpin. Me hands wont keep still and I aint talking about me scribin me stories. Bloody trains movin innit. Too many smelly buggers in here at this time of day. I come on this bloody train late as buggery, not my fault, I was workin. I had to spread meself out all fat arse like so nobody could sits next to me. Pushin out the knees so on faces sunrise and the tother sunset. Put outs the elbows like I was about to take flight south for the winter. Trains pointin east so I figure I was stretchen the point. Anyway, I gets the seat. Me worry head is tickin away and bossing the other bits of me brain around. Its thinkin about them sheep I read about. You know the ones that got their arse cut off to stop the blowflies or somethin. Beats me who worked that out as a bright idea. The way my worry head figures it, you leave an uncooked steak outside long enough just about every fly within 50 k gonna smell it and come a feastin. What they gotta go cuttin the arses off sheep for, damn idiots. They got me in me worry head all day now and he aint abaitin. Figure I gotta drown im out with booze, that usually does the trick. Or I gotta write to the government and ask them whether they got the worry head over this news too.

Damn farmers, they reckon its about cost cuttin. Cost cuttin? That aint the only thing they cuttin alright. How bout I go up there and whop off a couple of their arses, see how the flies like that. Make an experiment of it. Which arse gets the most fly activity? I think I know the frickin answer. Cost cuttin farmers with their arses missing and their bullshit talkin bout saving a couple a squid, that who. Damn this train, tracks feel like they pushin back, maybe they heard about the sheeps too. May be they got the worry head too.

June 11, 2006

Subs diary #2

Me worry mind keeps thinkin bout tother day in regards to my friend the sick man and my subsaquent visit. All layed outs in the huspitle like a tom cat kippin on a tin roof, lookin like he could use a meal or two. His guts gone got one of them toomas that pitched in and took over the place like them squatter black fellas on the government lawns. Anyways it grows and it grows and leaves no rooms for the tucker ta go. So he comes from the Alice to the city to gets the photos taken of his innards and whoppo theres this big barsted winkin back at dem doctors givin em the finger, cocky as you please. So they gets to worryun and call them pretty nurses in and tell em to start sharpenin the knives cause they goin in to retrieve the squatter and give im the walkin papers. My friend the sick man is shittin bricks but what choice as he got? They wheels im in, stick in a toob and hes off ta fairyland. Next thing you know hes waken up witout a fuckin gut! They tells him the squatter fair gone called the place is home and he gets himself so settled they cant figure where he ends and is guts begin. So they cuts the whole kit and caboodle out and sticks in a replacement part like hes a fuckin Holden needin a service. So heres this fella, fit as you like, he dunt smoke, he dunt drink and he keeps gettin these squatters come in messin up his insides. Shit if it aint as random as God throwin a dart with is eyes closed. The cancer is what they call the squatter and he donna like ta stay in one place too long. He dont care if you black, white or purpley. He the boogy man and he the devil and he the dart. Never liked the fuckin game anyways.

June 10, 2006

Subs diary - Intro

I got this character talking in my head, i first wrote like him on the train. I will call him Subs for the moment, not sure if that is his name yet. He is Australian but i dont think he is a bogan or a redneck because he thinks deep but uses pidgeon english to express himself. I like it because in some ways it is quite poetic. He thinks differently and therefore his descriptions of everyday events are bizarre. I cant write about him because in my head nothing seems to fit, rather he talks about things that have happened to others, or about world events and the like. He is a serious fellow but it reads quite comical. I hope if others read it they can see the hidden depths behind the words.