Friday, October 23, 2009

Drag your post

Instead of being chained to a cannon ball or whatever the fuck it is they normally chain a man too, this dude from Killingore WA came and offered me and Bombed Village a night chained to a post. Of course we said sick, and so he drove us to the old Staple Warehouse in the south of Melbourne, Australia and chained us to a post.

Bombed Village being highly attuned to his surroundings noticed it was one of those posts that you used to aim for in the boat when you went fishing with your pa. Pa would always say 'aim for the post, that little white thing with a black tip out over yonder'. You couldn't see the fuckin thing so just steered in the general direction, until your pa yelled out again, 'The post... Aim for the fuckin post'

Anyway thats what we were chained to and after an hour and a half, we started to panic that what we had paid $17 for each was nothing but a hoax. The man had disappeared and we were left chained to a distant post drudged up from a far away memory. What a sham!

Getting sleepy and hearing dawn kick in outside the Staple Warehouse, I nudged BV and said can you hear that? A light tapping merged with a singular note. It grew stronger and stronger. BV new it!

'It's, it's....It's....', he stammered

'Something old.' said I.

Something old and smelling like loungerooms.

We slept soundly chained to our post.

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