Monday, July 4, 2011


Once I copped a job shaking tins cnr of Warrandyte Rd and Maroondah Hwy.
Nervous as fuck I was.

Had my bib on carrying my credentials.


Steadily my confidence grew as my feet ached in their Blunnys.
You knew who was likely and who wasnt to hand over some schrapnel
and then occassionaly you'd get surprised one way or another.

Nearing the end of my shift, Mark 'Jacko' Jackson rolled up in what I thought then was a
red, top-down, Ferrari/Lambourgini, but now reckon was probably a Mazda. Face like an arse.


Lingering quietly, unobtrusively I was....Like a forward pocket poised to pounce.
Lulling my opponent into a false sense of security.

Red light stays red.


He's 6 or 7 vehicles back from the front of traffic. Any minute now he'll pull out a wad and stuff it into my tin and Ill say shit...thanks Jacko! For all the world to see....

Front car moves. So does the second. Jacko's eyes do not waver. He purrs that pathetic engine of his and slowly moves off.


Mother fucker didnt even flip me a coin! I look around to see who saw what I saw, but they're all Eastland bound potato cake in hand.

But I remember Jacko..It wasnt that you didnt rattle my's that you didnt take your eyes from the road....

How bout a wink, or a shimmy...fuck it...even an up yours?

Im taking 10.50 an hour here from a charity and Im a long way from the action
and I sure could have done with a, how's ya father.

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