We walked to Carlton, to that Malaysian restaurant on
Swanston Street where we haven’t eaten before. The one between all the student
accommodation, the one we have been meaning to eat at, but have never seemed to
get around to it. The one we pass on our walks and say, we must eat there.
As we walked up Gertrude Street, there was this girl
walking towards us, clinging to the fence. You know, that ridiculous "me'ness."
Not budging, oom pah pah! Our eyes locked. Try it! Smile. I think she
realised that I had the position by the fence and that I wasn’t giving it up
for her, my eyes met her eyes with that kind of gaze. On this realisation, she
looked nervous and noticeably hesitated, scared, like we are all trained to be
now a days.
“She looked nervous,” I said.
“She thinks you are going to tear her apart,” Sam said
dramatically.
“Tear her apart, you think?”
“Yes, tear her apart.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Really? Grab her by the leg, you think, and pull so she
splits at the vagina, like a button fly popping open? Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop,
pop, pop!”
“Yes.”
"Or the staples in a fat reduced stomach giving way.
Ble, ble, ble, ble, ble, ble, ble."
"Yes."
“So, she tears all the way around until she is nothing but
a six metre vagina, effectively turned inside out. Flapping in the wind?”
“Yes.”
“Two legs with a giant vagina hanging off them? Like a
giant torn purse attached to two drumstick bones?”
“Yes.”
“A marionette cunt?”
“Yes, I think that is what she thought.”
“Like a giant flesh balloon I could hold up to the breeze
and float away on?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you think?”
“That’s what she thought.”
“A GaGa bonnet?”
“a la the meat dress. Yes.”
"Really?"
"Yes."
Too black? Grimace? Today, in our pull your coat around yourself, conservative times, senses of humour are beiger and narrower than that, Christian. You should know, as even you wonder about it as you read over it.
Ha, ha.
Perhaps I should have just let her have the fence to walk along? Perhaps, it was like some kind of security blanket, one side is caged off and safe and she only had to watch them coming from one side. I didn't care. I was having a leisurely walk in the sunshine with my guy, I wasn’t nervous about anything.
People are nervous today, though, you have to agree?
The food was good at the non-eaten-at-before Malaysian
restaurant in Swanston Street. It was great for $6.50. The boys behind the
counter were cute and attentive. After whiney old me complained about how hot
it was inside the shop, one of the boys behind the counter rushed outside ahead
of us and popped up an umbrella to guard us from the suns rays. Lovely.
As he reached up and secured the umbrella in the up position, his t-shirt rode up his back exposing his white undies elastic and perhaps more of the soft white cotton than he meant to... and his big, chunky bum. He had a big arse, I could see the big round tops of his cheeks. I can’t imagine what you do with a boy with an arse as large as he had. It was way bigger than two handfuls, let me tell you. Way bigger! The guy at the next table had an annoying laugh, like a machine gun. Er!
The tofu was in sweet chilli, the lamb was curry, the
chicken was in a sweet, maybe plum, sauce.
It
was a beautiful day walking home in the glorious sunshine. The boys in the
skate park made clack clack sounds with their skateboards. Shirtless boys with
flat stomachs and long hair. The trees shimmered in the air. We chatted and laughed, me and
Sam, as we do.
We
cut through between the museum and the Exhibition Buildings, where the people
milled about, where we walked under the big shade awning for respite from the
sun.
Food and a walk. Be it a dawdle, it was a walk none the
less.
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