Theme Park at its Darkest

The Prince of Wales was pumping, along with the rest of Fitzroy Street. In the name of gentrification, the Port Philip City Council had constructed some kind of super-tram stop where Fitzroy Street curved into The Esplanade and, in their wisdom, effectively created a bottle-neck. It became even busier than it was before. At eleven thirty at night, the dark was split into a kaleidoscope of refraction. I parked the Passat down a side street on the West St Kilda side, the only place you’d even consider finding a park at that time of night. Continue reading →

Chapter 23

Wally and Johnny were standing outside the sliding door to the pub when Pat got back. Wally was dressed in full lycra; white, orange and lime. A racing bike with a matching colour scheme leaned against the brickwork beside him.           

“You look like a fucking radioactive boiled egg,” said Pat. 

“Gee, Pat, tell us what you really think. Don’t hold back now.” Continue reading →

1.

I knew Marie was finishing late tonight, so I ate an early dinner at the pub. I had a couple of pots with a counter meal and was feeling good when I stepped out into the crisp, dry, mid-winter evening. I was crossing the parking lot when I saw something I didn’t like. Continue reading →