by NS Thompson
The ground is cold and I can hear something rustling in the undergrowth. It’s too cold for snakes. Might be a lizard or a fox.
I’m packing up and going home now. It’s bitterly uncomfortable and I’ve got a cramp in my leg. I’ll have a hot shower and some dinner and then I’ll…..
Hang on, you’ve just said that you are off to town to buy some champagne and bread for tonight and stud-boy’s suggested you rent a video. How sweet. You can cosy up on the couch and watch some sickly, romantic movie starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. Knowing you fornicating freaks, however, it is more likely that you’ll settle down to something like “Deep-throat” or “Debbie does Dallas”.
GG and I watched “Moulin Rouge” the other night and she thinks I look a little like Ewen McGregor but with shorter hair. I got quite turned on by Nicole Kidman in her fine corsetry and got a little too frisky with my darling. She’s fine now but I had to make her a little band-aid of gaffer tape.
Okay! So I’ll wait until you have departed for the township and then I’ll quickly replace the batteries in your room. I have them in the front pocket of my laptop bag. Bicycle-boy has peddled up the driveway on his way home to spin his woman a yarn and you are just behind him in the car.
19th July, Monday.
Boat. Snorkel. Helipad. Mosman. Scooter. Random word association because I’m trying to distract myself from reality. Grace and Andy sitting in a tree….k.i.double s. i.n.g. You ridiculous pair of rutting clowns. Sitting on the couch watching some awful B-grade Hollywood film. You wouldn’t have passed a comprehension test or been able to write a film critique, would you? Before the opening credits had finished rolling, you had mounted him on the couch, with knees astride while your rounded haunches bobbed up and down like a jack-hammer.
By halftime, you’d been lapped at like some giant sloppy ice-cream until you squealed like a piglet having it’s tail razor-bladed off. And while the final credits were on, your head was bobbing for apples in Cockles crotch. You left the blinds to the living room open, so I had a clear view from the alpaca fence. My handheld camera managed to capture some rough footage but it’s a little unclear and unfocused. Messy. Like your lovemaking.
Your cat began serpentining about my ankles while I was filming the two of you in the shower. I kicked it away but it was relentless, purring deeply while rubbing its white furry body against me like a feline slut. I got so distracted that I stopped filming and picked the damn creature up and got a brilliant idea.
He was a fine passenger. There was the worry that he might go ballistic in the car but he sat on the front seat, taking it all in his stride. I presented him to GG. She was thrilled and has decided to call him Larry. Cats don’t do it for me but I’m willing to make that sacrifice for my darling girl. Larry can keep her company while I’m at work and moonlighting as a film-maker.
Hiho hiho it’s off to work I go. The phone just rang but it’s probably mother’s doctor and I am not talking to him. I might just disconnect the phone permanently.
6:56p.m.
Pope. Melon. Skull. Print. Basket. These are words are random but have no association with one another at all.
GG looks a bit flat today. I’d better see if she needs an infusion of some description. I am the wind beneath her wings and I’m thinking that she needs a breath of fresh air. The band-aid might need replacing.
It’s a cold winter’s evening. We had sleet today and I feel it might snow overnight. I wonder if my mother smells like a rat soaking in preserving fluid.
I rang the city universities from work today and they told me that I needed to sign form a, b, c, d , e, f, g,h,I,j,k,,l…before they would take my mother’s body for practice butchering by medical students…it sounded like a nightmare of paperwork so I’m just pretending that I had little to do with my mother and that I am not having anything to do with her funeral arrangements. It makes me sound like a prize prick but it’s too much to deal with right now. I’m not religious or spiritual in any way so I’m most certainly not afraid that she is lurking behind my door as some horrifying spectre ready to leap out in her nightie and go “BOO”!
In many ways I feel free for the first time in my life. Like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. She really was a beastly burden. I wanted to move back to England years ago but always had her welfare at heart and SHE wanted to stay in Australia. I found the Antipodean crassness all a bit stifling and missed the culture and sophistication of all things British. I love the veil of grey clouds and the cold. Mother liked sunshine and space.
Do you know, I only married Vicki because my Mother LOVED her? She pushed me to pop the question. She even bought the engagement ring. Months after our divorce was final, I discovered that my mother had continued socializing with the Vulture…inviting her for tea etc…They spent many days locked in conspiratorial talk about what an absolute bastard I was. I think Mother felt cheated that she had lost the daughter she had always wanted. I had been daughtered as a son. She had brought me up to be soft and weak. She had discouraged sport and encouraged feminine pursuits. She taught me to knit and crochet. I was made to read Little Women and later, all the Bronte girls’ work. Mum once found a few books by Ernest Hemingway in my cupboard and burnt them. He was a” hard-liquor drinking, woman-hating, mental misfit”, according to her. They were school library books and I was given the cane for losing them. I never admitted to the headmaster that my mother had destroyed them.
She didn’t like to talk to me of my father. Dead and buried was all I got. I gave up pressing for more information while still a child. There were a couple of photos of the two of THEM but none of him with ME. I definitely look like him. His name was also Jack. I don’t know how he died. I don’t know where he is buried. I don’t know if I can vaguely recall him or whether I simply remember my day-dreamed father. I promised my mother that I wouldn’t ask questions or go behind her back for information because it was all too painful for her. But NOW I feel released from that agreement and intend to track down as much information as I can.
Perhaps Vickie the Voluptous Vulture might pay for the old woman’s funeral. I don’t know if they continued to see one another. Mother stopped telling me of their soirees but there were times that I visited that I could detect the definite stench of lesbian in the house – like a stale tuna sandwich.
Well, I have wiped my hands of the problem.
I fed the cat. He’s a bizarre creature. I’ve noticed that he has two different coloured eyes. One green. One blue. Perhaps GG should have called him Bowie. His purr sounds like a growl and he has a permanent heinous smirk on his face, like the Joker out of Batman. Having said all that, he is growing on me. GG seems to really like him. Her eyes follow him about the room. He likes leftovers. He’s eaten a whole bowl of chicken fricassee.
I guess your little honeymoon is over now and bike-boy has driven his truck out of the bushes beside your place and headed back to his mundane family life. You’re a fantasy for him….not reality…you are like pretty bubbles floating in the air…but you will go pop…pop…pop….and there will be nothing left but a little wet spot.
I’m editing tonight. GG sits by and watches you mating with that beast. She looks disappointed in you. I told her about your potential and she thinks you have been very remiss in unravelling your moral fibre.
3:14 a.m
Do you know what I think is hilarious? I stood beside you in the supermarket this afternoon as you dropped your video back.
“What was the film like?” I asked innocently.
“Fantastic!” you enthused.
“I heard that the sex scenes were a bit gratuitous.” I picked up the box.
“Nothing you couldn’t handle, Jack” you laughed. I felt the colour rising in my cheeks and felt that you were mocking me.
I rented the movie, came home and put it on the television and then the joke was on you, Bad Gracie because GG and I mocked you by engaging in a bit of mimicry. I opened the lap top and replayed all the footage of you, while th
e film played on the TV. next to it. Funnier still – I set the video camera up on the bureau and filmed GG and myself. I rammed GG up and down on top of me, while you bounced on your buddy and then I ate GG’s love-lips while half-watching you get munched on and then finally GG had me for dessert. You know what? I don’t have a clue what the damn film was about. There were a lot of shots of tits and butts and the lead actress had lips the size of pillows and I wondered if sucking cock was her favourite past-time.
I was quite exhausted after my re-enactment of your evening of lust and fell asleep on GG’s cool breast.
I’ve woken up now and find it hard to go back to sleep. I just watched the footage of GG and myself on my leather couch. It’s fantastic. So much clearer than anything I’ve got of you. It helps when you don’t have bits of a smoke alarm or a window between the camera and the subjects. I’ll be able to splice all these images together like a collage. If I’m really clever I can do some close ups of me with GG and close ups of you with bike-boy, putting them together so it appears that we are together. It will all look a bit like there’s some communal sex activity going on. Let’s face it – we are all tangled up in a strange web of love and lust. It really is a complicated relationship we all share.
I’ve just opened my new hotmail account to discover that you have sent a reply to your “brother”.
Reading. Boring. Boring. Ah here you say that you are seeing someone. How do you see it that way? You aren’t “going out” with anyone. You stay in and it’s one big dirty secret. Bad Grace is a delusional girl, aren’t you?
Haha! You complain that you were pulled over late this afternoon by the local cop and fined for driving an unregistered vehicle. Haha! That will teach you! I’m surprised you admitted this to your ‘brother’. I’d be ashamed of myself. You apparently had to leave your car, parked on the street leading out of town as you weren’t allowed to drive it. Poor you, had to walk home. That must have been just after I saw you in the supermarket. Well, you’ll have to get Nick the mechanic to tow it home for you, won’t you. A bit more expense. Life just got a little bit harder, didn’t it Gracie? I will now respond and reprimand you gently for being so naughty.
20th July, Tuesday
The cat killed Good Grace. I can’ write. Too upset.
21st July, Wednesday
Consumed with hatred for you Ms Templar. I am in pain and it is ALL YOUR FAULT!
22nd, July Thursday
Morning.
Inspection of Cox residence today. Fun. Fun. Fun.
Tribunal hearings all afternoon. Here is the eulogy I gave at GG’s funeral. I have erected a memorial headstone in the back yard and planted a tree in front of it.
Good Grace
We didn’t have long together, you and I
But now you’ve gone, I remember how to cry.
You came to me – a breath of fresh air,
Teaching me once again – to care.
Cruelly I had been tossed aside
By one who should have been my bride…
But quietly and with still grace,
You wiped the tears from my face.
I washed you, dressed you, brushed your hair
You were so lovely, soft and fair.
I kissed you and you made me strong…
I’ll love you always, though you are gone.
I’m devastated. My throat is constricted and my chest hurts. I just want to crawl into bed and stay there in the warmth and darkness. Everything has turned upside down. I am so alone. I have never felt so lonely. My mother is gone. Good Grace is gone. Bad Grace is to blame for it all. It was all good until you came along, bitch. You are a destructive, callous woman who stains and ruins everything she touches. You have the Medusa touch. I hate you so passionately.
Getting busted by the local copper is just the start. I will take you down. I have your internet details…I have your bank account details, your drivers licence number…The address of your mother…..I know so much about you and that is my ammunition.
I’ve been very tolerant to date and have let you get away with far too much. I have not set proper boundaries. I can’t believe I am letting you screw another man. I am partly to blame I suppose.
If I can’t have my darling Good Grace, then I will do what I can to make Bad Grace - good again. I will take you to hell and back until you beg for me to come and pick up the pieces of your life.
Have a nice day!
7:15p.m.
All by myself. Nothing unusual in that.
What I need is a strategy. A carefully laid plan to pull apart the knots you’ve made of your life. You need to be humbled, to see the error of your ways. I took the same line with Larry, the cat. He did wrong and needed to be punished. I’m not old school. I don’t take the hard line – an eye for an eye. I’m not some Indonesian judge who shoots you for smoking a joint. I’m fair and just. Larry will think twice about mauling defenceless plastic women again. I’ve kept him in the laundry for the last few days, giving him only water, while I pondered his punishment. He looks sorry, sitting there, shivering. I don’t want him here reminding me of the savage end he gave my lovely Good Grace. He can go back to you. I’ll drop him home tonight.
Jesus! That’s the doorbell. Who the hell would that be?
I’ve just peered out the side window to see a cop car in the driveway. What do they want? I’m not sure if it is Michelle or not. Possibly. Probably. I’m keeping my head down. I do not feel like visitors. If it’s important, they’ll come to work tomorrow. I don’t have anything to hide. I’m an open book. If it’s about my mother, that is ridiculous. It’s not a crime to ignore a dead relative. So nick off and leave me alone.
Ahh. The car lights are on and I hear the car pulling away down the driveway. I think I’ll leave it a while before I head to your place. I’ll put Larry in a blanket, in a cardboard box.
Your car has finally been towed home, where it sits, like a statue, until you re-register it. I drove past on a work errand today. You’ll be getting fit walking to work every day. That’s good. I think you’ve put on a few pounds since you moved here.
I see Jenny is picking you up from work at six and dropping you and Harry home. How fortunate you are to have such a devoted friend. Is she charging you an extra bottle of champagne a day for that service?
Just knocked down a coffee. I need strength. And I need to be alert because I want to see you tonight. Film you. Watch vulnerable Grace. I hope to God that the biker-man stays at home tonight. I don’t want to lay eyes on him again. I have seen too much of that man. I have seen him naked. I have watched him consume your body. Thieving intimacy from you.
I inspected his house today. His wife was not home and he skulked around behind me as I did a once over of each room. I wanted him to leave me alone. The detective in me wanted to dig some dirt but the only dirt I found was on the floor. I could tell that he’d tried to clean the place but really it was such a half-arsed attempt. Dust and miscellaneous crap was all pushed under the bed. The bedroom looked like it belonged to a middle-aged couple. They don’t have the same flair for interior design that you do.
Their lease stated that the DOG was an outside pet only. That was a redundant clause because there was a light coating of dog hair on absolutely everything. I remarked that I would have been happier if the lawns had been mowed and the bastard muttered something about not owning a lawn mower. I wanted to say – “Well live in a fucking unit, then!”
I let him know from my demeanour that I wasn’t terribly impressed. He promised to keep the rent up to date but his words fell on deaf ears and I let him know that the tribunal hearing would go ahead as scheduled next week and that I would be asking for eviction orders. He snarled at me with a big smile and his eyes looked challenging. “We’ll be fighting to stay.” He said.
I think not, Mr Cox.
Okay. It’s late. I’ll head off now. I’ve made a tasty dish for the Cox family’s hairy canine and plan to toss it over the fence to him on my way to y
our place - assuming the coast is clear. Come on little Larry. All creatures great and small.
23rd July, Friday.
Oh dear Gracie. I saw a new side of you, last night. Perhaps there are still some unexplored depths to you. I parked outside your neighbours place, just out of sight of your property and opened the door for Larry to escape back into your fold. He had some trouble getting out of the box but managed eventually and I shut the door after him, relatively confident that he’d make his way back home. I got the computer set up and discovered you in the bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed. You were writing in your journal and had some Dido playing on your portable stereo. I’m not much chop when it comes to picking contemporary artists but I don’t mind Dido. She’s got a haunting voice. It’s all a bit the same after a while but definitely gentle on the ear.
You looked quite pretty with your hair in plaits. Cute and wholesome. I really think you might be salvageable. The penitent whore.
We all make mistakes. I got suckered into marrying that slimy sea anemone, Vicki. That was a major mistake – a massive detour from sanity. Bike-boy is your crazy distraction from the proper path.
I watched you, with a warm feeling coursing through my veins. And then you looked up and cocked your head. Listening. For a minute I was expecting Harry to wander through your bedroom door but then the sound of mewling came from the glass sliding doors. You put your pen down and expressed a little exasperation as you padded across the carpet.
And then…
your tone…
changed.
One look at Larry and your knees crinkled beneath you. The pathetic puss kind of dragged his sorry carcass through the door and the grisly stump where his back right leg had been, was clear, even to me. You seemed afraid to touch him. And the words that started stuttering out of your mouth were somewhat profane.
