The Adventures of HAL: The Second Hilarious Glothic Tale (The Glothic Tales Book 2)

by Haines, Derek

  ‘Lucky it was empty Laddy.’

  ‘I’m a bit nervous, sorry.’

  After checking the time, Hal decided to have a pub lunch before heading to Heathrow for his flight − and his new life.

  G’day Mate

  Sydney wasn’t what Hal had expected. Big, noisy, dirty, expensive and full of ever so friendly people who could only manage a two-line conversation. It reminded him too much of London. The only difference being the two-lined conversation. Instead of ‘Luverly weather huh?’ and ‘Yeah, luverly’, it was ‘G’day mate’ with a reply of ‘G’day mate’ in return. Whenever he tried to respond correctly, he would be instantly told he was a bloody Pom, so he gave up ever being able to say G’day with the correct accent and inflection. Luckily though, he’d met a few fellow English Poms in a pub near Bondi just after his arrival and they told him that north was better. He decided to take their advice and hitch a lift to the Gold Coast with a friend of a friend’s friend’s mate who was heading that way. He wasn’t sorry to be saying goodbye to Sydney after only two weeks.

  *****

  It wasn’t before they passed through Newcastle that finally a conversation developed between the occupants of the ancient hippie painted VW microbus.

  ‘I really appreciate the lift, thanks,’ Hal told Bruce who was the hippie driver.

  ‘No worries mate. A few hitchers helps me pay for petrol to get back home.’

  ‘And where’s home?’

  ‘Nimbin.’

  ‘I don’t know it,’ Hal said honestly.

  ‘What? You’ve never heard of Nimbin?’ a young female passenger named Debbie chipped in from the seat just behind Hal.

  ‘Sorry, no.’

  ‘It’s only the hippie capital of the world man. Where’ve you been?’ she asked.

  ‘I only just arrived from Britain.’

  ‘That’s alright mate. We can re-educate ya’!’ the man next to Debbie said. His name was Darrell and Hal had assumed Debbie was his girlfriend.

  ‘So are you going to the Gold Coast?’ Hal asked Darrell.

  ‘Na mate. Brissie.’ Hal obviously had a look of not understanding on his face, so Debbie translated for him.

  ‘That’s Brisbane mate.’

  ‘Oh I see.’

  ‘How long ya’ been in Oz mate?’ Debbie asked.

  ‘Two weeks.’

  ‘Right,’ Debbie replied before the conversation died.

  The first stop at Nerong on the Pacific Highway was welcome after a long morning drive, in a less than comfortable old VW. Had there been some upholstery left on the seats it would have helped, so Hal in particular was glad to stretch his long legs and wait for his bum to lose its numbness. While Bruce filled the tank, Hal, Debbie and Darrell went to pay thirds for the petrol. As Hal also bought some potato chips and a Coke for himself and Bruce, Debbie and Darrell thought they should do the same. Hal dropped his packets of chips twice on the way back, reducing the contents to probable crumbs, but luckily the cans of Coke survived the trip unscathed. Finally the three of them arrived back at the VW with all arms full.

  ‘That should get us all the way to Brissie,’ Bruce smiled broadly.

  ‘Sorry, they don’t sell piss, so no VBs this morning,’ Darrell replied, and seeing the lost look on Hal’s face, Debbie translated.

  ‘Piss is alcohol and VBs are cans of Victoria Bitter Hal.’

  ‘How long will it take me to learn the language then?’

  ‘Only forever for Poms,’ Debbie laughed.

  Once underway, the conversation stayed away for some miles yet again, before it was Darrell who surprisingly popped a question.

  ‘Why the Coast Hal?’

  ‘Well, some friends in Sydney told me it was the place to go.’

  ‘But it’s more bloody expensive than Sydney there mate. Full of tourists and the white shoe brigade.

  ‘White shoe brigade?’

  ‘Yeah. Rich crooks with bloody big boats. Everybody hates ‘em,’ Bruce explained to Hal.

  ‘Why don’t you go to Brissie? It’s a lot cheaper and you can zip down to the Coast anytime ya’ want. It’s not far. Or go further north,’ Darrell said.

  ‘I prefer the Sunshine Coast anyway. It’s just north of Brissie,’ Debbie added.

  Hal looked at Bruce looking for his opinion without asking.

  ‘I’d run with them Hal. The Gold Coast sucks.’

  Hal thought for a moment or two. ‘I suppose it’s not a bad idea.’

  The now familiar arrival of a long silence between rare episodes of conversation returned to the VW. The road ribboning into the distance ahead as far as the eye could see. Hal was trying to come to grips with the vast expanses all around him, and how he’d perceived the Gold Coast to be just up the road from Sydney. His understanding of how far one thousand miles really was started to dawn on him. Never having had to think about it before, he tried to calculate where he would’ve ended up if he’d travelled a thousand miles from London. Moscow?

  ‘Alright with all of ya’ if we stop for the night just outside Coffs Harbour? I’m a bit pooped and could do with a few tinnies and some Zs,’ Bruce asked.

  ‘No worries mate,’ Darrell replied in an instant.

  ‘A few cans of beer and some sleep,’ Debbie spontaneously translated for Hal.

  ‘Thanks Debbie. Yes, fine with me Bruce.’

  ‘Alright. I’ll find a bottle shop and a place to camp for the night.’

  ‘We’ll buy the grog,’ Darrell offered.

  ‘Thanks mate,’ Bruce said.

  ‘Beer Hal.’

  ‘Thanks Debbie.’

  Sitting around a campfire, drinking VBs and barbecuing sausages on a stick was new for Hal, but he found it a very enjoyable way to pass a warm Aussie evening. Even if his sausages spent more time falling off his stick and lying in the embers than actually being cooked.

  ‘Ya’ know, ya’ don’t look much like a Pom.’

  ‘What am I supposed to look like then?’ Hal replied to Debbie’s question.

  ‘Pale, short and skinny with glasses and bad body odour. And you’re not even wearing white socks and brown sandals.’

  ‘Oh, well that does sound like a few friends I know back home.’

  ‘Yeah. Well ya’ look more like a Scottish rugby player to me,’ Darrell added.

  ‘Well, I used to play lock or number eight.’

  ‘But not for Scotland,’ Debbie chipped.

  ‘No. Only at school.’

  ‘Rugby’s big around Brissie. You oughta try getting a game. Never know, you might play for the Wallabies one day,’ Bruce said.

  ‘Well, I think my passport is against me to ever think about the Wallabies, but I might see if I can find a club and keep fit. Although I really want to learn how to surf.’

  ‘Piece ‘o piss mate,’ Darrell piped up. ‘My brother’s a surfie. I’m sure he’d be happy to show ya’ the ropes.’

  Hal didn’t need Debbie’s translation skills so much now, and figured out that this ‘piece ‘o piss’ wasn’t beer this time. It meant it would be easy.

  ‘Oh, that’d be great.’

  ‘Just watch out for the bloody sharks mate!’ Bruce warned.

  ‘Will do.’

  Hal had never seen such a clear, dark yet brilliant night sky. Millions of stars twinkling above him. With his head arched back, he gazed at the wonders above. The Milky Way was on show, and he tried imaging the millions of suns, the vastness of infinity and the mystery that was the universe. As the beer started to take effect, he suddenly realised he needed to do something quite urgently. As he stood up, Bruce read his mind.

  ‘Take a slash in the bush over there mate.’

  The puzzled look on Hal’s face prompted Darrell to help.

  ‘A piss mate.’

  Hal trod off wondering how many meanings there were for that one word, piss, in the Australian language. It seemed to crop up in every second sentence. While he took a pee, he wondered what would take longer, learning how to su
rf or learning the new language. When he arrived back at the campfire the other three seemed to be in a secret huddle.

  ‘I’m not interrupting, am I?’

  ‘No way mate,’ Darrell replied. ‘We were just thinkin’. If ya’ want, you’re welcome to stay with Deb and me.’

  ‘Yeah, we share a place with a few other people, but I’m sure they wouldn't mind if you crashed there until ya’ get yourself set up,’ Debbie explained.

  ‘Thanks. I’d really appreciate it. I was going to try and find a hostel or something though. I don’t want to be any trouble.’

  ‘No trouble at all mate,’ Darrell said. ‘All decided then.’

  ‘But you’ll have to come down to Nimbin sometime Hal,’ Bruce said. ‘It’s heaven on Earth.’

  ‘Will do Bruce. For sure.’

  Breakfast Creek

  Hal started to laugh when Debbie asked him if he wanted to come along to meet a few friends of hers and Darrell’s at the Brekky Creek.

  ‘Eh, the Brekky what?’

  ‘The Breakfast Creek Hotel. You’ve never heard of it?’

  ‘No, can’t say I have.’

  ‘But it the most famous bloody pub in Oz,’ Darrell said totally surprised by Hal’s lack of knowledge about Aussie culture.

  ‘Look’s like my education continues.’

  ‘Too right Hal. Ya’ really could do with some XXXX off the wood.’ Debbie added.

  ‘Four-ex. Wood?’

  ‘Beer from a little barrel mate!’

  ‘Oh.’

  It had only been a few days, but Hal felt very comfortable in his new lodgings. Sharing a house with nine people, sleeping on a kapok mattress in the corner of the living room, and breathing all kinds of drug laden smoke fumes ten hours a day seemed like quite a reasonable way of life. It was suburbia. It was working class. It was home for the time being. And it was in Brissie. A far cry and vast improvement on London and Sydney. Hal was very impressed with the lay back attitude of the people he met and adored the warm tropical climate. He’d had his first surfing lesson that morning, and although completely useless at it, he knew he would master the art one day. Even though Darrell’s brother Steve had told Hal that big blokes take a lot longer to get the hang of it, he wasn’t going to give up. Steve also told him that he needn’t worry about sharks because they were smart and wouldn’t be stupid enough to go after a bloody big bastard like him. Somehow Hal wondered about this piece of Aussie wisdom. Anyway, sharks or no sharks, big or small, easy or difficult, Hal wanted to be a surfie. He even hoped the salt water and sun might bleach his red hair a bit so he would have more of a surfie look. But in the meantime, he would let it grow and hope for the best. Debbie had bought him a welcome to Brisbane present, a cotton hippie sack with long handles that he could sling around his back when he went surfing. There was a hippie peace sign printed in green on one side, and The Hemp Embassy on the other. ‘Somthin’ t’ keep your ciggies, cash and keys in,’ she’s told him. Hal loved it and wore it everywhere.

  ‘Another beer luv?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Five please,’ Hal responded to the barmaid as he knew it was his shout. Debbie had explained to Hal what a shout was on their way to the pub. It meant your turn to buy the beers for the school. And the school was the group you were drinking with at the bar. He felt quite proud of himself on having his first shout.

  ‘Where ya’ from luv?’ the barmaid asked as she poured the five beers.

  ‘England. Near London,’ Hal answered as he reached for some money from his hippie sack, spilling coins on the floor and answering from his head down, sneezing, grovelling for stray coins on the floor position.

  ‘Oh yeah. Think I’ve got some rellies there.’

  ‘Rellies?’

  ‘Yeah. Relatives. An aunty and uncle I think. But then again all us Aussies do I s’pose.’

  ‘Yes, same back home. Everyone seems to have relatives in Australia.’

  ‘Whatchya name luv?’

  ‘Oh, er, Hal,’ he said as he recovered to his sitting position once more after his moderately successful money hunt on the floor.

  ‘Narelle. Nice t’ meet ya’ Hal.’

  ‘Narelle? Um, eh, I don’t want to pry, but your surname wouldn’t be Berkowski by any chance, would it?’

  ‘How d’ya’ know that?’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘Your uncle gave me this,’ Hal said as he took the scrunched piece of notepaper with the address that the taxi driver had given him from his sack. Spilling another few coins and clumsily resuming his money hunt and occasional sneeze once more.

  ‘Bloody ‘ell. I don’t believe it.’

  As Hal and Narelle continued their chat, Debbie and Darrell smiled at each other. They knew Narelle from when they were at school together.

  ‘Seems Hal can charm the ladies then ‘ey Darrell.’

  ‘Na Deb. Narelle’s just bein’ nice.’

  ‘Here you go,’ Hal said as he turned and passed the fresh glasses of beer to his school. Spilling just a little from each glass as he passed them. Narelle had move down the bar to serve other customers.

  ‘Made a new friend then Hal?’ Debbie asked.

  ‘Funny you know. I met her uncle the day I left London.’

  ‘Well bugger me,’ Darrell said in surprise as he sipped his new beer.

  It took a few weeks for Hal to work up enough courage to ask Narelle out. He’d spent a lot of time at the Brekky Creek and had got to know her a bit but thought he’d like to know her a little better. In some ways it felt like he was wanting a date with a cousin, but he let that thought go as best he could. He picked a quiet Wednesday afternoon when he knew Narelle was on shift to make his bold move. Narelle made sure he didn’t suffer too long in anticipation. After the regular greetings, he got down to the business at hand.

  ‘I was wondering …. Atchoom!’

  ‘Ya’ know what Hal?’

  ‘Eh, what?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  ‘Dinner?’

  ‘Say Japanese and you’re on!’

  ‘Kon'nichiwa.’

  Later that evening, Debbie and Darrell were smoking a joint and watching an old Abbott and Costello movie. Debbie passed the potato chips to Darrell and he passed them back − both without taking their eyes from the television screen. In between crunches, and only when a commercial break arrived did they speak.

  ‘Where’s Hal?’

  ‘Dunno Deb.’

  Suki da - Suki yo

  ‘But you’re a bit tall to be a surfie Hal.’

  ‘So you must be a very good surfer then.’

  ‘I can keep up with the fellas alright,’ Narelle smiled over her sushi. ‘And I’m not that short!’

  ‘Sorry. No more vertically challenged wise cracks, I promise.’

  ‘Ok. I’ll keep the Goliath jokes to myself then too.’

  ‘I’m just worried that my hair won’t bleach,’ Hal smiled back.

  ‘Well Hal, I’m honoured to say mine is natural. Probably makes me a real dumb blonde, but if ya’ want, I can slap some peroxide on your locks and see what happens.’

  ‘Can a man be a peroxide blond then?’

  ‘Well, only if it works Hal. Sometimes it just goes green.’

  ‘I might wait and see what the salt and sun does first then. But thanks for the offer anyway.’

  As with all first dates, pregnant pauses, blushes and looking into space for a few moments are just part and parcel of normal proceedings. For Narelle and Hal it was no different, except for Hal dropping his chopsticks on the floor at regular intervals and unending a carafe of water, but as the evening and the sake wore on, these diminished, as did his sneezing, and were replaced by catching each others eye from time to time, the odd hand on hand reconnaissance mission across the table and eventually, some serious eye gazing just before the bill arrived. All this would probably lead of course to some serious hand holding on the walk home. It did.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oops sorr
y. Wasabi,’ Hal said as he wiped his hand on his jeans, then gave Narelle’s hand a wipe as well.

  ‘So what’re ya’ gonna do in Oz?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I suppose I should look for a job to at least keep me off the streets.’

  ‘And out of the Brekky Creek every day,’ Narelle said threateningly but with a big smile as she looked up at the man holding her now cleanish but slightly wasabi flavoured hand.

  ‘Yes, but I want to have time to learn how to surf properly.’

  ‘Alright. Part time work, part time surfing then.’

  ‘Sounds perfect to me. Now I just need to find a job.’

  ‘And learn how to stay on a surf board.’

  ‘Yes that too,’ Hal smiled down at Narelle and caught a look from her eyes that words couldn’t say.

  They walked in silence for a while. Hand in hand, both smiling a warm smile inside themselves. Finally they turned the corner towards where Narelle’s flat was.

  ‘Coffee Hal?’

  ‘Could I boldly ask for tea?’

  ‘Blood Poms! Narelle said with a big smile, turned, got up on her tiptoes, and kissed Hal on the cheek. ‘Of course ya’ can have tea Big Fella.’

  *****

  ‘Looks like you ‘n Narelle have become an item then,’ Debbie said cheekily when she ran into Hal in the kitchen. ‘Whatchya cookin’?’

  ‘Bacon and eggs. Want some? And, yes maybe, I hope.’

  ‘Ok. Yes please. Darrell’s gone to Sydney for his Granddad’s funeral.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘That’s ok Hal. I’m sure he’ll understand. Well, Darrell I mean, not his Granddad,’ Debbie laughed to make sure Hal knew there was no problem at all. ‘You’ve been a bit busy with more important matters I think.’

  ‘Narelle?’

  ‘Yeah. Seems she’s a bit smitten by some big Pommie rugby player from London I hear.’

  ‘And where did you hear that?’

  ‘Oh, only from the horse’s mouth. Narelle and I went to school together.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Well, that should keep ya’ on your toes Hal. You make sure ya’ look after my friend, ok?’