Tales from the Punchbowl #3
Staccato Inhalations
I was wandering fairly aimlessly through East Melbourne drinking cider at 1am. I spied four people listening to a Bluetooth speaker in the distance, on the other side of the Chinese gardens. After planting myself in their midst and asking curtly, “waddup bitches”, they proceeded to converse with me in an unabashed way.
An open carton half empty was fairly telling evidence of the night’s proceedings. I took in thumping drum and bass as I gleaned what I might of their characters and backgrounds. One fellow was from Serbia. It turns out they were interested in partying hard and menacing the public city scape with graffiti.
We’re going to a party want to come? Here’s a beer. You can get us the uber. I was willing to be used in this fashion. I summoned an uber. While we waited the Serbian proceeded to scrawl a messy, unartistic splodge of graffiti on the wall of the Chinese restaurant. I gulped in incomprehension as I don’t really understand the urge. We know the biggest tagger in Melbourne they declared. You do? Yes. Does that mean any monetary benefit for him? No. He just has the biggest reputation. It’s an image of profound anti establishment that he basks in with gratuitous infamy. Ah okay.
The uber arrived. I accidentally insulted the Serbian on the way by insinuating that Serbian nonnas have evidence of moustaches. He asked me to take it back and I immediately deferred. We pulled up at a dingy apartment in South Yarra, bottom level. I entered the premises with the four others. Lines of white powder lined up on the coffee table. Various characters keeling over sideways after staccato inhalations.
The guys I’d arrived with then disappeared out the front, returning moments later hauling a guy in a ketamine coma. Totally limp. They carried him into the laundry out the back. I think my aura of relative sobriety stood in stark contrast to the alternate dimension they were pursuing. The blond girl whose house it was suggested I leave, as she was nervous about what was transpiring. I left congenially and called an uber back the other way.
A beautiful girl called Alethia was on the side of the road. Need an uber, I queried. Headed to North Melbourne. Yeah sure. As she rode with me back to the hostel, she elucidated all the highlights of an avant garde art exibition she’d just attended. I was keenly interested. I bade her farewell as we pulled up in North Melbourne. I plodded back to my room, skimmed the news about Israel’s ruthless war, then slept till 2 pm.
adamdaniel 