January 3
I’ve been having nightmares about the wallaby again, mate.
When one of those blasted buggers decides to have a go at you, there’s nothing you can do. They’re vicious creatures.
I stare into the wallaby’s black eyes. I’m deadly scared.
“I did it all to honk off my Dad!” I cry.
That’s when the wallaby starts kicking me. Kicking me to bloody pieces. Their back legs are spring-loaded; they’re like bands of steel, mate.
I squeal and begin to sob: “Nay…nay….”
My Dad always warned me I’d grow up to be a ponce. Is this my comeuppance for stealing Cocoa Krispies from the homeless and gloating over the sugary treats?
As the savage marsupial mounts me, I hear the voice of my Dad yelling “Sinkers or floaters today, boy? You’re nothing but a sinker in the bowl of life.”
I squeal like a girl as I awaken, choking on my protective mouth guard. I’ve got the fear, mate. The wallaby is coming for me.
