Avant garde, no?

I thought I should start a band. I could be on guitar and vocals, Steve could be on drums, and Vegie could take care of the bass.

Then we'd realize I couldn't sing, so I'd be on guitar, Vegie on bass, Steve on vocals, and we'd get a chick drummer with cool hair. Then we'd change the name of our band from "Jim Saleam and the Knee-Knocking Hard-Rocking Troubadours" to "Three Lads & A Slag."

Accuracy in reporting, always.

This is what I thought two nights ago as I got out of Leigh's car. Joining me in this car-getting-out-of was Leigh. And her little sis Tori. And Courtney.

We were in the middle of nowhere. By a cornfield.





No, really.

It was called, "Corn Evil" and it was maze made out of corn.

Leigh had told me that they had a maze nearby some time ago. She had said, "We can go to the maze."

I made some crack about maze and maize being similar words... possibly I compared the words in a humourous fashion.

And then... as it happened... the maze was made of maize. Colour me shocked.

Anyway, we went into the maze, and it wasn't particularly hugely scary, but it was cool, and one day I hope to be a maze attendant at Corn Evil. I have a very busy decade ahead of me.

Anyway, that was then, and this is now. Leigh had some wedding to cater for last night, so I was going to hang with Harriet, but then she had to work to, and then there was all sorts of hilarious mix-ups. The point is, I had nobody to hang with, so I wandered the streets of Palmy North and approached roaming gangs of teens in order to find out more about the fascinating gangs that I'm told exist...

I'm talking the Mothers (short for Mothefuckers).
I'm talking... well... I didn't actually find out that much.

A typical exchange:

Me: Evening lads, you look like some happy fellows.
Vicious NZ teen (slamming me against a pillar): What the fuck do you fucking want, motherfucker?
Me: Um... like an interview?

Gang of vicious NZ teens walk away muttering.

Hahahaha... I made up the bit about the pillar-slamming. But pillar-slamming was certainly imminent. That said, I did actually use the words "lads" and "fellows." Something to remember.

Bored and fictionally bruised, I wandered over to the studio of MORE FM, to have a chat to the friendly DJ, but the doors were locked in a very definitive fashion, and I only had enough money to make one telephonic call... and why waste it on MORE FM of all radio stations?

And so, I wandered back to the Youth Hostel, where I found that my dorm was now full of people... Gone was the single KKK guy - replaced by Swedes and amiable chaps from the Check Republic. I know that's not how it's spelled.

Anyway, then I slept, and then I woke up and it was today and today is a day which only comes once a year and do you know what that day is why you don't but that's ridiculous! IT'S WAITANGI DAY!

And what to do on this sunny Waitangi Day? A picnic, you say? What a smashing idea!

So, we went and had a picnic and we ate chicken and candy and laughed and so forth and I wrote little stories on the back of ATM reciepts and left them in the park for children to find and be amazed by and now it's now.

The End.

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