Avant garde, no?

There was a car about a hundred metres behind us.

"Is that a cop?" I asked my passengers, who just happened to be SteveSteve and Jelly.

"No," said Jelly.

"Good," said I, as I began my illegal U-Turn.

"That's a cop though," said SteveSteve, pointing at the cop car in front of whom I'd just performed an illegal turn.

"I see."

This could be a problem.

Suspiciously, I took the very first left, and pulled over in a driveway.

Why? So that it would look like I hadn't been driving at all, but merely sitting in this driveway for some time? It wouldn't work. The cops had been right behind me...

But they passed. Passed us by.

And there was another reason why I had stopped where I had stopped.

In fact, it was the same reason that I had made the illegal turn in the first place.


Well, one bucket.

SteveSteve's eagle eyes are to thank here... mad propz are due.

There had been a bucket on the side of the road. And he'd seen it.

And he just *had* to let us know. Foolish boy. Don't you know that things can be put in buckets?

Well, what choice did we have? YOU DON'T JUST PASS A BUCKET, AND NOT TAKE IT!

This bucket was obviously delivered to us by divine providence... Who are we, MERE FUCKING MORTALS, to deny the WILL OF THE GODS?

Jelly jumped out and collected the bucket... it was currently empty. And handle-less.

We marvelled... What adventures must this bucket have seen... How did it come to lie in the grass near the boat supplies shop over on the Hospital side of town? How did it come to lose it's handle?

"This bucket is truly the greatest of us all," said Jelly, wiping a tear from his eye.

"I have an idea," I declared.


"So, what do you think?"

Steve: I think it's a good idea.
Cam: Great, let's just grab some of the aforementioned supplies.
Steve: Actually, I'm having second thoughts.
Cam: I'll buy you a beer.
Steve: I think it's a good idea.

Oh, Steve, you're so poor.


Picture this:

Let's say you're a regular person. Let's take it a step further and say you're a regular person from Warragul. You probably have friends... In fact, let's GO NUTS, and say you're going to the pub with your friends.

You might even be standing outside the pubs... on the sidewalk. (Yeah yeah, I know we don't call it a sidewalk over here. I blame my three years of American high school education.)

You're standing there, chatting... maybe even laughing. Someone brushes past you as they walk by. Some sort of oddball, all black clothes, a beret.

They're walking casually... A little too casually... You watch them as they walk along. Suddenly, the oddball stops. The reason? Another character... this one wearing a spraypainted shirt and green trenchcoat. He's carrying something... you can't see what.

Trenchcoat says loudly: I say, EXCUSE ME, SIR! Have you the time?
Beret says loudly: Why yes, let me just check my wristwatch!

Trenchcoat then throws a bucket of cold water into Steve's non-time knowing face, whereupon beret chases trenchcoat around the corner and out of your life.

You go into the pub. You drink and you laugh and you have fun, and in 50 years time you'll be sitting in some country club sipping cognac with "Fingers" O'Laughlin, and you'll remember something about a bucket... but you can't tell anyone cos the Yakuza cut your tongue out.


A lot of things seem very amusing to me.

Hippies in commercials for car yards. (Buying a used car should be neither a bummer nor a drag, brothers and sisters. The only thing that's not high around here are our low, low prices.)

The Sunbury Bus Company. (Think about it)

Other things.

But things don't get much more amusing for me than a bucket of freezing cold water (well, not *freezing* cold) being thrown into the face of someone else. On the main street. Cos they didn't know what the time was.

Having done this, I stand by my opinion that it is amusing.


Having thrown the bucket of water into Steve's face, one young wag was heard to call, "You bunch of WANKERS! CARRYING BUCKETS AROUND! GO GET A HEADJOB!"

Sage advice.

Here at Sexenheimer Industries, we welcome constructive criticism as this. However, I must take a little bit of UMBRAGE.

I didn't get to respond to this criticism at the time. This is partly because SteveSteve had slammed me against a wall as I tried to run away from him.

Actually, it's all because of that.

But I'd like to respond to that criticism now:


In response to your erotic catcall of the night of the 8th of April, 2005, in which you described myself and my associates as "wankers" because we were "carrying buckets (sic) around."

I'd like to point out that I heard some of your conversation while I was walking down Queen St. towards SteveSteve, bucket in hand.

It would seem that you were comparing the smell of your automobile's burnt fuel FAVOURABLY to that of another car.

Are we clear?


Dr. Cam Sexenheimer, M.D.

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