Avant garde, no?

Okay... there's going to be a bit of reflection before we get to the dramatic bit at the end.

If that's not really your scene, just scroll down to the words,

"*okay, the bit with the fight starts here*"

Events of around 1am this morning have caused me to reflect on my reputation.

Let's flash back to identical twins Rob and Tom Coupe's 19th birthday party, shall we.

I was sitting on a couch. Next to me, there was a girl.

I don't like the pub. There is a reason for this. I don't like drunk people.

And if there's one thing I hate more than drunk people, it's a lot of drunk people. Hence, no pub.

As a result, oppurtunities to chat up women are somewhat limited to situations like the one just described.

So... I attempt to chat her up.

I don't know, I probably gave her some lame line like, "Hey, nice party, yeah?"

Anyway, she turns to me and is about to say something... and then she stops.
And then she opens her mouth to say something. And then she stops. And then she opens her mouth again to say something, and this time she actually says it, and the thing that she says is this: "Hey, you're Cam Sexenheimer, right? I've heard about you."

Which naturally flipped me out, and I was forced to respond, "What? What've you heard?"

Apparently that I was a wild and crazy guy who is always getting into wacky adventures every weekend.

This is a charge I vehemently deny. I'm not a wild and crazy guy. I'm a quiet, normal guy.

I'd really rather stay home and watch Buffy DVDs and eat popcorn and masturbate over the June 1984 Playboy "Women of MOSSAD" magazine.


Unfortunately this is never a choice. There is always some element outside of control that forces me into these wild and crazy adventures, in which I must remain a singular force of sanity and righteousness, lest chaos unfold.

Which is a boring position to take, and therefore the road less travelled.

Anyway, the other part of the charge that I vehemently deny is that of having wild and crazy adventures EVERY WEEKEND.

That's simply not true. Why, just last night...

*okay, the bit leading up to the assault starts here*

We were bored. SteveSteve, Vegie and I. So bored.

So bored, in fact, that we decided to engage in some papparazzi action.

There were two photos we wanted:

1. A police car with a broken taillight.

All of Friday and Saturday, we kept on seeing this police car. I mean, there's quite a few cops in this town, but sometimes we go weeks without seeing one.

And the most we'll usually see one is a couple of times in an evening.

But BrokenTaillight... we just kept on being at the same places. Despite this, we were never pulled up.

So, we wanted a photo of it.

2. A new neoned car.

There's a growing number of people in Warragul who think pretty colourful lights underneath their car are really rad.

Personally, I think fitting your car with neons is a pretty major character flaw.

For one thing, they're fucking distracting to other drivers, and potentially dangerous. There are laws to prevent them being too distracting, but unfortunately it's going to take a neon-related death for them to be banned altogether.

Perhaps I'm exaggerating my position on them a little. I really just think they're fucking stupid.

Anyway, there's a couple of cars out there with neons on, and last night we saw another one.

And by god... I mean, neons are tacky in their own right... but this was just too much. They were really, really tacky.

And then, the piece de resistance, the crappiest rear spoiler of all time. It was homemade. It was bolted to the boot. The car couldn't have done more than 120 in it's own right, and this was just going to contribute a whole bunch of drag.

Although, I suppose speed reduction is a good thing with these h/goons.

We laughed like crazy, but then we couldn't find it again. We went around and took some photos of other stuff, and then we were about to go back to one our respective places when...

There was a cop on my tail.

But they were going somewhere else.

Thank goodness. I mean, I hadn't been drinking/smoking, but as a drug user and former teen vandal, I have a pathounlogical fear of the police.

So, we turned around a corner... and who should be right behind us?


It was seriously weird.

I was looking in my rear view mirror, and I saw the cop was about to pull me over (he moved his hand to put on the lights) when....




Get them, Officer! We pulled into a parking space across the road to watch them get questioned, and basically just chill out.

We didn't have anything better to do than sit there and listen to my Arlo Guthrie/Sid Vicious mix tape and watch teens get in trouble.

Some wild and crazy guy. Some wacky adventure.

Right? RIGHT?

Anyway, the police leave them, and we're just kicking back, talking, and in the rear view mirror I see one of the drunk guys take the metal lid off a bin and hurl it through the window of one of our many thrift stores.

Dramatic, no. Unfortunately the window easily repels the missile, and just shakes a bit. We all thought this was hilarious, but then promptly forgot about it.

Then the girls are trying to keep the two guys from fighting each other, even though they appear to have no intention of doing so.

Then they decide to, and the girls try and keep them from fighting.

Then they all kind of wander off in a bunch of different directions. One of the girls wanders over to the entrance way of the Bendigo bank (where she can't be seen from the footpath, and hence from us) and presumably passes out.

Only two of the girls remain at this point.

They start to walk over to the car.

I issue an edict. We MUST pretend that we haven't noticed them coming over. Everybody agrees.

They come over, and knock on my window.. I jump out of my skin in faux-shock.

They jump back in real shock and amusement. It was a good start.

They ask if we can drive them AND the TWO other girls to Darnum, as there is a party on there.

I knew there was a party on in Darnum. It was the Drouin High School deb after-party. My sister's best friend and probably lesbian lover attends Drouin High School. The previous evening when I collected them from Pakenham Train Station they had mentioned this party.

Oh, yeah, clarification. Two blogs ago when I was buying booze... that was for my little sister and her friends, not for me. Hence, the dismay at not being able to buy booze for teens without teens asking for booze to be bought.

Anyway, I agreed to take the four girls to the party on the single condition that I was paid for this task. $10 was my price, as I didn't really have anything better to do.

They just had to collect their two friends, and then we could be off.

This took them about five minutes, as they had no idea where their Bendigo Bank friend was. We did not assist them in this, as it was hilarious.

When they returned, they also had the two boys. The girls politely asked if the guys could come too. I was leaning towards no.

Then one of them called me a cunt, which instantly endeared me to him. I was about to tell them definitely not, when they forced their way into the car. One of them jumped into the boot, and the other into the back seat next to SteveSteve. Vegie was my front seat passenger.

One of the girls also got into the boot, and the other three squeezed into the backseat.

It was cosy.

I tentatively advanced the idea of making two trips, but it was clear to me that a brawl would erupt if we tried to get them out of the car. In the end, I decided the best course of action would be to take them to Darnum, whereupon they would leave peacefully, right? RIGHT?

Tres naive, oui?

Throughout the trip to Darnum, the lads indicated their need to confirm their heterosexuality by tussling with other men. They also expressed disdain for both Arlo Guthrie AND Sid Vicious. One of them said, "What's this shit on the radio?"

The other slurred back, "It's station 139"

Actually, it was 1:39am.

They went on at length about the amount of "hot pussy" and "wet minge" they would surely score, and implied that we were a bunch of fags.

Who, exactly, was doing who a favour.

Anyway, we got to the Darnum overpass, and it became clear that they were unsure of the location of the party.

One of the guys said we could let them off here. I told him that I couldn't, because we were in the middle of the off-ramp, and there was a car coming behind us.

I turned left, but they were unsure if this was the right direction, so I turned around, as there were no cars coming.

It was at around this point that the guy in the boot, Russ, grabbed Steve from behind by the neck.

Steve is a pacifist, but that's not to say he can't handle himself. In situations like this, one puts your head down, so as to prevent choking. He then went to take off his seatbelt, which was by his thigh. The guy sitting next to him obviously interpreted this as some sort of attack, and punched him in the face.

Noticing this excitement, I stopped the car dramatically, flung my door open dramatically, opened the boot dramatically and hauled Russell out of it. Dramatically.

He then swung a punch at me that went nowhere near hitting me. Then he was distracted by SteveSteve's offensive presence, and came at him swinging. SteveSteve was backing away, explaining his position of not wanting to hurt him, while being punched in the face around four times and getting headbutted about five. Meanwhile, the other guy was coming at me, mumbling, "come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on come on..." etc.

Me and Come On Guy (whose name was either Anthony or Aaron) were in the dark. There were trees about, which were casting shadows. He was walking towards me, and presumably he was capable of throwing a punch, but he hadn't done so yet. I was backing away, as if to say, "I'm backing away, you drunk fuck."

And then I backed into the sexy yellow sodium light. And he stalked into the sexy yellow sodium light.

And I was struck by just how small he was. I backed away a couple more steps and then quipped, "To hell with this." And grabbed his arms, stopping him in place. Okay, maybe I didn't quip, but I held him in place. Nevertheless, he continued to keep on walking, not going anywhere in particular. My hands went all the way around his tiny little arms, or at least it felt like it.

By this point, SteveSteve, having not touched his assailant in any way except with his face and forehead, had managed to emerge triumphant. His attacker had fallen over under his own steam. He shouted, get back in the car. So I pushed my own little goon away, and jumped back in the car. My goon came running at the car and kicked the side mirror, luckily not breaking the actual glass, though it will require a small amount of taking apart and sticking back on properly. We hightailed it out of there. Russ ran after the car and fell over.

I missed the off-ramp. Vegie and SteveSteve were like, "Dude, the offramp!"

I missed it, so we had to turn around.

We turned around a while further along, and went back.

Get this, I missed it again. I reversed back a bit, as Russ and Aaron/Anthony ran at the car again, and hit the off-ramp.

We were out of there. We pulled over a little way along on the freeway to:

A. See just how badly SteveSteve had been beaten.
B. Close the boot properly.
C. Examine the damage to my side mirror.
D. See what had fallen out of the boot during the pulling out of people in a dramatic manner - the answer: nothing important.
E. Wait a second, my SISTER IS AT THAT PARTY!

It looked like we were on for a rescue mission. I'd gotten a taste for heroics pulling hooligans out of my car, and I liked it.

I called my little sister to inform her of upcoming heroics. No answer.


She called me back a few seconds later.

A transcript of the conversation would probably go like this:

My sis: Hello? Why are you calling?
Me: Okay, stay cool, but you know that party that you're at in Darnum well a bunch of violent goons are coming to that and so I'm coming to rescue you okay so pack up your stuff and get ready for a dramatic rescue okay, how many friends have you got i have no real qualms about rescuing dozens and dozens of people so get ready to be rescued yeah?
My sis: Cam... I'm at a party in Neerim.

Oh, thank Christ.

Anyway, then we went to the police station so that SteveSteve could press charges. We walked into the (dreaded) police station. There was no-one there.

Nobody came out from the back.

Eventually I suggested that SteveSteve call the Warragul station.

He did so, and we heard a phone ringing somewhere in the building, and then stop.

A transcript of that conversation would go something like this:

SteveSteve: Hi, I'm at the police station because I've been assaulted.
Friendly Officer: Okay, where are you?
SteveSteve: I'm at the Warragul Police Station.
Friendly Officer: You're... at the Warragul Police Station.
SteveSteve: In the front foyer.
Friendly Officer: Oh, sorry. The doorbell must be broken.

Anyway, SteveSteve told her what happened, and we went through the whole business of pressing charges up until the point where you actually press the actual charges, when the Officer suggested SteveSteve wait until morning to press charges - you know, think it over.

She explained how assault charges rarely stick, and the guy will probably only get a slap on the wrist.

SteveSteve explained that he didn't want the guy to get in a huge amount of trouble, just to know that you can't go around beating on people who do you favours. A 12 Month Good Behaviour Bond, the most likely outcome, would be just fine.

She then brought up the possibility of a vendetta.

SteveSteve was confused. His face went into confused-mode. "Vendetta?"

Then he got it, "Oh, a vendetta against me?"

You idiot. We really didn't know... we barely knew their names, let alone their penchant for vendettas.

SteveSteve decided to wait until later that morning before he decided to press charges for indictable assault (he was bleeding from a cut above his eye).

I don't know yet if he actually has pressed the charges. If he has, he'll have already done so, and I'll let you know. In the meantime, though, ladies. Sha and Steve are no longer an item, so you should all know these things about him:

1. He's single.
2. He was covered in blood.
3. He was too sensitive to hit back in such an unfair fight.

I don't think point number one will remain true for very long when this information is taken into account. Bloody, sensitive guys drive the ladies wild.

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