Les shook his head sagely. ‘So it was back to Spring Water Primary while you still had your good looks?’
‘Yeah. A brilliant career nipped in the bud.’ Millwood seemed to brood for a second then he rose up in his seat and pointed a finger at Les. ‘Les Norton. Tuan of Rose Hill Great House and heir apparent to the Norton Dynasty. Did you, or did you not, say I was your guest tonight?’
‘My bloody oath I did, Millwood,’ declared Les. ‘And an honoured one at that, I might add.’
‘Then in that case I will give you my genius routine. The one these peasants round here didn’t appreciate.’
Ohh shit no, thought Norton. I’d rather he got drunk and wanted to fight me than bombard me with corny jokes. ‘You don’t have to, Mill. I’m quite happy just to sit here and have a drink.’
‘No. I insist, Massah Les. So sit back and relax as Down Town Downie, AKA Mill the Thrill, takes the stage. And, before we start, I think it’s my shout.’ Millwood caught Manuel’s eye and made a gesture with his fingers for the same again on Norton’s tab then took a solid slurp on the one he still had. ‘Okay, Les, here we go.’
Norton sucked in some more rum. So this is what Jerry Lewis has been holding back? He’s a frustrated bloody comedian. And to think this has cost me a feed. Among other things.
‘Why don’t cannibals eat clowns?’
‘You got me, Mill.’
‘Because they taste funny.’
‘Keep goin’.’
‘Did I tell you about my dog that ate all the Christmas decorations?’
‘No.’
‘He finished up with tinselitis. How do you start a bear and a cat race?’
‘How?’
‘Ready Teddy. Go cat go.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Millwood.’
‘Hey. I ain’t even started yet.’
The drinks arrived and Millwood got going again. Norton wished there was some music.
‘Two poofs in a lift, Les. One says to the other, “How’s your bum?” The other says, “Shut up.” The first poof says, “Yeah, so’s mine. It must be the cold weather.” I went to a doctor’s the other day. He said, “Take off all your clothes.” I said, “Where will I put them?” He said, “Just put them over there on top of mine.” Two poof judges met in a bar, so they got drunk and tried each other. Hollywood are making a movie about a gay gangster. It’s going to be called the Fairy Godfather. Personally, I’ve never screwed a poof. But I’ve screwed a guy that has. How am I going so far, Les?’
‘Not enough Ts in terrific to describe you, Mill.’ Christ, thought Les. I hope the bloke that’s picking him up doesn’t have to work back.
‘I knew you’d like it.’ Millwood took another monstrous slurp of Jack Daniel’s. ‘What about my girl, Les? I entered her in a contest on the weekend and she took out first prize. That was okay, but I’d have been happier if my dog had won it. I’m not saying she’s ugly, Les. But I took her to the zoo and people starting feeding her broken biscuits. We walked past the gorilla cage and a zoo keeper ran out and shot her with a tranquilliser dart. When she takes her dog for a walk, people talk to the dog and pat her on the head. She was sitting in a bus the other day and said to the kid next to her, “Why don’t you get up and give one of those old ladies a seat?” And the kid said, “Why don’t you get up and the three of them can sit down?” She caught a jumbo jet to Miami and the plane had to stop at Cuba for a hernia operation. But I love her, Les. She found an ear at a soccer game and took it to a psychiatrist’s. I said, “Why did you do that?” She said, “Because it was off its head.” I bought her an electric toothbrush for her birthday but she took it back. She didn’t know whether her teeth were AC or DC. She woke up the other morning with a headache and I told her she had a bad hangover. So she went and bought herself a bigger bra. I’m telling you, Les. She bought a parrot at an auction last week and paid five thousand dollars for it. It wasn’t till she got home she found out the parrot was bidding against her. Even her canary hates her. It tried to commit suicide the other night. It broke out of its cage and threw itself in front of the cat. How good am I, Les?’
‘Electrifying, Millwood,’ said Les expressionlessly. Shocking would be fuckin’ more like it.
‘I told you I was good.’ Millwood tipped some more bourbon down his throat. ‘Did I tell you she was into drugs? She used to take Lo-Cal LSD. She wanted to expand her consciousness. But not too much. She’s never been in trouble with the police. But she did get picked up by the fuzz once. She reckons it didn’t half make her eyes water. Her uncle’s a cop over in Kingston. He arrested an acid bath murderer then burnt both his arms off trying to pull the plug out of the bath. Her young brother was a haemophiliac. He died trying to cure himself with acupuncture. One of her sisters went mad. She worked in a brothel for five years before she found out the other girls got paid. She was working up near the park the other night, a priest walked past and said, “What would your mother do if she saw you working here?” And she said, “Probably kill me. It’s her corner.” Her father was killed by a posse over in Kingston. Six hundred times they shot him. He had that much lead in him when he died they didn’t bury him. They took him out and had him smelted. Her young brother…’
‘Righto, Millwood. That’s fuckin’ it,’ cut in Norton.
The schoolteacher blinked. ‘Les, what’s the matter?’
‘Nothing’s the matter, Millwood. I’ve just had enough. I don’t want to hear any more gags.’
‘You didn’t like them?’
‘No. They were great, Millwood. It’s just…’
‘I noticed you weren’t laughing all that much.’
‘Yeah, well…’
‘Alright then. Let’s hear you have a go.’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah you. Come on. What have you got to offer?’ ‘I’m not a fuckin’ comedian.’
‘I gathered that. But you must know something. You Australians are supposed to have a good sense of humour. Show me what you can do. Go on, massah ’orton mon. Strut your stuff, big dude from down under.’
Les had to think for a moment. ‘Okay. Just a couple.’
‘Many as you like, Les. If they’re any good I’ll steal them and start up a new act.’
It couldn’t be any worse than your old one, thought Les. ‘Righto Millwood, here we go.’ Les took a giant slurp of rum, caught Manuel’s eye and ordered another shout. ‘What’s black and white and red all over?’
‘What?’
‘A nun with stab wounds.’
‘Not bad, Les. Not bad. What else have you got to offer?’
‘You like that, Mill? Alright. How many Jamaicans does it take to eat a goat?’
‘How many?’
‘Three. One to eat the goat, and two to watch out for cars.’
‘Hey. You’re not bad on your feet, Les. Keep going.’
‘What happens when a Vulcan woman’s tampon fails?’
‘What?’
‘She gets Toxic Spock Syndrome.’
‘Reasonable.’
‘What’s the difference between Rock Hudson and Saddam Hussein?’ Millwood shook his head. ‘Saddam’s aides haven’t killed him yet. What’s brown and squishy and likes leather? A gay rights movement. How many poofs does it take to rape a lesbian? Four. Three to hold her down and one to gel her hair.’
‘Oh go, Les, go,’ said Millwood, taking another slurp as the next drinks arrived.
‘You like me so far?’ Norton slurped some more rum. ‘Okay, Mill baby. What’s a seventy-one?’
‘You got me again.’
‘A sixty-nine with two fingers stuck in your arse. What do you get when you cross an elephant with a prostitute? A hooker that fucks for peanuts and never forgets your name. How can you tell if a Jamaican woman’s having her period? She’s only wearing one sock. Why don’t American negroes have to wear seat-belts? Because it’s easier to put velcro on the headrests. Did you hear about the Jamaican abortionist who went broke? The piece of string split and somebody ate hi
s rat. How many United States Marines does it take to change a light bulb? Fifty. One to change the bulb and the other forty-nine to guard him.’
‘Oh beautiful, Les. Beautiful.’
‘Thanks, Mill.’
‘Alright, my turn. My turn!’ cried Millwood.
‘Ohh shit! Alright then.’
‘Knock knock.’
‘No. I refuse.’ Norton shook his head. ‘Definitely no knock knock jokes.’
‘Come on, Les. Just a couple.’
Norton slurped some more rum and reluctantly nodded his head. ‘Alright. Just a couple.’
‘Knock knock.’
‘Who’s bloody there?’
‘Sahara.’
‘Sahara who?’
‘Sahara ya goin’, mate?’
‘Ohh, Millwood. Gimme a fuckin’ break.’
The little schoolteacher chortled with glee, spilling almost as much bourbon down his shirt as he got in his mouth. ‘Knock knock.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Isobel.’
‘Isobel who?’
‘Isobel out of order?’
‘Ohh, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Knock knock.’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Sony.’
‘Sony who?’
‘Sony me.’
‘God almighty.’
‘Knock knock.’
‘Yeah, who’s there?’
‘Mia.’
‘Mia bloody who?’
‘Mia again.’
Norton was about to reach across the table. ‘Fair dinkum, I’ll kill you. You little prick.’
Millwood ignored the threat. ‘Knock knock.’
‘Yeah, who’s bloody there?’
‘Hassan.’
‘Hassan fuckin’ who?’
‘Hassan been that long since I seen you.’
‘Alright,’ roared Norton. ‘Now it’s my turn. Knock fuckin’ knock.’
‘Who’s fuckin’ there?’
‘Howard.’
‘Howard who?’
‘Howard you like to go and get fucked?’
‘Ahh, you’re beautiful, Les. I love you.’ Millwood gargled down more Jack Daniel’s. ‘Okay, Les. Doctor jokes.’
‘Ohh, Millwood. For Christ’s sake!’
The teacher ignored Les. ‘I went to my doctor, Les. I said, “Can you give me something for wind?”’
‘Yeah? What did he give you?’ grunted Norton.
‘A kite. I said to him, “Doctor, doctor. I’ve just swallowed a frog. Will it make me sick?” He said, “Sick? You could croak at any moment.” I said, “Doctor, doctor. My brother the invisible man’s waiting outside.” He said, “I’m sorry, I can’t see him right now.” I said, “Doctor, doctor. My wife reckons I smell like a goat.” He said, “Yeah. What about the kids?”’
Norton half rose from the table; his face florid. ‘Alright, Millwood!’ he almost screamed. ‘I went to my fuckin’doctor. I said, “Doctor, fuckin’doctor. I feel like a curtain.” He told me to pull myself together. I said, “Doctor, doctor. I’m living on a knife edge.” He said, “Now cut that out.” I said, “Doctor, doctor. I think I’m a billiard ball.” And you know what he fuckin’ said, Millwood?’
‘No, Les. What did he say?’
‘He told me to get back to the end of the fuckin’ queue.’
‘Ahhh! You’re a genius, Les!’ howled Millwood, spilling and drinking more bourbon. ‘We’re a team, Les. You and me. We’d be a sensation.’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Les, his eyes rolling as he shuddered at the thought. ‘Bad luck I’m flying out tomorrow night.’
‘What a waste, Les. What a waste. And we haven’t even scratched the surface. Les, how much money do you get if you cross 200 female pigs with 200 male reindeer?’
‘I honestly don’t want to know, Millwood.’
‘Four hundred sows and bucks.’
‘Ohh shit!’ Norton buried his face in his hands.
‘Les, what do you get if you cross a gorilla with a pavlova? A meringue-utan.’
‘Righto, Millwood!’ roared Norton. ‘That’s fuckin’ it!’
Les shook his two huge fists with rage and was about to reach across the table and start choking the little schoolteacher when one of the biggest men he’d ever seen came lumbering into the bar. He was about six feet four and at least eighteen stone, wearing a pair of jeans and a white Tapper Zukie T-shirt. His hair was cut something like Millwood’s on a big square head, under which jutted a big square jaw. Oddly enough he didn’t look a day over fifteen. He seemed a little hesitant at first when he came in, then, spotting Millwood and Les, came over. When he saw the state Millwood was in and the look on Norton’s face he appeared a little concerned.
‘Are you alright, Mr Downie?’ he asked, in a voice almost as deep as his shoulders were wide.
Les tipped this must be the bloke he saw in the car earlier who had brought Millwood in and was taking him home after work.
‘Yeah, he’s alright,’ said Les. ‘In fact you couldn’t have timed it better, mate. He’s just getting ready to leave.’
‘Harvey, my boy,’ garbled Millwood. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine thanks, Mr Millwood. We finished work a little early so I came straight round. But if you want to stay longer I can wait outside in the car.’
‘No. That’s okay,’ said Les. ‘Mr Downie’s got ignition and he’s just about ready for lift off.’
‘Harvey, I want you to meet Mr Les Norton. Les, this is one of my star pupils, Harvey.’
‘Hello Harvey,’ said Les, half rising from the table. ‘How are you, mate?’
‘Good thank you, Mr Norton,’ replied Harvey politely. He wrapped his hand around Norton’s like a baseball mitt. ‘Mr Millwood told me about you.’
‘I hope it was all good, Harvey?’ replied Les, settling back down with his drink.
‘He’s a big lad for sixteen, isn’t he?’ said Millwood.
‘Sixteen!’ Les gave Harvey an astonished once up and down. ‘Shit, Harvey! If ever you want to come to Australia and play football, give me a yell.’
‘Football, no,’ said Millwood. ‘Cricket, yes.’
‘Yes, I like cricket, Mr Norton,’ rumbled Harvey. ‘Do you?’
‘Do I like cricket, Harvey?’ said Les. ‘I don’t like cricket. Oh no! I love it. Oh yeah! Shit! Sorry about that, Harvey. Mr Downie’s got me a bit drunk.’
Harvey smiled good naturedly. There was a silence for a second or two as Les and Millwood looked at each other across the table. Where he was in a rage of frustration minutes before, Norton suddenly found himself chuckling away. The schoolteacher soon joined in.
‘Well, Millwood,’ said Les. ‘It’s been a funny old night, mate.’
‘Oh Les, I’ve had such a good time. The drinks, the meal, everything. I have to thank you.’ He reached across the table and shook Norton’s hand warmly.
‘Ahh, that’s alright, Mill old mate,’ replied Les. ‘I’ve had a pretty good time myself. It’s been a bottler. And,’ Les held up a finger, ‘I don’t want you going away empty- handed either.’ Les fumbled into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. $500 US. ‘There you are, Mill. Buy a few more things for the school. And anything left over, get yourself a new gag writer.’
Millwood looked at the money in his hands and blinked. Even Harvey’s eyes bulged. ‘Les, I… I can’t take all this.’
‘Ohh, get stuffed, Millwood. What are you talkin’ about? Christ! It’s only money. It’s not an arm or a leg.’
‘Yes, Les. But. I’ve done hardly anything. A few names and dates on some paper. Nothing.’
A strange gleam suddenly appeared in Norton’s eyes, which was accentuated by the craggy, slightly boozy grin beginning to spread across his face. ‘No, Millwood,’ he replied, slowly shaking his head. ‘You’re wrong. You’re wrong, mate. You’ve been more help than you can imagine.’
Millwood shook his head also. ‘I…?’
‘In fact, Millwood,
I’ve got a feeling you should see me off tomorrow night before I catch my plane.’
‘Oh, Les,’ spluttered the teacher, ‘I insist. I’m definitely coming down to say goodbye to my… my mate from Australia.’
‘Thanks, Millwood. I’d appreciate that.’
‘No problem, Les. It’s the least, the very least, I can do.’ ‘I’ll have to leave here at about six-thirty. The plane leaves at seven-thirty.’
‘I shall be here, Les. No matter what.’ Millwood finished the last of his drink and went to get up. ‘Oh dear. Harvey, I think you’d best give me an arm, my boy.’
Harvey took another look at Millwood and a grin formed across his massive jaw also. ‘Sure, Mr Millwood.’
Gently and effortlessly Harvey took Millwood by the elbow, lifted him up and walked him to the balcony. Millwood sucked in some fresh night air, smiled drunk- enly at Les and they shook hands once more. Les shook Harvey’s monstrous paw also, farewelled them from the top of the stairs, saying he’d see Millwood tomorrow night. Harvey had parked not far from the entrance, Les watched them get in the car under the slightly amused gaze of Errol standing at the bottom of the stairs, then walked back into the lounge, picked up his bag and walked across to the bar.
‘Okay, Manuel. You’d better give me one for the road, son. A Jack Daniel’s and Coke. Heaps of ice and make it a double.’
‘No problem, mon.’
‘Then tell me what I owe you and I’ll settle up.’ Les shook his head and blinked. ‘Phew! De rum. Im junk yu.’
‘Daht im do, mon,’ smiled Manuel. ‘Daht im do.’
Back in his room, Les put his drink on the phone table between the two beds, got down to his jox and splashed some cold water over his face and neck. It was bloody hot and about the only thing the World War One air- conditioner was doing was making noises; Les turned it off, opened his backpack and spread the contents out on one bed, separating the photos. Wha Do Dem’s ‘Eek-A- Mouse’ came pumping up the wall from next door. A little annoying, but definitely not annoying enough to distract Les from the task at hand. Norton took a sip of his delicious and figured he was a little drunker than he thought. But nowhere near as drunk as poor Millwood. Maybe it was all the fruit juice Les had downed along with the rum and he pondered for a moment whether switching to Jack Daniel’s would pick him up or make him drunker? Who cared anyway. He moved the photos around the bed and checked some of the names and dates on the two papers the schoolteacher had given him, smiling at the Heritage logo on top of the page. Millwood had probably typed them up with official letterheads to give it a little extra touch and it would certainly make a good souvenir when he got back home. Despite his horrible jokes, Millwood certainly was a good little bloke to go to all the trouble he did, considering how busy he was at the moment. One thing for sure, you wouldn’t say anything else about Millwood in front of young Harvey. But there was something that drunken schoolteacher had said that didn’t make sense. Or maybe it made sense and there was a comparison to something somewhere. A comparison to something that didn’t make sense. Les took another sip of bourbon. Doesn’t that make a lot of fuckin’ sense? Les took another sip and reached for the book of poems. Where’s that poem Millwood read out to me? The one about Eduardo porking Elizabeth. Christ! Imagine if Hinch ever found out about this? ‘Priest brainwashes poor defenceless sister and roots her against her will.’ He’d go off his brain. Les thumbed through his book till he found the poem then read it several times before tossing the book back on the bed next to the photos. This just doesn’t make sense, thought Les, shaking his head. Incest? Not even in my silly bloody family. I remember me and Murray trying to play doctors and nurses when we were kids and we got the shit kicked out of us. By everyone. Sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, the lot. I didn’t think I was ever going to sit down again after Mum and Aunty Daisy got through with me.
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