Sydney/Taree Australia
Part 2

I was woken at about 6am by a knock on the bedroom door. "Tea's made."

"Tea?"

Without thinking, I tumbled outa bed, then found the door to the bathroom closed. Sue again? Jeez! "Hey, B," I said as I wandered into the kitchen, Sue's in the bathroom again. Is there any other place I can piss? I'm busting!"

"There's a bucket in the bedroom," he replied before turning to face me, and sending his eyes down to my blonde crotch. "Oh... uh... and you'd better put on some pants."

"Pants? Hey, B, you write about me. You know I'm almost always naked."

"Writing about you is one thing, Daniel. This is quite another. I never expected you to materialize. And I also never expected... Never mind. Go use the bucket, and rinse it under the tap on the lawn out front."

"Never expected what?"

"You to be... well, the way you are."

"Pretty cool for a figment of your imagination, huh?" I laughed. "Back in a minute."

After pissing in the bucket, I took it outside to rinse it under the tap. Oops! Crash! Crash! Crash! Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. I looked around to see a couple of cars end to end. The drivers had been gawking at my bare ass. "Sorry, guys!"

Back in the kitchen, I told B about what had happened. "And don't blame me! OK? I wouldn't be like I am if you hadn't invented me. It's all your fault!"

"Are you happy being who you are?"

"Yeah, it's way cool."

"Then don't complain. Milk and sugar?"

"Yeah, thanks, and two. So who's complaining? Hey, B, can I ask you something? I don't want you to think I've got a big head or anything but am I what you expected? I mean, do I live up to, y'know, what you figured I'd be like in real life?"

B handed me a mug of tea, with the string from a tea bag dangling over the side, and asked me to sit at the kitchen table. "I really don't think I - or anybody else for that matter - could have anticipated what you would be like in the flesh." He paused for a moment 'til I was seated opposite him, then smiled at me. "You're an absolute delight, Daniel, far better than I imagined. But it's not just your physical beauty, it's your eyes. They're just so lovely. Deep and soulful. Calming and relaxing. It's almost as though you were a place instead of a person... a place where your friends could dwell and be happy."

"Jeez, B! Gimme a break! And how come you don't drink coffee?"

"Because I drink tea."

"What kinda answer is that?"

"Sufficient. And what did you mean by 'give you a break'? Was my answer to your question not what you wanted to hear?"

"Yeah, well, it's cool about the eyes thingy, I guess, but I was kinda hoping you'd comment on my bod."

"It's perfect. But it won't be perfect forever, mate. It's your eyes and what lies behind them that will see you through life."

"So I'll still be cool when I'm... uh... y'know..."

"Old like me? Daniel, when people lose their sight, they develop more sensitive hearing. The body has a way of compensating for things that are lost, such as youth. But to answer your question, yes, you'll still be cool when you're older. No wukkers."

"Wukkers?"

"No fucking worries, no wukking furries, no wukkers. It's an Aussie thing. Australia is basically a giant mental asylum with no walls. It's the sane people we lock up."

"And what about my mind? Will I think differently when I'm older?"

"I hope so," he chuckled, then took a sip of tea. "But just because you change doesn't mean you forget about the past, and the way things were back then. At least, I don't. My memories are like a giant photo album. I enjoy looking at the mental pictures, and visiting the past, but I wouldn't wanna go back there."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, you're here now. By the way, would you like some breakfast? Bacon and eggs and toast?"

"What about Sue and Lindsay?"

"I promised them faithfully that I'd never cook them. Besides, they tend to look after themselves during the day... leftovers, sandwiches, or whatever. I just cook the main evening meal."

After breakfast, B insisted that I jump on a train to the city and take a look around. So I did. It would've been better to have B as my tour guide but, hey, he was up to his eyeballs in packing. I got off the train at Circular Quay, where I wandered around looking at the harbor views - Opera House, Bridge, ferries, sailing boats, container and cruise ships, whatever. But best of all were the buskers around the foreshore. Dozens of them. Musicians, artists, clowns, guys on stilts, fortune tellers, you name it. And the tourists! Whoa! Soooo many Japanese!

"Take picture, please?"

"Huh? Oh! Sure! No wukkers."

I took the camera from the Japanese dude, then framed him and his girlfriend as they posed in front of the Harbor Bridge. Click! "More picture, please?" Click! "Opera House behind, please?" Click!

After that, I took a ferry on a harbor tour. The running commentary on board gave me info about a whole bunch of stuff - the First Fleet of 11 sailing ships arriving in 1788, and how Sydney grew from just a few tents to the great metropolis it was today. Awesome city! And the harbor setting was just too fucking cool! Why the hell would B and his friends wanna move to Taree?

Over dinner that night, I earbashed everybody 'til their eyes glazed over about my adventures in Sydney. "It's totally wicked! Why would you guys wanna leave here?"

"That question will be answered when you see Taree," B smiled.

Later that night, I got a chance to talk privately to B again about Sue and Lindsay. "They're not your friends, B. Not buddy type friends. I can tell. So what are they?"

"Two vulnerable people."

"So what if the shoe was on the other foot? Would they do for you what you're doing for them?"

"I doubt it. But that's not the point, Daniel. I don't do things just because other people do or don't do them. I'm not a follower of leaders, and never have been. In any case, Lindsay called me his best mate the other day. Fact is, I'm his only mate. Sue, he and I had an argument the other night about something trivial, and Sue was worried that I would leave. I'd be lying if I said those two guys don't get up my nose sometimes. Next morning, Lindsay asked me if I'd spoken to Sue, and if everything was OK. Lindsay said to me, "Sue was really worried that she'd have to go back to England. So I'd lose my best mate, and I'd lose my wife!""

"So, you see, Daniel, it seems that Lindsay was more concerned about losing me than he was about losing his wife. I'm their security. If you were in my situation, would you walk out and leave them to their own devices?"

"I don't mean to be rude, B, but they're... well, y'know, kinda ugly."

"I've met far uglier people who were far better looking, if you get my drift. Anyway, Daniel, I've been a bachelor all my life. I've never had the responsibility of caring for children or a wife. So I guess it's about time I did something for others instead of selfishly squandering my life on myself."

"I still don't get it. Why them? Why not... y'know..."

"Somebody better looking? Everybody looks pretty good when they smile, Daniel," the old dude chuckled. "Lindsay and Sue are like children in many ways. Looking after them is a lot like caring for kids. They've been brain damaged by alcohol abuse. But that's OK. And I'll tell you something else, young fella. Their loyalty to me is like a dog's. They trust me implicitly. And why wouldn't they? They have no one else to trust. And you know what really pisses me off? Their previous carer, that's what really pisses me off. He didn't really care for them. Just the opposite. He ripped them off. Under his care, Lindsay didn't have a penny to himself. Lindsay was made to work six days a week - up at 5am to cook breakfast for the boarding house "guests", who were all loonies, then mopping floors, cleaning toilets, etcetera, etcetera, until midday. And his pay? Half a pack of cigarettes a day, and enough money to buy two bottles of beer a day. Plus accommodation. Their meals were provided by the boarding house - pig swill. But the money Lindsay was being "paid" came from his own pension. His previous "carer" had control over Lindsay's money. Lindsay was working over 40 hours a week for nothing. The money he received was his own in the first place, and he'd been doing that for 12 years. Can you believe it? Working like a slave for money that was yours in the first place?"

"Fucking hell."

"We didn't realize what the previous "carer" had been doing until I took over. Now Lindsay and Sue not only eat much better food, and as much as they want, but they can save more money. Lindsay is saving $25 a week, and still has plenty to spend. And he doesn't have to work six days a week. He helps me around the house with washing up, cleaning, and that sort of thing. So, Daniel, do you see what I mean by vulnerable?"

"He should sue the fucker... the previous carer."

"I've discussed that with Lindsay. Lindsay doesn't wanna know that asshole anymore. He wants to forget all about the crap he's been through. He's happy now, and he wants to stay that way."

"With you."

"Yeah."

"So they trust you about the Taree thing?"

"Lindsay does. Sue's not so sure. She's been pretty depressed lately."

"You're a saint, B."

"People call me a saint," he cracked. "But I'm not a saint. I'm nothing like a saint. For starters, I'm not religious. I just do what I do because I do what I do. There's nothing mysterious or sacred about it."

"I'll bet Sue and Lindsay think you're a saint."

"They're brain damaged. Anyway, my scrumptious and totally gorgeous friend, it's time to hit the hay."

"Hey, B, I've been meaning to say... uh... I feel a bit guilty about sleeping in your bed. I should be the one sleeping on the... what do you call it?"

"Lounge. You're a guest, Daniel. You get the bed. End of discussion."

"I've probably dropped pubes all over your sheets."

"I collected... uh... removed them while you were sightseeing today."

Collected? What the fuck did he mean by 'collected'? "What did you do with them?"

"Do with them?" B studied his wristwatch. "It's after midnight, Daniel. Time for beddie byes. Sorry. That's doggy talk. I got used to saying 'beddie byes' when I had a dog. She was a wonderful and absolutely lovable creature."

"What did you do with my pubes?"

"Pubes? What pubes? Oh... those pubes. Well... uh... I kinda put them away... somewhere."

"Where?"

"Daniel, it's late. We can discuss this in the morning."

"I wanna know where you put my pubes."

"I.. uh.... put them.... in a... uh... thingy. Now, I must insist that it's time to retire for the night. There's still lots of packing to do tomorrow and other stuff I have to organize with the house in Taree... power, phone, lease..."

"What kinda thingy?"

"Daniel, years ago I was infatuated with a guy who looked a lot like you. I slept over at his house one weekend, and he insisted that I use his bed while he slept on the lounge. In the morning, I discovered some of his pubes on the sheets, so I gathered them and put them in a matchbox lined with cotton wool. Pretty dumb, huh?"

"I don't think it's dumb."

"It's DUMB, Daniel."

"IT'S NOT FUCKING DUMB!"

"Daniel, believe me, it's dumb. And stop shouting. You'll wake Sue and Lindsay."

"So you put my pubes in a matchbox?"

"I wanted something to remember you by."

"I think you're right."

"About what?"

"About locking up all the sane people in Oz," I laughed. "But it's cool. And so are you, B. Totally cool."

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