ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
AN UNTOUCHABLE lawyer’s boy from Sydney’s Lower North Shore stepped out of his mother’s BMW this morning with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.
Friends of Edward Hatton were curious as to why the renown mad-dog was sporting such an odd accessory in November, so they picked and pried at the 15-year-old A’s rugby player until they finally coaxed the scarf from his throat.
A silence was cast upon that second-period PDHPE theory class like a net over a school of juvenile toadfish.
“Is that a hickey, bro?” asked one friend.
“Nah, bro. It’s two.” replied Hatton. “Got vampired by Annie Portsmythe, lad. At Kelso’s 16th at the boatshed, man. Shit was cash.”
Those in Edward’s friendship circle were immediately enamoured by the tale – all but Shenal Sampson.
Sampson’s suspicions were raised by the perfectly circular shape of Hatton’s hickeys. They were almost too circular.
After confiding in a close friend, Shenal was told not to worry. That Annie Portsmythe’s mouth was circular from her years playing trombone in her school’s orchestra. But that didn’t add up.
Refusing to drink the kool-kid-kool-aid, Shenal took a stand at lunch and accused Edward of giving himself the ‘hickeys’ with his mother’s cordless Dyson vacuum.
“Have any of you boy-kissers ever seen a real hickey? They look like a nine-day-old oyster stuck under your skin. That’s if you get a good one off a public school chick.” shouted Sampson.
“Those are rounder than a twenty-cent piece. You made those with your mum’s Dyson you idiot and we all know it.”
Like when the German Blitzkrieg stormed across the Polish frontier, old friends were forced to pick a side and ride it out. There was no going back.
Some sided with Shenal, others with Edward. Friends were now enemies.
More to come.
