ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
“So basically, I was running late so I decided to eat breakfast in the car,” he started.
Everyone smiled and leant in.
“Then what?” said one of Doug Redpath’s mates.
Doug paused and started slowly.
“Well, I was eating cereal. Like in a bowl, with a spork because all the spoons were dirty. So anyway, it was all sweet until this moron didn’t check his mirrors and I had to slam on the brakes.”
Those listening to the yarn shot looks at each other.
Darcy Beaumont looked over at Amy Stephens, sharing a knowing look that they’ve shared previously when Doug is telling a story from his life.
It is a look of utter disbelief with shades of actual belief as these things can only happen to Doug.
“All the milk shot out of the bowl and down the front of the windscreen and dashboard. All down my pants, too. It went down the vents and everything,” said Doug.
“So I rang Dad and told him what happened and what I could do to get the milk and Nesquik cereal out of the air conditioning. He just hung up on me.”
He looked off into the distance.
“Then what? How did you get the milk out?”
Doug pursed his lips.
“It’s still in there. I ran the fan on full blast but nothing came out except for the odd drop. I hope it doesn’t start to smell.”
Darcy told him that it most probably will start to stink in a few days. With that new knowledge now in his mind, Doug let out a soft, pathetic moan.
Amy laughed.
“You are a fucking unit, Douglas,” she said.
“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to see the world through your eyes.”
More to come.
