ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
“The rush was extraordinary,” he said.
“There they were. For sale in Betoota Ponds. All my tools.”
This morning around five, local builder Darren Clarke woke and walked into his kitchen. His wife Pen was in the bathroom so he urinated in the sink while he looked out the window at his ute parked on the front lawn of his six-year-old Betoota Heights display home.
Something was wrong.
He went out on the front deck and saw for himself the devastation.
“I’d been robbed. Again. My frustration was immeasurable. Thousands and thousands of dollars gone. Like being done 45 over the speed limit high on life.”
Pen echoed his sentiments, slamming the bathroom door when Darren told her.
“I told you to park it in the garage!” she yelled.
But that wasn’t about to help anyone, time was marching on and Darren had to start heading to work. He cursed himself all the way there. Stewing in his seat. Fantasising about what he’d do to the prick who stole his tools.
When he got to work, he told the boys and the two female plumbers.
“Fuck Daz, that sucks, mate,” said one of the plumbers.
Daz nodded and smiled pensively toward her.
“You should check Facebook Marketplace. It’s full of hot goods, you might get lucky.”
So as the worksite started to glow with activity as the sun finally broke the horizon, Darren helped himself to a formworker’s fresh deck of Horizon Blues and started to scroll through marketplace.
“Well, would you look at that,” he said some minutes later.
The activity stopped.
“I’ve got them.”
And with that, a small cheer. Then offers started to flood in.
“We should go down there and get them,” said one scaffolder.
“I’ve got a cousin who’d cut his hands off for $10k.”
Daz thought about it for a minute.
“Nah, I should probably just call the cops, hey?”
Both the plumbers nodded.
More to come.
