| Sue: |
Hi, mate. |
| Rob: |
Can we start? |
| Sue: |
In a minute … |
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Is this recording? |
| Rob: |
Don’t press that … |
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When this light’s on it’s recording, Miss. |
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Gee! |
| Sue: |
Thanks. |
| Rob: |
All you oldies are hopeless with technology. |
| Sue: |
Oi! |
| Rob: |
Well, it’s true. |
| Sue: |
What do you want to say? |
| Rob: |
I had a nightmare thing last night. |
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It kinda doesn’t make sense. |
| Sue: |
You don’t have to talk about it. |
| Rob: |
But it’s my story so I can say whatever I like. |
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It was about the old tree on Little Pomona Road. You know the main road coming into town? Well, there’s an old tree there on the bend. It’s a good spot for drifting. Locals call the tree Old Man. |
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It’s on the right. |
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Probably … |
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Ten … |
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Twelve kilometres out of town. |
| Sue: |
I know the one, I stopped there for a look on the way in. I had to go back and touch it. |
| Rob: |
Yeah! Heaps do. The local Gubbi Gubbi,Trev’s mob, say Old Man’s special. He’s a giant eucalypt. |
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A real good-looker and huge. |
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Anyway … |
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I don’t know why but that tree was in my dream, nightmare thingy. |
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I wasn’t doing anything. |
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And he wasn’t doing anything. |
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He was just there right in front of me. Real close. |
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I could see every detail. Textures, colours. I could even smell the bark. |
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One night Pen was comin’ home late from somewhere with Shaz and he said after they passed Old Man he looked in the side mirror and the whole tree was lit up from below. Like someone had a big spotty and shone it up through the ground, straight up the tree. |
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He told Shaz, but guess what? She didn’t see a thing. |
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Heaps have got stories about Old Man. Some even reckon they’ve seen mass fireflies hanging around it. Like thousands of ’em. All tagging each other around the base. |
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I haven’t. |
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I reckon they’re full of shit. |
| Sue: |
Did Pen tell Shaz to stop for a better look? |
| Rob: |
You’ve got to be kidding. He wanted out of there. |
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They say it’s sacred. |
| Sue: |
I reckon all trees are sacred. |
| Rob: |
Probably. |
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I’ve got to leave early, Miss, ’cause I’ve got kung-fu. |
| Sue: |
After school? |
| Rob: |
Yeah, but I have to do a few jobs at home first for Dave. |
| Sue: |
Got a note? |
| Rob: |
Don’t need one, I’m nearly finished, remember? |
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I’m a senior. |
| Sue: |
So what? |
| Rob: |
So, I can come and go whenever I want. |
| Sue: |
Be buggered you will. |
| Rob: |
Come on, Miss? |
| Sue: |
Give me a note. |
| Rob: |
Dave will up ya if you don’t let me go early. |
| Sue: |
No worries. I’ll be here until four this afternoon. |
| Rob: |
God … |
| Sue: |
Apparently he’s everywhere. |
| Rob: |
Hear that? |
| Sue: |
Thunder. |
| Rob: |
Come on, I need to help Dave before it starts rainin’. |
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Miss? |
| Sue: |
There’s not a cloud in the sky. |
| Rob: |
Did I tell you about the kid in the park? |
| Sue: |
Nah. |
| Rob: |
It happened a while ago. |
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I was hanging around waiting for Pen. |
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I hate waitin’. |
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So, there was this kid sitting in the park opposite. He’s in Pen’s class. A few tools short. |
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He’s there all the time … |
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We call him Legless. |
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He was drinking from one of those big Coke bottles. |
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Anyway, he moaned. He fell off the seat, Miss. |
| Sue: |
Was he all right? |
| Rob: |
Yeah! He was pissed. |
| Sue: |
How do you know? |
| Rob: |
Me name’s not Billy Hunt. |
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Billy Hunt … |
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As in … |
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Silly … |
| Sue: |
Stop! |
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I get it. |
| Rob: |
Anyway … like, we all know what’s in the bottle … |
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Rum … scotch … vodka for sure. |
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He’s a loser. He’s always sitting in the same spot. |
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Soon as school finishes he goes straight there on his skateboard. |
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Why doesn’t he go home? |
| Sue: |
Why didn’t you ask him? |
| Rob: |
As if. |
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I went over and sussed him out. He hit his head and he had spit hanging from his lip. He was out of it. The dirty bastard even pissed himself. I could smell and see it. |
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Like, who pisses themselves in public? |
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Dirty bastard. |
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Anyway, I thought of taking a picture. |
| Sue: |
Why? |
| Rob: |
Post it online. He’s a loser, Miss. |
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I left after that, Pen had to walk home by himself. |
| Sue: |
What’s your definition of loser? |
| Rob: |
What? |
| Sue: |
You heard. |
| Rob: |
A loser is someone who does nothin’. |
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Drinks … |
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Does drugs … |
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Doesn’t care about anyone. |
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What, Miss? |