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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Screaming from his office was loud enough to wake the dead by our trucking company foreman who was livid when he said, “That useless bloody mongrel, that scum of the flamin’ earth, has loaded up a truck with fish, and walked out on me in Perth”. “He’s met some bloody ‘sheila’, now he’s taken off to Broome, and if I don’t take smart action, I know what’s about to loom, the fish will reach ‘high heaven’ from their decomposing state, and we’ll smell them here in Sydney, so there isn’t time to wait”. He looked around the listening crew, then with the grace of God, gave subtle hints of some reward, if there is action from his prod, to fly across the Nullarbor, to bring the ‘rig’ back to its base; I said I’d do the job for him, if he’d compromise my case. “Stead of flying” so I said, “There’s something I would rather do. Something that I’ve always yearned, and now’s my chance if you; instead of sending me by plane, ‘pon the train would be terrific; I always said I’d like to ride, upon the ‘Indian-Pacific”. I could see his mind was juggling out his time against the cost, and he wants to get the truck back even if the fish are lost. He said he’d get the ticket and he’d book a sleeping berth. I went home to pack some clothes, before I hurried off to Perth. Then a ‘hiccup’ soon erupted when I made my ticket claim; the clerk scanned through the listing, and couldn’t find my name. She said, “There seems to be a problem, the staff have overlooked; Your names not in the sleeping berths, the room is double booked”. I explained that I’m a ‘truckie’ and I’m used to sleeping rough, anywhere to sleep upon the train, for me is good enough, but the clerk was quite insistent, and apologizing said, she’ll advise the other occupant, I had the bottom bed. Through Broken Hill, Adelaide, ‘Augusta’. Rushing toward Perth, I’d socialized and drank myself, toward the sleeping berth. I went searching ‘long the corridor, for room one twenty-four, and when I finally found it, quietly opened up the door. Eyes were staring straight at me, from beneath dark ruffled hair ... a young girl maybe twenty, was underneath the blankets there. I was embarrassed and I stammered, apologizing as I spoke, but she’s unconcerned she had to share her quarters with a bloke. I tried not thinking ‘bout the girl, in the bunk above my head. Sleep swept her from my mind before she woke me up and said, that she was cold and needed warmth, spoke in a ‘kittens purr’, then said ‘she’d like another blanket, and could I get it for her’. “What about” I said to her, “Pretending we’re a married pair”. Hardly the choice of protocol, to inspire the lasses ‘Yeah!’ She was climbing from her bunk until I quoted ‘cold as stone’. “If you want a flamin’ blanket then, go get your bloody own!”
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