Horse Feed

I’d been droving for some months now in the harsh drought ridden outback. Through the stations of East South Australia and along Strzlecki’s track. By the time I reached a town (which had the name of Lyndhurst) I was ready for a proper feed and I had this raging thirst. Two days the world stopped spinning below the bar room ceiling light, I never took the time to figure out what was day or night, as long as the pluto’s pouring into that ten once pot, I felt the need to drink the pub dry and I gave it my best shot. What really happened I’m not sure; me mind’s flat as a tack, I don’t know how me shirt got torn or why me eye is black, but I do know now the time has come to ride off where I will. I said to the bloke behind the bar “I want to settle up me bill.” The barman gave a subtle grin and shook his balding head “You’ve had a great time ain’t yer; not only with the beer and bed, but it’s costing you two hundred for the billiard cloth and broken cues, and a hundred for the ‘dunny’ door; replacing hinges, latch, and screws. plus another fifty on yer tab for the dart holes in the wall. I don’t think a hundreds quite enough to clean the carpet in the hall. Two hundred quid for eats and drinks; a hundred for the room you shared” … “A room I shared!” What’s that about?” “Ya, fifty for me” a German tourist ‘sheila’ said. We looked at the cheque across the bar which would cover all me debt. “If I did all that it’s fair enough.” The barman frowned “I haven’t finished yet. I fed your horse while you played up; two ‘bucks’ I’ve charged you for the hay.” ‘Strewth!’ I thought ‘that flamin’ horse - is ‘gunna’ send me broke one day.’