Yes well hello. This is the beginning I suppose so I guess that you will all want to know what has happened. I was born, hmm, no, I mean yes, I was born but perhaps we don’t want to go there, well not just yet. Look, lets get down to facts. This is true fiction and no lies have been added to this story unless it has been necessary and it seems it has been necessary quite a lot.
My name is Sandy, well sort of, my real name is Alexander however I prefer Sandy. I mean lets face it, Sandy is better than Alex or Al or something. One reason I prefer Sandy is acronyms, yes acronyms. See my real name is Alexander Leonard Lyndhurst O’Way, ALLOW, dreadful isn’t it, so over time I have developed a love hate relationship with acronyms. Anyway as the story develops you will see what I mean.
So yes, I was born at the Inner Cyberia Hospital(ICH) and as little kids we couldn’t resist putting a “T” in there to make it ITCH as we all reckoned that if you ever went to hospital you always came home with an itch. Sorry, what was that, you have never heard of Inner Cyberia? Well it’s next to Middle Cyberia and on the other side of Outer Cyberia. Pretty simple really. Anyway I was born at the ITCH and unfortunately taken home by the wrong family. See I was born right on change of shift which immediately put me off side with the staff. Nurses hate having to do anything during hand over and guess what, that was me. Well my new family were Chinese and they named me Zing Zang however they gave me a nick name, Nick, phew, imagine trying to explain away Zing Zang when the local bullies are just about to bash you.
My dad, Walter, a very wealthy man, was a watch maker and he was very proud of his shop “Walter Wong’s Watches” (WWW) being displayed across the front in large letters. “One day all this will be yours Nick ” he would say. Well dad, my name is actually Zing Zang but hey, never call me a pedant as I don’t even know what that means. I think you have it on toast for breakfast, pedant butter and funny, yumbo.
My dad was always looking to get richer. He used to tinker with computers and one day at a large family gathering my Dad said “You know, one day computers will communicate with each other via the phone line, the information will be broken up into packets and reassembled at the other end.” “Preposterous!!” came the cries and the next day the men in white coats, other wise known as purse carrying nancy boys, came and took my dad away.
Soon after that the police arrived. My mum was feeling bad because she missed dad but more importantly she had just broken a fingernail, as you do, and the policeman said “Mavis” that’s my mum’s name, “Mavis you’ve brought home the wrong child from the hospital” “Yes, that’s right the Wong child, my Nick” replied mum in her broken English. “No the wrong, wrong child” emphasised the policeman “He’s a Wong” said mum, “No wrong, w.r.o.n.g. child meaning Nick isn’t yours” and so I was taken away to my new family, Farter and Mafarter O’Way.
My new family were poor but really good to me. They didn’t eat fish and rice like the Wong’s but lamb and potatoes instead. My dad was a Traffic Control Officer with the Main Roads dept., otherwise known as a lollipop man, good for a lick for a zac to go to the shop, and my mum was a farmer’s daughter. But, my English teachers will cringe with me starting a sentence with but, but hey, who gives a fun, then they went and named me Alexander, hmm.
This was all very different and it took me a long time to adjust. The great thing was that my first mum and dad became good friends with my second mum and dad, so in the end I had two sets of parents. Farter and Walter would debate every issue under the sun while Mafarter and Mavis would trade recipes and take turns at cooking the main dinner, life was pretty good. And of course the real Zing Zang was nicknamed Billy, Billy Wong, hmm.
One day the Wong’s came over, with sad faces, to tell us that they were moving to Outer Cyberia. Walter got a good job offer in charge of trying to put and egg back together that had fallen from a wall, so he took it.
Now let me tell you, you know how some things are a long way, well Outer Cyberia was a long way plus a bit, like another long way. See what I mean. Perhaps even further then a long way, maybe it might even been further then Coals(Thanks Dave) an, an, and you may not even eat cannibals, whats this world coming to, next there will something good on TV except Aunty and her little cousin
More to come so grit dem teeth and laugh so hard you hurt. Please avoid consuming liquids when reading this story. Your cat and keyboard may end up hating you.
[1.] Think about it
[2.] I think a zac was sixpence and then became five cents, robbed again as usual. You can see that I am still bitter and twisted about 1966
 I have no idea about what this story is about but I’m having fun, hope you are.
 I dedicate this story to Helvi who gave me much support and encouragement to get Father O’Way into space and to the WDAPAW Crew who have all contributed ideas for the hapless Sandy
Hi, handsome here, er, um, oops, nah, sorry folks just me Sandy. Anyhoo I’ve told the Bishop to go and get fu..
[Cut, cut, cut. Mike, the editor here. Look Hung, remember, we had a deal about the eff word and sunshine I did say a “fun” adventure please, everyone is dying to hear from Sandy and all you want to do is sit around all day, drink beer and eat pizza, for Gordon’s sake man, grow!]
Yes well then to go an, to go and, oh, to go and get fun. Yes, that’s right, I told the Bishop to go and get fun, as you do. We all like fun I suppose, I mean I do, I think, not really sure yet but I guess the past tense of fun would therefore have to be funned. Taking this to an extreme extrapolation, I could get home from a hard day in space and kiss the beautiful Belinda, deeply, passionately and, if lucky, x-ratedly and say,
“I missed you darling…
!!!!STRICT WARNING: There is certain dictionary found on Earth that contains a rather scary definition of the word “missed”. It’s definition number 7 actually, page 1114, see it, middle of the page. See what I mean!
The Church of St Generic Brand wishes to advise that any viewer that may be offended by words appearing on any computer chip device are advised to look away now.
FAILED TO HIT
You must keep this a secret from kiddies until they are at least 45 years of age.!!!!
This stunning fact could lead to many a divorce or prison term. I missed you darling may then come with some sinister undertones, hmm, I digress which by the way is the only thing I am good at, just ask me.
“Anyhoo” I continue “I slayed a few dragons, broke a ruthless despot in two with my bare hands, you know darling, the usual sort of stuff.”
Hmm, such subtle understatement of my lofty achievements that my modesty may prevent me from telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me Gordon. Well unless a convenient piece of confabulation comes to mind.
“That’s good dear” perfuncts Belinda. “Was it fun my little sweet cheeks?”
“Well, to be honest honey, I’m far, ah, afrh, ah, funned, that’s it, I’m funned sweetie.”
See, that’s how simple it can be. Well, I guess that’s me.
Now, I have to get the Bishop to have some fun. Do you know why? Because the Bishop thinks that if all of us patrons at the Arms, just stop for five minutes and read something really absurd and laugh, it will all do us the world of good. Pity the Bishop smokes too much of that green stinky stuff if his pipe but hey who gives a fun.
I’ll prove my case. Here are some cherry picked quotes that I have received over the years that show, beyond doubt, that anecdotal evidence is simply far superior to the scientific method. Earth flat right? Sure is.
“Mate, I was reading your story and laughed so hysterically hard that the lager I was consuming came out my nose and on to the keyboard, snot and all. Worse thing was it was a race between me and the cat to see who could lick up the most…” DCI Rouge, Inner Cyberia Pleece Force.
“Mate, I was reading the comment above and laughed so hysterically hard that the lager I was consuming came out my nose and on to the keyboard, snot and all. Worse thing was it was a race between me and the cat to see who could lick up the most…”
DCI Rouge, er um Foodge, Inner Cyberian.
“Mate, I was reading the comment above and laughed so hysterically hard that the lager I was consuming came out my nose and on to the keyboard, snot and all. Worse thing was it was a race between me and the cat to see who could lick up the most…”
DCI Rouge, er um Foodge, Inner Cyberian, um, D.G O’Hoo, Buggered if I Know.
See what I mean and that was only three.
[Cut, stop, no one move. Mike here again. Hung there were only three comments and all came from Foodge et.al. and lets face it, that mob just lack continuity.]
Crikey, never do anything too rash here, never say ” Get funned you piece of paper that belongs in a waste receptacle” Oh, Gordon no, never say that.
I guess we could send the Bish on an island holiday but knowing him he will fall over after one too many pipes and then whinge about the bill. To make matters worse, Gordon pays the bill anyway as all the money in the galaxy belongs to him, hmm.
Hey I have an idea. Teach kids a musical instrument. I do. Kids come to me and say,
“Hey Sandy, will I ever play the blues like you?” they inquire.
“Sure son” I say, the eternal optimist in me always persists “Just spend 20 years in your bedroom practicing, have a shit life, get divorced, bashed senseless and shot at. Then buy a high quality bottle of tequila and some pot and you’ll play the blues.”
Okay then, so Bish go and have some fun.
 This story does not reflect the views of the author. It is simply humour. And anyway I prefer Johnny Walker Blue label.
 Gordon is the creator of the universe. He is a scientist from another dimension and is studying the Milky Way for his PhD in Astrophysicists. Gordon, is Gordon O’Donnell and hence GOD.
 Belinda is Sandy’s wife.
 The Bishop heads the parish of St Generic Brand in the see of Inner Cyberia. It was established by Gordon to tolerate all religions for all people as long as you don’t proselytize.
Picture by Warrigal
Ring, ring, ring ring. Bloody hell these phones waking you at such an early hour of 11 am. Don’t you wish they would put a silence button on these things or what. You know it can only be one person, the Bishop, we all call him the Bish.
“Yes, hello Bish what on Earth do you want at this ungordly hour?” I ask as it I know it will be something he wants me to do. I mean does this guy never stop, ringing at zarking 11 am. He must get up at daybreak, I’ve heard of people that do that, weird.
“Where’s Hung?” roars the Bish.
“Um, he can’t come to the phone right now as he is busy typing this story.” I reply.
“Arrrgh, well Sandy get to Mars, they have found ice on Mars” declares the Bish. Wow,big deal.
“Did you say Lice? The itchy thingy”
“No, you ninny, ice, you know, that thing you put in your scotch”
Yes, I always wondered what they were. You know those little cube thingys. I’m sure some scientist has figured it out by now.
“We must be careful Sandy” said the Bish in hushed tones “You see we think this may be taken over as a demonstration by Tony Abblahblahalot.”
“But the itchy thingy is much easier to treat and it means I can stay in bed” I plead uselessly.
You guessed it, I’m on my way to Mars and the crew are a bit miffed let me tell you. To them, Mars is down the street and around the corner, can’t you walk.
The central computer starts blabbing on about a toxic atmosphere down on the surface and puts some pictures on the screen. Just as the Bish said, Tony Abblahblahalot and some supporters are down checking out the lice, oops, I mean ice.
I detach from the main craft in a small surface vessel. Apparently us humans get scared when other people materialise in front of them. You know like when you walk down the street and you see the best man from your wedding coming towards you, the best man that vomited all over the table and caused a fight in the foyer, so he crosses the street and pretends not to see you just like you have materialised and then dematerialised. See what I mean, is that scary or what.
The vessel pulls up next to the crowd all dressed in their space suits. You know there is no oxygen on Mars but let me tell you it doesn’t stop some from being windbags. They were carrying signs like “Cold for Life” with the word cold crossed out and replaced by Coal. I’m sure you get the metaphor or whatever it is.
The crew quickly set up a table and some chairs. They place bundles of paper on the table. I approach Tony Windbag, oops, I mean Tony Abblahblahalot who is laughing his head off,
“I waz just telling the blokes, no women here is there, nah, didn’t think so, that I’ve added salt to the water here on Mars as salt is good for you” says Tony.
“Why have you added salt?” I ask inquisitively.
“Well, I’ve stopped the boats, axed the tax and it’s all Labor’s fault, blah blah blah blah blah” replies Tony.
“No” I affirm “Why have you added salt to the water here on Mars?”
“Well, don’t you watch David Ratinburrow, ha ha, see right, he showed these goats right, he he, you know goats right, ha ha ha, that walk down a steep hill right, guffaw guffaw, once a week to eat salt. Love that bloke, believe every word he says.” says Tony with tears welling in his eyes.
“But David Ratinburrow is a staunch supporter of doing something about man made climate change yet you oppose it” I prod.
“David Ratinburrow is a dickhead mate and has no idea what he is talking about” declares Tony. Wow, any one heard the term blackflip.
I seize my moment “Attention every one” I broadcast ” Over at the desk my crew have some really cheap shares for you in a company called Yet Another Ponzi Scheme(YAPS[Had to fit one in somewhere]). YAPS will have totally collapsed by the time you pass but you will become filthy rich in a very short period of time and the poor will be left to pick up the bill.”
The crowd rush to the table and as each person signs the crew euthanises them, oops, puts them to sleep for their return to Earth but not before Tony beat them all to the desk to buy his fill. Oh, yes, some things never change.
I’m back on the ship and we are about to head for Earth and I have a seat in the Bats Droppings, our local pub on board, and oh the $64,000 question, is there ice on Mars? Of course there is. I’ll show you,
“Barman may I have a scotch on the rocks please?”
See told you, now a priest wouldn’t lie would he? Would he!
This is Father Sandy O’Way, signing off from Mars for the Church of St. Generic Brand, Inner Cyberia.
Bloody hell, what time is it? Ten o’clock, way too early to be awake quite frankly. I feel around in the bed and realise that Tutu, my loving wife who works as a nurse, has already gone to work and yep you guessed it, I went back to sleep and have missed my shift at S.H.I.T. Yeah, I know, fancy working for shit but it actually stands for South Harbor Institute of Technology where I do a bit of casual work. I betta ring in.
Ring, ring, “Good morning, South Harbor Institute of Technology, this is Cheryl” comes the reply. Now Cheryl is one of those people that are always chirpy and happy, don’t ya just hate them.
“Hey Cheryl, it’s Hung, I’m sick, can I speak to the day supervisors please” I request knowing that this will cause some folk some form of discomfort.
“You, sick Hung, amazing” says Cheryl “but did you know Hung that today is Friday and you only get sick on Mondays”. Good point, for 10 am in the morning this girl is sharp, “Putting you through, bye Hungsie”
“Day supervisor, John speaking” Oh my God, of all people to be on duty it just happens to be the supervisor from hell, John. You know the type, know everything, never has a day off, gets there early and leaves late, don’t you just hate them types.
“Hey John, it’s Hung and I’m sick” Gales of laughter roar down the phone line and I can hear John talking to someone in the background. “Hey Tony, guess who’s sick, Hung” I hear him say as more gales of laughter erupt.
“Hung it’s Friday, you only get sick on Mondays. What’s wrong today?” John mocks.
Oh shit, um, er, crikey that one came out of left field. “Ah, um, headache” I lie.
“Wouldn’t be because it’s Us verses Them down at the G, would it?” snarls John.
That’s right, the cricket game is on later and I’m a little upset with John’s attitude. “Well if you really wanna know I slept in, er, um, with a headache.”
Again John talks to his fellow supervisor “Hey Tony, Hung slept in and wait for it, with a headache” much more laughter erupts but the mirth and merriment of the supervision team is a bit overwhelming so I sign off “See ya Monday”. John is sobbing now from all the laughter and I can just imagine Tony rolling on the floor.
“See you Monday, Hung, not very likely, Bhawwahahahahahahaha.” Click.
Whew, tough one, now to get a doctors appointment. My GP is Dr Carl Tondraught, we all call him Dr Carl for short. See the docs dad was a brewer, Carl hates beer and went and did medicine and then one day his dad sold everything off and gave Carl a swag of money, so Carl just works a few mornings a week around the corner from me.
Ring, ring “Hello, Dr Tondraughts rooms, Nancy speaking.” Now Nancy is an enigma, mid sixties, beautiful and very smart. Nancy didn’t tolerate fools and has a rapier wit. At first Nancy would cut me down with some classic words like “Gee Hung, you found us, did Tutu hold your hand” etc., etc but after awhile she gave up when she realised that most of it went over my head.
“Hey Nancy it’s Hung, I’m sick” I say rather insipidly.
“But Hung, it’s Friday and you only get sick on Mondays” informs Nancy. Gee, sleeping in has become a headache, oh, yeah, that’s right I have a headache.
“I have a headache Nancy, can I see Dr Carl?” I plead.
“Well, at 10:15 he can see you” I look at the clock and it’s 10:14, boy this is the last time I get sick on a Friday.
“Come in Hung” says Dr Carl “How can I help you?”
“I’m sick Dr Carl…”
“On Friday!! But shush Hung. Now with changes to Medicare I have to spend 10 minutes with you so don’t rush it” informs Dr Carl.
Wow, 10 minutes with Dr Carl, how am I going to do that I wonder.
Dr Carl keeps looking at his watch “1 down 9 to go” he states.
“We could talk about sport” I suggest.
“Football, union, league, rules, basketball, golf oh yeah” smiles Dr Carl.
“What about cricket?” I prompt.
“Cricket” shrieks Dr Carl “Nobody in their right mind likes cricket. Totally boring, nothing ever happens and if it does it simply wakes the audience out of their slumber. The blokes go to drink beer and the girls go to get ogled, no thanks.”
Dr Carl starts pacing around the room, hands behind his back, his white coat flapping in the breeze of his rapid movements. “Well done Hung, 4 minutes to go, now symptom list please” says Dr Carl.
“Um, headache, red eyes, sore throat, persistent cough, runny nose, blurred vision, central chest pain, nausea, diarrhea, bloating, difficulty in passing urine, bilateral knee pain and swollen feet” I reply rather slowly.
“Good boy Hung, that leaves 2 minutes to go. Now let me think” Dr Carl types all this into the computer then suddenly cries out “I’ve got it Hung, you’re suffering from Medical Condition, here’s your sick note”
“But Dr Carl, is Medical Condition fatal?” I plead.
“Oh, most certainly, when are you going to die, who knows” says Dr Carl.
I limp home, my ego damaged, I going to die sometime, woe is me but look I want to get down the pub and watch the game on the big screen with the boys and have a few beers. So on the way home I buy some flowers, chocolate and the ingredients for Tutu’s favorite meal, Chicken Casserole.
I prepare the casserole and put it in the oven with the automatic timer on, arrange the flowers and leave the chocolate where it can be easily noticed. I vacuum the house, fold and put away the washing, clean the bathroom and water the garden. Gee, what a boy has to do.
Tutu comes in through the door, I greet her with a big hug and many kisses. “How come you’re not at work?” Tutu interrogates.
“I’m sick with Medical Condition and Dr Carl says I’m going to die” I whimper trying to look forlorn.
“BS Hung, all doctors write that on certificates to protect your privacy anyway you only get sick on Mondays” replies Tutu. Bloody women, how did she know that. I thought I might have been able to milk the Medical Condition at least until Tuesday.
Tutu notices the flowers and chocolate. She looks in the oven and sees the casserole and walks around the house to see everything is neat and tidy. “There’s a game on isn’t there Hung” she says. Bloody women, how did she know that. “And you want to go down the pub and watch it on the big screen with the boys and sink a few beers, oh Hung, you are incorrigible.”
“I love you Tutu”
“Be off” she says with a big grin.
For the record we won. And to all those guys out there, the way to a woman’s heart is flowers, chocolate and Chicken Casserole. Sadly, on Monday my Medical Condition returned and had to sleep all day, oh well, someone’s gotta do it.
This is the story of Me and Bluey or what could also be called, One Magic Day. Now with all my Early Days stories some of it is true, some is artistic licence and some is just pure bullshit however most of this story is true.
I started playing cricket in the backyard at mum’s and as my family grew up and left, or lost interest in cricket, my good friend Gerard Van Camper got me to join up with the local town team. Gerard’s brother Hank also played in out team as he was too old for the next division down so we had both of the boys play in our squad. And thank Gordon for that as they were both excellent players and our captain and vice captain as they seemed to know how to play the game. I asked Gerard one day about it and he said his Dad, Hank Senior, knew nothing about cricket but Gerard just picked it up, a natural I suppose you would call it.
So in this game we were playing the Toffs. Now a toff in my local area was a kid that went to private school. The state school boys referred to me as a toff as I went to private school but they tolerated me on game day. Gerard, Hank and another boy called Stephen were all toffs in the local side and were all subsequently tolerated especially seeing Gerard and Hank were excellent players. The side we were playing were kids at boarding school from the main part of the town and were allowed to join the local comp so they stayed out of trouble on the weekends.
Games were two half days on Saturday and the Toffs won the toss and batted on the first half day. The next week rolled around and when I arrived at the ground there was a real buzz around the place. One of the lads approached me “Gerard and Hank are on holidays in Holland and you and Bluey are leading the team” he shrieked, fancy a toff leading the team against the Toffs, class warfare was well and truly underway.
The coach came up to me with Bluey striding along by his side “Hung, you’re Vice Captain and Bluey is Captain, suppose you’ve heard the Van Camper boys are on holidays” I nodded, wow, vice captain at the age of 13 but no Van Campers, this could be a tough day.
The coach wandered off and Bluey put his arm around me. Now Bluey was taller, thicker, stronger and everything than me and he wasn’t someone you would pick a fight with. Bluey was from Hungary and his Dad was one of the butchers in the town. Bluey was pretty aloof even to the state school boys and I suppose a bit of a loner “Hung old son” Now when Bluey said old son you knew he was getting ready to fight “Hung old son, we are going to win. We are gunna beat these lousy Toffs, present company excepted, and go out in a blaze of glory. The Van Campers boys are back next week so this is out big chance” It was then I realised that I wasn’t able to breath and so Bluey let me go.
We still had four wickets to get to finish of the Toffs so we could bat. We all walked out to the pitch. Bluey said “Now spread out men”. One of the state school boys cried out “Spread out, you are supposed to tell us where to stand?” I immediately felt sorry for this boy, no one challenges Bluey. Bluey glared at him “Look old son, any minute now those Toffs are going to come out here and hit the ball all over the joint, you old son have to place yourself between the batsman and the boundary, get it, old son?” Holy shit three old sons and the kid was still alive.
With that everyone moved around the field to where they thought Gerard might place them. I started to go to my usual fielding position at mid on when I heard “Hey you, catholic boy” Bluey loved calling me this, “you bowl” and tossed me the ball. “I don’t open the bowling Bluey” I meekly replied “Well” said Bluey “you’re on a steep learning curve then aren’t you old son”.
Well for the record I took 4 for 28 and bowled them out. I had never taken that many wickets ever, I was stoked. Bluey came up to me as we were walking off the ground. The Van Campers usually opened the batting and Bluey and Stephen were probably the next best two “Hey catholic boy, me and you are opening, little Stevie wonder can come in next” “But Bluey, I don’t open the batting” I whimpered “Well” said Bluey “you’re on a steep learning curve then aren’t you old son”.
As we walked out to the middle Bluey approached me “No more hugs please Bluey I still haven’t recovered from the last one” I informed “Okay Hung but mate I’m shitting myself” said Bluey “but look I’m gunna go off like a fire cracker and what I want you to do is hold up one end, you have the best defence in the team” said Bluey. Well Bluey was a slogger for sure and after I read the Doug Walters Cricket Handbook my game had risen quite dramatically. “Okay Bluey, me and you to the death” I affirmed. Well Bluey’s face lit up and he smiled like I had never seen before.
Well for the record, Bluey went off, scored a century and we won the game. Me I batted as asked and got 25, my highest score then out and Stephen helped Bluey to win the game.
Me and Bluey had a bond after that, a bond that could not be broken, it was special, one magic day, one magic day.
Some of you that have read my stories will know about Gordon, Gordon O’Donnell, the astrophysicist from another dimension that is currently using our universe to study for his degree. Well this story is about when I first met Gordon. Now with all my Early Days stories some of it is true, some is artistic licence and some is just pure bullshit however most of this story is true.
It was about the middle of my last year at high school all though being a Catholic I was at college and I just wanted out, big time. My grades had been gradually dropping due to an event that occurred outside of my control. I was 16. I knew I was 16 as I said to my mother,
“Mum, how old am I?” I asked.
“16” she replied, therefore I was 16, would a mother lie, don’t think so.
It was Friday, how did I know it was Friday you ask? Well on Friday we had Fish and Chips for tea, so it was Friday. Oh yes, I loved Fish and Chips and still do but it was definitely Friday. I had been playing rugby league for my school and at half time I needed to do a wee however when I did my urine was basically blood. Hmm, how odd.
So on Friday night when tucking in to my fish and chips I said “Mum, when I go to the toilet my urine is red” thinking that at dinner this was the best way to raise this issue.
Little sis said “Oh yuck, how off Hung, go away” or words to that effect.
But Ma and Pa were pretty smart and Mum said “Well Hung, next time you go don’t flush and let me have a look” and so I did. Mum was shocked.
“Do you fell okay Hung?” she inquired, well yeah, duh “Well lets get you to the doctor Monday morning” said Mum.
Yes, there is a God, a day off school just for pissing blood, bring it on, doesn’t get better than this, mate, I’m in heaven.
As the weekend passed I started to feel unwell and by Monday I was actually glad to see the doctor. They put me in hospital and within a day or two I was transferred to a hospital in the big smoke called the RPA or what I now know as the Royal Pigs Arms. My doctors name was Merv, my nurse was Glenda however my favorite memories are about the wardsman called Foodge. Oh yes, those were the days. I was diagnosed with Glomerulonephritis and after some time I was sent back to my local hospital.
I told mum to bring me home. The food was shocking and I did most of the other stuff for myself. I was losing weight at an alarming rate and for a skinny kid that was a real worry. The doctor let me go home as long as I drank this stuff what we would now call Sustagen. Me brother would finish in the Pit at 2 and come round at take me to the shower so Ma didn’t have to do everything.
“Wash your own dick” said big bro but it was just good to feel clean and to wash my hair, this was something that I never took for granted ever again. Big Bro then would towel me down and put me in clean clothes and take me back to my room.
Sleep. Yes sleep was one thing that I excelled at. I reckon I slept about 16 hours a day, take pills, drink this and then sleep. I wasn’t doing very well apparently, not that I knew but according to Mum I was fading.
Mum got the GP to visit, Dr. Gottafix. “Yes Mrs On, your son is in bad shape so I will give him S.H.I.T” said the good doctor.
“Shit” said Mum.
“Yes SHIT” said Dr Gottafix, “Subcutaneous Hypodermic Injectable Tonic, when I was in uni my tutor said when all else fails give ’em shit”
Anyway, later that night after my pills and special drink I just wanted to go to sleep. And I did. Me arse hurt from the injection as I was skin and bone and I was so tired I couldn’t care less about anything anyone said. Then something happened. My room lit up and a man appeared at the end of my bed. “Gidday mate, names Gordon, Gordon O’Donnell, some call me God but I prefer Gordy” said the creature.
“Are you a pommy mate?” I asked given his accent and flat cap.
“Well, sort of” said Gordon “but more importantly I’m here to help you save the universe”
Groan, went my brain. I feel like dying and here is some pommy illusion trying to tell me how to save the universe. “How can I do that fella?”
“Well” Gordon replied cautiously “On Boxing Day you and you dad will be watching the Ashes test in the lounge room and your big sis will tell you a funny story about people she works with you that will be about male nurses. All you need to do is say “” I could do that”” and you will be set on a path to save the universe”
“Well if you don’t you will not create me therefore I won’t exist and I created the universe therefore the universe will cease to exist” says Gordon.
I slept heavily that night and in the morning I finally felt hungry. Weeks later I returned to school and sat and passed my final exams. We had a wonderful family Christmas. Boxing Day arrived, me and Dad in the lounge waiting for the first ball when I remembered Gordon’s visit. Now what did I have to say to big sis,
Do that I could
I do that could
Could that I do
That could I do
Do could that I
That do could I
This was driving me crazy but apparently I needed to save the universe.
Big Sis entered, “You bloody blokes, always watching cricket, now let me tell you about some of the male nurses blah blah blah…”
“I could do that” I utter on cue therefore becoming a nurse therefore creating Gordon therefore saving the universe.
The following are some of the most influential guitar players in my life. Unfortunately they are all dead. Musicians either die from drugs or transport accidents which is a down right shame for all of us. I hope you enjoy this cross section.
1. Jeff Healey
Jeff lost his vision to retinoblastoma and died from lung cancer in 2008. The guy was a guitar genius and here is a version of a popular song that highlights some of his skills.
Jeff Healey – Roadhouse Blues
2. Stevie Ray Vaughan
Stevie was killed when his helicopter crashed and was probably at the height of his career. This song I have picked is my absolute favourite.
Stevie Ray Vaughan – Pride and Joy
3. Rory Gallagher
Wow, this guy had it. Whatever it is Rory just had IT. Died following complications from a liver transplant, shame on you Gordon.
Rory Gallagher – Messin with the Kid
4. Gary Moore
Gary captivated me by his smoothness on the guitar. I rate him with Carlos Santana and Larry Carlton. Yes, you may want to have heard Still Got the Blues but this version of Red House shows all of Gary’s skills. Died from a heart attack in his sleep aged 58.
Gary Moore – Red House
5. Roy Buchanan
Unbelievable player that didn’t get the commercial success he deserved. Committed suicide in 1988. This song is by Tyrone Davis and was a big hit in 1969.
Roy Buchanan – Can I Change My Mind
Once upon a time to be a nurse all you needed to do was look good in a veil. Well, no more. Along came us purse carrying nancy boys that didn’t wear veils and changed everything.
Below is the test that modern day nurses must pass to enter the honorable profession.
Aptitude Test for Admission to Nursing
This test has been complied to assess candidates.
Instructions: Read each question carefully. Answer all questions, omitting none. Time limit is 4 hours. Begin immediately.
History: Describe the history of the papacy from its origins to the present day, concentrating especially but not exclusively on its social, political, economic, religious and philosophical impact on Europe, Asia, America and Africa. Be brief, concise and specific. Minimum 1400 words.
Medicine: You have been provided with a razor blade, a piece of gauze and a bottle of Scotch. Remove your appendix. Do not suture your work till it has been inspected. Maximum time 15 minutes.
Public Speaking: 2,500 riot crazed unionists are storming the classroom. Calm them. You may use any language except Latin or Greek. Time limit 5 minutes.
Biology: Create life. Estimate the differences in subsequent human culture if this form of life had developed 500 million years earlier with special attention to its probable effect on the Westminster parliamentary system. Prove your thesis. Minimum 10,000 words.
Music: Write a piano concerto. Orchestrate and perform it with flute and drum. You will find a piano under your seat. Time limit 12 minutes.
Psychology: Based on your knowledge of their works, evaluate the emotional stability, degree of adjustment and repressed frustrations of each of the following, Alexander of Aphrodisias, Ramsey II, Gregory of Nicea, Hammurabi. Support your evaluation with quotations from each man’s work making appropriate references. It is not necessary to translate. Minimum 1200 words.
Sociology: Estimate the sociological problems which might accompany the end of the world. Construct an experiment to test your theory. Minimum 500 words, experiment time 10 minutes.
Engineering: The disassembled parts of a high powered rifle have been placed in a box on your desk. You will find an instruction manual printed in Swahili. In ten minutes, a hungry Bengal tiger will be admitted to the room. Take whatever action you feel appropriate. Be prepared to justify your decision. Time limit 9 minutes.
Economics: Develop a realistic plan for refinancing the national debt. Trace the possible effects of your plan in the following areas, cubism, Donast controversy and the wave theory of light. Outline a method for preventing these effects. Criticise this method from your point of view as demonstrated in your answer to the last question. Minimum 900 words.
Political Science: There is a red telephone on the desk beside you. Start World War III. Report at length on its sociopolitical effects if any. Time limit 2 minutes, minimum 25 words.
Epistemology: Take a position for or against truth. Prove the validity of your position. Minimum 500 words.
Physics: Explain the nature of matter. Include in your answer an evaluation of the impact of the development of mathematics on science. Minimum 7500 words.
Philosophy: Sketch the development of human thought, estimate its significance. Compare with the development of any other thought. Minimum 300 words.
General knowledge: Describe in detail. Be objective and specific. Minimum 600 words.
Phew, no smoko or cigarette break. Are we nurses tough or what?
Just a recap, my name is Gordon O’Donnell. I am scientist from another dimension and me and a couple of class mates accidentally created the universe. Our teachers have sent us here to study for our degrees and I am heading for the planet Earth in the galaxy know as the Milky Way. My task so far is to create a monetary system, teach everyone in the galaxy to speak English but more importantly teach them cricket.
“C’mon Gordon” says Viv. Viv is my SNAP (Space Normalisation Adaptation Process) Coordinator, oh, in case you forgot, space an acronyms go hand in hand. Damn. “We are heading up to the bio so I can show you where you will be living till Earth is ready for you” Viv informs.
“What’s a bio Viv?” I ask as I glance around my beautiful cabin, a book list to die for, my own cook and a bar that never runs out.
“With long distance space travel you need to live in a biosphere otherwise you will go mad or in your case, madder” laughs Viv.
“Do you think I’m mad Viv?” I question.
“No, not so far anyway Gordon but you will eventually live in Inner Cyberia at the Rectory of the Church of St. Generic Brand with Bishop Bishop, Father O’Way and Belinda the housekeeper. Most of the time this lot are found drinking at the Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle affectionately know as The Pigs Arms. A stoic bunch of drinkers are always there and they are going to test you out. You need to know how to respond to fit in.” says Viv.
I find I cannot speak. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined such a scenario. We jump in an elevator and after a few minutes the lift door opens and we are in the main street of some sort of village. A mixture of housing surrounds and I can see a hotel, café and a few shops. People are moving around the streets.
“C’mon Gordon, I show you your house” instructs Viv and we walk a very short distance to a beautiful bungalow style house that over looks the beach.
“Wow this is fantastic” I mutter out loud, more really thinking about my surroundings than making any intelligent comment.
“Fair dinkum Gordon, anyone that doesn’t like this is a few kangaroos short in the top paddock” says Viv. Viv reads my face in an instance. “Fair dinkum means is that right and a few kangaroos short in the top paddock means that if you didn’t like this then you must be a mad” Viv informs with that irrepressible smile.
“This bio is the beach side village with fishing harbour, point break for surf and foothills at the rear and cricket oval in the centre of town. There are about 50 droids here who will create the atmosphere so it seems as if you are having a normal existence plus a four team cricket comp. The central computer has set the weather to replicate your birth planet and is fairly similar to Earth, you know day night, summer winter.” Viv states as this is all fairly ordinary.
Me, I’m overwhelmed. This amazing house with wrap round verandas that take in all possible views. A village, here in space, fair dinkum, hey its working, maybe I can settle into Earth after all.
“Come on Gordon, lets hit the pub for a couple of frothy’s, beers, before tea, dinner” says Viv, teaching as she goes along.
We enter the pub. A magnificent low lying building with a grand bar and a dining room to one side. Several droids are sitting at tables talking about the weather and some at the bar like they are propping the place up and watching sport on the screen.
We perch on a couple of stools at the bar and are approached by the barman. “Gerard, this is Gordon” says Viv. We shake hands, a custom I’m not quite used to yet.
“What will it be Gordy, we have Trotters Ale or Trotters Ale” informs Gerard.
“Make that two” says Viv. I’ve been drinking this Trotters Ale since coming on board and I must admit I really like it now although it did take some time. “So for tea Gordon it’s Bat Shit on toast or Kanck’s gizzard sandwiches?” smiles Viv.
My jaw drops and the bar erupts in laughter, hmm, Inner Cyberians, a tricky lot.
We enjoy a few more ales and I’m feeling quite relaxed but there is something that has been puzzling me. “ Viv” I explore, treading carefully, afraid to be thought of as mad “ Look in the last episode someone spoke to me about getting on with it, I thing the name was Hung”
“ Oh, Hung” reveals Viv, full of knowledge “ Hung’s the author of this story. Look see that screen over there, and how you can see a faint image of a person typing at the keyboard, well that’s Hung”
“ Author, story, you mean I’m not real but simply a fictitious character.” I blurt confused as to what’s going on.
“ Of course you are real Gordon. Everyone that reads this story knows you created the universe and this website has over 450,000 hits so mate you are very real” asserts Viv.
“ But he spoke to me” again my anxiety rising.
“ And yeah, you can speak to him any time but it must be inside closed brackets like this . If you don’t like something or have a suggestion on the story just type you request inside closed brackets and Hung will talk to you” says Viv. “ Here I’ll show you”
[Hey Hung, great gag about the bat shit on toast]
[Thanks Viv. Gordon may need some sedation later till he understands]
[Yeah, he’s a bit wet behind the ears but I think we can work with him, I mean he likes beer for starters]
[Hung, Gordon here, am I real?]
[As real as anything else in this universe. Don’t worry, any concerns just talk to me. My closed brackets are always open to you.]