Tip Rats

Part 16 - Dogs

Ned, Andy and Chris sat on the balcony overlooking the greyhound track and discussed their upcoming jaunt. Chris had requested the Bulwarra Bay Greyhounds be their meeting place for the evening in an attempt to avoid the taunts, whispers and abuses the folk of Bundleton enjoyed directing at him in light of recent events.

'Wow, this place is a real shithole' observed Andy, watching the patrons haunt the bar and poker machines. 'What time do the dogs run?'

'Dunno. Later on sometime', replied Chris expertly.

Shabby looking cars driven by shabbier looking people were arriving in the adjacent car park. Many of them were towing what looked like tiny caravans, containing the evening's entertainment who were muzzled, lean and as ugly as fuck.

'If horseracing is the sport of kings what do they call this?' asked Ned.

'The sport of peasants?' suggested Chris.

'Where does it stand on the scale of racing sports? Does it go gallops, trots then greyhounds?'

'There's that horse hurdling too' said Andy.

'I think pigeon racing is above it. And camel racing' suggested Chris.

'And ostriches' added Ned, 'but it's above cane toad racing'.

'Ferrets'.

'It's between ostriches and ferrets' Chris declared with a confident nod and a surprising degree of certainty. Ned and Andy were satisfied with the assessment and returned approving nods of their own.

Over in the car park Shane spilled out of the passenger side of Nath's car, his arm draped in plastic wrap to shield his new tribal inspired tattoo from the elements. Nath emerged from the other side, resplendent in his flat-brimmed baseball cap, a thick, braided gold chain dangled outside his t-shirt.

'So I reckon we write a list of places we want to check out and take it from there' suggested Chris, rising from his chair, 'I'll be back in a sec'. Chris walked inside and headed over to the betting area where he grabbed a tiny pencil and a betting slip. He returned to the balcony drumming the pencil against the slip, 'alright' he said with great enthusiasm as he sat down, 'hit me boys'. The three of them then exchanged ideas over several beers and a rudimentary list took shape.

'L.A' Chris muttered as he began scribbling.

'I think that's a given mate, it's where the plane pulls up' Andy chirped.

'What's in L.A? Hollywood, Venice Beach.....' Chris continued unperturbed.

'Huntington Beach' Ned chimed in, 'Disneyland'.

'Excellent suggestion' Chris declared with a smile.

Andy hurriedly put his schooner down 'What about Vegas, write that down as a definite' he declared tapping the list aggressively.

'And then Mexico, yeah?' Ned asked.

'Definitely' Chris smiled adding it to the bottom of the slip.

Chris dropped his pencil and slapped his now empty glass on the table, 'I gotta piss', and with that he

scurried inside.

'He's chirped up', said Ned.

'Yeah, he's pretty pumped for the trip' replied Andy. 'I don't think his old man's speaking to him at the moment, I think he's pretty keen to get out of here for a while'.

'So, end of the month you reckon?'

Andy nodded, 'yeah, I should be right to go by then'.

'So we're looking at about three weeks then, I'll have to get my shit together' said Ned. 'S'pose I should go pay my Mum a visit'.

'Oh, that'll be good' replied Andy, his smirk undermining the enthusiastic tone.

Ned snickered out of his nose as he stared into his beer, swirling it around in his glass and thinking about the prospect of a visit to his mother's farmhouse in Collombindee and another first hand observation of her new, Roach free existence.

Below the balcony Shane was proudly showing off his newly needled on ink squiggles to his fellow greyhound enthusiasts and introducing his new alpha male superior to the finer points of trackside skulking. The pair sauntered about the totes with an unwarranted air of superiority which came naturally to Nath, but to Shane it was surely inspired by the fact he was one of the few people there wearing pants with belt loops and shoes with laces. The fact that both men had girlfriends not purchased in a Thai brothel also elevated their status no end.

'There was a bloke in the toilet brushing his dentures' announced Chris as he planted himself back in his chair.

Ned shuffled his chair across a few inches, 'well at least he's brushing them'.

Chris stared blankly at Ned, seeming to have forgotten his train of thought. 'I'm happy to sort out the tickets and stuff, I haven't got much else on' he blurted after a pronounced blink and shake of the head which seemed to restore his focus. 'You'll have to give me your passport numbers'.

Ned's eyed widened, 'shit! I don't have one'.

'You'll wanna get that organised ASAP' Chris commanded, 'tomorrow'.

'I'll score you the day off mate, so you can go up to the city' Andy said reassuringly, rocking back on his chair and peering over the balcony railing. 'I see your brother and your new housemate are in tonight' he observed waggling a finger in the direction of the track. 'We might have to go down and buy him a beer for making you wake up to yourself'.

Chris turned around to glance over the railing, 'is your sister going out with Nathan Reynolds? That dude is a cunt Ned'.

Ned nodded his head solemnly.

'You made a good choice' Chris whispered, reaching across to gently pat Ned's hand. Chris did not have a sympathetic bone in his body and was clearly imitating something he had seen in a movie.

Chris continued his makeshift note-taking with gusto, assigning set numbers of days per location and a series of sexual goals. Ned was intent on a more 'play it by ear' style trip but allowed Chris to scribble away like an excited pre-schooler. He half expected him to draw some stick figure scenes of the three of them on their trip to display on the refrigerator, such was his childlike anticipation of the holiday. It must have been good for him, cheering him up and keeping his mind off the work and home issues that draped over him like a shit stained blanket.

This adventure would do them all some good, Ned mused. It would give them some perspective, make them grow up a bit, a journey of self-discovery and all that bullshit. For Ned it would be an opportunity to find some direction, take a step back from his reality and ponder it from a comfortable distance. For Chris it was an opportunity to drink strange beers and fuck new chicks, all in a place where nobody knew who he was. For Andy it was a holiday, and he liked holidays.

From below, a crescendo of aggressive encouragement and abuse disturbed the relative peace of the balcony setting. All three boys popped up to observe the ruckus and witnessed the final few bounds of the evening's first race. As 'Sir Henry' crossed the line half a length clear of 'Don't Tell the Missus' a chorus of cheers and profanities erupted. Shane held up his hand for a high five, it remained there for an uncomfortably long time before he lowered it and attempted a complicated handshake with Nath.

The dogs contesting the second race of the night were soon paraded before the modest crowd. Ned noticed that Melanie, the underage chip shop heiress and focus of Shane's affection, was leading out the number four dog, 'Finnegan's Wake', waddling out majestically in her best leggings and ugg-boots.

'There's Shane's girlfriend' Ned announced as she joined the line of trainers behind the starting traps.

'Which one?' Asked Chris.

'The one whose mullet is tied in a ponytail' Andy slipped in before Ned could respond.

'Number four' Ned added dryly.

'The one on the lead or the one holding it?' Chris asked to nobody's amusement but his own.