Ned tore into the car park in front of the Sandy Hollow general store sending an up-current of dust into his car. Fifteen kilometres back Ned had made the grave error of trying to straddle a dead kangaroo in his car. He had mistakenly assumed that he could clear the minced marsupial as it lay eviscerated in the middle of the highway. The kangaroo impacted the underside of the Pintara with a metallic thud and there it stayed for several kilometres before most of it came bouncing out from the back of the car after it had been sufficiently ground down by the road surface. The stench of the kangaroo had flooded into the car through the vents before Ned had time to close them. He found himself hastily unwinding all the windows while dry-heaving. The open windows took the hard edge off the stink but it was still quite unbearable.
Luckily the general store doubled as a service station and had a small selection of motoring paraphernalia. Ned purchased several car deodorisers in a variety of scents as well as a can of air freshener. Outside he took the watering can that sat on top of a bin next to the lone petrol bowser and poured water liberally through the engine housing where he could see chunks of furry flesh still clinging to the underside of the engine block. Ned hung the pine scented deodoriser from the rear-view mirror and scattered some others across the dashboard. He left the air freshener can on the passenger seat for easy access and as a final assurance hung a bacon scented deodoriser around his neck.
As he hummed up the coast, Ned tried to breathe exclusively through his mouth. The smell of death was certainly less conspicuous but it had been replaced with a sickly mixture of fragrances that was only slightly better. Several kilometres spent stuck behind a cattle truck came as something of a strange relief. At every opportunity Ned would steer into puddles, hoping to rinse away the remaining offending giblets. When he finally arrived back in Bundleton, Ned wanted to drive his car into the creek and let it sink. By the time he pulled into the driveway it was 2 o'clock on Friday morning. When he opened the front door to his house the hallway wall was awash with the light being projected by the unwatched television. The lounge room was empty save for Rooster who was asleep under the footrest of the recliner. Ned flopped onto the couch and watched an Argentinian rugby game that he stumbled upon as he flicked through the channels. After the sensory ordeal of the 11-hour car journey the usual sweaty stink of the couch was fairly innocuous.
*
The sliding, crashing and hydraulic strains of the garbage truck woke Ned at 5.30am, he was still lying on the couch. As he sat up and wiped the sweat off his neck with his shirt he heard Big Jake tiptoeing down the hall toward the front door. Big Jake must have noticed the flashing echo of the TV because he made a detour to come into the lounge room to turn it off.
'What are you doing you weird prick?' he whispered as he spotted Ned on the couch.
'Hey mate. I got in late and started watching a bit of tele, must've crashed out'.
BigJake continued out the door and off to work while Ned contemplated moving tohis bed
YOU ARE READING
Tip Rats
General FictionNed wants to make something of his life, he's just not sure what that something is. He's watched his father rot in front of the television for as long as he can remember and he's afraid he'll end up doing the same. That's what the little town of Bun...
