Tip Rats

Part 34 - Baywatching

The bus ride to the coast took them through the L.A they recognised from rap videos and delivered them to the L.A they recognised from Baywatch. They walked across the vast, flat and featureless beach to the pier which had been made famous in Australia by way of numerous surf movies. After a short period of contemplation Chris lay down in the shade underneath the pier, succumbing to his lack of sleep and dignity. Ned, who had up until this point felt indifferent to Chris's weariness, began to feel a sudden surge of empathy for his friend.

'You want me to go and get you a Red Bull buddy?' Ned gave Chris a nudge with his foot.

'Yeah, get me three'.

Ned and Andy walked up to the beachside pathway in search of refreshments. After acquiring Chris's cans of pep the boys took a detour along the pier on the return trip, stopping to watch surfers and survey the coastline that was all at once familiar and strange. The guys out in the surf and on the beach looked just like the guys back at home, the girls laying on the sand with their bikini-top strings untied pecking away at their mobile phones were identical. The pump jacks that dotted the coastline were something entirely unfamiliar, as was the broad and relatively featureless expanse of sand and concrete that flowed north, south and eastward from the shoreline. No sign of the grassy headlands that broke up the coastline at home. By the time they headed back to Chris's day-nest they'd been gone for nearly an hour. As they walked across the beach alongside the pier Ned and Andy could see that Chris's curled up body was being attended by a pair of old, beach trawling good Samaritans. As they drew near, one of the blokes hovering over Chris looked up.

'This your buddy?'

'Yep' replied Andy walking over to join them.

'He drunk?'

'Nah, he's just a very special boy'. Andy crouched down and sprinkled sand into Chris's ear-hole, causing him to blindly lash out like a tantruming infant before sitting up and frantically shaking his head to disperse the sand.

'I guess I'll leave you to it then' said the stranger as he and his companion made a hasty, shuffling retreat.

'Thanks' called out Ned raising a hand in salute, before presenting Chris with his Red Bull's.

*

After 15 minutes the trio of cans had done the trick and Chris was back to his irritating self as the boys sat at a table in front of a 1950's themed diner waiting for their meals.

'The phone in there's the same as the one in our hotel room' Chris announced as he peered in through the front window.

'This place probably got most of its old shit from the Buena Vista, go give it a sniff' Ned suggested to no response.

A waitress dressed in a white poodle skirt and a red apron backed through the door carrying a tray of authentic 50's food for the boys. The leading edge of the white paper hat pinned to her head poked Ned on the cheek as she lowered the tray to the table.

'What's the plan for tonight?' asked Andy as he tried to gather up his authentic burger without spilling its contents onto the footpath.

Ned shrugged his shoulders, his mouth negotiating the oversized bun that was apparently all the rage after the war.

'I'm going back to Platinum' declared Chris, pointing at himself with the French-fry wedged between his greasy thumb and forefinger.

Ned and Andy shook their heads in simultaneous disgust. 'You'll have to go home next week if you keep throwing your money at hookers' opined Ned with a spray of chopped lettuce and breadcrumbs.

'I came here to party, I'm not on a cultural excursion'.

'Well, whatever, you're going on your own' Andy assured him.

'No I'm not, I'm taking Gino'.

'The girls'll love that eh', Andy retorted, 'creepy old Gino rubbing his scaly old paws all over 'em'. Chris responded with a dismissive spasm and focused in on his cold-war platter, leaving Ned and Andy to mull over their options.

After another duodenum testing feast the trio took to the streets of Huntington Beach to search for a city bound bus.