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Home with the Downies Pt. 1

June 7, 2008

I want to give you an idea of the area I lived in before moving to Trampolineville. At the end of last year, I was meant to move interstate for my postgrad. But things happened (namely my death threats worked and my current uni offered me a place in the program) and I ended up staying in Perth after all. Unfortunately, I had already let my dorm room go so I was forced to pack up and find somewhere else to live.

Enter my best mates. We obviously got along like peanut butter and chocolate and they happened to have a room free. Too easy. It was already furnished, they had a massive plasma tv, assorted game consoles, and a ridiculously well-stocked bar.

Too good to be true? Yes, it was.

My new housemates lived in an area which I like to affectionately refer to as the Harlem of Perth. Cop cars patrolled the streets and you’d sometimes be treated to flashing lights and a woop! woop! as they called in on someone farther down the street. My mate’s car was broken into twice and the neighbour had a suspicious looking crop growing in the back yard.

Still, I thought it was a pretty sweet deal. I was close to uni, lived with fun people, and everything was fine as long as I remembered to sprint home after dark. That is, until I had my first ghetto experience.

One night, I was awakened by voices from the living room. Unfamiliar voices. Someone sobbing loudly and another shouting excitedly about…machetes?!!! I leapt out of bed and rushed to the living room. Just as I flung the door open, I realised what I had forgotten, “Damn! Golf club!!”

The shouting stopped in mid-rant as three pairs of eyes turned towards me. “She lives here too,” my housemate waved tiredly at me by way of introduction. I blinked confusedly at our intruders, a teenage girl and boy, the latter clutching a bloodied rag. Apparently, they had been walking home from a party when a car full of large blokes pulled up next to them and started verbally harassing the girl. The boy took offense and threatened them with a knife he coincidentally had in his pocket. Unfortunately, the blokes were able to counter-threaten him with a machete (!!!) they coincidentally had in the vehicle. One thing led to another and the boy ended up with a machete gash on his arm. When the girl started screaming, my housemate opened the front door to check that no one was being murdered on the doorstep. As soon as they saw the open door though, the teenagers turned tail and ran for our house.

(To be continued)

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