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Why I Need Mace

August 2, 2009

I arrive at the station just in time to watch my train pulling away.

Fifteen minutes ’til the next one. Not too long to wait under normal circumstances. But it’s dark out and the station is deserted. So that’s fifteen long minutes of contemplation about recent assaults on Perth’s rail lines.

I pull a detective novel out of my bag  and try to take my mind off my anxiety. Two pages in, I hear skateboards approaching. A group of teenagers grind noisily to a halt beside me.

I tense up. Half a dozen empty benches and they pick mine to cluster around.

I pretend to be oblivious, burying my nose in my book. It is not easy. One boy is loudly rapping about genitals on his chin while his mates bang their skateboards on the ground in a messy beat. Short of exploded eardrums, anyone would be hard-pressed to ignore the cacophony. I want to walk away but doing so will probably invite trouble.

Finally, our bard judges that he has exhaustively described his begenitaled chin. He suddenly drops to the ground, propping his feet on the bench, and proceeds to do push-ups. He must be the trend-setter in the group because the rest immediately follow suit, trash talking each other as they do so. I am now in the midst of a push-up competition.

This is bizarre. But all is explained when methamphetamines are mentioned. Goody gumdrops, I am in danger of being thrown onto the tracks by pimply junkies. My kung fu classes didn’t cover this.

Two minutes to go. I just have to make it ’til the train arrives.

I clutch my paperback, ready to papercut-slash the throat of anyone who so much as breathes on me.

(Continued here)

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. August 3, 2009 12:28 am

    What a nice blog. How’s your day?

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  2. August 3, 2009 10:43 pm

    Thanks! Will check the site out!

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