Free And De Fun Don't Done by Robert G. Barrett Page B

by a swarm of sea wasps.
    â€˜Hank,’ yelled Norton. ‘Are you alright? What is it mate?’
    â€˜What is it!’ screamed Hank. ‘It’s fuckin’ crap.’
    â€˜Stone the bloody crows. I don’t believe it.’ Les had a quick look to the left. ‘But if it is. Duck, mate. I think there’s more.’
    Hank was still cursing and wiping shit from his face and hands when he was enveloped in a thick brown cloud. He howled up at the sky, and grabbed at his face mask. But it filled up with shit spreading into his eyes as well. Hank was literally in the shit, deep and shallow. He tore his face mask off and still cursing and gagging swam into the quiet little bay. Les gave him a bit of start then drifted up near him and watched as Hank flopped around wiping shit out of his eyes and from his hands, face and neck.
    â€˜It’s those bloody New Yorkers, mate, you can bet your life,’ said Norton. ‘Dirty, smart arse bastards in their powerboats. They piss and shit everywhere.’ Les slipped his mask on top of his head and sniffed at the air. ‘Yeah. Bloody pastrami on rye. You can smell it.’
    Hank was in a terrible state; and it wasn’t South Florida. He was fuming. He spluttered and gagged some more as he tried to clean the horrible, stinking, clinging mess from him. ‘Goddamn!’ he swore at the top of his voice. ‘I hate those motherfuckers!!’
    â€˜Yeah. I don’t blame you,’ agreed Les. ‘They’re enough to give you the … shits alright.’
    â€˜Aarrghh!! Christ!!!’
    Norton floated easily in the waist-deep water for a few moments. ‘So what do you want to do now?’
    â€˜Go back to the goddamn car.’
    â€˜Fair enough.’ Norton was about to put his facemask back on but stopped. ‘Hey, you know, I just thought of something, Hank.’
    â€˜What!!?’
    â€˜I’m glad I bought a snorkel now.’
    Back at the car Hank was still an extremely disturbed patient. He ranted and raved and didn’t see the funny side of things at all. Somehow they managed to get changed and into the front seat; Hank had got rid of most of the crap but there was definitely still a hint of Edgar in the air. Norton wound down the window and did his best to sit quietly while Hank shoved a Winston in his gob and lit it.
    â€˜So where to now, mate?’
    â€˜There’s a shower on the beach.’
    Les nodded approvingly. ‘Not a bad idea. Get the salt water off.’
    They drove off slowly along the avenue that ran alongside the water, to where it doglegged round to the main road, and past the shops to the start of the beach Les had noticed earlier. As Hank pulled up for the traffic Les turned to him.
    â€˜You know it doesn’t smell all that bad.’
    â€˜What are you talking about? It smells like shit.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ agreed Norton. ‘But it ain’t all that bad. I mean, I’m not trying to say the person who that shit belongs to could get around thinking his shit didn’t stink, but it’s that close it doesn’t make any difference to me. You know what I’m saying? You smell alright.’
    â€˜I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you jerk.’
    â€˜Sorry, mate. I was only tryin’ to be friendly.’
    The shower was a wooden platform that dribbled and ponged away next to the mandatory parking lot about as big as the Sydney Showground. It sat just up from the beach, which was quite wide and had the finest white sand Les had ever seen; it was almost like powder. The hard sand at the water’s edge looked about two hundred yards wide from water to beach front, and Les noticed severalpeople on pushbikes. He commented to Hank that pedalling along the beach on a bike looked like a bit of fun; Hank seemed more interested in another cigarette after he finished showering so Les didn’t pursue the matter. It was sunny and