Keith - First Wave

Keith, a 16 year old Aussie surfer.
(Contains some Australian slang)

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6. The walk

Alone.

Well, not quite. There are quite a few people around and it is only 12. The problem here, will be finding people willing to go back this early.

At least Keith has understood that no one is going to save two stranded , innocent (I can act the part, don't worry) creatures, from boredom, by giving them a lift, if it means leaving Cape Woolamai this early. I wouldn't.

Well, let's guess what he's thinking : "How about calling a cab ?" or maybe "How about waiting till evening when someone will give us a ride back."

"RIght. Walk to San Remo and grab the bus home."

Boy. Don't kid me. San Remo is an hour away on foot. Let's go get a few more hotdo- Hey ! Get back here.

Damn it. Guess I have no choice then.

A long, long, while later.

Bark. Bark.

Too ... tired. Can't ... go on.

"It's only been ten minutes, you lazy mutt !"

I know. Trust me, I do. Why else do you think I am so tired ?

"We're not stopping. Whine all you like."

Oh really ? Is that how you treat the one who's brought you up ? The one who's spoon-fed you ever since you were a child ? The one- I should probably stop taking credit for Fiona's work now.

Regardless, I am tired and he's not stopping. Guess I'll have to tough it out.

Maybe I can distract myself. I'll just think about Fiona. Yeah, that sounds good.

Oh Fiona.

There are no roses in the land,

That could rival with your scent.

There are no words that are meant,

To limn the softness of your hand.

There are no valleys in the woods,

That can dare compete with yours,

There aren't terms in the discourse,

To describe your prurient goods.

I keep going too far, don't I ?

A lecherous smile crosses my face.

I feel I've not gone far enough. Muahaha.

I stare at Keith's watch. Apparently, it's taken me over 40 minutes to come up with that. Poor effort. At least, we're almost there. Ten minutes to go.

"Oh. There's the bus. Run."

The stop is ten minutes away ! You want me to run till the stop ? Go fluff yourself.

And so we run.

And we make it.

And we get on.

And we're kicked off.

Apparently, no pets allowed, because some grandma started wailing the moment we got on.

"I will not ride on the same bus as that fleabag ! I will report you, if my health is not important enough."

After which we got the following from the driver :

"Sorry mate, the boss says no."

 

Alone.

This time, for real. Not a car in sight.

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