“How’s that! He’s just up the road!” Turbo beamed as he got lucky with a green light. But Diesel was ominously quiet.
“Good, ’cause I’m gonna kill the little bastard,” he finally declared.
“Oh, for Christ sake Dies’! Your old man’s full o’ shit! You know it and I know it!”
“I don’t know nothin’ of the sort, Turbo! What I do know is that little bastard nearly killed my old man and he’s gonna pay!”
“Fair dinkum, Dies’, think about it will ya — he reckons he busted Billy trying to kill the Bullies with his fishing spear but there’s no way he’d use that spear to hunt on dry land. He’d use a spear like the one he gave me, or his boomerang even.” Turbo struggled with the gears as he came to a stop in the middle of heavy traffic right beside the park.
“What difference does it make what spear he was using?” Diesel shouted in anger. “He nearly killed me old man and he’s probably eaten me dogs!”
“’cause like I keep trying to tell ya, he wouldn’t want to run the risk of breaking the barbs on a rock. He’s not that stupid! I reckon your old man’s bullshittin’ about what happened, Dies’. That’s why I asked him if he was sure that the spear Billy threw at him with the fishing barbs was the same one he saw Billy about to spear the Bullies with. He was positive about it, which means he’s lying. He loved that rooster and he hates the dogs! Don’t you think it’s strange how the Bullies suddenly disappeared on the same day they killed his rooster? I reckon Billy musta had good reason to throw his spear at him. You know what he’s like, Dies’, he’s a mongrel!”
“GET STUFFED, TURBO! Billy’s dead and you will be too if you get in my way!” At that, Diesel jumped out of the truck and headed straight for the picnic area.
For the first time in many years, Turbo saw Diesel for the awesome threat that he was. A massively muscled tattooed man with a clenched fist–full of rings, big boots, torn jeans and a black leather vest.
“DIES’ WAIT UP WILL YA? LET ME TALK TO HIM FIRST.” But it was too late — Diesel was already rounding the corner for the picnic area while stashing his wraparound sunglasses into the pocket of his pants. “SHIT!” Turbo cursed as he tried to work out how to beat him there. But there was nothing he could do while stuck at the traffic lights. He couldn’t even drive up the gutter and across the park to head him off. Then he got an idea — he flicked on the hazard lights and propped open the bonnet so it looked like the truck had broken down. He bolted but he only got as far as the sidewalk when he was stopped dead in his tracks.
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