© W.C. Feelz- Wayne Collins, February 1998
The weather was perfect...somewhere. The Darwin wet season was in full swing as Jake sat in the rain, waiting for his contact. As always, the feral was late.
Bloody ferals always had to meet out doors. It was no way to do business, Jake thought. Why couldn't they scrub up and meet in the pub like every one else?
Jake smelled the feral before he saw him. He wondered why anybody would live the way these misfits did. Pete the hippy slithered up to him in the dark and Jake asked, "Is my shipment safe? Where is it? How soon can I expect delivery?"
He was wet, thirsty and disgusted that times had become so hard. He hated doing business with these people but it was a question of supply and demand. The ferals could supply. And Jakes demand was great.
Pete the hippie wasn't to fussed about doing business with Jake 'cos the bloke scared him shitless. It was the kind of fear you could smell and the stench was strong in Pete's reply.
"It's safe, it's just not here," he stammered. "Delivery should be on schedule. Bring a truck to the Nightcliff boat ramp at midnight. This is our biggest shipment yet. No trouble. Please, Jake. Please?"
The big man grunted. " I have something for you. It's right here in my jacket." Jake reached inside his coat, enjoying the look of fear in Pete's eyes as he produced a small sachet and a commando knife. He approached the trembling feral, slit open the sachet and spilled the contents over the bum's head.
Pete screamed in fear and instinctively rubbed at his face and hair. Foam erupted from the hippies head. Jake laughed as the teeming tropical rain washed layers of sweaty grime from the howling hippie.
"Photographic detergent," Jake grinned. "Strong stuff. The best thing for built up dirt."
Then he thought about his transport problem. The need for a truck brought Jake to Spanna in the same way a gunshot wound brings a wanted man to a vet. She was a good woman. Loyal. Trustworthy. Jake had saved her from more than one sticky situation. Their past roots had also involved several sticky situations.
Jake shrugged. She was as close to a friend as he had and, as one of his mates had pointed out, if you cant fuck your friends, who can you fuck?
Soon as he told Spanna, she wanted to go along. He owed it to her, she said. As they waited for the boat, Jake thought she was about the best woman he'd ever met - and he'd met quite a few.
But the fucken ferals were late. Again. It had to be expected. But the oral attention Spanna gave Jake in the cab of the truck made the waiting bearable, even if it dampened his concentration.
The boat came in at about 1.30 am. Jake wasn't as pissed off as he'd have been if he'd been waiting alone. He figured he'd do something nice for Spanna - maybe even let her use some of the cargo on him.
Pete the hippie wasn't there, maybe the shock of being partially clean had slowed him up. Pete's mate Wayno the Wino showed up instead. Jake liked Wayno. At least he kept himself clean. And despite his taste for plonk, he was reasonably intelligent.
After the cash and the product were exchanged, Jake and Spanna put the next phase of their beaut plan into action.
They drove to police headquarters and spent three-and-a-half hours climbing silently up and down the ladder to the buildings water tower to complete the job.
Jake didn't realise how draining the task would be. The constant leg work, the heavy loads, the fear of arrest and the need to remain silent - all took its toll. But all they had to do was was wait for the product they'd dumped in the water to take effect.
It didn't take long.
By the end of the first shift the next day, things were better than Jake could have hoped for. The Viagra had done its job well.
At last, the Coppers had grown some balls and were chasing the real criminals. Even the bastards in their own ranks.
With any luck, they'd leave the three meagre dope plants in Jakes back yard the fuck alone.
to celebrate. Recently sold it again for another $200. All further offers will be considered........