Go for a ride they said...
Let's go camping, get pissed and have a good time they said...
It'll be fun they said...
Now look at me. I'm stuck in some random ass padded room, in which I have no memory of, stark fucking naked except for a three and a half thousand times too small straight jacket, and a plate of fucking hay... WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO PISS YOU OFF THIS MUCH, GOD?!?!?!?!?!
But before all that, a quick recap. Two days ago, one of my mates corners me in the pub after I knock off from work. He yabbers on about a little trip for just us blokes, no fretting girlfriends, a lot of alcohol, mud and dirtbikes. I've been stuck on the farm for way too bloody long by this point, and I've had a gut full of the work the old mans been dishing out for me. So how could I refuse?
So after a few drinks... Ok a few kegs, we part ways and I prep up for a week of sheer madness and fun. Ute loaded with dirtbike? Check. Enough fuel for both my bus and bike to make the suspension sag a bit? Cheeeck. Enough booze to last me almost non-stop drinking for the week?.. Double check. My swag(the canvas sleeping bag because I'm not a slack jawed moron)? Check. Dog?.. Wait, you're not on the list! Bugger off! Check.
So in short, my mates and I were planning on general drunken mayhem out bush. Again, how could I refuse? Well, it all went to shit before I even woke up apparently. All I remember is going to sleep, and waking up in a nut house. Of course, I was a little taken aback... And quite cranky, hence the jacket. Now during the time I did the recap, I've finally managed to get the jacket off me, simply by tearing the sucker apart with my awesome abilities of generally flailing about like a fish with an issue on life. Eat your heart out Chris Angel! So that's it, I'm out... The door should be simple... Shouldn't it? I run at it like a retarded fat kid to a canteen filled with meat pies and chips (no offense intended against fat people (and most certainly no offense against the mentally impaired... It's just a few of my school mates were out right fucking idiots)). And in no less then five seconds, I'm on the floor clutching my shoulder while wishing to be at the pub with a chicken parmigiana on the bar in front of me. Ok then, new tactic.
I brace myself on my left leg, lift my right, and kick the fucker off the hinges. You learn some skills when your sibling has issues with locking you in the shed whilst it's filled with rats and spiders the size of your finger nail. Now for the non Aussies reading this, where I'm from we have what we call a Red Back, and they are INCREDIBLY venomous and I live more then half an hour from the nearest hospital. So I take it you understand my trepidation towards little black spiders... Anyway, the door flies off it's hinges and across the corridor like a bat out of hell. Now I stand out in the hall deciding which way I should go, left or... Left it is, since right ends in a dead end. At this point, I couldn't care less if I was naked. I am in a nut house after all, might as well go with the flow.
After 20 minutes or so of aimlessly blundering around, I come into what looks like a garage. I look out the window and see its just coming up to sunrise, now I know why I didn't see anyone. As I scan around, I finally see my baby girl riding atop my baby girl. My bike and ute are still together, my swag is still there also along with the booze, and my clothes are on a nearby bench. Naturally, I go and get dressed, but with me being as curious as I am, I go and poke my nose into things I shouldn't. I swear if my father caught me, he'd follow through on the threat he gave me when I was a kid, "Put your nose in something else again, and you'll lose it". How was I supposed to know what a Zoo magazine was. I was only six!
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
I look up in shock, mostly at the fact I've been caught reading through someone's note pad. Oh the juicy contents. But do a double take when I see a handful of small horses. Granted that I'm not particularly fond of said creatures, these ones actually look kind of off from the normal money eating monsters that inhabit the lives of some very silly people, and the minds of young girls who think that a horse can do no wrong considering they don't pay to keep the fucking things. These ones look like they belong in a cartoon, being very colourful with comically large heads and eyes, and a marking of some form on their asses. Two of them were in what looked like armour made from solid gold, making me wince at the fact it's just too soft for armour, and at how much I could earn by selling the stuff. "You two, get him!" one of the white coats orders, at this I run flat strap across the garage to my ute.
Once in, I find my keys are right where I left them, in the ignition. Fucking score! As I wait for the glow plugs to heat the motor, I calmly look out to the bank toting pair outside. They look like they honestly do not know what to do, and they'll most certainly won't know what after I turn the key. As I do, the starter kicks in, making my old bus whir, whine and chug in her morning song until.
VROOM VROOM MUTHA FUCKAS!!!
The shiny pair run off screaming blue murder, as a cloud of black diesel fumes drifts past me... Maybe I shouldn't hold the accelerator down next time. In an instant, on comes one of my favorite songs. I wind down the window and crank up the stereo to its absolute max as the little guitar intro runs while I look at the bewilders horses, throw on my sunnies and give them a click of my tongue and shake my head slightly. As the epic solo starts, I ram the stick into first, dump the clutch and put the boot in, making the tires squeal on the polished concrete as I speed off for the roller door at the end of the garage. Now a bullbar is built for a reason, one I very clearly pointed out as I ran straight through the thing, making it come out of the rails, come flying over the bonnet, over my bike and other cargo.
"Well isn't this just the ducks nuts?" I ask myself over the blasting music, as I find I'm in a city of the colourful little bastards. I mean, the little sods were everywhere! That and I'm coincidentally on a road. "... Meh," I say in reply to my question, and casually drive down the main thoroughfare with my arm resting on the door and my other on the wheel, scattering the walking crayons into nearby buildings. As I'm driving, I notice my hat on the passenger seat. It's old and worn, and some of the felt is starting to come appart around the crown, I've had this hat since I was twelve so I can assure what Akubra says about their hats. Nigh on indestructible, and in my case, fucking filthy.
I go through the city at a casual pace of about 20 to 30 kilometers per hour, mostly unimpeded appart from a few "brave" tourists who stop to take as many photos as they can. Well, my old ute IS pretty boss. An old Ford Maverick (or Nissan Patrol to the more technicaly implied persons out there) tray top utility, with a plain white body with a big roo bar up front with many two-way arials poking out, a red bug deflector on the bonnet with "Flamin Feral" stenciled on it in white, a chrome smokestack poking up near the passenger side and a custom turbo blow off giving my bus the classic whistle of a truck. Hell, I even have an exhaust brake to complete the deal, and even a series of orange lights going down the side of the tray. My ute would be considered average if I were to go to an annual ute muster, but as I said, here it might as well be boss of bosses.
So I make it to the edge of the city, and see that I'm on a mountain. Beneath said mountain is a large valley with a big patch of bushland out past another little settlement. As I contemplate my next move with the motor doing its little "I'm sucking a shit load of fuel out of the tank which will cost you a lot to fill up so don't mind me" gurgling, an actual sized horse with wings and a horn lands in front of me. I blink. It blinks. We both stare at each other for a second, until it shoots a frickin laser from its head. It misses, but I'm not going to sit here and let it try it's luck again. Giving my old bus the boot, I scream past it while changing gears like I'm in a sports car instead of some second hand utility vehicle with an ego. The needle on the speedo starts to rapidly climb, the motors screaming its lungs out, I look back to find that the laser shooting THING is after me!
"Aww, fuck this shit!" I say as I slam the gear stick into fourth, and watch as the needle climbs upwards to 90km/h. I look back in my mirror and find the horse in the literal dust and poke my head out the window careful not to lose my hat, "Haha, ya fuckin' wanker!". To put it bluntly, I'm glad I'm out of there. Now... Where to next?
Author's Note
Just some random ass thing I came up with... Not much else to say.
