‘What!’
‘Quick, before they can get Bec’s window open all the way,’ I said, getting up and grabbing him by the arm.
‘Do I have to?’
My eye happened upon the Karma Tree sitting by the front door. Just a dehydrated ficus, whose very survival depended upon good deeds done by us, the housemates; more New Age claptrap courtesy of Kerryn, our resident nitwit. But in its limp and drooping aspect I saw reflected my own shabby record of cowardice in the face of adversity, inaction in the face of injustice. I looked back at Bliss, scrunching herself into the corner of the couch in terror, felt that ancient and previously dormant Y chromosome stirring, and nodded.
‘f*****g hell, man,’ he moaned, but he got up and followed me down the hall. I grabbed the broom on the way past; it never got much of
