Home Guard

Chapter 11

Group grope on home-grown dope

The party staggered out of the house towards the small above ground pool. The night was hot. The atmosphere was cool man cool. The love was free and that was a good thing. No one had any money. They had pooled what they had to buy a couple of flagons and grown the rest of the fun themselves.

Pink Floyd had chilled their minds at the start of the night, Billy Connolly records had made their sides ache and the smoke from the herb worked its magic on an already morally bohemian bunch.

Wally and Sally were swingers. Not a surprise. Just a surprise when you’re in a tiny pool with a bunch of people in the mood for love. And you’re falling out of love. And it’s a woman that’s trying to love you. With hairy underarms. Lyn wasn’t into women. Or other men. Just one man.

One man was into it though. He couldn’t sleep. The neighbours were partying again and he needed to investigate. The shed his vantage point. He got more than he bargained for. A cold pool of warm bodies shivering in each others arms and mouths. Long wet hair ran on shining backs… and that was just the men.

Lyn climbed out of the pool hurriedly. This was not her scene. She looked up at the stars avoiding eye contact with the hairy moon next to her and saw the man on the roof. Fiddler on the roof.

Lyn gasped loudly alerting Wally mid grope.

Oi. What you doing up there man? he yelled out at the upstanding neighbour.

Just cleaning the gutters mate.…

Pretty late for that man…it's after midnight

The random lovers had all giggled but the silly weed was on them and there was no dampening the mood.

Lyn ran home and cried. The night had turned to s**t as always. Why was this happening? Why couldn't they just have normal nights? Her other friends all seemed to have lovely families and nights out dancing with their sweethearts.

Knock, knock at the door.. Hello Lyn are you there, babe?

Wally came over in a toga to check on Lyn. Farted. And promptly passed out on the lounge room floor. A snoring fat lump. She was too tired to care. Even though he did make the place look untidy. He was untidy. His shrivelled p***s buried in-between mountainous thighs under the shadow of gut. She flipped his costume back over it. Much better.

She didn't know what time John got home. It didn't matter. Even when he was with her now he wasn't. Time to just accept it. They were stuck in this. She would just control the things she could. The house, the job and her children.

Jim liked hanging out with Wally. Wally was funny and he paid him. He paid him to make his drinks and do small jobs around the house for pocket money. Jim could make himself drinks too. He watered his plants, mowed his lawns and got to relax on his verandah. Wally was very relaxed. He would just sit in an old cast iron bathtub under a tree and take it all in smoking.

His cigarettes always smelt different.