He’s Back: Larry Bird Episode 3

By the time he'd hung up his mobile, Larry Bird was booked on the bill at Bar 59 in Richmond.

Episode 3. Take No Prisoners – Written by Noel Anderson
After the operation, Cherri Bomb never felt the same…sexually. Still, she can’t complain at least she still had Donald. He was her rock, as Australian as Vegemite. A strange feeling overtook her when she thought about Donald. Something unsettling, something queer!
At the same time, Mr Reynolds was relieving himself in St Kilda, across town on the northside of the Yarra River, Jackie was on a tram heading down Sydney Road. She was off to her first job interview in four years. For Jackie being a barmaid wasn’t cutting it anymore, the late nights and the hangovers were killing her! She wanted to study at The Comedy School London and needed cold hard cash for fees. A friend knows Keith who runs the school and reckons with her looks and large titties, she’d easily get reduced tuition. Jackie knew her comedy skills could do with some polishing, she’d been booed off stage many times in Melbourne…still, she had the constitution of a bull ant and was willing to do anything it takes to succeed. She’d kicked around Australia going nowhere, lately, she’s been thinkin’ a lot about the good things in life, determined her sense of humour would eventually pay for a luxurious lifestyle…someday! But, first things first…Money, England and comedy tuition!
“I swear I’m not pissin’ in’ya po…pocket luv when I say that your roo…routine is fuckin’ world-class!”
Keith tilted his head back, sucked on a Cuban cigar and ogled Jackie from head to toe then thought to himself…
“This chicks got a world-class arse too!”
“Grateful Keith, very grateful for your sincere praise. Fancy, like that coming from the King, the King of London Comedy, I can’t freakin’ believe it. It does my head in. Honest!”
Keith smiled and flicked ash onto the shag rug while Jackie wondered why in her daydreams she always spoke with a cockney accent! While, Keith wondered why in Jackie’s daydream, he had to stutter!
“Well, d..d…deserved indeed,” Keith said holding smoke at the back of his throat. “By the way love, I la.. La…like the school uniform. Nice touch J..Jack!”
Keith exhaled blowing smoke in Jackie’s face.
Damn Jackie thought, I bet the bastard is gettin’ a hard-on.
Jesus Keith fidgeted, he was gettin’ a hard-on.
Jackie coughed…through the haze of smoke, hanging to the left of a picture of Prince William, was a large George III Gilt Mirror. Jackie studied her reflection closely, surprised to see she was decked out in a public school girl uniform.
“Hello…where in hell did this come from?” she questioned in her mind. “I look like an extra from Carry On Up the Khyber.”
Keith sucked on the Cuban, silent.
FOR YOUR INFO…Jackie had a penchant for Carry on movies, and has watched some films twenty times or more. Carry on Teacher is her favourite movie.
Keith quickly seized the opportunity to attack, moving in close to Jackie’s earlobe, close enough to bite it!
“Luv I see an Ol-liv-e-rgh for you someday. If you work hard,” he whispered.
“You mean Oliver? But, Keith I can’t cook. I can’t even hard boil a three-minute egg” she replied tugging at the hemline of her school skirt.
“Not Jamie Oliver, Lawrence… Lawrence…the great Shakespearean stage actor. Hamlet? You must have heard of him back in Oz. You know…the Oliver Awards are named after him?”
“You mean the Logies?”
Jackie had no idea what the hell Keith was talk in’ about so Keith gave up explaining.
Great tits, great arse but dumb as dishwater Keith thought.
“Forget that…I see you sellin’ out the Palladium. Wait and see my d…dear. Maybe even to O2 Ah…Ah…Arena.”
Jackie screamed in strong Aussie strine, the O2 Arena must seat thousands of punters. She threw her arms around Keith and squeezed! “FARK” she cried again loudly in his ear just for good measure. That will teach him for being such a dirty old bastard!
Jackie’s job at Edinburgh Castle was getting her down…moving from Ballarat hadn’t been easy, her heart was sinking with every tap beer she pulled and she was over listening to aging rockers rabbit on about the 70s and dropping acid. No, this was something different, a marketing job at Vampires, no leering men and no more tits for tips. Although still thinkin’…she may have to offer something pro bono to get discounted tuition.
“Hold on,” Jackie thought. “I’ll cross that bridge when I cum to it!”
Vampires is a new theatre restaurant that opened in AC/DC Lane in direct competition with Dracula’s. Note: Theatre restaurants offer only the lowest form of comedy, but it’s a regular paycheck for most comedians!
Marketing wasn’t Jackie’s strong point… she might get lucky though, one of the performers might take sick, they might even die…and Vampires might need a comedian to fill. Thinkin’ more on the subject, Jackie started to get annoyed. You see girls find it tough getting gigs on the comedy circuit, it’s a man’s domain she thought…just as the tram pulled in near Flinders Lane.
Jackie grabbed a quick coffee and cheesecake at Brunetti’s on City Square. She took out her compact, checked her makeup…perfect…then headed off to do the job interview. Outside Vampires, a street tramp was playing Mozart’s Symphony Number 41 on an orange upright piano. Jackie tossed a spare coin into his tips hat and made a wish. The tramp never forgot the expression on Jackie’s face as she passed him that day. Don’t I know you?…he thought.
When the dead birds started appearing and the first comic was found murdered, it was her face and expression that would haunt him.
Meanwhile, south of the Yarra in Fairview Lodge (a small block of thirteen flats) Little George was dissecting a pigeon with a very blunt kitchen knife. So, far today he’d cut up three, one was still kicking but little George didn’t care. He found if you stuck the knife straight in the gizzard of the bird the blood often squirted up like a water fountain, and he could use it as ink. Little George loved to write. He kept a tiny eye drop bottle full of pigeon blood under his pillow just for writing. He wrote using a tiny paintbrush he’d found on the top shelf of the Two Dollar Shop. No one knew, not even his mum. He’d write in blood when alone at Fairview. But, sometimes when he picked up the paintbrush he’d drift off, three hours would pass. He could never recall what happened in those three hours. Yesterday, something odd…yesterday when he woke up, he woke cuddling a spotted cat. The cat was from the big house on the corner with the green sliding doors. He wondered what was behind those doors. He’d often seen a girl playing there with crimped hair but hadn’t seen her for a while, not since…
The girl would stand on the road outside her house and call the cat’s name.
“Misty,” she’d shout.
And, the cat would run to her, scaling the neighbour’s fence. But, today when she called it never came… and never would, ever again. George just realised that Misty the tabby was dead. Dead in his arms.
That arvo Little George emptied the big pot plant on the back veranda and put Misty inside. He re-potted the plant and thought…I won’t think about that anymore today! And, he didn’t. His mother came home around six and watered the plant and cooked chicken parmigiana for dinner. He ate it all up, cleaning the plate with his tongue, savouring every last crumb. Little George was in bed by nine that night and sound asleep in five minutes.
Larry Bird had finally broken free from Miriam, excusing himself to go freshen up. Miriam sat finishing her muesli (apricot and almond bircher) she tried to chew it at least twenty times before swallowing. Larry sat on the toilet and did a bump of coke Rodger had dropped over. Then he saw it, a poster on the toilet door… Open Mic Night – Bad Ass Wednesday’s – Richmond. Damn it Larry, he thought to himself, give it a fuckin’ go. There was nothing to lose, this time he’d take no prisoners! What was he frightened of? By the time he’d hung up his mobile, Larry Bird was booked on the bill at Bar 59 in Swan Street. That night he dreamt he met Adam Hills and they made love in a control booth at the ABC Studios in Southbank. The entire crew is on hand to watch and record. Little George was there too directing the whole scene, taking notes in blood-red ink. Rodger was there also, dressed in his footy shorts and snapping shots of Larry gettin’ off surrounded by pigeons. Rodger re-posted them on Instagram, immediately. At one point the floor manager stopped filming while Larry posed suggestively holding an egg. What did it all mean?… Larry thought in his sleep. Larry didn’t know it then, but he was not going to dream again for a very long time. The next time he did Little George would be waiting for him, with a scroll, words written in pigeon blood… but, that’s much later in the story.
“Maybe I’ll make Donald a nice roast, and dress up as a Party Hostess like I use to when we first met.”
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That night he dreamt he met Adam Hills and they made love in a control booth at the ABC Studios
That night Little George dreamt he met Adam Hills and they made love in a control booth at the ABC