Pinky's Book Link

Sunday, July 28, 2013

The Seven Stages of Grief and Pinky's Porn Stars

                          Scotto and his first world problem.

We were off to a Race Day Party at Kirsten’s place yesterday and called in to Doctor Dan Murphy’s to pick up the required supply of aqua vitae (innocuous word for booze). I’d already bought the cold chook and we’d stockpiled our gold coins from behind the couch and the bottom of the washing machine for the anticipated sweepstakes so this was our last errand before heading over.

Scotto, in his usual arsy style had managed to find a rock star car park.

“Are you sure you want to park your BRAND NEW car here?” I asked tartly. “The cars on either side are a bit close. Aren’t you worried about someone putting a ding in your car with their doors?”

“Nah… it’ll be right,” he responded casually.

“But look how close that one is,” I badgered.

“It will be fine!” he said with a slight ‘tone’. So I dropped the subject.

As we returned to the car ten minutes later with our spoils in hand we watched in horror as a three year old terror ran to the car parked beside us, and enthusiastically opened the door. 

There was a sickening thwack of metal on metal, juxtaposed by his mother’s voice screaming, “Get in the bloody car, Jackson!”

“Did he leave a dent?” I squeaked to Scotto after a frozen ten second hiatus whilst watching him intently inspecting his door with his trembling hands.

“Yeah… there’s a ding,” he replied with astounding serenity. (Shock)

“Why are you so calm?” I asked when we were driving off. “I would have grabbed the little sh#t and throttled the living daylights out of him.”

“Well there was nothing I could really do about it.” (Denial)

“I would have given his mother a serve for not watching the little #$#*!” I ranted.

“Actually I should have! Maybe I should turn around and tell the b#stards they have to pay for it!” he shouted, his pupils dilating to liquid pools of black. (Anger)

“I suppose it was an accident though,” I replied selfishly, not really wanting to go through a road rage scene in a bottle shop car park.

“It had to happen eventually. I just didn’t think it would be in the first week of me having it. It was Karma.” (Bargaining)

“I hate to say it but, I told you not to park there,” my spiteful voice blurted out and betrayed me.

“I know. I should have listened to you, Pinky.” (Guilt)

It’s just not the same any more. I’ll never have the perfect car again. Never… (Depression)

You know what? It’ll cost me a hundred bucks to get it fixed. That’s what I’ll do. No one will ever know there was a dent at all.” (Acceptance and Hope)

We did make it to the party and after losing all my moolah pretty much straight away I got bored and took a few photos of my friends who I then pestered for their 'porn star names'
(You know... first pet, first street).

Introducing... "Racy Cup Day"-

Starring, in no particular order...

The demure "Cleo Sheffield"

The sensuous "Poppy Ivory"

The sassy "Sparky Disney"

The inventive "Sandy McGinn"

The luscious "BG Anzac"

The imaginative "Breakfast Greenslopes"

The insatiable "Blue River" 

The frisky "Rusty Queen"

The suave "Pablo Earle"

The desirable "Mr Max Kalangah!"

The cheeky "Kobi Woodwood"

The double act of "Joey Coachwood" and "Snoopy Woodland"
(There seems to be a lot of 'wood' around... soz).

Mr Cool, aka, "Turbo Casuarina"

Now this bloke couldn't remember his pet or his street so I used his own nickname and the street he was currently in.
"Raven Muzzle"
I know... small things amuse small minds.

Meet you back here tomorrow night!