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Sunday, May 25, 2014

The Peeved Pescetarian

Poinkers. Meet the Poinkers.
They're the modern Phone age family.
From a town in Queensland,
They're a page right out of history.

Let's ride with the family down the street.
Driving in the muggy, tropic's heat.

When you're with the Poinkers
you'll have a yabba dabba doo time.
A dabba doo time.
You'll have a gay old time.

Now that Pebbles Poinker has her licence she’s finally able to pay us back for all the lifts we gave her over the last seventeen years.

It was the beginning of Fred (Scotto) Poinker’s birthday celebrations yesterday so we grabbed a lift from her into the city. I sat white-knuckled, gripping the back seat as Pebbles took the corners like Michael Andretti careening through the chicanes at the Grand Prix. 

I tried to keep my mouth shut for a change not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I’d like to think she was only driving in such a fashion because she was in a hurry to get rid of us and go see her boyfriend, Bam Bam. But I suspect she always drives like a maniac what with only one point left on her licence and all.

The birthday boy’s first request was that we stop for a pre-lunch drink at the infamous Yacht Club. No sooner had I settled comfortably with a nice glass of wine when suddenly I appeared to be wearing it. 

Fred, with his appalling depth perception had knocked my entire glass all over my shirt.

As I squelched off to the ladies room to wash it out I heard one of the salty barflies quip, “Hope it’s not ya first date mate!” Raucous laughter ensued.

“It’s Fred’s birthday,” I thought gritting my teeth. “Don’t get cranky.”

Then it was time to move on to Fred’s restaurant of choice. Wilma’s shout of course as is the custom on birthdays.

None of those highfalutin eateries for Fred! 

No stupid restaurants that serve unrecognisable, delicate portions on a fancy breadboard for him. Oh no! 

Fred wanted real food.

Brontosaurus ribs were the order of the day. 

No matter that Wilma (Pinky) Poinker is a pescetarian… there’d surely be something on the menu for her.

It didn’t look anywhere as nice as what he was having when it turned up though.

Sometimes I question my own life choices.

I finished mine in three minutes and sat drooling like a dog as he finished his spicy ribs.

After lunch Fred wanted to go visit the Lodge. His day after all.

Wilma’s sabre-tooth lion skin purse was soon emptied whilst Fred ‘yabba dabba dooed’ all the way home after winning forty bucks on the pokies.

I think Fred had a good birthday. 

But I wonder if there are any pescetarian restaurants around here for when it’s my turn.