Chris and Janes arrival was a blessing; the joint seemed pretty fucked and our mountain seemed to be very high and on an island in the middle of the croc infested waters of the wyndham port, but they bought may bridge building materials, the most tangibly handing being the keys for the shop. Current state of affairs: Gavin, son of Nifty, had gone awol, owing Captain Rob, the owner of the premises, a bunch of rent and leaving a stray human and a stray dog and a general shemozzle behind him. Nifty was nowhere to be seen, i wasnt even sure if he was actually living in wyndham anymore, or even if he was alive anymore. Gavin apparently was either in Queensland or the territory, the capital of which also resided Captain Rob, and was due back any time now ( i had spoken to him a month ago and he told me then he'd be home in two weeks). But nobody had seen him or heard from him or nothing. To add to that, his dog, called stumpy coincidently, had been left at the shop looking very lonely and slightly malnourished, although he was being looked after supposedly by "Mouse".
Tom and I encountered mouse when we were last in wyndham, as he hung around shop most nights sipping a coldy and helping out when he could (Nifty would yell out at mouse to cook some chips or take an order and mouse would put down his beer, shuffle off the bar and wander over to do pay his way). Mouse was a skinny guy with a big shaggy beard and long curly hair, much like a mop in the proportions between head and body, looked as if he might fall down due to the top-heaviness.
Mouse had been left in charge by nifty/gavin, and of course we couldnt get in contact with him either. All over the shop there were 'sniffs' of mouse, little clues and signs as to the fact that somebody still inhabited the area, but nothing definite, as it could all blend in with the general decrepitness of the joint. One mans dirty undies in a pile of filthy drawers.
It had been mentioned by both Chris and Pixie, almost in passing, that mouse was supposed to be looking after stumpy, the short tailed, steel-wool coated blue heeler “guard dog” ( wouldn’t hurt a fly), but nobody had seen him for a while. Mouse also had his own dog apparently, who was nowhere to be seen. It also became apparent that Mouse was living in the house that was attached to the shop, which I was meant to be moving into. Chris went to check if he was home but to no avail.
When we came back the next day I thought id check if he had made it home as well. Walked round the back in the rain, through the waist high overgrown weeds and mud to the back verandah, which overlooked the cyclone fencing enclosed back yard littered with broken pieces of various mechanical and nautical equipment. Opening the back door into a dusty dark enclosed porch area, with two floor fridge/freezers, various paint tins and chemicals, old clothes, fishing gear, a washing machine and other general crap. Made my way into the kitchen to find Mouses dog, a tiny little jack russel sort of thing which slinked up to me along its belly with its mouth curling at the sides in pleasure but timidly not moving faster than a snail. Once she figured out I was friendly she loosened up and went hunting for pats and scratching. “Mouse?”. Nothing. Nobody in the kitchen, stuff everywhere, but surprised by the number of rooms and the space in general. A bit of work and it would be killer. Then found mouses room, the master bedroom, far tidier than the rest, double bed, flat screen tv still on (muted). Mouse’s little nest, tucked away at the epicenter of this gigantic pile of rubbish and mayhem. Checked for a body but nothing.
No comments:
Post a Comment