Stuck in the Middle of Nowhere
Going on an adventure in the Australian Outback is, of course, a shock to the system. God, just the colour of the sky can bring you to your knees (not only because of the heat, but also because of its raw and unforgiving beauty.)
Candice and I met in Sydney in a strip club. It had been a spontaneous thing, me being loaded (with money, of course) and her, well, scantily clad and keen for an adventure.
Not without incident, though. The petrol boy (although this guy was probably already 80something) and I forgot to check the water after the gas station called ‘Filler up, mate’.
Although we had enough drinking water in the jeep, the crack in the radiator didn’t look too good.
“Things don’t look so good, Bruce,” came the reply from stripper-adventurer.
Now, if one gets stranded in the middle of nowhere in The Outback, one has problems.
“Well, we’d better wait for the moon to rise,” I said matter-of-factly. A stupid thing to say, given the situation we were in.
“And then the sun,” Candice replied.
“Maybe someone will drive by and help us out.”
“Maybe, mate, is the operative word.”
“Well, no need to panic, Candice.”
“My name isn’t Candice.”
“What?! But, I’ve been calling you Ca…”
“My name is Minerva, Candice is my strip name.”
“Minerva?! Jesus!”
“No, just Minerva.”
Now, if one gets lost in the middle of nowhere in the Australian Outback with a stripper named Minerva, one has even bigger problems.
We managed to gather some firewood. It was freezing.
It reminded me of a relentless Free State winter.
The cold took our breaths away.
And so did the silence.
We finished two cans of sweet corn, some stale bread and a couple of room-temperature beers.
And then we took each others breaths away.
As I came, I swear I could hear a Dingo cry…
I got up and put one of those luminous orange cones in the road, about ten meters behind where the jeep had been parked.
We woke up early the next morning. It was still dark. Freezing.
We made another fire, lied down-bodies intertwined-next to it. “Spooning”, she called it.
Candice went back to the jeep (I refused to call her Minerva).
“Where’re you going?”
“Female stuff, Bruce.”
“Aw, don’t call me Bruce.”
“You call me Candice. Do you want me to call you Lostman-in-the-outback?”
“Piss off, Candice.”
“Ok, Mr Lostman.”
She came back with what looked like a tampon.
I became uncomfortable and pretended to snooze.
She ’spooned’ next to me and I smelt something familiar.
“Are you smoking a joint?”
“Yes. Yes, yes I am. (cough-cough)
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Is it an……issue…(holding of breath…)now?”
“No. Give me a drag.”
So the sun came up as Candice had predicted.
We danced and danced around the fire, even though it must’ve been 30 degrees at 7:00 am.
To this day I swear I saw Minerva turn into a vampire. She chased me around the fire with a burning stick from the fire, laughing her head off, screaming and shouting, peeling off her ‘Roxxy’ surfer’s top. She had fangs, man. I ran and ran, hysterical with laughter and fear.
“Stop it, you crazy motherfucker! Stop, stop, stop!”
We were both out of breath. I fell on the red sand; she fell on top of me. I looked for the burning stick. Luckily she’d dumped it.
We made love again.
“What was that we smoked?”, I asked, still out of breath.
“Columbian Blonde”
“Where the hell did you get that?”
“My name is Candice, remember? Favours for favours”
Somebody hooted.
The woman looked scared as we approached. Couldn’t blame her. We were so happy, we started sprinting towards her.
I was covered in red dust, eyes bloodshot. I only saw this later in her rear-view mirror, but I had a 5cm gash above my eyebrow, compliments of Ms C. Blonde.
Candice was topless, just as filthy, with hands like a coal miner.
“Rough night then?”
She was dressed in a typical Outback outfit:
Kaki cargo trousers, faded denim shirt and boots. I don’t have to mention the wide-rimmed hat with a kangaroo embroidered on the front.
“Yes, indeed. Radiator’s bust. Could you give us a hand?”
“Nearest town is 31km from here.”
“Could you give us a ride? We’ll get back on our own.”
“Clean up and get in.”
We drove.
And drove.
A Johnny Cash tune was playing.
I saw a sign: “Middle of Nowhere, 2km”
Bloody ganja.
We stopped.
“Get out.”
“What do you mean?” asked Candice and I simultaneously.
“We’re here.”
“But, there’s nothing here. It looks exactly the same as where you picked us up.”
‘Shiela’ leaned over and pulled out a revolver.
Now, I’m not a gun expert, but this thing was big.
Big enough to shoot a kangaroo’s bollocks off.
We got out.
In the Middle of Nowhere.
The End
