Night time. An Australian balcony overlooking what would be the Pacific Ocean if you could see it in the dark. Three people sit in deckchairs behind a wooden outdoor table littered with empty wine and beer bottles, melted candles, dirty forks, strange sticks with ribbons attached to them, a bag of marijuana, Graeme’s cigarettes, a cocktail (Screwdriver) that Kathleen owns but won’t drink, and other various trash. They sit looking beyond the trash at the black ocean. Graeme, Canadian, in his mid-thirties a failed lawyer, stock-broker, junky and English teacher. Mr Balls Quandary (hereafter Mr. BQ), Australian, in his early thirties, failed novelist, mystic, and gigolo. Kathleen, German, mid-twenties, Masters in Math Teaching, not a failure at anything at this point.
Graeme: Sorry, I gapped there.
Mr. BQ: What gap?
Graeme: A long mental pause in which what the other person is saying doesn’t penetrate ones consciousness. It often happens when one has been smoking weed. Scariest when it happens when one hasn’t been smoking weed, which is often the case with me.
Mr. BQ: No offence taken, cunt face. I’d lost my train of thought anyway. A whole train of it, lost, in a tunnel somewhere I suppose. The helicopters are searching for it but I don’t hold out much hope.
Kathleen: This is funny (pronounced Ziss)
Graeme: The light will emerge from the tunnel.
Mr. BQ: No, that train is lost.
Graeme: Ahhh (relaxed sigh). I think I’ll have another bong? Anyone?
Kathleen: No, thankyou (pronounced sankyou).
Graeme: You have a lot of stars in Australia. Kathleen, how many stars are there?
Kathleen: This I don’t know.
Graeme: BQ, have you counted all the stars?
Mr. BQ: Yes. 25 Bazillion, exactly.
Graeme: That’s a surprisingly round number.
Mr. BQ: Not surprising at all when you realise that God is a round number. And the universe itself, of course, is just an expression of itself.
Graeme: You’re right, I see that it’s not surprising at all now (bong gurgles). Smoke this!
Mr. BQ: I’m already wasted.
Graeme: Smoke it!
Mr. BQ: (Bong gurgles) The God of Round Numbers.
Graeme: The guy in the room over there, Mike’s friend, he’s a bit of spiritual guru isn’t he.
Mr. BQ: I hate him, he knows nothing about the one true God of round numbers.
Graeme: I think he was trying to convert me.
Mr. BQ: Me too, and failed.
Graeme: He was talking and I just changed the subject to something annoyingly material, cars I think it was. That fucked him off.
Mr. BQ: Everything is material, we know that.
Graeme: I just had an epiphany! Wait… wait… shit, no, I lost it!
Mr. BQ: You lost your point.
Graeme: No, it’s not lost! It’s just gone down to the beach for a swim. It will be back, when it’s ready.
Mr. BQ: I’ve got a whole train of thought out there somewhere. Kathleen, say something!
Kathleen: (Shaking her head negative)
Graeme: Mr. BQ!
Mr. BQ: What!
Graeme: What do you mean what!
Mr. BQ: I mean WHAT!
Graeme: I just asked you a question.
Mr. BQ: No, you didn’t.
Graeme: I did.
Mr. BQ: What did you ask me?
Graeme: If you wanted to watch the South Park episode where Mohammad is censored.
Mr. BQ: Kathleen, did he ask me that?
Kathleen: (Nodding her head affirmative)
Mr. BQ: Shit, I gapped.
Cry Bloxsome holds an honours degree in English from the University of Western Australia. He worked as a columnist and feature writer for 29 issues of LUCKY magazine.
LIVING BETWEEN FUCKS was Cry Bloxsome's first novel, for which he has received much critical praise.
THE WOODCHOPPER is Cry Bloxsome’s very latest novel.
Novels are available at his website www.crybloxsome.com 
