Squiddy Lives a Little

Squiddy Little was middle aged at fifteen, the poor little cunt. He stood five nine soaking wet, all mum dressed and spit fringed. Like a pile of wood, life was stacked against him. He wanted to soar with the eagles but you know gobble gobble. At seventeen having recognised futility at an early age, he dropped out of uni like a Beasts of Bourbon song. He sort of preferred to use an indoctrination institution of his own choosing. For a while after he had that Andy fuckin Dufresne look in his eyes, right at the end of the Shawshank Redemption. His load, whilst light was still his to bear and personal problems are personal.

He'd lived in Lucinda Avenue, Wahroonga all his life with his mum. She'd lived at the same address all her life as had her mum before her. A strange covenant between the women of the Little family since the dawn of time meant it was only handed down to the first-born female of this line of the Little family.

Squiddy wasn't a girl, didn't think he was a girl, didn't want to be a girl, didn't want to take pills to make him a girl (yeah right because that works out so well - wake up ya fuckin idiots!). The house was to go to the local womens refuge upon his mum shuffling off this mortal coil.

Mrs Little was the demon mum of the street much to Sqiddys chagrin. She broke up fights she fixed bikes she petitioned the council for better street lights. She was the Boogster, feared and revered.

When Squiddy was sixteen his local youth group went on a camp to Myall Lakes. Twelve sixteen year old boys from various parts of town up in the bush, tents and fire you know. He walked down to the shore alone as this was his thing. The others were ok two or three at a time maybe but bunched up like this they were dicks, little boys in men size skins.

At the shore line, Squiddy stopped his jaw it dropped, she came out of the water topless inch by teasing centimetre. A moisten princess, her proud breasts taking point followed by a genuine golden Aussie smile. All he could think of was that old Australis ad - thank heaven for Aussie girls! She held out a semi shy free hand and offered it to him, this stopped Squiddy fair in his tracks, it tightened his daks "Hi I'm Kailey, I'm here with my family," she gestured up the beach a way with a shoulder, she waved and further up the shore an older man dressed entirely in khaki stood up and waved back. Squid hadn't seen him on account of mind being assaulted by a barrage of wild free range breasts.

Although his social skills were somewhat lacking, he had excruciatingly good manners. He took her hand and the race memory of thousands of years of virtuous chivalry shone through and he was an honourable man from an era long lost to us. He bowed ever so slightly, ever so gently, this amused her no end "I'm Squiddy," he was finally able to croak out aloud in a voice completely and utterly distracted by her and her presence. She smiled like a nuclear sunset, like all the rods were down! Glowingly stunning, she retracted her hands and cupped them to her chest - "Nice to meet you Squiddy I'll I see you tomorrow?" Rhetorical indeed! Squiddy mumbled and nodded and lifted a dumb little wave, his mind was dribbling. His bodily responses were retarded by the dumbness that the girl had inflicted upon him. She took her heated breath her honest golden smile, and all that curvy teenage promise and wandered up the shore. He watched her butt as it simply jiggled in its cozzy on its way away from him as she headed towards khaki guy. At this point I'd tip in the favour of that being her dad, and maybe a couple more family members in the scrub up there.

He watched until they disappeared and then he looked everywhere wondering what was going, he was looking for a Truman sky. His walk back to his tent was a step by step daydream stroll, his mind played the last ten minutes of his life on constant repeat fast slow mid speed as he slowly and delicately digested the meteorite that had just hit his planet!

Sleep didn't come at all the whole night for young Squiddy and bleary eyed he rose to meet the chilly dawn. He hurriedly dressed and made his way back to the lakes edge. He was so tired it was like walking in a syrup, he was tired but so fired up. He'd never seen real live boobs before, he was intrigued from his frontal lobe to the front of his pants. But it was more than that he pondered as he found a log nearby to sit and await Kailey's return. He thought to himself - I could look at her smile for the rest of my life, I could gaze upon her face until the worlds end.

Soon half his day had been taken up by patiently waiting for Kailey to show and nothing, not even a peep. Squiddy had wandered back to his camp for a quick light breakfast but other than that he sat on the log at the lakes edge awaiting the return of an angel. Lunchtime came an went and still she had not shown up. Squiddy would have sat there for a week if he had to but his curiosity and animal urges lifted him to his feet and off in the direction of Kailey's camp area.

He wandered up the shoreline with his heart in his throat, into the unknown. Having reached the spot where he saw khaki guy yesterday he noticed the area had been vacated. No Kailey, no khaki dad no mum he didn't meet, no one. It was empty, scuffs in the sand and undergrowth assured that YES they were here but not now. He pivoted and did a three sixty to verify that what his eyes took as a truth was in fact what was, they were gone.

Right in the centre of the abandoned camp site was a small polished rock on and upturned on end piece of firewood, in neat handwriting it said "Sorry Squiddy - some other place, some other time maybe? heart Kailey". Squiddy picked up the stone, almost reverently, careful not to rub out the what she had written in Sharpie, hoping it was indelible ink. He smiled to himself as a single tear rolled from the corner of his eye and he placed the stone in his breast pocket.

Well there you have it, not much of a tale but it's all mine nonetheless. Squiddy was just a codeine induced daydream bought on by a severe bout of work related loathing. The edge is sometimes only a strong coffee away.

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Chapter Two: Last Train out of Hornsby