06-23-2020, 03:21 AM
As some have been migrating their postings from the other site, I thought I might give it a go.
'Waratah Park' in the burbs.
Guess I was the leader of the gang. I mean, the five of us were only fourteen and fifteen and I was the tallest, fastest and strongest.
We lived in Waratah, a middle class neighbourhood, you know, houses next to each other, timber fences between and generally we, as a gang, played in the street together hitting ball, kicking footballs, longest skid contests on our bikes, skateboarding in front of cars and whatever minor silly stuff that we could think about to keep active and amused. Got yelled at occasionally by neighbours, car drivers and most of all the postman. We would stir the crap outta that guy. Skinny man, wore glasses and a bow tie and rolled one sock up over his trouser leg on the chain side of his red bike. Hahahaha. We'd skateboard at him causing him to fall off his bike, put tacks near the letter boxes to make his tyres go down and would steal the letters, especially at christmas as there was money to be found in the cards. And if someone had a birthday. They needn't expect a card. We were right onto it. It was Christmas vacation now so we got up to all types of mischief.
Cops got onto us one time. Said to me dad in one of those drawn out tones, "Yer neighbours, can't say their name, saw your young fella here and his mates taking mail from the boxes."
Well, dad, ha ha, he went off, yelling at these two pigs about evidence and proof. Then mum, oh my god, she was spitting chips at these two. She even spat on the ground. I had great parents and me and the guys just smiled at each other. Even gave the finger to the cops as they left. Mum laughed. I remember dad sayin, "Flamin mongrels, and to think my taxes pay their wages." Not sure what he meant though.
Then we met Gordon Demetrie. Moved in just up the road near the playground park. He was big. Stood head and shoulders above all of us. He was even fatter than me dad. We saw him kicking a soccer ball about. So, obviously we all went up to show him what real football was about. Young Jimmy was the first of our gang to grab the soccer ball and kick it over a house roof. Well, this Gordon just stood there, looked at Jimmy and said, "Go fetch it stupid." Jimmy being Jimmy, just giggled. His dad was a jockey and owned a four wheel drive. Jim was a tough little nut. Gordon walks up to him and WHACK. Got Jimmy right in the nose. "Crikey" I thought, it was just funnin around. Jimmy hit the turf. There was a bit of stupefied silence then young Jim was rolling and squealing like a sheila. And I could see the blood.
Gordon looked at me. "You,,,, go get me ball happyman." And with a kick, only a soccer player could manage, put his left foot into Jimmy's balls while he lay on the ground. That stopped young Jim squealin, he couldn't breath. Just made a quiet "Ugh ugh." I took off, cut a groove in the park lawn, jumped two paling fences, skipped over a dog and found the ball. To the amazement of the people having a barbeque in the backyard where the ball was I then scrambled across a pool fence, swam the pool with the ball and was out of their driveway before a lamb chop was turned on the plate. I sprinted back to the park gave the ball back to Gordon. Me other mates were just lifting Jimmy off the ground. He was mumbling something like, "Mum, mum" and holding his nuts. Blood was running from his nose. Gordon was staring at him with a tilted head. He yelled at Jimmy, "I'm Gordon, do that again and I'll flamin smash you to a pulp. Understand stupid?." Jim simply replied with an "Ugh." The postman rode by, slowed, looked and smugly dropped some mail into the box of the house opposite. We helped Jimmy away to his house up the roadway a bit.
The big kid, Gordon resumed to just kick his ball around the park. The postman went down the street on our side of the road.
We got Jimmy inside his house, his mum lost the plot screaming, "What did you do to him?" "Nuthin, nuthin." we yelled back. Jimmy started crying and through his tears he managed to mumble, "Mum, mum, the big kid up the road kicked me in the cods." "Which kid?" she yelled back. Toby, the quietest of our group uttered, "A new kid, he's too big, looks like a wog too and he's got a fist like a hammer, yeah, knocked Jim to the ground and looks like he broke his nose, then he kicked him in the goolies up at the park."
It was a this juncture that Jimmy's jockey stature dad walked into the discussion. He was always a short angry man. Took one look at Jimmy and said, " A hammer aye, a hammer, I'll show the tough kid a hammer. Hate bullies." He walked quickly out side and into the shed. Everyone was silent, as was normal when this small man spoke. He emerged with a steel hammer and strode up the side of the house and along the street towards the park.
Me and Toby ran outside. I saw Jimmy's dad on his way to the park swinging the hammer around and around. "Strewth!" I cried aloud. The postman was returning up the street delivering mail. He looked at me from across the road, then at Jim's father and shook his head. Stupid nerd postman, what does he know.
I ran back inside Jimmy's house, his mum was on the phone, I yelled, "Better ring the cops!" She yelled back, "I am I am, he's been drinking." I yelled at the boys, "Right, we gotta stop him, come on." We cut through at a pace out the front door except Jimmy who waddled behind us holding onto his nuts. In the distance I saw Jim's dad fronting the new kid Gordon who had his soccer ball tucked under his arm. There was much unintelligible yelling. Mostly from the dad. I saw the postman get off his bike nearby and slowly toe the side stand down.
Too late. Gordon launched his soccer ball at Jimmy's dad who responded with a hammer blow to Gordon's head. The big boy swayed, then dropped like a sack of spuds. Now, it was all happening. I heard sirens, I saw Jim's dad continually strike Gorden to the head. Horrible sight. After about five blows, all of us tackled Jim's dad. Except Jimmy. He just stood there. We landed onto Gordon with Jimmy's dad still swinging the hammer. The man was small but by god he was strong. By this stage Gordon's head was pulverised and, for the first time in my life, I saw brain matter. I started retching. In my mind I was saying "Stop stop."
I was on my back next. Breath knocked out of me. Everything was a blur. I remember hearing Jimmy's dad swearing aloud. I saw a cop looking over me. A voice said. "You alright son?" All I could issue was an "ugh" . Jimmy was screaming, "Dad, dad." In a dizzy spell rolled to my left. I saw another cop kneeling on Toby. I blinked continuously at the site of Gordon's smashed in face and popped eyes. More sirens. I now know it was only a matter of minutes before I eventually gathered my dazed senses. I saw the postman saying to the cop beside me, "Officer, my name is Julian and I witnessed this murder by these thugs upon this poor boy. All of them."
The cop looked down at me and said loudly, "What your name young fella?"
I couldn't think, let alone talk. I'm sure it was Toby who yelled, "That's Bally!"
'Waratah Park' in the burbs.
Guess I was the leader of the gang. I mean, the five of us were only fourteen and fifteen and I was the tallest, fastest and strongest.
We lived in Waratah, a middle class neighbourhood, you know, houses next to each other, timber fences between and generally we, as a gang, played in the street together hitting ball, kicking footballs, longest skid contests on our bikes, skateboarding in front of cars and whatever minor silly stuff that we could think about to keep active and amused. Got yelled at occasionally by neighbours, car drivers and most of all the postman. We would stir the crap outta that guy. Skinny man, wore glasses and a bow tie and rolled one sock up over his trouser leg on the chain side of his red bike. Hahahaha. We'd skateboard at him causing him to fall off his bike, put tacks near the letter boxes to make his tyres go down and would steal the letters, especially at christmas as there was money to be found in the cards. And if someone had a birthday. They needn't expect a card. We were right onto it. It was Christmas vacation now so we got up to all types of mischief.
Cops got onto us one time. Said to me dad in one of those drawn out tones, "Yer neighbours, can't say their name, saw your young fella here and his mates taking mail from the boxes."
Well, dad, ha ha, he went off, yelling at these two pigs about evidence and proof. Then mum, oh my god, she was spitting chips at these two. She even spat on the ground. I had great parents and me and the guys just smiled at each other. Even gave the finger to the cops as they left. Mum laughed. I remember dad sayin, "Flamin mongrels, and to think my taxes pay their wages." Not sure what he meant though.
Then we met Gordon Demetrie. Moved in just up the road near the playground park. He was big. Stood head and shoulders above all of us. He was even fatter than me dad. We saw him kicking a soccer ball about. So, obviously we all went up to show him what real football was about. Young Jimmy was the first of our gang to grab the soccer ball and kick it over a house roof. Well, this Gordon just stood there, looked at Jimmy and said, "Go fetch it stupid." Jimmy being Jimmy, just giggled. His dad was a jockey and owned a four wheel drive. Jim was a tough little nut. Gordon walks up to him and WHACK. Got Jimmy right in the nose. "Crikey" I thought, it was just funnin around. Jimmy hit the turf. There was a bit of stupefied silence then young Jim was rolling and squealing like a sheila. And I could see the blood.
Gordon looked at me. "You,,,, go get me ball happyman." And with a kick, only a soccer player could manage, put his left foot into Jimmy's balls while he lay on the ground. That stopped young Jim squealin, he couldn't breath. Just made a quiet "Ugh ugh." I took off, cut a groove in the park lawn, jumped two paling fences, skipped over a dog and found the ball. To the amazement of the people having a barbeque in the backyard where the ball was I then scrambled across a pool fence, swam the pool with the ball and was out of their driveway before a lamb chop was turned on the plate. I sprinted back to the park gave the ball back to Gordon. Me other mates were just lifting Jimmy off the ground. He was mumbling something like, "Mum, mum" and holding his nuts. Blood was running from his nose. Gordon was staring at him with a tilted head. He yelled at Jimmy, "I'm Gordon, do that again and I'll flamin smash you to a pulp. Understand stupid?." Jim simply replied with an "Ugh." The postman rode by, slowed, looked and smugly dropped some mail into the box of the house opposite. We helped Jimmy away to his house up the roadway a bit.
The big kid, Gordon resumed to just kick his ball around the park. The postman went down the street on our side of the road.
We got Jimmy inside his house, his mum lost the plot screaming, "What did you do to him?" "Nuthin, nuthin." we yelled back. Jimmy started crying and through his tears he managed to mumble, "Mum, mum, the big kid up the road kicked me in the cods." "Which kid?" she yelled back. Toby, the quietest of our group uttered, "A new kid, he's too big, looks like a wog too and he's got a fist like a hammer, yeah, knocked Jim to the ground and looks like he broke his nose, then he kicked him in the goolies up at the park."
It was a this juncture that Jimmy's jockey stature dad walked into the discussion. He was always a short angry man. Took one look at Jimmy and said, " A hammer aye, a hammer, I'll show the tough kid a hammer. Hate bullies." He walked quickly out side and into the shed. Everyone was silent, as was normal when this small man spoke. He emerged with a steel hammer and strode up the side of the house and along the street towards the park.
Me and Toby ran outside. I saw Jimmy's dad on his way to the park swinging the hammer around and around. "Strewth!" I cried aloud. The postman was returning up the street delivering mail. He looked at me from across the road, then at Jim's father and shook his head. Stupid nerd postman, what does he know.
I ran back inside Jimmy's house, his mum was on the phone, I yelled, "Better ring the cops!" She yelled back, "I am I am, he's been drinking." I yelled at the boys, "Right, we gotta stop him, come on." We cut through at a pace out the front door except Jimmy who waddled behind us holding onto his nuts. In the distance I saw Jim's dad fronting the new kid Gordon who had his soccer ball tucked under his arm. There was much unintelligible yelling. Mostly from the dad. I saw the postman get off his bike nearby and slowly toe the side stand down.
Too late. Gordon launched his soccer ball at Jimmy's dad who responded with a hammer blow to Gordon's head. The big boy swayed, then dropped like a sack of spuds. Now, it was all happening. I heard sirens, I saw Jim's dad continually strike Gorden to the head. Horrible sight. After about five blows, all of us tackled Jim's dad. Except Jimmy. He just stood there. We landed onto Gordon with Jimmy's dad still swinging the hammer. The man was small but by god he was strong. By this stage Gordon's head was pulverised and, for the first time in my life, I saw brain matter. I started retching. In my mind I was saying "Stop stop."
I was on my back next. Breath knocked out of me. Everything was a blur. I remember hearing Jimmy's dad swearing aloud. I saw a cop looking over me. A voice said. "You alright son?" All I could issue was an "ugh" . Jimmy was screaming, "Dad, dad." In a dizzy spell rolled to my left. I saw another cop kneeling on Toby. I blinked continuously at the site of Gordon's smashed in face and popped eyes. More sirens. I now know it was only a matter of minutes before I eventually gathered my dazed senses. I saw the postman saying to the cop beside me, "Officer, my name is Julian and I witnessed this murder by these thugs upon this poor boy. All of them."
The cop looked down at me and said loudly, "What your name young fella?"
I couldn't think, let alone talk. I'm sure it was Toby who yelled, "That's Bally!"
