Tracy sat upon a lime green bean bag that was shoved into one corner of a rickety outdoor deck. Fortunately for Tracy, as well as the many other lower class degenerates, the deck was sheltered under clear light roofing sheets, as well as a plastic guard that shielded them from the beach houses harsh southerly winds.

Two mid 20s high viz rocking losers fought each other over a game of arcade machine Tekken 3. The machine's artwork, the click-clacking of buttons, the sound effects, and the commentator declaring one of two said losers the winner; really brought a nostalgic smile to Tracy’s face.

From within the plush carpeted home, the owner, Russel, slid across the sliding door and passed Tracy a beer. “Heard you’re interested in renting a room?”

Tracy twisted the top of and cheers’ bottles. “Yeah man, I’d be pretty keen. Getting over living with the old lady.” replied Tracy, taking his first sip.

“Yeah that’s understandable man. Nothing beats grown up freedom. This is a pure man cave, hope you don’t mind that.” Replied Russel, as he sipped and swished a sip of beer around before swallowing.

“Nah not at all man. This seems like my kinda buzz to be honest. Cruisey.” Assured Tracy.

Russel opened up a small wooden chest and pulled out a crack pipe. “Well as long as you can pay rent in advance, and in time, shouldn’t be a problem at all.” said Russel as he began to drive his crack pipe.

Tracy’s eyes widened, and his jaw began to move in an erratic cycle. Russel noticed this and placed the pipe back down after his puff, and sank back into his plush chair. He slid sunglasses over his eyes, and looked over to the two losers, “Which one of you chumps won?” he asked, scratching at his stubble.

“That was me boss. I’ve been fuckin killing it lately.” replied the loser with bucked teeth, as he walked over to the pallet table and picked up the pipe. At this point Tracy had begun to shuffle about in his seat. He didn’t know whether to look away and show discomfort, or look directly at them and potentially insight anger. He chose to chat with Russel as if nothing was happening.

“So do you own the place?” Tracy asked.

“Yeah man. We’ll,…I mean yeah, pretty much own the whole lot, basically yeah.” replied Russel.

Tracy paused, then cleared his throat, “Are you paying off a mortgage?” he asked.

“Something like that, yeah. It’s no biggie man. Just gotta make sure I get my money off you on time every week. So long as there’s no problems aye. Last tenant had to pay for a whole new ranch slider. That whole ranch slider is new. Cost a bloody fortune.” rattled off Russel.

“Really? Did he break it?” asked Tracy.

Russel hit the pipe again as he nodded profusely, “Fuckin aye man his whole body went through it. Didn’t jay his rent on time either. I was fuckin spewing.”

“Shit man, that’s,…” Tracy began. But before he could finish a middle aged, bearded, barefoot, unshowering, heathen walked through the open doorway. He held a plastic bag full of tree leaves. Tracy wasn’t sure what kind they were, nor their serving purpose.

“Shitchea man. The dentist called.” said the other loser, the tall, fat one with a black eye.

“What’s this shit about a dentist?” Snarled the bushman dropping the bag of leaves onto the table.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just being a smart ass.” replied the first loser, Mr. Buckteeth.

“Motherfucker looks like the local punching bag anyway.” noted the bush man. “How are ya old mate Russel?” he asked.

“Yeah can’t complain, no one listens.” replied Russel. “Are those bags for me?” He asked the Bushman.

“Yeah mate, you said something about your bad teeth. Was going possum hunting yesterday, came across a whole plant of the stuff. Figured I better come bring em to you.” the bush man explained.

Russel fished a hand through the bag and pulled a couple leaves from its branch, he crumpled it up and smelt it, “What’s the point of this stuff?” He asked the bush man.

“It’s called Kawa Kawa. You crumple it up, and stick it between the tooth and gum. Natural toothache sedative.” The bushman promised.

Russel did as he was taught, chewed the crumpled leaf around in his mouth and thumbed it between his tooth and gun. He felt his toothache slowly begin to soothe. “That’s why the fuck I keep you around for Pete. You’re always showing me the good stuff. Fuckin premo.”

Pete the Bushman scratched his beard and looked to one side, caught in the headlights of Tracy’s disturbed gaze. Pete waved a hand in front of the young man’s face. “What’s this kid doing here, ehh Russel?” he asked, still glaring at Tracy.

“He’s the new flatly, what was that Tracy? You got cash coming in tonight?” asked Russel, itching at his face.

Tracy necked back his beer and checked his phone, “I don’t think I get paid until the 28th?” he stated.

“28th? That’s two weeks away isn’t it?” the bush man asked Russel.

“Pretty sure so, yeah. That’s the day I get my license back. In fact, how about we do this Tracy; you drive me for my trip down to Christchurch, I pay for the inter islander. In the mean time until you get paid you just drive me around, but WHEN YOU GRT YOUR FUCKIN MONEY BRO DOOOOON’T SPEND IT.” he offered, asked and warned.

Tracy felt dizzy at the sudden proposal, “I got Work tomorrow, and I’m on E light.” he tried explaining.

“What do you do?” asked Russel.

“Got plenty of gas at mine.” Pete the bushman chimed in.

“I work at Maccas.” replied Tracy.

“What kinda fuckwit works at maccas?” The buck toothed bandit taunted.

“I’m 18, man, not many options for people at my age that haven’t graduated yet.” replied Tracy.

“Oh, what’s that? So you think you’re better than us?” Spat the black eyed pea.

“Not at all I-“

“He can’t think he’s better than me. I had the whole of Waikato University running under my thumb. Any coke you got on campus back in ‘03 ran through me. That’s why I’m a fisherman now, I had to head back up north to wash away my sins.” ranted the Bucktoothed Preacher.

“How long has that taken you, Mark?” asked Pete the Bushman.

“7 years, still not clean.” replied Bucktoothed Mark.

At this point, Tracy felt the wave of eyes peering deep into his soul. He found they had taken his safety hostage, and as his eyes danced to monitor all of the fry heads, he could help but spot the handle of an old rusty machete sticking out from between the deck couch cushions.

“What are you thinking right now Tracy? Just tell us bro, we don’t care. Like legit bro just tell us bro, we really do not care at all. Legit bro, straight up.” rattled Russel.

“No, nothing, I mean, I’m fine guys really, I just, I just got here, I saw an ad for a room, I figured that I’d come round and have a look but that was really all it was.” Tracy slowly climbed to his feet, and danced towards the door in an awkward shuffle. “I’ll let you know what happens when I get my money and I’ve looked around more. Thanks for the beer.” he finished as he passed by Pete the bush man and began through the living room.

“One part of that equation. Don't exactly check out Tracy.” recalled Russel.

Tracy stopped in his tracks and turned around, “What part?” he asked.

“You said ‘Thanks for the beer’ as if I had given it to you for nothing. Your payment for that beer is to drive me down to Church.” Russel answered.

Tracy frowned, his hand began to tap his left thigh, “I don’t eee how that’s a fair transaction at all. And besides I’m broke.” He finished.

“I got gas.” replied Pete the Bushman.

“Yeah Pete’s got gas.” replied the black eyed hooligan.

“Shut up, Lars.” spat Russel.

“Sorry bro.” agreed Black eyed Lars.

“Pete’s got gas, Tracy. You and I are going to go for a ride down to Church. Pick up a shipment, and bring it back. No big deal. Now when you leave you can take us with you. Or you can not walk out of here at all. You understand?” threatened Russel.

Tracy paused, waiting for the punchline. Russel nodded. “Alright boys, let’s get crackin.” Russel cheered, swiping up his chest and slipping on his slides.

Russel took the lead, followed by his minions. Tracy strayed behind and made quick action back through the open ranch slider, jumped from the deck and climbed a fence to escape through a neighborhood walkway.

Gap That Ghee