The Glass Kingdom (17 page)

I'll be back in the morning. You'll start work then.

What, you's leaving me tied up like this all night? Wait, how'm I supposed to perform my, uh, ablutions, y'know?

If you gotta go, you gotta go. Goodnight, Mikey.

Oh, just like that, huh? You ain't gonna give me a bucket or nothin'? A'ight, a'ight, I'll just have to hold it in but I warn you, this could be messy in the morning an'…ah, fuck it, he's gone. Mother
fucker
.

Back to bidness as usual, 'cept I got promoted, kinda. Supersized. My piece increased. Back in the saddle an' ridin' till dawn. 'Cept this time there be rules a-fucken-go-go.

Fifty a point, huh? An' what if the cracker comes up short? I got any leeway?

Nah. Don't do half points, no matter how much they beg you.

You ain't worried 'bout losing custom?

This isn't Bunnings, Mikey. It's not good customer service and low, low prices that brings them back. Everyone knows it's fifty a point. If they only have forty, they're taking the piss out of you. You have my permission to respond accordingly.

Sweet. So basically I can badmouth these a-holes all I like.

Knock yourself out.

An' I take it we don't do trade.

Such as?

Y'know, hummers and handjobs.

You ever seen inside the mouth of a meth head? I don't think you want to be putting your dick anywhere near that. Besides, you're not here to enjoy yourself.

A'ight, a'ight, I know, it's all about makin' paper.

Treat them like shit. Don't let them get friendly with you. And those fucken rap songs of yours? Keep 'em to yourself. Don't think because you're selling them meth, they're obliged to listen to your fucken lunatic ravings.

That's cold, homes. But a'ight, I'll just follow the advice Bolton gave to Hasselhoff.

You're going to tell me even though I don't want to hear it.

Stick to the ballads, dawg.

No fucken singing at all, Mikey. You're not auditioning for
Australia's Got Talent
. You're selling crystal meth for me, and I will bury you in a fucken shallow grave if you step out of line one more time. You do understand that, right?

In tha dome like a metronome, boss. An ever-present refrain. Ballyhoo the chumps, bitch slap the tweakers, umpire the blue koala zone, eighty-six the bottom feeders and increase the roll. You can rely on me. I ain't going nowhere and ain't doin' nothin' 'cept working this here stall, an' that's the triple truth, Ruth.

Don't fuck it up.

Scout's honour.

And no dipping the product.

Can't do it anyways. Don't mix too well with my meds.

Yeah, those I do want you to take. Only thing seems to calm you fucken down. Steph'll get your prescription filled.

I mights be needin' a little somethin' for my restless leg syndrome too, boss. I gets agimitated if I don't get my drank on once in a while and, well, how do I put this delicately, the occasional flash of cooch sure works wonders for gettin' a man through those long, lonely nights, you feel me?

Fuck sake, I'm not running a strip bar here. Use your imagination—it's vivid enough. And you better not get restless fucken legs.

A'ight, don't get your pantyhose all in a twist. I's just askin'.

Be better off in the joint. Leastways there you gets Foxtel, three squares an' regular blowjobs, though I'd probs have to open wide and stick out the old tongue myself. Not exactly how I dreamed of spending my summer but I'd do it if I had to. It's just jizz after all, ain't hydrochloric acid or nothin'. 'Stead here I be cooped up in this trailer 'bout the size of a hotdog van, nothin' but cuddly toys, tweakers and my own right hand for company, livin' off a steady diet of potato cakes and dimmies from Shark Bites.

What's worse is I have to pretend to like it. Have to keep my lips zipped, take my medication, Nurse Ratched, and watch the sights and sounds and lights and colour and all the fun of the fair flowin' right on by my window. This be it for me, dawg. This be my very own crystal kingdom, and it ain't no fairytale with Goofy on ice skates, fo' reals.

Roll up, roll up, all y'all high rollers! Don't be shy, come on in an' test your mettle on Target Ball, quite likely the easiest game in sideshow alley! We gots prizes galore an' all of them fluffy. Perfect for the kiddlywinks, laydeez, an' gentlemen of a more artistic inclination. Yes, it is as obvious as it sounds, sir, if you've got the balls then I'll give you five more an' all you gots to do is land 'em in the rings to win big, big prizes! Just look at the size of those targets! How can you miss? It's nigh on impossible.

I should point out for legal reasons that the game is in no way related to the chain of popular department stores but don't let that stop you from steppin' up and showin' off your throwin' skills. How 'bout you, sir? You seem like the type of capable gentleman who could clean me out tonight. No? You're sure? Well, that is surprising—I could've sworn you were a master ball manipulator but perhaps you is more used to havin' them in your mouth than twixt yo' fingers—yeah, that's right, just keep on walking, you didn't even hear what I just said then, did you…what a bunch of chumps and oh, lookee here, what a cute family if you consider extraordinarily prominent foreheads to be attractive, are you two cousins or what, how the fuck'd you wind up with kids that look like they been stitched together from dead bodies, that cannot be natural, homie.

Here we go, finally a clem willing to take the bull by the horns, except oh I see, you a player or a
playa
, dawg? Don't answer that, I can tell from that sticky-looking scrunched up fitty-dollar bill in your paw that you falls into the latter category. Homeboy, I don't even wanna be touchin' that, ain't you got soap in your crib? Never mind, give it here, lucky I gots me a damp rag and a bucket of suds for just this precise reason. Hygiene is paramount, dawg, didn't yo' momma tell you that?

Damn, you gotta admire the Australian mint, makin' their notes waterproof. You know I accidentally washed about five hunnerd dollars one time? Was in the pocket of my work jeans and I done forgot all about it, just came home to my mom's place an' stripped right there in the laundry. Put the whole shebang through the wash cycle and didn't even 'member 'bout the cashola till I opened the lid an' saw all them pineapples plastered round the drum. Damn near soiled my shorts at first, till I realised they wasn't even damaged. Peeled those notes right out of there like it weren't nothin'. Can you imagine if that was five hunnerd dollars US?
Disintegration
, dawg. Poverty and tears. But the day was saved by the Australian mint. Halle Berry, Hallelujah.

Oh, you in a hurry, is that it? Well, excuse me if you don't got time to listen to my very interestin' personal anecdote, dawg, but you in my house now an' you gots to play by the rules of the game. Five balls and stupendous prizes to be won, let's see how you do. Huh? Well, I don't give much of a flying fuck if you don't want to play, that's just how it's gotta be. I ain't handin' you over no blue koala less'n you at least makes out like there be some subterfuge here. You know the Five-O comes round here, right? Uh-huh, I seen 'em earlier, so when I makes delivery you best proceed off site with all due haste, motherfucker. Don't want you hangin' round here drawin' attention to my bidness, you feel me? Sure you do.

Now come on, homes, throw them balls in the air like you mean it. Oh ho ho, whattya know, first one straight in the hole, either that's beginner's luck or Australia gonna be callin' you up for the next Ashes, dawg. Try again. Ah, now don't be disappointed, the second one's always tricky. You throwin' too hard bra, don't know your own strength. An' the third one hits the rim! Damn, boy, you got game, wouldn't be surprised if you's at the next Olympics with this kinda form…Scratch that, number four was weak. You just got downgraded. No spot on the team for you. An' number five is mos def not alive, fact it ain't even close—no need to lose your temper, dawg, you still gets a prize.

Congratulations, sir, you get a cuddly toy of your choice, so long as it's blue and has Chlamydia. One koala for you, abuse it wisely, now get the fuck out of my sight and take a shower 'fore you come back next time, dawg. You smell like a retirement home.

One more fitty-dollar bill for the roll, thank you very much. That be three hundred already this mornin'. Damn, these hicks ain't exactly got what you might call a full social calendar. Nothin' to do all day but smoke it up an' watch
The View
. Still, keeps me busy I s'pose, an' it really could be worse. Fact is, I be better at sellin' crystal than anything else I ever done. Not that I done much.

Had me some punk-ass jobs in my day. Worked in a car park back in Freo for a couple months. That weren't bad, had me a golf buggy to drive round in for collectin' the tickets from the exit machines. Flipped the motherfucker when I took a corner too fast one time an' smashed into some rich asshole's Lexus. Boss was more concerned 'bout the car than me. Got fired for bein' reckless. Late-night shelf stackin' at Woolworths was safer, least in theory, but I lost that one too after I done accidentally sliced open a dozen two-litre bottles of Pepsi with a box cutter an' sprayed my supervisor in the face. Just 'bout everybody thought it was funny, 'cept for him.

Even tried answerin' phones in a call centre for Telstra but that was a motherfucking joke, man. They said I didn't make the grade 'cos I was spendin' too long bein' chatty with folks. Damn, bitches, an' you wonder why nobody likes you?

Gots me a clearer conscience dealin' meth. At least nobody gonna give me grief now Corporal Wallace got my back. Don't have to worry none 'bout gettin' rolled by small-time gangstas or addin' to my extensive collection of bruises or makin' sure I takes exactly seven minutes for my break. Just move the product an' multiply the moolah. 'Fore you know it, I'll be back in the good books an' maybe even have a little chedda put aside so's I can buy some studio time an' lay down some tracks, make a dope mixtape. Just gotta bide my time. Stay lower than a snake's belly. Don't die foolish.

Hey girls, I just know y'all is gonna brighten up my mornin' by winning not one, not two, but three fuzzy critters of your choice. Yes, that's right—it's real easy, just land three balls in one hole and you're a winner. I'll tell you what, since I'm in a good mood and you is by far, and I mean by a
looong
way, the most attractive ladies I seen all day, I'm gonna make it even easier for you. Land just two balls in any target and you will walk away with somethin' soft an' furry to stroke tonight. 'Less you single ladies already got similar plans.

No need to be embarrassed, girls, I myself am a confirmed bachelor. Now, who wants to cradle my balls in their palm? Just lean right over here and I will duly oblige.

Makin' so much paper the temperature of the earth just went up point zero zero zero one degrees. Corporal Wallace's roll be so large they musta cut down a fair chunk of Tasmania just to print all them pineapples. Chedda be rollin', dawg. S'got so I don't even see it as money no more. Just sticky yellow rectangles bundled into stacks of twenty—throw a laccy band round 'em and hand 'em over at the end of every night. Ben makes a note in his phone, weighs what product I got left to make sure I ain't skimmin', pats me on the back an' locks the door. S'like workin' at Maccy D's, 'cept I gots to bunk down next to the deep fryer.

Steph comes round later with some chow an' my medication but she don't want to chatter much. Seems she took a dislikin' to me after I snatched her Datch and besides, she's obvs part of the big man's business these days. Seen the light—or to be precise, smelt the money. She be all the way in now an' I's just an employee, an' a lowly one at that. No fraternising with the help, y'hear? A three-tier management structure, some shit like that. Can't say's I blame her for hatin' on me, an' she sure done hitched her cart to the right pony. That Corporal Wallace be a regular Phar Lap motherfucker.

The sheer extent of his operation is staggerin', dawg. He be runnin' nearly every small-time lab up the east coast an' that's usin' the dome, 'cos he ain't got no truck with importation. All them bikie gangs an' big-time Asian gangstas be tryin' to smuggle that shit in on container ships, hidden in fake antique furniture an' luxury cars an' up the puckered asshole of every Vaseline-totin' Bali-prison-bound motherfucker lookin' to make a fast buck. AFP so occupied searchin' the hold of every boat an' flashin' their Maglites up buttholes that they ain't got the time or the manpower to even begin investigatin' a fraction of the bush labs hereabouts. The game be wide open, for now at least, an' you gots to hand it to the big man, he done saw an opportunity an' swooped in there like a kookaburra snatchin' a big fat juicy mouse from its crib.