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“Hi, it’s me. I’ve had a little accident. I’m fine. Nick’s on his way to pick up my ute.”


“What the fuck!? Are you OK?”


“Yes, I’m fine.”


“What happened?”


“I hit some diesel and down we went.”


“OMG! You OK?”


“Yes, I’m fine. We’re having a circular conversation.”


“Shut-up, idiot. Do you need an ambulance?”


“No. I’m good.”


“How the fuck did you manage to fall off? Did you not see the diesel?”


“I did. But I was already in it. Or on it.”


“Fuck, cunt. You new at this? You sure you’re alright?”


“Good as gold. Honest.”


Half-an-hour later, the bike is home, and we are examining my injuries.


“OMFG! Your elbow! That looks really bad.”


“It looks worse than it is. It’s just a lump full of blood. Look, my elbow works. There’s no pain. Look.”


“Are you in shock?”


“No. Not shock. It’s more like self-recriminating depression.”


“What do you want me to do?”


“Some Dettol would be good, and an ice-pack for the swelling. I gotta mow the lawn this arvo.”


“You’re not mowing shit. Sit down.”


“You need to scrub the wounds a bit with the Dettol.”


“I can’t. You do it. Does it hurt?”


“Yes, it stings like a bastard.”


“Put the ice pack on.”


“I need to get undressed first.”


“I’ll do that.”


“Oh hell yes!”


“Shut-up, idiot.”


“My underpants need to come off as well. And your face will be in direct proximity to the Kuratz…so, if you’re overcome with lust, I’ll understand.”


“It’s a medical emergency, you fucken fool. I’m not overcome with anything. And if you thrust your hips forward and that hits me in the face, your suffering will be long and loud. No, that’s not a sexy dance. Stop it.”


“I’m hungry.”


“Are you sure you’re OK?”


“I don’t think I’d be hungry if I was not OK.”


“You’d fucken eat underwater. You want me to take you to the hospital?”


“No. I’m fine. I’ll just keep the ice-pack on it for a bit, then I’ll go mow the lawn.”


“There will no lawn-mowing today. Get on the fucken couch. Call the people you need to call. Then just rest.”


“If I put my underpants on again, will you take them off again…but slowly?”


“What’s wrong with you? This is all about as sexy as a cheese sandwich.”


“I saw you looking at my penis.”


“It was a hands-width away from my face, for fuck’s sake!”


“You could have closed your eyes.”


“I am not undressing you blind. Not ever again. Now get on the fucken couch and stop talking.”


“Yes, dear.”

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Boris Mihailovic

Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.

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