Giles Phinicker didn’t expect charity from the Salvation Army; every time one of their trucks passed by he would chuck a small- to medium-sized roadside herbivore, such as a wallaby at the side of the truck. The driver would hear the wallaby slam against the vehicle; he’d stop, get out, and brief scuffle would ensue, where Giles would proclaim ‘a Queensland curse on anyone who pretends to save people in the army’. The truck driver would shout ‘you’re real messed up mate!’ and would spit on Giles’ boots, and get back in the truck and drive away. Giles would laugh and laugh for the next few minutes or half hour, until his medication wore off, at which point he would break down crying and spitting into his own hands, to wash away the grime and stink of the wallaby (for he carried no soap, and saliva is an effective solvent). Wallabies in his region were known for being particularly filthy, and this was a bit of a shame for the residents in that part of Queensland: in Australia taking good care of wallabies is considered a marker of civility. ‘Oh well,’ Giles would think, ‘at least our GDP per capita is higher than in New South Wales.’
Wacky Wednesdays are on their way...!
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