Week 18 - Lifted

Australia is currently going through a pretty dark time. I never intended any of this project to be political, but as I started writing this story I realised I was being influenced by the burgeoning paranoia that is gripping our country’s outlook at the moment. I can’t relate to that sense of wanton aggression; it is lunacy to me. So I thought I’d try to write to explore that kind of point of view – keeping it fairly oblique in terms of specific politics, but speaking to a sort of character I can’t fathom. Warning: swearing within.

Back to stupid stories about space and my feelings next week.


There’s a kid. Fifteen-year-old kid. At the back of the shop. He’s at the back of the fucking shop, mate, and he looks shifty as all fuck. Keep an eye on him. Keep your fucking eye on him.

I hate shopping. Especially shopping for food. So fucking boring, you know? And these supermarkets, they just fill it with all kinds of foreign crap. You can’t trust it. Can’t trust any of these supermarket owners. They just want money, my money, my hard-earned money, and they’re gonna get it. But I won’t be happy about, no sir-fucking-ree.

What’s he doing now? Looking at the magazines. Don’t sell porn here, kid. Not that kinda shop. Little shithead. So what’s he up to? Gonna steal something. Little shithead is gonna steal something. I know I hate these supermarkets and the fucking pricks that run ‘em, but I’ll be fucked if I let some little shithead start stealing stuff under my watch.

Cos that’s what it is right? My watch. Our watch. Can’t let it all turn to shit. All this glory. All this beautiful perfection, it don’t just appear for nothing. It’s on a knife’s edge. A knife’s edge every second. Could all fall down, blow up. If they got their way, it would. So you gotta be vigiliant. Gotta stay fucking vigilant, mate.

Ah for fuck’s sake, they’re out of barbeque sauce. How can they be out of fucking barbeque sauce, isn’t this Aust- oh, no. Wait. Yep. Here it is.

Lost him. Lost sight of him. Goddamn trolley won’t go straight, it’s absolutely rooted. Probably been used by idiot kids, just like this one I’m following, when they’re high and go riding around in trolleys in carparks breaking shit. And now, I’ve finally got a chance to stop one of these punks from getting his damn way all the time, self-entitled little shit, and the fucking trolley keeps crashing into the fucking sauce aisle.

One time, I saw a bunch of shifty looking fucks standing on the corner of Port Road and South Road, just looking really fucking shifty, you know? Loitering and smoking and all kinds of shit. I did not want a bar of that shit. My girl told me to call the cops, but those pussies won’t do anything. They’re strung up by politically correct horseshit, you know what I mean? Get in trouble just for tasering some prick who was fucking asking to be tasered. So what I did, was, I drove past these loitering shifty fucks on the corner of Port and South Road, and as I was going past them, I threw a fucken bottle at ‘em.

Calm the fuck down, all right? It didn’t hit any of them. Just scared ‘em. I just smashed the glass on the ground and scared the piss out of ‘em. I think one of them actually pissed themselves, I don’t know, I was driving at the time.

Someone just needs to scare these punks straight, these fucks who think they can just do whatever they want and not show the rest of us any respect. This fucking trolley, mate, fuck.

There he is. Near the fucking DVDs, I should have known it. These kids, that’s all they want. Fucking DVDs that they can sell to their mates. That’s why they wear those massive hoodies, right? So they can stuff DVDs and shit into the front of them and these idiots that run these stores don’t have a fucking clue.

I’ll just move a bit closer, keep an eye on him for a bit.

Keep my eye on him, watch out for his shifty shit.

If I had my way, if I was running this country, things would be different. We wouldn’t tolerate disrespect, for a start. But, more like, we wouldn’t ever let ourselves get into situations where we can be disrespected. We gotta make sure everyone’s on the same page, you know? That everyone’s listening to us.

Because you know what? Why should I be made to feel unsafe? What right does anyone else have to interfere with my well-being? My state of mind? The life I’ve built here with my hard-earned cash? I shouldn’t have to tolerate it. I don’t tolerate it, anymore. Life’s too fucking short. I just keep bottles on me all the fucking time, and when something doesn’t show my way of life the respect it deserves, I scare the fucking piss out of it.

I think he took a DVD. I’m pretty sure he took one. I didn’t quite see it, but sure as shit nobody else fucking saw it. These idiots that work here aren’t gonna do shit.

Play it cool, mate. Play it cool.

Cops can’t do shit. Fucking liberals got the whip on ‘em.

You’ll be a good damn hero.

He’s speeding up. Gotta go, gotta go.

I’ll get him. I’ll show everyone what he’s done, and then people will realise. They’ll realise that you’ve gotta be fucking vigiliant. They’ll feel the knife’s edge. I’m not a violent person, I’m not, and everyone deserves a shot, I get that. But if I have to get my knuckles a bit red just to make sure nobody fucks with me I’ll fucking do it.

Here we go. Round this next corner, then jump. Make the fucking jump, mate. I can feel my knuckles going red already, fuck yes.

Hang on. Woah, come on, just –

Fucking trolley’s fucking – jesus, who piles shit in the aisle like that? These fucking idiots that run these places, fill it with all this foreign – where’s he gone he’s – fucking trolley’s fucking – fucking trolley – fuck – where is he, he’s – shit. Ah, fucking shit, I’ve tipped. I’ve tipped on my fucking fucked leg and – fucking trolley’s on fucking top of me fuck he’s –

He’s getting away – he’s getting away! SOMEONE CALL THE FUCKING COPS!

Words copyright Matt Vesely. Image copyright David Keen.