On the road, I was safe.
If an asshole was harassing me, I could just drive off.
Being locked inside a house, I was vulnerable
‘You bad man, you bad man.’
Stop point that drill at me Trang.
My crazy Vietnamese landlord.
Her problem, she had too many kids.
Five of them.
When her husband died, she had to look after them herself.
Great kids. But they all turned against me.
It was an unceremonious leave.
Her brother made sure of that.
So here I was, alone.
No one to call up.
Sure, I could have called up crack head Ron, but so far I hadn’t received a postcard from him.
He was another greedy fucker who had overcharged me.
Trang, we salute you.
She made me make the move.
I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for her.
She opened up so many new doors.
Trang, once again, we salute you.
And yes, I’ll still marry your sister (if she’s a good fuck.)
I know her daughter is a good fuck.
She’s left the nest and hooked up with a tall Australian Asian who can’t speak a word of Vietnamese.
He use to hit the younger children.
I think he was the bad man.
And I was the good man.
Sure I was the good man.
I bought her a solar system.
It was the least I could do.
Then watch her kick me out.
I was vulnerable.
Prey.
I could see them circling above me, in the thermals.
There was Zac the owner of the gym.
Colin the cripple.
Mr Budget Rental, a Chinese Malay.
The Indian with an Australian accent, boy he wanted to fuck me up the ass.
And that was about it.
Oh, Frank the Terrorist.
He was Rosie’s younger brother, a Portuguese Malay.
I know, sounds stupid.
He didn’t look Portuguese to me at all.
Nor did Rosie for that matter.
Rosie is dead.
She died of dementia.
Frank killed her and sold her house.
Hay, I always get the last laugh.
I haven’t quite capitalized on it yet.
That’s about to happen.
Road Kill Tour is going to make me rich.

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