The Green Nutter I hear them mutter and yet they cannot see that everything she says or does is in the beauty of a tree   The Green Nutter I hear them cry and yet they cannot hear that everything they say or do is in the echo of her tear   The two teenagers were wearing their Year 12 jerseys. They were sitting under a shady fig tree in Lambton Park. The boy carried the legend Narc on his jersey while the girl boasted Echo on her jersey. ‘This bloody heat sucks,’ the boy said. ‘Bloody heat sucks!’ The

It was during the K9 virus pandemic that we made a momentous decision. No less a doggo than Lord Staffador, Chester the Jester himself, had suggested that we purchase a companion human from the Lost Humans Home. Being an Irish wolfhound named Michael Collins and a Mexican chihuahua named Pancho Villa we were gay canine revolutionaries with no biological puppies of our own. Due to the stress of social distancing and being locked down in our kennels for an indefinite period of time, Lord Staffador issued us with a special travel permit on the grounds of nurturing our mental and

Alan hated school with a passion. School sucked. School was so far behind his own thinking, and school clearly wanted to keep him harnessed to a past that was no longer relevant. Even the school uniform was a statement of just how uniform the school expected him to be. Alan attended a private school on a high hill that had a view of everything, and a view on everything, with little original understanding attached. The school had been selected on the basis of pretension because that is how Alan’s mum chose everything; including Alan’s name, of course. Alan was named

The inversion pandemic was truly terrifying. Intelligent people became dumb while dumb people became intelligent. Rich people became poor while poor people became rich. But would the right-wing, conservative, capitalist government become a left-wing, progressive, socialist government? That was the question on the minds of the dumb and intelligent alike as the Prime Minister rose to speak. There was much speculation that politicians had developed a herd immunity to the inversion virus. Nevertheless, the government had built a virus-proof fence around the parliament, and the government had closed all state borders, including the state of denial. The Prime Minister was

The new Prime Minister of Australia is an Aboriginal woman. She has a vision for her country that is beyond politics. Her dreaming comes from the land itself. Her dreaming is informed by the smoke and fires, by the kookaburras and koalas, by the kangaroos and goannas and all of the Australian native flora and fauna, including those who are no more. She hears the whispers of her ancestors in the wind-blown leaves and the cry of the currawong, the rain bird, and she hears the croaky, dry voice of drought, and she makes her decision. She will lead. She

Santa’s sleigh is barely visible through the choking smoke. Santa is wearing a respirator over his flowing beard, and he can’t see where he’s going. Santa’s sleigh is being guided by snoutnav. Chester the Jester is an unusual reindeer. He’s a shape-shifter like his companion Merlin the Magnificat. Chester and Merlin could become the smoke, but today they’re on a special mission for Santa. They have become reindeers. Chester is a koala-sniffing dog, and Merlin is a Maine Coon cat. Santa has thought long and hard: would the koalas appreciate a new Prime Minister? But Santa’s sleigh is empty. Perhaps

I knew that Joe was dead. The hospice sister had phoned me at 3am. I ducked into the chapel five hours later to have a word with the god that Joe didn’t believe in. Morning sun filtered through the stained glass. A rainbow of primary colours refracted and reflected an old man’s death. Nobody really knew Joe. I certainly didn’t. He had no living relatives and no apparent friends. Joe was one of those homeless characters who slept rough under a Moreton Bay fig in Lambton Park. I didn’t know the significance of that fig. I didn’t know the significance

I’m not a Lambton lad or lass, but I am a Lambton legend. Indeed, it could be said that the entire township rotates around me. I’m 128 years old, but I long to be 228 years old, and, to understand that longing, you’d need to know of what happened during my 28th year. It’s a

A Novella for Sam and The Beast Dramatis Personae Sam a dog with an unknown past Cicero a cat with a well-known past The noble senators readers and listeners of this wagging tale The Laman Street figs fourteen living as one Veritas the goddess of truth The bottlebrush a urinary associate My master Buddhist owner of Sam and Cicero Mother Teresa a saintly chihuahua, friend of Sam King Phillip a renowned canine tonsurist The Diet Squad a legion of starving dog-catchers Diet Squad dullard a very dull chap with a shiny heart Labrador a passing distraction Lusty poodle a passing heat