July 1, 2012: The day the insanity began. Towns deserted. Streets no longer safe. The Carbon Tax appeared to have destroyed every semblance of civilization. No-one stood in its way. Except one man.
His family taken from him by godless gay marriage advocates, ‘Mad Tax’ Abbott was left to fend on his own, save for his loyal pup ‘Pyney’ and his whiskey priest confessor, Pell. Today, was ‘C’-Day. Carbon Day.
Out of petrol, Tony abandoned his car – a lime-green Subaru Forester (his wife had favoured the ochre, but that is a whole other story). The road outside Canberra was quiet, the vacuum punctuated by stray screams from isolated hamlets as the Carbon Tax wreaked its hellish havoc.
Whyalla was gone. We knew that would happen. So too was Wollongong, Wagga Wagga and Woden. Clearly the cursed tax was working backwards through the alphabet. So there was time to save Villawood. But maybe not.
Sensing a showdown with the ultimate evil, Tony wracked his brain, trying to recall his schoolboy Latin for the phrase that epitomised his predicament – rigor mortis? in vino veritas? coitus interruptus? Nothing fit. But he knew if he didn’t stop this cursed tax, this pox on the nation, this blight on humanity, he would have failed himself and his maker. And that was before he got to Pell.
Then, a voice. A banshee howl, though somehow reassuring in its strangulated nasality ‘Axe the tax! Axe the tax!’ He turned to see a woman, a ruddy-faced large woman, yelling from the window of a semi-trailer – the lead vehicle in a dust-churning convoy clearly headed for Canberra. “Jump on board, handsome,” she called, swinging the door open. “We’ve got some work to do.”
Grateful for the company, Tony picked up a panting Pyney and clambered aboard. He held out his hand to the Wagnerian stranger. “Tony,” he said, offering his trade-mark lopsided grin. “Gina,” she replied, leaning forward and nearly smothering him with her ample bosom.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“All the way,” she replied.
TO BE CONTINUED….
12 Comments
paddybts · July 1, 2012 at 6:35 AM
Ahh Yes! It's Cormac McDenmore in glorious form. 🙂
ernmalleyscat · July 1, 2012 at 6:49 AM
So many dystopian horror images there, but I think a “panting Pyney” will haunt me forever.
Lily · July 1, 2012 at 7:03 AM
What a gem. Can't wait for the next instalment. How about a fellow feline to the rescue. Maybe Gina has a fearsome fluffy hidden in the cab ready to release as a sidekick for 'Pyney'. Julie Bishop could give *hiss with paw strike* lessons. =^..^=
EoR · July 1, 2012 at 7:30 AM
I think the Latin you're looking for is “non compos mentis”.
Can't wait for the sequel: Beyond Thundering “No!”.
Anonymous · July 1, 2012 at 11:49 AM
Where were you Granddad the day the world almost stopped?
Well some friends picked us up in their new car and we went out to a Swan Valley vineyard for a nice lunch.
Later that evening we were shocked to hear from the histrionic ABC News that our power bills would go up in one year equal to what our lunch had cost that day. Worse even we heard that we would get no income benefits and that the increases would just go on up and up like a great big new tax.
It was enough to make me want to get up on the back of that truck wearing twinset and pearls. I can tell you kids, things were tough back then.
Anonymous · July 1, 2012 at 10:51 PM
Priceless!
Anonymous · July 2, 2012 at 1:02 AM
“Tony wracked his brain, trying to recall his schoolboy Latin for the phrase that epitomised his predicament…”
Ultra vires?
fractious
730rep0rtLand · July 3, 2012 at 9:52 AM
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“All the way,” she replied.
As she pushed Tony between the front seats and onto the Truckers-Cot.
`Drive on Clive` said Gina `And don`t be afraid to get a little Enviro-Scientist or Union-Rep in the tread of our tyres`.
As Gina slipped his trousers off, Tony also realized he should have listened to his wife when she suggested he get the brown budgie smugglers, instead of the red ones.
God knows they would be handy now.
As Gina put his Leadership to the test, she whispered to him `Drill deep, and drill hard`. Their passion was enhanced by having Alan Jones on the radio saying his current caller `Was wrong and a dole bludging drop kick. Get a job you loser`.
After their passion was quenched, Gina reached into one of the storage compartments and produced two Cubans. She snipped off the end of the first cigar and lit it up. She passed the fully lit cigar to Tony and then repeated the process with the second Cuban.
`These are great after sex` she said to Tony who puffed timidly at his cigar and nodded in agreement. As Gina took bigger puffs on her cigar, the smoke drifted into the front of the truck cab and into Pyney`s nose, which made him sneeze and cough.
Gina laughed at the little pups antics on the front seat next to Clive and said to the pup, `What are you? Some kind of sissy?`
TO BE CONTINUED….
sue · July 3, 2012 at 12:02 PM
Day 2 ain't much better.
Standing infront of a mountain of…….with the shit running through my fingers and Sophie by my side.
Harry Blutstein · July 3, 2012 at 7:23 PM
Loved the piece but couldn't see anything about the sky falling in. Perhaps that is still to happen.
David Irving (no relation) · July 4, 2012 at 3:56 AM
Adelaide has been overcast all week, Harry. Does that count?
Graham Robinson · August 6, 2012 at 1:11 AM
Great photo 🙂
Brisbane Tax Agent