The Highly "Influenced" Adventures of Mick, Mike, Dan and Pat.

by Daniel Johns

Episode 5: Priests, Cops and Kindergarten Teachers Behaving Badly.

We needed an obscure place to hide. The infamous Bourban and Beefsteak was to be that place. At five thirty in the morning the place was fairly quiet except for a few dodgy characters standing at the bar, one of whom was wearing a pink suit, another group at a table, and the four of us. Before we entered, Mike insisted on eating the rest of what he had left in his pocket. He grabbed what looked liked five or six pills of different colours and downed them like they were Smarties. "Oh shit", I thought to myself.

Patrick went to the bar to buy drinks while Mick and Mike went to find a table. I decided to stay and wait for Patrick. I didn't wan't to be near Mike when those uppers finally hit him. He'd probably start raving about non-existent people and things and I didn't need a headfuck like that at this time of the morning. As I waited I noticed a quite good looking blonde girl sitting by herself at a table four four. I wondered if she was with anyone. Without taking into consideration whether she had a boyfriend named Biff who might come over and beat the hell out of me, I decided to sit down and talk jibberish to the young girl.

"How's it going?" I opened.

"Good thanks, how's your night been?"

"Pretty quiet actually". I don't think she would of appreciated me telling her the truth of that night. She seemed quite placid but that would not have stopped her from running for her life if I had said, "Oh not too bad a couple of murders here and there and an unconscious barmaid, but nothing out of the ordinary". She was beutiful.

"You know its so nice to meet someone who's straight for once. Every other guy I've met tonight has been off their face, it's pathetic". I looked down and noticed she was drinking an orange juice. I wondered if she was nun.

"Right, right. It is pathetic, right."

Patrick had bought my beer over and now seemed to be chatting up a girl at the bar whilst Mick and Mike were conversing on the other side of the room. I pointed my accompianists out to the the girl and explained that they too were against drugs and alcohol. "That's right. Patrick's a Kindergarten teacher in Melbourne. He's actually down here for a teacher's conference." I hoped to God she wasn't going to ask me about the girl in a mini-skirt he was talking to at the bar. "What about the other guys you came in with?". I wondered why she was so interested in my friends. Was she a cop? Shit. Bad Paranoia. "Mike, the one on the right, is a narcotics agent."

"Really?"

"Yeah, that's why we're here at such an hour. So we can spot any suspicious behaviour that's going on and put a stop to it. Those mongrels are so prevalent at this time of the morning."

"Really?" She was actually buying it.

"Hell yeah! You better believe it babe. Be careful, they'll often come up and just start speaking jibberish to you. That's usually a dead give away. You should call the police immediately.

"Ok. Definately. I will. What about the other guy?"

"Who Mick? He's ummm, a practising priest, yeah. He should be finished his priesthood in the next month or so." I wondered if I was pushing this too far, but then thought fuck it. I needed something to entertain myself with, something to keep me occupied to stop me thinking about the harmful reality which was the fact that the police were probably still looking for us.

At that particular point of time everything was as perfect as it could be given the circumstances. I wasn't in jail, instead I was sitting down with a beuatiful looking girl talking shit that she was actually believing. From that point, everything went down hill. I began to hear some incomprehensible sounds from the other sound of the room and looked over to see Mike engaging in a solo tribal dance of some kind with his bright red jumper tied around his head. I wondered if I could go on speaking to this girl whilst trying to ignore this madness but then realised this was impossible. I'd have to think up an excuse. "He's just trying to fit in. You have to do that kind of stuff when you're undercover." I watched for her reaction and hoped that it would be understanding. Rather it engulfed confusion with maybe a pinch of terror. I didn't blame her. I knew this lunatic and even I was slightly apprehensive. I thought the best thing to do at that point was to ignore it and move on in the conversating. Other things were to obstruct this ambition. Just as I begun to start asking the lame questions such as "do you come here often?" and my personal favorite, "where are you from?" a voice bellowed from the bar. "You're a fucking man?!". I looked over just in time to witness Patrick king hit the supposed girl in the mini skirt he had been talking to. I was to later discover that Patrick had groped his friend and that's how he found out that she was actually a he. He picked up a chair and threw it at the transexual knocking it to the ground. "Ive never seen a kindergarten teacher do that before", I said to the girl." She was stiff with fear. The game was up. I looked over to see Mick's reaction but he was busy throwing up in a pot plant. Confessing. By that time Mike was so involved in his tribal dance that he didn't give a fuck what was going on. I was surrounded by fucking mayhem. Patrick was murdering a she-man, Mick was getting rid of his small intestine and Mike was knocking glasses and furniture over doing his best Puff Daddy impersonation. All that time the girl was simply gazing. Her eyes were blank with disbelief. I remembered what I had told her about calling the cops and thought it be best if we left... really quickly.

Patrick left the she-man it a bloody mess, particularly around the crotch region. "It's definately a girl now" he mumbled with a blank look in his eyes. I nearly threw up myself. Mick had finished throwing up. It was now just a matter of dragging Mike out but all the time he kept on shouting, "elephants laying concrete in the garage!" When I finally mentioned the cops were coming he sort of snapped out of it. We ran and ran and ran. It didn't matter where, just as long as it was away from that place. I'd seen the bartender pick up the phone during the ordeal. I dare say he was calling the cops. We needed to get home. No people to harrass there and, more importantly, home was where the weed was at.

To be continued....