“Well I think that wheeze boys should have a weekend away for all that male bonding stuff” says Emmjay as he sips his glass canoe.

Oh fuck no, thinks Hung all that pretend bullshit about how great wheeze all were back in jail, oops I mean high school. ”I’m bored” says Hung reading from the script that he wrote. “Can’t we just put on some Dirt Air and Heat and pretend?”

“Bloody good idea” says Gib ”Lets go out and shoot some cats, drink lots of piss and cook some critters on the barbeque.”

Cheers all round, well from the boys anyway.

”Not a bad idea” says Angler ”Lets get Gordon, Gez and Sandy and, and go camping.”

”None of that poofter stuff” pipes in Merv, who by the way hasn’t actually been invited, as he has to run the pub and granny wouldn’t let him go anyway seeing

he is a juvenile delinquent or that he is from Deniliquin.

“An, an, an, how come Foodge and O’Hoo haven’t been invited?” pushes Merv.

“Ewes ain’t invited Merv, ewes have to stay behind and run the pub” replies Emmjay ticking over the dollars.

“And Merv, my young friend, someone has to keep the business fluid, if you get my drift” informs Gordon.

“But Gordon, camping is crap, flies in your caviar, no Macca’s for your hangovers and sleeping can be uncomfortable” pipes in Sandy.

“Not when you travel to a different solar system in the SS He Who Cannot be Named II” replies Gordon. “I have activated the ship and we off the the planet Blat, to kill cats.”

“Count us in” say the boys.

So we do all the science fiction stuff, you know beam up to the ship, fly so fast your

nose bleeds and then descend to the planet surface in a space pod, fully self sustaining so that no evidence, oops, rubbish is left behind to damage the environment. Wheeze clean, mean and green. Sounds like a slogan for a certain political party.

The pod lands and settles itself gently on a grassy patch next to a pristine river estuary flowing out to sea. Crikey, sounds like Summer Bay.

“What’s for dinner?” asks Geez trying to get his word count up and who has been in absentia (or is that dementia) for the last few stories.

“Ask auto cook” Emmjay contributes being much in the same bracket.

“Auto cook responding. Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened up to you.”

“Stop, none of that religion bullshit” affirms Hung, smoke absolutely pouring out of his cigarette.

“How about roasted leg of beast with potatoes, carrots served with jus and mulled

wine” Gib pontificates “Oh and greens for fun, followed by a peach frangipane with

home made ice cream and raspberry compote covered with crushed almonds and icing sugar.”

“Swap the mulled wine for Shiraz and you got me” says Angler.

Cheers and beers all round.

“Auto cook responding, go the mass has ended, thanks be to Gordon…”

“No, no, no, no religion. I told you Mark, no fucking religion okay!” reinforces Hung.

“Hung, I’m not even in this episode, I’m on holidays at Long Bay but point taken” says Mark.

Seven days later, no one had thought to go outside, shoot cats, discover the

environment, meditate, do yoga, kill cats, look out the window, debate Chaos theory, find an algorithm that actually works but no matter everyone returned to Inner Cyberia in a totally happy mood.

So Honshades approaches the boys on return from space. “So boys, how many cats did you kill?”

“Coupla hundred” lies Gib.

“At least a thousand” lies Angler.

“Tens of thousands, wheeze run out of ammo” lies Gordon.

“Well none actually but wheeze brought one home” says the ever truthful Emmjay.

“Don’t tell Helvi but I’m in love with auto cook” says Gez.

 

Picture is from left to right, Sandy, Gib, Emmjay (at rear, as usual), Angler, Gordon, Foodge, Neville and Gez. O’Hoo is the stiff.

This is the cat that Emmjay brought back, aw we how cute, now they infest the whole planet, oh well.