Wednesday, December 20, 2017

MRS. GIBSON ~ ONE WISE WOMAN

     It was a common practice at Gilltraps, on a Friday and Saturday nights, to migrate into the lounge, which was commonly known as The Sow Pen.

     The Sow Pen was a room off of the end of the bar. It had a serving hatch where one could order their beers. A juke box that played country music, like Slim Dusty, Rick and Thel and Chad Morgan, and everyones' favorite song Running Bear. Sadie the Cleaning Lady ran a close second.

     Round tables and fairly comfortable chairs were provided as the Sow Pen was furnished with women in mind, seeing as they weren't allowed in the barroom. According to that bit of strategy, women were one rung lower on the ladder, as Abbos' were now allowed to drink in the bar and drink they did. Women not being allowed in the bar was not a NSW government law. It was, more or less, a Bush law owing to the fact that blokes would get full of grog, curse and swear.

     Those days were not like today, where most people swear in mixed company. For example; women were no allowed in the shearing shed. If any woman was within earshot of the shed, some one would yell out, 'Ducks on the Pond!'

     Mrs. Gibson was an Aboriginal cook who worked for Cath Gilltrap in the Hotel kitchen. She was about 50 years old and probably had 30 to 40% white fella in her. Her height was about 5'7" and she weighed around 12 stone (170 pounds).  Mrs. Gibson, who was known as Gibbi, dressed well and spoke very good english. She was also the proud mother of 5 children of various ages.

     Some mornings, when I was due to leave early for work, she would, very kindly, make me some breakfast before the scheduled time. Gilltraps dining room was nothing to write home about. Although very clean, it was more or less, one empty room with 4 dining tables plus chairs. Not wanting to sit in an empty room to eat my breakfast, Mrs. Gibson cleared a space on the over-sized  kitchen table where I could eat.

     On one particular morning, the head cook was late for work. She'd been on the grog in the Sow Pen, with her drinking mates the night before. Cath Gilltrap, who was normally even tempered and very fair, was in a stinking mood, as she rushed around the kitchen helping Gibbi with the cooking and cleaning. Eventually the head cook arrived for work 40 minutes late. No sooner had she put on her apron, Cath Gilltraps' had a piece of her.
"What time d'ya call this? Ya paid to start work at 5:30."
"Yeah, I know.", said the head cook.
"This is not acceptable. You've been late twice already this week."
"Yeah, 5 minutes.", said the cook.
"How would you like it if I had added up the times that you've been late and docked it off ya pay?"
"It won't happen again.", she said.
"What am I gonna' tell the guests this morning, now that the schedule is off?"

     All of a sudden and without warning, the head cook removed her apron and threw it into the large pot of lamb stew that was sitting on the stove.
"Ya know what Cath? Why don't ya take ya fuckin' apron and ya breakfast schedule and shove it up ya arse and while we're at it, if you ever want me to cook for ya again, I want a raise!"
   
     With that said, in no uncertain terms, she stormed out and said to Mrs. Gibson, "See ya in the Sow Pen."

"Well that certainly livened up the morning.", said Gibbi to Mrs. Gilltrap. "What are we gonna' do for a Head cook now? We're already one cook short until I find a replacement. You can be the head cook, until I find a replacement."
"Not bloody likely. I'm already working mi arse off in here, as it is."
"I'll put a few extra bucks in ya wages for ya."
"No bloody way. I've got a bad back and I'm already doing more work than I get paid for! You need to find another head cook today or there'll be no more meals cooked in this kitchen."
"I'm not gonna' be able to find another cook in one day! What d'ya expect me to do?"
"Well, I suppose you'd better go round and see her."
"For what?", says Cath.
"Apologize for going off on her. Ya know how temperamental she is, when she's had a big night on the grog. Besides, she's the best cook in the Lake. You'll never find anyone better than her."
"Just do lunch and dinner for me Gibbi and I'll have some one else by tonight."
"All right, but that's it! If you haven't got someone by the time I knock off, I won't be in tomorrow. You can let me know when you've found someone!"

"Jeezus, what a beaut drama!", I said to Gibbi, once Gilltraps wife had left the kitchen. "So what happens now?
"She'll have to apologize to her and ask her to come back to work."
"What if she doesn't?"
"She'll have to. That old sheila took a hotel cooking course. She's got a certificate to prove it."
"Why don't you want the job Gibbi? You'll make more money."
"Bullshit! She'll have me doing more work for the same pay. I might be an Abbo but I'm not stupid or lazy like those mission bungs. I'm educated and I live in town. I've raised 5 good kids and they're all pretty well-educated as well!"

     The next morning, when I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, there stood the Head Cook, in a clean apron busying herself at the stove.
"What happened?", I asked Mrs.Gibbi, on the QT.
"Cath Gilltrap had to go round to her place and apologize and give her the raise she asked for."
"So, things are hunky-dorry now?"
"Yeah, till the next time."

 Mrs. Gibbons was a strong, powerful Aborigine woman, who never took bullshit from anyone! 

     It was now Friday night and Freddy, miself and War Dog were in a school together at Gilltraps bar, relaxing from a weeks hard work, in and around the Bush. Freddy, who had just come back from the dunny said,
"Hey Yorky mate, I just stuck mi head in the Sow Pen. They've got a bit of a party goin' on in there. Ya think we ought to join 'em?"
"Why not mate. We'll finish this round off, then poke our noses in there and see what's happening. Ya wanna' join us War Dog?"
"Now why the fuck would I wanna' sit in the Sow Pen with a bunch of middle-aged, fat sheilas' who are half-tanked up on grog?"
"It might be fun War Dog.", said Freddy. "Some of 'em are dancing."
"That sounds to me like it would be as much fun as a feed of shit mate. When are you two bastards gonna learn? If ya wanna' root, ya gotta hop in that old A55 of yours and take off to West Wyalong or Griffith. Somewhere, where nobody knows ya'!"
"Very fuckin' funny War Dog. Like you're the expert at gittin' a root."
"Look mate, I'm no expert at gittin' a root but don't ya' think I was a young bloke once? Same as you two fuck-wits. Lake Cargelligo is a small, conservative, Bush town. Ya can't fart without the whole town knows about it. The smell wouldn't have time to leave ya strides before they were talkin'."
"Were you a young bloke once?", asked Freddy with a shocked look on his face.
"Ya cheeky, fuckin' cunt!", said War Dog. "I'm surprised at you mate. Ya startin' to sound like this pommy bastard here. Haven't ya ever heard of respectin' ya elders?"

     The tone of War Dogs voice soon changed the look on Freddys' face, as he said,
"Can't ya take a joke War Dog? You're always tryin' to take the piss outa' me and Yorky. If ya not on at us about rootin, you're on at us about our workin' ability."
"And rightly so!", said War Dog. "He'll never git a root as long as his arsehole points to the ground, and you Freddy, mi old china, wouldn't work in an Iron, fuckin' lung!  Have ya forgotten mate? I'm the bloke who worked on the relief gang with ya."
"Yeah, well fuck you War Dog. You're not such a great worker ya self. You still think manual labor is a Dago tennis star!"
     This little joke of Freddys' struck a raw nerve in War Dog. He said,
"What am I doing, wasting mi fuckin' time sittin' here, drinkin' beer with you two disrespectful ding- bats? Fuck you two, I'm off down to Twitcheys for a beer. At least I'll git a bit of intelligent conversation there. All you two bastards ever think about is work and rootin', and not necessarily in that order!"

     At that moment, one of the barmen walked over and said,
"Same again fellas?"
"No, shove it up ya fuckin' tucker-shute mate!", said War Dog and made a bee line for the door.
"Jeezsus fellas', ya sure riled the old bastard up tonight!", said the barman.
"Fuck him!",  I said. "He can dish it out but he can't take it. He's always the same once he's had a skin-full. Anyway, he'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow."
"Ya probably right mate, but don't drive any more of my customers off to Twitcheys or I'll end up down there miself, lookin' for a job!"
     The barman put 2 middys on the counter, gave us a wink and walked away without pickin' up the money off the bar.
"Jezesus Freddy, maybe you should insult War Dog more. I think the barman just shouted us!"
"Sounds alright to me Yorky mate. Let's migrate to the Sow Pen."

     Once Freddy and me found chairs and a table, we settled into a fun evening of beer and laughter. The usual songs were plugged on the juke box and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Even Freddy got up for a bit of a dance, even though his moves looked slightly retarded!

     Mrs. Gibson was, by this time, well on her way. She must have been because when some one played a slow song she'd say,
"Come on Chummy, ya pommy bastard, make an old Ginn happy, git up and dance with me."
     I noticed, as the night wore on, she started pulling me in closer on the slow dances. This little action started to provoke ideas in my teenage, sex-starved brain, as I could feel her rather large breasts pushing against mi chest.
"I really love a good party Chummy.", she said as we moved around in a small circle. "But don't get me wrong mate, I'm not an Alchy' like these black bastards, out at the mission. I'm a clean-livin' woman."

     After the dance finished, we sat at a table together, drinking our beer.
"Don't ya like the Mission Abbos, Gibbi?"
"Course I do. They're my people. How can I not?"
"So why ya down on 'em"
"I'm not down on 'em, it's their actions that I'm pissed-off with. They give all my people a bad name. Take your mate Popeye, for example. He walks around in bloody rags, 'cause he spends his money on cheap plonk. Then when he's broke down to the bones of his scrawny ass, he spends his time biting money off white fellas that have been working hard in the Bush all day! What the Aboriginal board ought to do is train 'em up to do something useful in life. That would give 'em a bit of self-respect and for the ones who refuse, kick 'em off the Mission and stick 'em back in the Bush. That'd wake 'em up."
"Don't ya put any blame on the white fellas' for stealing the land and introducing them to grog?"
"Course I bloody do. There's enough blame to go around for everyone but whinging about it hasn't done any good so far."
"What about ya kids, Gibbi? What do they identify with, black fellas or white fellas?"
"Both. And I brought them up not to be racists. There's too much of that shit around already!"
"What about ya husband? Is he still alive?"
"Yeah, he works on a station, west of here."
"D'ya ever see him?"
"Yeah, when he's blind drunk. He comes around biting me for money. He's a weak-willed piece of shit. Soon as he gets a check, he'll go and piss it up against the wall with his lazy abbo mates. What bloody use is he to a woman? I'm better off without him! I raised all my kids on mi own with no bloody help from that useless bastard! Let's change the subject Chummy, I don't wanna get all pissed-off and cranky. I'm in a good mood tonight!"

     Just then, one of Gibbis' mates came over and said,
"We're carrying the party on at our place after Traps closes, so I'm off home now to set up some tables and chairs on the lawn. You interested?"
"Too right Mavis, I'm up for anything tonight. I can't remember when I've had as good a time."
"Well, make sure ya come and bring ya mate with ya."
"No worries Mave, I'll be there."
"Hey Chummy, have you still got that old rust bucket of yours?"
"Yeah, it's out the back of Traps, parked up. I don't drive it much 'cause it uses near on as much oil as petrol."
"Ya think it would get us the other side a' town?"
"If she starts up, she will and as long as the battery's not flat."
"Ya wanna drive me to Mavis's place later?"
"No worries. Sounds like a good plan to me."
"That old bomb's safe isn't it?"
"Yeah. It's even registered!"
"Ya ever had a fat old Ginn in the passengers seat before?"
"I'm not sure what ya mean?"
"I mean me! You'd better make sure the front tires are good and solid or we'll driving on the rims."
"You're not a fat, old Ginn, Gibbi. You're a pretty good sort."
"Ya should have seen me before I got married and dropped 5 kids! I was a pretty good sort then."
"I'm sure you were Gibbi."

 "Last Orders!", yelled Gilltrap  through the serving hatch. "Better hurry up if ya want another!"

     After the last order was consumed, Gibbi and miself made our way out to the parking area where mi old A55 was waiting for us.

"Look out!", said Gibbi as we stumbled around, "Over there in the dark."
     It was almost impossible to see them, sprawled out with an empty flagon on its side between them.
"You start the car Chummy. I'm gonna call the Sergeant and tell to come pick 'em up."
"Why would ya do that? He'll chuck 'em in the Bull Wagon and take 'em off to jail for the night!"
"Better that, then gettin' run over by some drunken Yobbo, leaving the bar!"

     Gibbi took off to phone Montgomery and I set about starting up mi old oil burner that hadn't been driven for a few weeks. Surprisingly, after checkin' the oil, the old girl fired up on the third try. As soon as Gibbi came back I said,
"Hop in love, were on our way!"
"You are bloody joking.", she said, in her dry sense of humor. "I'll be flat-out lifting up my fat, black arse onto the seat, never mind 'hopping'! I haven't hopped onto anything for the past twenty years!"

     This little joke of hers gave us both a good laugh as I carefully reversed the car out onto the street.
"We'd better git out'a here quick Gibbi before the sergeant shows up, or depending on his mood, he may ask me why I'm driving after drinking all night!"
"Oh fuck that fat bastard Chummy. He's after black fellas' now, not white fellas. One of those mission abbos was so black he'll have to use his torch to find him in the dark."

     The barbecue party at Mavises' humpy was a roaring success. We drank more Tinnies, ate lamb chops and steak and did our best to dance around on the lawn like a bunch of retards.
"Let's go Chummy, ya pommy bastard.", said Gibbi, as the long night drew to a close."
"No worries mate. D'ya need me to help ya git ya fat black arse into the car?"
"Maybe. Let me try it on mi own first and if not we'll take one cheek apiece and load it in that way."
 
     It was near on dawn when I pulled the old car up in front of Gibbis' humpy, which was on the outskirts of town.
"There ya go mate.", I said to her. "I got ya home safe and sound."
"Hey Chummy, I've got to tell ya mate, this is the best night out I've had since, I don't know when. Give us a bit of a kiss and cuddle and that will make my day."
     Very obligingly and with quite a bit of enthusiasm, I fulfilled the request. At the same time, I slowly slid mi hand up the inside of her leg. I'd only got mi hand halfway to the destination when it came to an abrupt halt with her hand on top of mine, stopping any further progress. After a few minutes of persistence and failure at each attempt, Gibbi said,
"Chummy, the front seat of this old bomb of yours are too small for what you've got in mind and I'm too fuckin' old and drunk to try fumblin' around on the back seat, so I'll make you a deal mate! You take me on a night-out to a five star restaurant in Griffith, with a tablecloth and candles and when we get home, I'll invite you into my old humpy and ya can root me all night long! How does that sound?"
     Even though I was quite shocked with her blunt honesty, I gave her a good smile and said,
"Alright Gibbi, you're on! It's a date, as long as this oil burner can make it. I'll let you know when."
     With that said, she clicked open the car door and after a few tries to get out, she said,
"Well don't just sit there mate, these seats are too bloody low. Give us a hand out!"
     After a bit of effort, I had her up on her feet.
"Good on ya mate.", she said as she wobbled off up the path to her front door.

     It was now well and truly Saturday morning as I parked the car on the side street, next to Gilltraps. Once inside mi room, I threw miself on top of the bed and contemplated the offer that Mrs. Gibbi had made me. It didn't take long to nod off, as it been a long, hard night of partying. I was awakened around 4 in the afternoon by a loud knocking on the door.
"All right! All right, I'm fuckin' comin'! Hold ya bloody horses! Jeezus Freddy, I said, opening the door, did ya have to knock so bloody loud?"
"Ya got a headache Yorky?"
"No mate, I never get headaches but I feel like shit. I didn't git home till this morning!"
"Ya got any Tinnies in ya room mate?"
"No, I just finished the last one. Mi mouth tasted like the bottom of a fuckin' parrot cage when I woke up. Go grab a six-pack will ya mate? Mi tongue's stickin' to the roof of mi mouth. I'll fix ya up, when ya get back."

     Once the cans were opened we took a swig of the hair of the dog.
"What time d'ya git home mate?", I asked Freddy.
"About 3 this morning."
"What about you?"
"Ya beat me by a couple of hours. The sun was coming up when I laid down. I didn't even bother to take off mi good gear, by the looks of it!"
"That's not like you Yorky mate. Your room's always 10 times more tidy than mine and ya good clothes are always hung up behind the door."
"Yeah, I must have had a better night than I thought! What's the Johnny-Dorry Freddy? Did ya git any last night?"
"Well, sort of mate."
"What d'ya mean, 'sort of'? Either ya did or ya didn't. Come on mate, spill ya guts."
"I got a ride to the party with some sheila who was related to Mavis."
"The one I saw ya dancin' with?"
"Yeah, that was probably her, mate."
"She didn't look like a bad sport."
"Yeah, she was pretty good fun. She almost drunk me under the table. She was chuckin' it back like it was goin' out of fashion."
"Was she from the Lake?"
"Nah, she said she was from Condo. She's divorced with a couple of kids."
"How old was she?"
"I didn't ask mate but she looked about 35 or 40."
"A divorcee, with a couple of kids! Ya must have hit the jackpot?"
"Not quite mate. At the end of the night, we parked up along the lakeside and started some heavy pettin' but she wouldn't go all the way."
"How come?"
"I think she was one of those old-fashioned types that doesn't cock it up on a first date."
"So ya got nothin'?"
"Well, not exactly. She agreed to flog mi maggot and said she'd go all the way next time."
"Fuckin' hell Freddy, at least ya got something. It's more than I got."
"Last time I saw ya Yorky, you were spinnin' old Mrs. Gibson around on the lawn."
"Yeah mate, that's about all that happened."
"Don't tell me you were thinkin' of rootin' old Gibbi?"
"She's not that fuckin' old mate and besides, she's a lot of fun to be with. I wasn't thinkin' about age."
"Ya mean 'cause she's an abbo?"
"Yeah, sort of. She's not a mission abbo Freddy, she's lived in town most of her life."
"Did ya try anythin' on with her?"
"Yeah, I got mi hand half-way up her leg before she stopped me. After a few more times, she agreed to give me a root."
"So ya hit the Jackpot?"
"Nah, there was a fuckin' catch to it."
"What d'ya mean 'a catch'?"
"When she stopped mi hand the last time, she said she'd make me a deal. If I take her to a 5 star restaurant in Griffith for a night out, when we get home, I could root her all night long!"
"Fair fuckin' dinkum, she said that?"
"Fuckin' oath mate."
"Are ya gonna?"
"I don't know yet."
"Ya not seriously thinkin' of takin' an abbo sheila to a posh restaurant are ya?"
"Well, that's the problem I've created for miself. If I take her to a restaurant, it's bound to be full of white fellas' and their wives and ya know what that's gonna' be like. They'll be starin' at us and talkin' about us all the time we're there! I can't pretend it's mi older sister or mi auntie, can I? I'm as white as a shirt washed in New Blue Star, fuckin' OMO, in comparison to her. She's as black as the Ace of Spades. Now, if I don't take her, she's gonna' think I'm a racist, white bastard who's ashamed to be seen with her, in a high-class restaurant, so I'm not sure what I'm gonna' do yet."

"I know ya not askin' me mate but if I was in your position, I think I'd rather be seen as a white racist bastard than a low-life Ginn jockey. Besides, even if ya weren't rootin' the old girl, they'd imagine ya were."
"Yeah, that's what I'm thinkin'. If I don't take her after I already said I would, she'll think I'm a racist bastard, as well."
"It's a pity she's not white?"
"Why'd ya say that mate?"
" 'Cause if she was white, they'd think you were a granny-fucker, which at least, is one step up from a Ginn Jockey!"
"I suppose you think that's fuckin' funny Freddy?", I said, as he broke into fits of laughter. "Here I am, in the shit now because mi brains were in the head of mi dick last night and all you can do is extract the urine at my expense!"
"Oh, I'm sorry for laughin' Yorky mate. It's just so fuckin' funny."
"By the way Freddy, don't you dare tell old War Dog about this fiasco or I'll never hear the end of it!"
"Well, all in all Yorky, after hearing about your night, I don't feel so bad about mine. At least I got a wank, with no strings attached!"

     After discussing my little predicament with Freddy, who, I might add, was not much help, I decided not to go into Gilltraps' kitchen for an early breakfast until I could work out a good excuse why I wouldn't be takin' Mrs. Gibson for a 5 Star meal. The excuse that kept comin' up more than any other was mi old A55. I'll just tell her that the old oil burner wouldn't make it.

     Once the fateful morning was decided, I walked into the kitchen wearing the best smile I could, under the circumstances.
"G'day Gibbi.", I said.
     Gibbi, who was stirring a pot on the stove, turned and faced me with a smile and said,
"G'day Chummy, How are ya?"
"Not bad Gibbi, how are you?"
"Eggs on toast do ya this morning?"
"That sounds great Gibbi. Thanks."
     As I sat there at the table, all sorts of excuses were runnin' through mi mind. What threw me for a loop was the fact that she smiled at me. Maybe she thinks I'm still gonna' take her? What's gonna' happen when I break the bad news to her? She'll never speak to me again. She put the eggs on toast in front of me and asked,
"Ya wanna' cup of tea with that Chummy?"
     She was being so kind and sweet to me that I now felt like shit inside. Once she'd put the tea down in front of me, she passed over the milk and sugar, which I could have reached miself, no problem at all.
     The head cook had still not arrived and Cath Gilltrap was nowhere to be seen.

"I think I'll have a quick cuppa' miself.", she said, as she poured out the tea and cleared a place for herself at the table, directly opposite me.
     'Oh, fuck me dead, I thought, here it comes. I'm not lookin' forward to this little drama!'
"So how ya been since the party Chummy. Ya haven't been in for breakfast for a few days."
"No, I wasn't workin' Gibbi. I've been gettin' a bit of extra rest in the mornings."
"Chummy, you and I need to have a bit of a chat about the other night."

     I almost choked on a bit of toast at the thought of what she was gonna' say to me. She still had a decent smile on her face. I knew the shit was gonna' hit the fan.

"That nights' partying we did together was the best fun I've had for a long time mate. I almost felt like a young girl again."
"Oh that's great Gibbi.", I said as I tried to hide the nervousness in mi voice.
"Yeah Chummy, dancing with you mate made me realize what life is all about. I've been working my arse off for so many years, bringing up 5 kids on mi own that I'd forgotten all about looking after miself."
'I'm happy to hear that Gibbi and I'm glad you had fun."
"How about you Chummy? Did you have a good time?"
"Yeah, of course I did. Parties are always good fun."
"Do you remember our little deal we talked about before I got out'a that old bomb of yours, in front of my place?"

     Oh fuck me, here it comes. I thought, She'll never speak to me again after this. I've ruined a good friendship, just for feeling a bit of warm thigh!
"Yeah, well I've been meanin' to talk to you about that Gibbi...."
"Hang on a minute Chummy, I haven't finished yet. Look Chummy, you and I are real good mates and I don't wanna' hurt ya' so I'm just gonna' blurt it out. I've changed mi mind about the deal. I'm not comfortable with it. I was full of grog when I suggested it and it sounded great at the time but it's been bothering me for the past few days.  I don't wanna lead ya' on, when it's not gonna' go anywhere. I don't wanna' go to a 5 star restaurant in Griffith, and besides the place will be full of rich white fellas' and their wives. Ya can guarantee they'll be thinking, 'What's that fat old Ginn doing with that young white fella. They'll be thinking I'm a bloody cradle snatcher! I can't really pass ya off as mi cousin. Here's me, as black as the night, and here's you with skin like a pomegranate! I hope ya not too disappointed?"

     'Oh Jesus, thank you Lord! There is a God after all!' I thought to miself. I'm off the hook and I won't come out a' this lookin' like a racist bastard!

"Well, I am a bit, Gibbi, but no worries mate. I don't wanna' hold ya to a deal ya not comfortable with."
"That's very gentlemanly of ya Chummy. As I said, I've been worrying miself sick since I made that stupid deal. I guess it was the grog that was talking."

     Just for fun, I said to Gibbi,
"I suppose a fuck's out of the question now, as well eh?
"Well Chummy.", she said with a big Aboriginal smile on her face. "What can I tell ya' mate, No feed no fuck! Anyway, why would ya' wanna' root a big, old black-arsed Ginn like me when there's a whole world of young, white sheilas' out there that would be glad of the opportunity."
"In Lake Cargellligo, Gibbi? If ya' come across one, let me know will ya?'
     We both had a real good laugh about the whole deal. Right in the middle of it, Cath Gilltrap walked in and said,
"What are you two laughing about, so early in the morning?"
"Gibbi just told me a rude joke.", I said.
"Mrs. Gibson, I'm surprised at you!"

     It was time to make a quick exit while I was still in front. Later that afternoon, Freddy was visiting me in mi room, when all of a sudden, he said,
"So ya still takin' old Gibbi for a 5 Star dinner Yorky?"
"Nah mate, she dumped me. She said she was full when she made the deal."
"Oh that's a shame. Would ya like me to give me Granny a ring? I reckon I could set ya' up there, no problem at all mate! Better people think that you're a granny fucker than a Ginn jockey!"
"Git fucked Freddy!"