That evening, when all the locals had left, all the rides were speeded up and the showies got to have a bit of fun. They were also allowed to go into any tent show for free as well as the rides. It was one of the perks of working on the showground.
Each day, I had to feed myself. My diet consisted of a variety of garbage food like hot dogs with mustard, hot dogs with onions, hot dogs without mustard, fairy floss, toffee apples, hamburgers, pickled eggs and countless bags of chips.
After we left West Wyalong, we headed South towards Victoria, stopping at various showgrounds along the way. I got to be good friends with Nerada over the time I travelled with Fred Duffys' shows. My relationship with Lolita was not progressing so I decided to, begrudgingly, let it slip away, mainly because she had a boyfriend.
Once the snake show closed for the evening and the snakes were put into the pillowcase sacks, I would help Nerada load them into her bed.
"Why d'ya sleep with all those snakes?", I asked her.
" 'Cause the further South we go, the colder it's fucking getting and if they're not kept warm of a night, they'll fucking die and then I'll be out-a business. That's why!"
Our next stop was to be Wogga Wogga which was a reasonably large city. The procedure was always the same. Whatever time of night or early morning that we arrived, the tents had to be set up before we could rest.
"What's the Wogga show gonna be like Doug?", I said.
"Oh, it's a big show Yorky. We'll be meeting up with a lot of showies that I haven't seen for a while. Everyone does the Wogga show, mate."
The next day, the local people were in and walking around before most of the shows were up and running. We all worked really hard that day. When evening time came and the show closed down, Sheilas' boyfriend, who had been on another show circuit, came over to see her. When he first saw me hanging out with her he was really jealous.
"Who's this sawn-off fucking runt?", he said to her. "Ya' new boyfriend?"
"Don't be silly Terry. We're good friends that's all. We both come from England, so we have a lot in common.", said Sheila.
"Don't get any bright ideas about my Sheila.", Terry said to me.
"We're only friends, like she told ya."
"How fucking old are you, anyway.", said Terry.
"Not far off 17, why?"
"You'd better watch Sheila, she's a real cradle snatcher."
"Why don't ya go home Terry and come back when ya' sober.", said Sheila.
"Alright.", he said. "I was just testing ya."
Sheila got real upset when he said that. She said to him, "For a 27 year old Terry, you're a fucking retard! Yorky's got more brains than you'll ever have. I'm going into the caravan. If ya wanna go downtown tonight, sober ya' self up. Alright Terry?"
Sheila stormed off and slammed the caravan door behind her. Terry turned to me and said,
"I sure fucked that up didn't I? What's your name mate?"
"Yorky"
"Terry's my name. Ya new to the showgrounds ain't ya?"
"Yeah."
"What the hell would a good bloke like you want on the showgrounds?"
"Christine."
"Oh, I see mate. Suckered ya in did she. She's a right little prick-teaser that one Yorky. I'd forget about her if I was you. Anyway, her musclebound dago boyfriend, Samson,will be here tomorrow so you've got no chance of rootin' her mate."
Terry was turning out to be quite a friend. He was a handsome bloke, in a rough sort-a way. His sandy-brown hair came to just below his leather jacket collar. His face was a medium brown with a few crows feet at the side of his blue eyes. He was about 5'10" and well-built from a life of hard work on the showgrounds. He wore a regular white T-shirt, blue levis and work boots.
"I like you Yorky. You're a real fair-dinkum bloke. Your type are a dying fucking breed!"
"How d'ya know what I'm like?"
" 'Cause I can sense it. I may have had too many beers tonight but I'm not a fucking idiot. Another thing, Ya don't belong on the showgrounds mate. I saw ya as I was walking over here. Ya stick out like dogs' balls."
"Well Terry, maybe I'm just here so you and I could meet and be friends. If that's so, then it's worth it."
"Shit yeah.", said Terry, as he offered me his hand. "Why fucking not. It could be just that simple mate."
Sheila came back out of the caravan and said to Terry, "Are you ready to go because if ya' not, I'm off to bed."
"Of course I'm ready. I've been taking to your friend Yorky. He's not a bad bloke. Let's go Sheila.", he said with a bit of a slur. "Come on Yorky, ya' can come with with us. All the showies are down at the late-closing hotel. We can have a bit of fun now mate!"
"How will I get in? I'm only 17."
"Don't worry sport. I'll tell 'em you're my kid brother, you're 18 and I'm responsible for ya."
"And who's gonna' be responsible for you Terry?", said Sheila.
"You are darlin'."
When we got to the Hotel, Terry was right. All the showies that worked the grounds were drinking up big and playing pool. I walked in alongside Terry and Sheila went over to a table where a bunch of the showgirls were sitting.
"Two middys!", said Terry to the barman.
"How old's ya mate?"
"He's not mi mate sport.", said Terry, in a forceful voice. "He's mi kid brother and he's 18. Why sport?"
The barman backed off a bit. "Just doin' mi job mate. The boss makes me check."
"Well, just do ya job and give us a couple of middys."
When the barman got back with the beers, he said, "I don't want any trouble out of you showies tonight, alright?"
"Then don't start any. Alright mate?"
He picked up the middys and said to me "Let's go bro."
The section of the Hotel where the girls were sitting was called. 'The Sow Pen.' Terry and me walked over and sat down. I was still not too keen on beer so I very slowly sipped on a middy while Terrys' beer was gone in a couple of large gulps.
"Ya not gonna git full are ya Terry?" said Sheila, who hardly touched her beer.
"Come on Sheila, leave me alone will ya. Anyone listening would think we were fucking married already!"
"Alright.", she said. "But if you git full, I'm going back to the showground."
About half an hour later, Terry had started to argue with another showie that I hadn't met before.
He was a tall, black-haired bloke, neatly-dressed but just as full of beer as Terry was.
"Ya shouldn't call ya mother a slut!", I heard him say to Terry.
"Well, she is an old slut. I should know, I grew up with her!"
"I don't care who ya grew up with. I'll not stand by and let anyone call their mother a slut in my company!"
As they continued to drink, the arguing became more intense.
"Let it go.", said Sheila. "Ya both too drunk to know what ya talkin' about and you're normally good friends. Just let it go and leave it at that."
Terry and his tall mate were not about to stop arguing and in the end the decision was made to have one free punch at each other. Whoever was left standing was the winner. After more arguing about who was going to throw the first punch, it was decided that Terrys' mate would go first.
Terry just stood there, staring into the tall blokes eyes.
"Make sure ya give me ya best shot mate!", said Terry.
"Don't worry, I will!"
He pulled back his arm and smashed Terry with his closed fist on the side of his face. Terrys' head snapped to the side with the impact of the blow, but he didn't go down. It was a stupid game they were playing, still I had to admire Terrys' guts.
A large red mark appeared on his face and blood started to trickle out of the corner of his mouth. His bottom lip swelled up and started to go blue. He looked a bit dazed as he stood there, rocking side to side, still he never went down. Terrys' tall mate looked just as dazed and hurt as Terry was, as he stood there in front of him.
"I'm sorry about that Terry, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Whenever you're ready Terry, it's your free shot!"
"No. If I hit ya, I'll smash ya jaw to pieces, so you win."
"Ya rotten mongrel bastard! Ya made me look a fool. We made a deal Terry!"
"Fuck you and fuck ya deal.", said Terry, as Sheila came over to give him a wet cloth for his face which was really swelling now. His eye was starting to puff up and go blue.
"You're a cheating bastard Terry! Come on Terry, hit me there. Hit me, ya gutless bastard!", he said, as he stuck out the point of his chin.
They argued back and forth for a few minutes until Terry said to Sheila,
"Come on, let's go home. I'm sick of this boring scene!"
All three of us walked out the door and left Terrys' mate still standing there.
The next day, when I saw Terry working on the dodg'em carts, he had a real beaut black eye and a fat lip.
"Ya alright mate?", I said.
"Yeah, I shouldn't drink so much Yorky. I go a bit crazy with booze."
"Shit Terry, Ya took one hell of a punch and ya still never went down!"
"I dunno. I never felt a thing last night but I sure can feel it this morning sport!"
