I’ve been having nightmares about the wallaby again, mate.
When one of those blasted buggers decides to have a go at you, there’s nothing you can do. They’re vicious creatures.
I stare into the wallaby’s black eyes. I’m deadly scared.
“I did it all to honk off my Dad!” I cry.
That’s when the wallaby starts kicking me. Kicking me to bloody pieces. Their back legs are spring-loaded; they’re like bands of steel, mate.
I squeal and begin to sob: “Nay…nay….”
My Dad always warned me I’d grow up to be a ponce. Is this my comeuppance for stealing Cocoa Krispies from the homeless and gloating over the sugary treats?
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