#strine

A.G Mitchell and Arthur Delbridge

So I’ve been sitting on this idea since I joined the fallen hero discord server, I blame the other aussies there. i regret nothing

"Fuck me sideways, if it isn't Steve-o!" Ortega sounds bewildered, like you've just knocked him on his arse. "Thought you were dead as a doornail, where've you been all these years?"

"I…" You stare down at the remnants of your chocolate cake, now lost to the cold embrace of the concrete. You can't talk about what really happened. Can't talk about the Farm. "It's...it's a real long story, you might wanna sit down for this."

"Yeah?" Good ol' Ricky boy. He pulls out the chair across you with a scrape. "Listen, mate. I know you said you were alright and all, but are you really?"

No. Yes. Maybe. You're not sure. You never wanted to go back to the Farm. You thought you'd finally escaped that hellhole once and for all, thought you could finally be normal.

Should've known they wouldn't have let you go so easily. As if Regina wouldn't have kept tabs on you, you always hated Gina more than the rest of them. Should've known Shazza and Bazza and Damo would've welcomed you back, their shitty home-made tatts almost glowing with the intensity of the orange.

Fuck. You really thought you'd made it out of the little cult, but there you were again amongst all your brothers and sisters with their skin dyed blue ("'cause it looks cool as, yeah") and the stupid, life-endangering shit they got up to. The back-alley experimentation and hacking off of limbs and reattaching them in order to 'improve' people. Officially you were supposed to be known as Re-Genes. Unofficially? You were whispered about as 'those weird cultist mutant bogans* in the middle of woop-woop**," Mad-Max style.

Nowhere to run or hide in the middle of the outback. You'd die of thirst of heat-exhaustion first. Your best bet was to disguise yourself as a cow and sneak in amongst them when they were being sent off for slaughter.

Lucky you made it through the skin of your teeth. Good thing Damo was off his head on pingas - you shake your head slightly, it was still hard to deprogram yourself from the style of speech that would have alerted them to one of their kind. On drugs. That's what normal people called it. It hardly matters to you, you were just glad he didn't think anything of you when you froze and moo-ed at him when he looked you in the eye amongst the cattle.

But Ortega wouldn't understand. "I'm...fine. I'm sitting here eating bloody cake, aren't I?" You look down at the sad remains of its corpse, lost to the world before it ever had a chance to fulfil its role. "Speaking of. You owe me another piece, you arsehole."

Of course Ortega smiles at you. Of course he reaches over and looks you dead in the eye. "'Course I'll get ya another piece. You're my best mate, yeah?" He hesitates for a moment before continuing in a softer tone. "Hey. I'm not sure exactly what you've been going through, but…I wanna be here for ya. And I know whatever happens…"

Another pause, just for dramatic impact.

"...She'll be right, mate."

*Bogan: Australian equivalent to a redneck or chav.

POTUS and his Crew#phb OZWORD OF THE DAY: “Kakidrosis” The Author of this post is Kel Richards, found in my mailbox today Tue 15 Apr 2025. Yes, it’s Weird Word time once again—and this time a word that is not only weird, but also unpleasant. That’s because ‘kakidrosis’ is a medical term for sweat that smells bad.  There are unfamiliar technical (medical) terms for a number of bodily…

TISM - I've Gone Hillsong

First new TISM single in 20 years.