Part 18 – Cow Pats in Orange
February 3rd 2007 07:42
One week sifting Cow Poo. It was just what I needed to prove my ability to my Boss and be the first woman within the ministry to be in a permanent covert role. I had no time to lose.
I packed an overnight bag with my spare jumpsuit and a reasonable supply of cosmetics, got behind the wheel of my car and drove into the pink sunset, headed for Orange.
When I arrived I realised how an animal must feel in a zoo. Everyone watched me. As an under-cover agent I was going to have to be less conspicuous. I dashed into the first women’s clothing store I could find, my skin tight leather bodysuits might have been all the rage in Sydney, but they obviously hadn’t taken on here.
Denim over-alls, a plaid shirt and a straw hat became my new uniform.
I checked into a small motel and set about finding my counterpart – the one who’d sent the message about the cow pats. I needed to know, where were these cows? Who was their owner? What other words were they poo-ing? Was the disaster they spelt the mind-ray that was destroying the Ministry’s best agents or did they foretell of some greater calamity?
As I passed the Baptist Church Hall, the poster on the notice board displaying the words “Cow Pats!” caught my eye. Was this a clue?
On the line below it said, “Here! Tonight! 8:30!”
This was going to be a lot easier than I expected. These cow pats must have become something of a local phenomenon if they were being advertised. It would seem that all I had to do was turn up here tonight at 8:30.
Certain I was to meet my counterpart and solve the mystery of the disaster (and hopefully the mind-ray) I returned to my hotel to rest up before what was surely going to be a big night.
At 8:15 I returned to the church hall and waited by the sign. People entered and left the building. Music blared from inside each time the door opened. By 8:45, still standing there alone, I had become despondent.
I entered the hall in search of a ladies toilet where I could sit quietly contemplating what to do next.
The hall was decorated with streamers and balloons. Bales of hay were scattered around the edges and a group of young adults danced together in the middle. A band was assembled on the stage. They sang, almost shouted, a very loud song, I couldn't see their music ever going beyong Orange, not with such a discordant sound.
The chorus began, “S-p-e double-elle, double-elle, double-elle, dis, dis, dis, dis-a-s-t-e-r!” they sang/shouted as I asked a woman ladling punch where I could find the ladies room.
It was outside, out the back. I entered the privacy of a cubical, locked the door and sat on the toilet with the lid down sipping whisky from my Ministerial issued hip flask.
The next 6 days of my mission stretched out ahead of me like a strand of half set gum. I was never going to get to the other end and all I could do was wait for it to snap.
Someone entered the cubicle next to me. She was not alone.
“No Ron, I already told you, I don’t want to go see the lights. Now get out, I’ve gotta pee!”
“Come on baby. I know you want to come with me, it’ll be OK. I won’t try anything, just see the lights and I’ll take you home.”
“No Ron, let go of me will ya! I gotta pee,” she sounded distressed.
“Gimme a kiss first!”
“No! You’re hurting me!”
“Come on, just give me a kiss and I’ll let go,” he insisted.
I wasn’t going to sit and listen to this woman being attacked. I climbed onto the toilet seat, leant over the wall separating the cubicles and clobbered Ron over the head with my flask. “Kiss that!” I said as he slumped to the floor.
The woman, who’s name was Sue, looked at me with appreciation. I let her have her pee in quite while I dragged Ron outside and tied him to the front of his car. I was intrigued by the lights he was so certain Sue wanted to see. When he was secure I splashed the last dribble of whisky from my flask into his mouth, forcing him awake, and asked him what he was talking about.
“Ten miles out of town, just past Borenore,” he said, “every night at 10 pm sharp. They float back and forth across the sky for 10 minutes exactly. Strange things happen out there. People go to watch and are never seen again.”
In a flash I was running back to my motel and my car. It was already 9:30, I could not waste a second!
I packed an overnight bag with my spare jumpsuit and a reasonable supply of cosmetics, got behind the wheel of my car and drove into the pink sunset, headed for Orange.
When I arrived I realised how an animal must feel in a zoo. Everyone watched me. As an under-cover agent I was going to have to be less conspicuous. I dashed into the first women’s clothing store I could find, my skin tight leather bodysuits might have been all the rage in Sydney, but they obviously hadn’t taken on here.
Denim over-alls, a plaid shirt and a straw hat became my new uniform.
I checked into a small motel and set about finding my counterpart – the one who’d sent the message about the cow pats. I needed to know, where were these cows? Who was their owner? What other words were they poo-ing? Was the disaster they spelt the mind-ray that was destroying the Ministry’s best agents or did they foretell of some greater calamity?
As I passed the Baptist Church Hall, the poster on the notice board displaying the words “Cow Pats!” caught my eye. Was this a clue?
On the line below it said, “Here! Tonight! 8:30!”
This was going to be a lot easier than I expected. These cow pats must have become something of a local phenomenon if they were being advertised. It would seem that all I had to do was turn up here tonight at 8:30.
Certain I was to meet my counterpart and solve the mystery of the disaster (and hopefully the mind-ray) I returned to my hotel to rest up before what was surely going to be a big night.
-o0o-
At 8:15 I returned to the church hall and waited by the sign. People entered and left the building. Music blared from inside each time the door opened. By 8:45, still standing there alone, I had become despondent.
I entered the hall in search of a ladies toilet where I could sit quietly contemplating what to do next.
The hall was decorated with streamers and balloons. Bales of hay were scattered around the edges and a group of young adults danced together in the middle. A band was assembled on the stage. They sang, almost shouted, a very loud song, I couldn't see their music ever going beyong Orange, not with such a discordant sound.
The chorus began, “S-p-e double-elle, double-elle, double-elle, dis, dis, dis, dis-a-s-t-e-r!” they sang/shouted as I asked a woman ladling punch where I could find the ladies room.
It was outside, out the back. I entered the privacy of a cubical, locked the door and sat on the toilet with the lid down sipping whisky from my Ministerial issued hip flask.
The next 6 days of my mission stretched out ahead of me like a strand of half set gum. I was never going to get to the other end and all I could do was wait for it to snap.
Someone entered the cubicle next to me. She was not alone.
“No Ron, I already told you, I don’t want to go see the lights. Now get out, I’ve gotta pee!”
“Come on baby. I know you want to come with me, it’ll be OK. I won’t try anything, just see the lights and I’ll take you home.”
“No Ron, let go of me will ya! I gotta pee,” she sounded distressed.
“Gimme a kiss first!”
“No! You’re hurting me!”
“Come on, just give me a kiss and I’ll let go,” he insisted.
I wasn’t going to sit and listen to this woman being attacked. I climbed onto the toilet seat, leant over the wall separating the cubicles and clobbered Ron over the head with my flask. “Kiss that!” I said as he slumped to the floor.
The woman, who’s name was Sue, looked at me with appreciation. I let her have her pee in quite while I dragged Ron outside and tied him to the front of his car. I was intrigued by the lights he was so certain Sue wanted to see. When he was secure I splashed the last dribble of whisky from my flask into his mouth, forcing him awake, and asked him what he was talking about.
“Ten miles out of town, just past Borenore,” he said, “every night at 10 pm sharp. They float back and forth across the sky for 10 minutes exactly. Strange things happen out there. People go to watch and are never seen again.”
In a flash I was running back to my motel and my car. It was already 9:30, I could not waste a second!
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