Sunday, June 28, 2009

Grub's up.

The kindness of your fellow man should never be overlooked or undermined.
The tower of babble lives on.

An example of this would be haggling about food.
Everyone needs to eat, fuck the drugs and sex and drugs for a minute.
One rule I began to live by, a long time ago, was if anyone I knew looked like they needed a feed, I'd make sure they had food in their belly.
People do the same for me.
They can go rob old ladies and steal fixies to get a fix all by themselves, but if they need some bread, then break it with them.

The religious undertone.

I remember the countless eventful evening morning mournings, walking around Walcott Street with hunger pains echoing through my empty head.
Inevitably you would end up at two places, Hungry Spot or Fresh Provisions, back when they sold cigarettes.
If at Hungry Spot, Chen would normally be working.
I'm pretty sure he bought that shady little venture around the same time I found myself venturing around that patch of Perth. He would slave away at the dough, to make dough. And he obviously has, because now I haven't seen him have to work the till in eons.
Back to the food.
Whenever there is food in a warmer tray, NEVER PAY WHAT THEY ASK.
People think haggling is only for Bali holidays when you're trying to get mushrooms and transvestite hookers.

"How long dat dere been dere?"
"Nawww, 'bout four hours, fresh, fresh!"
"Don't piss in my pocket mate, I can see how dry that corn jack is"
"I'll give you two bucks for the corn jack if you throw in those two dim sims as well"

At 3am on a Friday morning, people don't really enter into much argument about an extra two, three dollars.
Talk about balling on a budget.

Now when Fresh Provisions used to sell cigarettes, before they changed the trading hours, before the trendy layout, they were down for the cause. A charge for dropping a $2.19 carton of eggs was a bit steep though.

And they hunted me down six months later over it.
Must of been a slow day.
I digress.

They never used to lock up their dumpsters.

I can already see your faces.

I have never been adverse to the urban hunt and gather, I mean, fuck dude, I've done alot worse.
And in that whole precinct is a whole treasure trove of possibilities.
You have Brumby's, used to have Red Rooster, a chip shop, IGA and Nando's.
If you hang around like a deviant, theres always half meals lurking around at Hungry Jack's.

Fuck what the Big Brother fans think, give them a show I say. The onlookers concerned about how society percieves them. We fought wars, made nuclear weapons, said sorry to the Aboriginals, went through the eternal cycle of recession just to have to resort to eating the nibbled at scraps of succubusses in designer dresses. Leave their whole concept of civilization in tatters, as you drip grease and perinaise out of your gracious piehole.

Waste not, want not?

The concept of the grazing is as common in your favourite nightspot.
I'd rather lurk and pick up drinks that chicks leave on the side of the dancefloor than go buy a drink to pick up a chick on the dancefloor.
And if some tamp has spiked it, then your on a winner.

Free food, free booze, free drugs.
Shouts to the lad who slanged Billy Deane and myself two Beef and Mushroom pies last night down through the late night window at the Sniff Spot.

You always sleep better at night with a full belly and an empty longneck.

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