Friday, February 09, 2018

Get me the Sergeant, please!

"St Kilda Police Station. Yes, the Sergeant’s desk." 

Larry scrawls the number onto the shiny, grimy phone booth wall with a carpenter’s pencil then dials with determination. 

"I want to speak with the sergeant please. No, I need to speak to the sergeant. Look, why won’t you put me through to the sergeant?" 

While the ‘annoying prick’ of a Constable plays his daily phone battle with Larry, just a heartbeat, a heartbreak away the guy and gal hipster crew dish up plates of smashed avo on sourdough (Veg) (V) dusted with dukkah served alongside deconstructed chai lattes. 

An ageing rock star - who still does it for the cool kids - saunters by with perfect sideburns on his morning trip to the 711. The AGE and perhaps the odd pack of Craven As. If you please. 

Latte constructed I watch as Larry slams the phone back in its cradle, pockets his pencil and disappears into the Acland St throng.

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