The scene: Private Eye Bullgoose is lit by the light slanting through part-open venetians and the thick atmosphere that seems to dog him.
He opens a letter. Carefully.
I get mail. People are still on about Waxy Noggins and the famous Bonalbo Beach Houses. Stuff like:
Dear Bullgoose,
I think I live in a Bonalbo Beach House. It’s a bit different from those other ones you go on about, but it’s pretty surfy though, I reckon, and it’s got no front steps – dead Waxy give away.
I don’t know anything about its history. I bought it online from a Byron influencer I’ve been following, B’abylon Zista.
She does Wellness and Real Estate and manifests a bit of clairvoyant, taro stuff. Not that card business, that’s what I thought at first, but it’s taro, the root thingummy. She mashes up this taro in a coconut shell with other stuff (probably cane toad secretions), rubs it on her chest and smokes the rest. When she wakes up she reckons she can foresee the future and that’s what makes her really rock the real estate stuff, because she can see the trends coming.
Well anyway, I think she saw me coming, because the white ants here keep me awake with their gnawing, and frankly the toilet only really handles Number Ones. She said for a hundred bucks she’d do a Past Lives Smoking on the house to see who manifested in it, but I’d be more interested in finding out what tomcat peed on the rug. I like the rug; it holds the room together, but you’ve got to hold your nostrils together if you want to spend more than five minutes in there, and that’s no lie.
But here’s the thing. There’s this deluxe, ancient, stone fence/wall thing across the front, and on one of the stones you can see a ‘W’ carved into it.
‘W’ for Waxy, what do you reckon, Bullgoose? Could that be him?
But it gets wiggier, mate. This Bonalbo Bird Walk, which is a big attraction in the town for people who like legging it through the bushland (you’d like it), has got all these, like, marker signposts so that the punters stay on the track and don’t go wandering off to their doom and stuff.
Anyway, the letters on the sign sort of look like bird footprints, which is a good gimmick for a bird walk if you ask me. And, drum roll, here it comes: the ‘W’ on the sign looks pretty much a dead spit for the ‘W’ on my wall. There! Check it out. Freak your pants off?
From what I’ve read in your columns, Waxy Noggins was a bit of a greenie nature boy ahead of his time. Here’s my hyp… hypoth… here’s my idea.
Waxy built my beachy house and put his ‘W’ on the wall.
Waxy built the Bonalbo Bird Walk, and that’s his ‘W’ on the signs.
I bet he put his ‘W’ on, or around, his other Bonalbo Beach Houses. I reckon you could track his movements all around Australia, just by following the ‘Ws’.
Well, what are you waiting for, Goosie? Knock up the new owners of the beach houses and check their joints for ‘Ws’.
It’s like Smiler Grogan said, “It’s under the W, the big W”.
Yours Truly,
Blurry Clear.
PS: I made the mistake of telling that B’abylon Zista about the whole Waxy Noggins thing. She sent me this photo. Says she saw this joint in a taro dream, and now she’s marketing it as a ‘Genuine Waxy Noggins Beach House, offers over $1.7 mill’.
Do me a break! Give me a favour!
OK, it’s got no front steps, but I reckon some builder has just appro… approp… copied Waxy’s idea, or ran out of money. Any fool can see that this house is about as surfy as a Swiss chalet! And it ain’t pastel!
Anyway, it’s out west of Urbenville if you want to check it for a ‘W’, but I’d save my fossil fuel if I were you. It’d only be a wild Bullgoose chase, hahaha!
Blurry
I dunno. Could be ‘W’ for Wes Piddens. But, then again…
A lesson to us all.
Bullgoose
