And so my adventure in Brewarrina ended almost as quickly as it started. Unlike the previous two jobs I was

At the end of my first day on the job in Muddy Waters, which began 12 hours after I arrived in Brewarrina, I was invited to a party where there were plenty of hospital workers in attendance. Some from India, others from somewhere else in Australia (including the senior police sergeant for the town and his fun and funny wife), and me.

It was an entertaining and informative night but the steak bled a little too much on my plate. I like rare but not that rare.

The socializing event was hosted by the owners of a Bed and Breakfast / motel / event centre. They supplied the steaks and the venue, mingled a bit with us and then fecked off. It was a good idea they didn’t stick around. I learned a few hours after attending that party that they sold the cafe I was working in to my new employer.

A few weeks after that I began to come to the realization that the $50,000 Doc AH paid, while it was a fair price, there were and probably still issues with the cafe that the previous owners failed to share with the doctor when he expressed his interest in buying the place. Something shonky going on there.

And taking pork bacon and ham off the menu; like how dumb is that really? Not a good idea in my opinion, especially if one is going to invest another seven or eight grand to make pizzas.

Bacon (OF THE PORK NOT BEEF KIND!) and eggs in the morning, and “Hawaiian pizza” that’s the way to go.

YOU CAN’T HAVE HAWAIIAN WITHOUT PORK DAMMIT!

It’s too bad the immigrant doctor is letting his religion get in the way of his business. He doesn’t want to assimilate into the Australian hospitality industry and its working against him just six months after buying the business from the B & B owners who hosted a barbeque I attended with him.

Having said that, the doctor could really cash in with the right players in place, and too bad for him that one of the players is now playing somewhere else, albeit in a place with fewer things to do on one’s only day off.

That coffee shop has potential, especially now that the joint three doors down, has burned to the ground. The owner of Antonio’s take-away shop is rebuilding and by the time that place re-opens the fine doctor better have his shit together because he is definitely out of the food industry for good in Brewarrina if he doesn’t.

I did have some kick-ass fun times while I was working for the doctor though, and some of them were priceless moments, and with the aborigines.

There was the time I spent a couple or three minutes on a Sunday afternoon with a drunk woman. She wanted a cigarette from me. I didn’t want to give her one so I told her I just lit the last one out of the packet of smokes I had.

I lied. What can I say?

Then she made me an offer that was too easy to refuse. I didn’t even have to think about it and I I laughed it off — sort of.

I had my fun in that moment, but I wasn’t too impressed when in the name of Mohammed (or maybe it was Allah – I don’t fecking know), an Islamist decided to have some fun of his own at that woman’s expense after I stupidly told him the story about what just happened to me before I saw him drive up.

I told him about a drunk woman offering me a blowjob for a puff of what she believed was my last fag. Wasn’t going to happen by the way.

Just as I was telling him that story, a local cop who just happened to be nearby talking to a couple of local kids when the woman offered to suck my dick, pulled up beside the doctors car and mentioned that he cautioned the woman to leave me alone.

The cop must have seen me jump back in shock when the woman grabbed onto my arm and offered me that blow job, and then pulled up beside her and said something to her about what he had just witnessed.

Good on him for coming to my rescue after the fact. Not that I needed rescuing this time.

The cop told me he cautioned her to leave me alone. That’s when the doctor began to ask me questions about what the cop was talking to me about.

I told him after the cop drove off about the encounter I had just had with a drunk woman.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have.

The first words out of his mouth when I finished telling him about what just didn’t go down were something to the effect, “really, where is she – I know who you mean. She is one of my patients.

Red flag! Red Flag!

The doctor is a smoker by the way.

I pointed in the direction of the back alley I saw the women head off toward and off we drove to the back alley.

When the doctor pulled up beside the woman in his shire owned car the passenger window came down and a conversation was struck between the drunk woman and her doctor.

As drunk as that woman was, she still recognized the doctor straight away, and struck up a little bit of conversation with the doctor before he asked her, “What would you do for a cigarette?”

In a drunken tongue and mind she slobbered out, “Anything.” I laughed a little then but stayed out of the conversation.

Then the doctor looked at me and laughed before saying to the woman,”I’m just going to pull up over there. I will meet you there.” The doctor looked at me and laughed again.

The woman said okay and began walking. The doctor looked at me again and then drove off. He never did stop at the spot he told his patient to meet him but he had a bigger laugh than I did at her expense.

The doctor treated her like shit. I can only imagine how bad he treats her behind drawn curtains.

That incident made me question his sincerity when it came to Islam too.

If it wasn’t for Islam I would probably still be working at that coffee shop in Bre and that coffee shop would be a nice little way for him to supplement the income the shire is paying him (with perks, benefits and incentives about half a million dollars and a little more all up) for a town doctor who many believe is arrogant and up himself.

After living with him for a few weeks they are right about him by the way.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the job and the opportunity to add to my resume, but at the end of it all and it all ended just a couple of weeks ago, I just couldn’t work for an idiotic Muslim anymore.

AND ITS NOT A FUCKING RACIST THING!

There was other shit that happened when I worked for the doctor which made me question the cafe owner’s sincerity when it came to his religion, some of which definitely raised a red flag with me, and would have definitely raised a few more among his religious peers if they knew what I knew about the fine Eygtian doctor.

I accidentally found porn on his computer.

I didn’t watch the video when I accidentally stumbled upon it whem I was trying to figure out how to shut down his Apple, which was taking up space on the counter I needed to make sandwiches and fruit trays on for a function the coffee shop was catering to.

I did take notice of it though.

It was a thumbnail that linked to a video of an Indian woman taking it up the ass, but I didn’t click on it, if only because I’m not into that shit.

When I saw it I was like, “WTF man!” Then I laughed it off a little before closing the lid on that piece of shit Apple Computer model.

A man giving it to a woman up the ass doesn’t turn me on. I’m not interested whatsoever in that shit, but I do have to ask, “what’s a devout Islamist like him doing with that kind of shit on his laptop? I’m sure there are few hundred million if not a couple of billion of his peers who would ask the same question before chopping off his head.

Islamist and their videos, huh?

Islam breaks down into two words, “I” and “slam.” Get it?

I had more fun times at the Royal Hotel in Bre too, where the beginning of the end of this Canadian runner’s last adventure ended and a new one began.

That’s a story for another time though. I’ve been working on it for a couple of weeks unlike this story which took less than 24 hours to write, edit and publish on Crooked in Canada.

And a road train loaded with cattle has pulled up in front of the diner, this time around it isn’t a cute jillaroo jumping out of the driver’s seat, it’s a bloke who looks like he just finished an event at this years Commonwealth Games in Scotland.

Unlucky me.