Rigabold the pernicketness was cruising down the Great Northern Hwy about half way down the western side of the Australian State of Western Australia, it was dark and he was cruising along nicely. He’d passed a few cars and trucks heading in the opposite direction since the sun went down but very few. The fact that he’d seen none heading in the same direction as him did at times make him wonder if they all knew something he didn’t and were escaping somewhere he was headed to. His GPS, one much more advanced than the units earthlings used, told him otherwise but even Tummcuddulan’s sometimes had thoughts they couldn’t stop.
Although the lack of traffic on the quiet roads made it an ideal time for Rigabold to open up the Dodge Ram and give her some berries to speed things up he knew the risk was too high. Doing speeds in excess of a Quagnackle, or 300 kilometres per hour in Earth speed, (or about 180 miles per hour in laymen’s terms), was dangerous due to wildlife more so than other road hazards.
Rigabold had read that kangaroos, cattle, emus, and even wild camels were a real threat on outback roads through the country and evening and night times were the worst. Some would come out of the bush seeking feed, some looking to grab the last of the days warmth from the hot roads, and others just moving around looking for watering holes. Nearly all of them moved in groups and while bright lights on the front of vehicles helped see further at the speeds Rigabold’s Dodge was capable of they wouldn’t have made a difference because by the time he’d seen something he was on top of it.
Even at legal road speeds such animals were hard to see, especially at dusk, and Rigabold had seen countless remnants of road kill since leaving his Stargazer parked in the crater. Despite being at nearly plague proportions in the Australian outback, and numbering more than nearly any other country in the world, Rigabold hadn’t seen any dead camels on the road. He had however seen a few cows and many kangaroos, which were also in plague proportions in parts of the country and often considered a pest that needed to be eradicated, that had taken on moving vehicles and lost.
Rigabold did not want any of that action, dead animals wasn’t his biggest concern, cleaning up the mess dead animals left was his concern. The last thing he wanted was to spend an hour on the side of the road in the dark picking pieces of meat from all the nooks and crannies on the front of his ride.
Cruising along in the dark a big green sign began to reflect in the splash of Rigabold lights, he focused on the sign as he got closer and began to read what it said. It was the sign telling him that he was approaching another town. Almost as soon as his mind had read the name written on the sign his entertainment system kicked in playing the first song it could find that mentioned the town.
They came down from Meekatharra
In a burned-out blue FJ
That farted and just shit itself in Jutland Parade
Right next door to Bondy’s
Rigabold didn’t know the song but he recognised the town name of Meekatharra from the first line of the song as the town he was about to enter. The entertainment system screen also told him that Bondy, referred to Alan Bond, the mega-rich businessman they paid for the boat to win America’s cup, then was embroiled in controversy when he claimed bankruptcy and refused to pay his creditors but still managed to live the high life until he went to jail. It also showed that Jutland Parade was where Bondy lived was once one of the richest streets in Australia and the “they” to which the song referred was a family of aboriginals.
When the smoke had cleared a voice said:
‘Eh .. this place look all right
We’ll tell the government it’s a sacred site
Dead fucking easy’
As Rigabold crossed the town boarder he could see the town was dark, even before midnight there was not much night life in such a small town. As the song, which the entertainment system had chosen due to its single word connection with the town, played on Rigabold knew it was a comedy song. He’d read that Australian’s had a unique sense of humour that other countries often didn’t recognise and he also knew that the song he was listening to by Kevin Bloody Wilson was one of those humorous songs. Something else he had read about was that there was wowsers out there who got offended by something so harmless as a few words but he was not one of those wowsers, he quite enjoyed the song, the rhythm, the catchy beat and the funny lyrics.
‘Good day Mr Alan Bond, how you goin’ bloke?
Hey, I’m your brand-new neighbour … hey, mate you got a smoke?
And I think I’m gonna like it here
Livin’ next door to Alan’
As soon as he heard the chorus Rigabold knew the tune this Kevin Bloody Wilson guy had used was that of another song. He’d taken the tune of Living Next Door To Alice by a band named Smokie, which he’d listened to on his trip to Earth, and used his own dirty words to tell a new story. It was quite fun and something he hoped to hear more of.
Because the town of Meekatharra was almost asleep at such an hour Rigabold knew he would be driving on and not stopping for another Chiko Roll. He was still wide awake so the drive didn’t bother him greatly and he continued to hum along to the tune on the entertainment system.
Twenty-four kids, 9 adults and 15 dogs
A dead roo on the roof rack and a boot load full of grog
‘And I’m flash as Michael Jackson now I’m
Livin’ next door to Alan’