We were just crossing a fairly quiet street toward s a likely looking cafe (Mad sister having parked the car by rolling slowly into a tree.) when a sudden gust of wind whipped several items from mad sister's handbag. Off they went, fluttering gaily in the breeze. There were a couple of tissues, a ten dollar note and her spare clean knickers, which she always keeps in her handbag in case of emergency. He late mother had drummed it into her from a young age that she should always wear clean knickers and carry a spare pair in case she gets run over by a bus and has to go to hospital.
"Wouldn't want those nice, eligible young doctors to see you wearing dirty knickers, would you?"
At the moment that her knickers settle upon the dusty road, a bus containing a consignment of grey, somewhat surprised looking heads rounded the corner en-route to the nearby public restrooms and ran over the garment, the rear wheels tossed it into the air just in time to land them gently across the face of a middle aged man in Lycra (MAMIL) on a bicycle. With an anguished cry of "Aieeeee!" he frantically scrabbled at his face as though he'd just ridden through the web of a venomous spider. Badger and I ducked back into the wheelie-walker bag in case we got the blame for the impending catastrophe. Therefore we didn't see the MAMIL disappear on his bicycle through the ladies lavatory door. We did, however hear the resulting crash and the scream of an elderly woman. Mad sister later said that the old dear moved surprisingly quickly given her age and the fact that her knickers were around her ankles. She said that she seemed to be heading in the direction of the police station whilst yelling "Help, a pervert, help a pervert." I'm not sure why anyone would want to help a pervert, but she was quite an old lady and may have been suffering from dementia - like my male staff.
Today we are in a place called Port Douglas. We all went on a Daintree River cruise yesterday afternoon. I'm not sure how wise this was given our record with cruises. See link.
This time Badger and I were under strict instructions to remain inside male staff's dad's wheelie-walker bag. This we did until we saw a large, lumpy lizard among the mangrove roots at the water's edge. The man driving the boat said it was a "best urine crocodile". I don't know what is so good about their urine, but obviously it's pretty good stuff. Anyway this particular best urine crocodile was gulping down something fat, hairy and rather ugly. I think it may have been a wild boar, but Badger thought it was my male staff (an understandable error) and leapt heroically to his rescue, ignoring the fact that my male staff was actually sitting right behind him. Badger can sometimes be a little impulsive. Before anyone could react he was on the lizard's scaly back, biting with all his might. This irritated the lizard flicked his great scaly head, releasing the wild boar and tossing Badger back into the boat. He landed in my male staff's lap, where he sat for a moment giving the best urine crocodile his most lethal death stare. Not surprisingly, this terrified the five metre lizard so much that he left the boar and disappeared under the murky water to lick his Badger inflicted wounds. I really don't think we will be allowed to go on a boat cruise again.
Male staff's dad and the best urine crocodile.
I hope the old lady wasn't calling me a pervert just because of my foot fetish. By the way, the crocodile tasted like chicken.