You know the scene: walking through the shopping mall, there’s a gleaming car that could be yours if you buy a raffle ticket to support a national charity. The men and women selling the tickets alongside the car are usually from a community service organisation, as was the case with today’s jovial older fellow (JOF). I had a lazy $3 in my wallet and joined another older punter (AOP) already in conversation with JOF while the tickets were being exchanged.
AOP: Yeah, my cousin had a dog – you know that racetrack White City*? It was one of the biggest races in the world and my cousin’s dog won that.
JOF: My uncle had a dog called Unremembered. It won big a couple of times, but then it didn’t win. On the way home from the meet, taking the dogs home, he stopped, took the dog out and shot it.
JB: [Mesmerised and bewildered]
AOP: What – he shot it?
JOF: Yeah. I should know, I was there. I was sitting in the back seat, and he was whinging about the dog all the way home. He just suddenly pulled up the car, got the rifle out, took the dog, shot it, and chucked it in the bush.
JB: [trying to get in to the conversation, to buy a ticket] Well, ain’t no more wins coming for that dog.
JOF: Ain’t no more feeds either *wink*. Thanks, luv.
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* Could have been Victoria’s White City in outer Melbourne, or London’s White City in the UK.
Pic courtesy prime7.yahoo.com.
