Saturday, June 12, 2010

All Quiet on the Austin Front


Maim Street, Larrikin's End, Saturday by Pants


The world sometimes seems like a very dangerous place...

Excuse me, I have incoming intercom.

What's that you say Barney? You need me to go downtown to get what? A dozen wombat eggs?

He's doing eggs Vladivostok, his signature dish. Only the finest wombat eggs will do. And they are only to be found in Maim Street, Larrikin's End.

Okay Barney, but there'd better be a vodkamisu-to-die-for if you expect me to launch myself into that melee. You're on.

Nightmare. On a Saturday afternoon, Larrikin's End Maul (pictured) is chaotic.

I finally find a park for the Pantibago and battle my way to Larrimart, where all our local produce is traded via a method called 'world's best practice'. Here that means they shout at you until you buy it. It works quite well with wombat eggs. They've never been a quiet trade anywhere in the world.

I exit, my ears ringing. I look around me. I think of the history of our extraordinary town. Here I am, standing in Maim Street. It is named after our town's founder Sir Joseph Furphy Larrikin's Auntie Maim, the woman who took him in, fractured several of his limbs and fed him the sugar-intensive diet that fueled his ambition to found a great town and neglect his dental hygiene. On this ethic was the industry of our town built and on its flimsy memory does it continue to thrive.

Thanks Barney for sending me down to Maim Street for wombat eggs. Sometimes I just need to be seduced away from productive intellectual effort and reminded of who I truly am...