In the previous episode:  Yukker, Beer & The Black Panther [Part Two], Mephisto and Yukker, kick off a Friday afternoon with a schooners, bottles and shots. That ended at 8 pm, so Mephisto thought. But the night is young insisted Yukker, and so they hailed a taxi, well Yukker did. Mephisto just followed, wanting so desperately to lie down and sleep, but he followed.

“What do you want me to say Chereme, Hic? I was off my face, and I can’t even remember what we talked about. Probably the usual whines, being English and all. Not me, HIM! But I blame it on the schooners, shots, bottles, and the bottles, shots, and schooners.

Come to think of it, I could be out at the pub tonight. It is Friday night; I would be standing in front of the stage, with my Deaf friends. We would be paying the band the ultimate compliment of ignoring them and instead, we would draw attention to ourselves. Our hands would be flying and wildly gesticulating, because we were more interested in ourselves than the fucking band on stage. In a fit of jealousy, they would then proceed to rock out, even harder and louder, to drown out the volume of our sign language, and tell the world, “Hey look at us, not them!” Yeah, right, whatever!

But where am I, Chereme? Several fucking thousand kilometres away, in Australia, sitting at my computer, laboriously typing away, the story that you so desperately want to hear. That’s where I am! And……SO……

Yukker being bored bundled us into a taxi cab. I just followed, thinking were going home. After a blur of bright lights, and being spazzed out in the backseat of the cab, we were standing, um, somewhere, and after a little reorientation, I recognised it as The Cross. And that Chisel song began playing my head:

Mona leans against a lamppost at the corner of the street
The afternoon papers blow around her feet
She hooks her thumb beneath the strap of her bag
Her cigarette gleams as she takes another drag

We wound our way down an alley. I got him to phone home for me, and pass on the message that I will be stopping in town. Hic! Yukker was feeling rather effusive; he gave me a brotherly hug, the kind that only straight guys can give, when they are drunk.

He declared one more! And one more he declared, and for one more I followed him into the Empire Hotel. It was quiet, and sedate. That was OK, for there were schooners to be drunk. So we drunk them and another one, umm, I think, and somewhere along the way, I must have shouted a couple, we had had no more ready cash.

And that’s how we found ourselves outside the Pink Pussycat, with no ready cash. Yukker looked at me expectantly, “One more?”

My heart was pounding. “Yeah, alright.”I nodded

The bouncers guarding the front of The Pink Pussycat, I can’t remember how many there were, but there was more than one, frog marched him gingerly by arms, gently reassuring him that having no cash is not a problem at all. “Mate, mate, mate, m-m-m-mate!” They intoned. “Your credit card will do just fine.” The checkout chick, Mona I think her name was, swiped the card and gave him a slip of paper to sign.

The next thing I know, we walk through these doors into a big pink room. Poofter’s Paradise you would think you arrived at, but no, it was full of men, watching girls do windmills, stroke poles, and hump the stage. The sound in the room was all white noise, punctuated with muted pounding. My head was throbbing, and Yukker motioned, “Another one?” I stared back at him, through a thick fog. “One.” I motioned.

I sat down on the cheap three seater that was positioned sideways to stage. It was fucking freezing in that room The girl or girls, couldn’t tell you how many, I barely notice them at the best of times, but continued to do the wind mills, or whatever it is girls do to make men part with their dollars.

I looked around for Yukker. He was nowhere to be seen. All I had was a cold one in my hand and the chill of fear down my neck.

Here I was a man among boys, sitting on a sofa in a room bathed in pink light, wondering what the fuck, am I doing watching girls gyrating and dancing the windmill, to some music I could not hear  it was all white noise, and if I turned up the volume control, it would only amplify the white noise.

I looked around for Yukker.

He had been gone a long time. I thought, “You cunt! Don’t you leave me by myself. Get back here you motherfucker!” Yukker was too inebriated to receive my messages by ESP.

What happened next, it was like the DJ, or the music master had cued that MUD song:

I said a hey you guys
look who’s awaitin’ outside.
Well she got style you can see it in her feline eyes.
When she starts movin’ you sure can tell
When she starts shakin’ she’s raisin’ hell.
I said a hey you guys
look who’s awaitin’ outside.

Let me assure you Chereme, there is a moral to this story, and a sequel in this very same club, well, strip joint, [which comes a few weeks later]. The moral doesn’t occur till the next morning, and until then, a few more things happened along the way. So, bear with me, OK?

Previous Episodes

Yukker, Beer & The Black Panther [Part One]
Yukker, Beer & The Black Panther [Part Two]