[Slig_Cake]

I guess you’re all wondering how I came to adopt ‘Big Red’ as my pet scrab.
Or you probably don’t give a ratz arse.

Regardless, here’s part one of this nail biting trilogy!

PART ONE – A Bong Too Many

My father has always been a strict man. Doesn’t often let me out of the house on school nights, bans me from the television, always telling me to pull my socks up and tuck my shirt in, comb my hair like Hitler, the list is endless.
Imagine my surprise when he allowed me and my mates to drive up to ‘Scrabania’ with him for his filming of the nature show, ‘No Place like Odd’ he hosts! I was wrapped and immediately rang up several close friends to arranged plans with them. As expected, everyone wanted to go.
“Scrabania?” cried Brad, “Mate that sounds awesome.”
“Yeh just remember to bring a slab and try and a bit of grass.” I said, and hung up the phone. A couple of others rang me later that afternoon asking if they could come, which I found a bit rude. I told them my Dad said I could only bring five, and we were only taking one car. This didn’t go down with them too well but I had no intention of bringing people who’d been my ‘best friend since that drink they shouted me”. I was happy with the five I invited and for the first time ever, actually looked forward to the expedition. I had always found them boring since I was thirteen years of age. All the creatures of odd just looked the same and the security would never let anyone outside the campsite. Most of the time it was about standing around waiting for the people to set the cameras up and then watching a ‘Paramite’ pounce on some unsuspecting Fleech. But I expected this to be different. Scrabs have always been my favourite animal, and on the rare occasion you would see two dominant Scrabs face off to each other. The fights were always intense and it would be great to watch them in the company of my friends, rather than some spaced out cameraman.

After two weeks passed, the day finally came for us to set off for Scrabania. My friends came around early and we loaded up the beers in the tray of the ute. My dad gave me a map of the way, and gave me the key passes we needed to enter the established campsite.
“And don’t forget to wear your desensitizer watches at all times.” He warned.
“Yeh, of course.” I replied. The sound of a car horn blared behind us and we saw the television network van waiting to pick my father up. He turned his back on me and headed off. Before opening the door he yelled out to me, “Don’t forget to recharge them too!” He got in the van and the driver sped off without hesitation.
Back inside I rounded all the guys up and we all got in the car. After driving through the suburban areas, the distance between the houses began to lengthen more and more until there was just plain farmland around us. Rod and Tim poked their heads up from the tray and grinned at me in the rear vision mirror. I was still unsure of why I agreed to let them back there. I wasn’t too concerned about getting demerit points on my license, it was when I saw them throwing out tons of empty beer cans I got annoyed.

By nightfall we had finally reached ‘Scrabania’. We had less trouble than I expected of getting in as the vehicle had not been registered to enter. All the documentary crew had gone to bed by the time we pulled up into the camp and we set about finding our own caravan.

As usual, the caravans weren’t very luxurious. It was very cramped for six of us, and very stuffy due to the lack of windows. We decided it’d be better to smoke outside tonight rather than in the caravan, so we dumped our bags and rigged up the electric light around the back of the caravan where there were a few logs for us to sit on. We started chopping up our weed and began to pass around the bong. Time passed and everyone was beginning to get a permanent grin and I felt my throat starting to burn. Another round later we were all laughing like kookaburras and didn’t know why. It just seemed funny that Brendan was wearing a red shirt I guess. Tim and Brad soon passed out and we started to get into a semi-serious conversation about what we were planning to do tomorrow.
“I’m gonna take out ‘Big Red’.” I said casually. A loud moan erupted from the rest of the group in unison and they laughed about it. Then Chris turned to me more seriously (or at least he tried to with both of his eyes drooping).
“Mate….” He began, “…you wouldn’t be able to handle a normal sized scrab, never mind Big Red!” Then he started to drift off mumbling something. Brendan (who was the non-smoker of the group) then piped up.
“Go on! I dare you. Go out and find Big Red and…..and bring back the ****’s head!” They all laughed at this and I started to feel angry and got aggressive.
“Mate I will!” I yelled, “I’m goin’ to go out…right now and find him. And I won’t just bring back his head, I’ll bring back his torso, his legs, rip out his teeth…” I said all of this with such conviction, that Brendan knew I was serious about this and cut me off. “Mate seriously don’t be a dickhead.”
“Nah **** this I’m going!” I stated, and got up to leave.
“Sit down right now and go to sleep.” He shouted, the other two started telling me not to go as they realised what I was doing.
“I’m off, later.” I said and walked off. As I did I could hear my friends calling out to me softly, but they gave up and started talking to each other.
“He won’t go." Assured Rod, "He'll just come back with a whole load of bullshit." The group agreed and they all fell asleep.