The Old Man Croweth

As the 'cool' change blew in over Tarpeena, the Old Man decided to do as he often does and water the lawn. Thus began the ritual of connecting the requisite hoses to the requisite outlets of the bore pump, laying the sprinklers strategically to cover the maximum amount of pathway/banjo whilst watering the minimum amount of lawn and opening the requisite ball valves. Unfortunately when the requisite flick of the pump from OFF to ON was made, OMK was greeted with naught but the ominous churning of a pump sucking air, not water. Suffice to say, the Old Man was alarmed.

To those unfamiliar with the functioning of the bore pump, when dry either a valve on the pump has 'let go' ie dried out in the heat, let some air in, and consequently lost the water needed in the pump to keep it primed through an outlet, carelessly left open. Thus for this to happen there needs to be a weak valve or flawed seal, as well as an open outlet.

The second alternative is that the bore has finally gone dry, ie the water table has dropped below the 26 feet that the ancient pump can suck to. This second scenario is of course somewhat the more dire.

So it was that OMK rushed from one outlet to another, sun beating down on the baldest of heads this side of the black stump, hoping to discover one left open, which would allow the first and readily correctible scenario to be possible. "AH HA!" exclaimed OMK as he found the offending outlet behind the lemon tree. "Never shall I open that bull valve again!" Swore the Old Man to merciless Ra, shaking his hand at the fiery orb which, by the second, was rapidly turning his sweaty pate redder then a fresh Port Mac lobster. Then OMK swore some more and set about preparing the requisite equipment for priming the pump.

It was at this time that PG sidled out to aide the Old Man in his efforts, cunningly adorned in an Akubra so that the might of Ra could not harm him. PG would have availed his wisdom and strength sooner but he had recently been battling in the kitchen of Hades, against the terrible wrath of the Nahar Nisha, wife of OMK. The cunning PG had concoted a magical potion nicknamed the Tarpeena Twister as it could suck the very wind out of the Nisha's storms and leave her mollified and willing to cook such delicious feasts that even the fabled Halls of Vahalla could not match.

Bouyed with the reinforcements the Old Man was able to reprime the pump, regaining suction and promptly soaking the Banjo. Triumph! Now the green fields of 10 Edward Street rejoice in the shower from the sprinklers, and cruel Ra is forced to retreat west into the horizon, sinking slowly to the underworld in defeat.

Yet that victory compared little to the one OMK was to have moments later, when PG found his phone full of messages from the Temptress of Melbourne. As PG set about clearning his in and sent boxes piecemeal, whilst joining OMK in the victory toast, the Old Man waved his hand over the phone and lo! the delete messages option appeared. Even rarer then a victory over spiteful Ra, the Old Man had taught PG, that paragon of knowledge, something new.

Of course it did not last long. When composing this tale and wondering aloud "Just where the fuck is the black stump?" the Old Man replied, "West of Bourke." Upon consulting the annals PG discovered that this was, of course, bullshit. And the PG did smile.

PG Out