Daisey's

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Animal carcass has a sweet perfume when it’s all dried out and new, like incense. If you wanted to, you could run your mouth over them heel to toe-tip. Eat off them. Not that you would, but. Laurel works extra hours at maccas, just to buy hoofs like them, because they make her teeter back and forth so her tits stick out. Mum doesn’t like her going out on Fridays to the city, says forty minutes for a train just to wear new hoofs in a club is ‘excessive’. And why can’t she just go out somewhere nice on Maroondah Highway, like Daisy’s?

Because Daisy’s is shite. Everyone says so. Daisy’s is for dickheads who are in year 10 still and can’t pick up. Like me, if I can even get in. Laurel just came back from Schoolies, she’s not going out in Ringwood ever again.

She likes going to Transport on Flinders, so she can catch them guys in suits. Friday night, 6pm. They still smell sweet from sitting in recirculated air on floor-number-whatever Collins st, Paris end. She doesn’t tell me what they look like, just that they're not like that. The family ones buy her drinks and ask her how old she is, she says. So she can pick them and save time for the ones that count. She isn't there just to screw, but. She just wants one to keep. Has a couple already but I don’t think either is her boyfriend, because whenever she has boyfriends she is never home weekends and they buy the hoofs, not her. They’re never as nice as the ones Laurel buys herself.

Gonna buy me a pair of hoofs one day like Laurel's and get a guy too. Not because I have to – Laurel says I don’t try hard enough but it’s hard to give a crap, when all drunk guys smell gross by the time you get to them. I don’t know if it’s worth it. I just want someone that lives near shit so I can stay over and not have to deal with Nightrider. First I need to save up. I reckon the right pair of hoofs can keep you out of Daisy’s long enough to forget it exists. That’s what Laurel tells me anyway.