Sorry Business

Sunset at Coonawarra was sublime. The harsh daylight and perpetual dust momentarily forgotten. The falling sun hit the rocky range and the skies danced from crimson to vermillion. A thrum of cicadas replaced the chorus of laughing kookaburras. “How good?” thought Craig, as he sank into his grandfather’s rocker on the property’s veranda, savouring his chilled Tooheys.

Then one sunset at Coonawarrah turned the red skies black.

“Boss, boss, come quickly!” said Big Foot, Craig’s right-hand man.

“What’s the John Dory mate?”

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The Misfortune Business

Lucifer stands on stage at the Ba'al Ze Club

Audio Reading of “The Misfortune Business”.

“Hey everybody, welcome to the Ba’al Ze Club,” Lucifer stood centre stage, immaculate in a red top hat and tails, his hands raised in greeting. “Hades’ favourite nightspot for all you tortured souls.”

He went on: “Tonight we have a fantastic lineup for you, but first I want to give a big satanic greeting to our star-studded audience. Can I have a spotlight, please guys?”

A spotlight panned around the audience, stopping at a table near the stage.

“Nixon is in the house, ladies and gentlemen,” Lucifer roared. “Let’s give a gigantic hand for Tricky Dicky, who is joined tonight by one of our recent arrivals… Henry KISSINGER.”

Kissinger looked nonplussed, sputtering, “But I got the Nobel Peace Prize.”

“Sure, you did, Henry,” Lucifer laughed, “But if you look behind you, we have Alfred Nobel, the famous humanist and weapons manufacturer. We love a bit of hypocrisy in hell.”

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