chewie 2

                               PAGE 2 OF CHEWIE NUMBER 41 February 2010

YEP, STORY BY ZOEY PEPPER AND A COUNTRY TOWN POEM BY NEW CHEWIE POET, CRAIG MINTOUL

ZOEY PEPPER ON THE BASSOON

Nicey-Nice by Zoey Pepper It has nothing to do with sex, although lovers always ask. When there’s Nicey Nice there’s nothing else. My eyes glaze over, each hair stands on end, every pore is grateful. It’s a drug. I think I first discovered it when a friend in primary school asked me to roll up my sleeve, hold out my inner arm and guess when her lightly travelling finger reached the crease in the middle. It was surprisingly difficult to tell but, once I got the hang of it, I continued to play dumb so the game would last longer. The sun, the warm concrete steps, my skin an offering to that delicate and heavenly sensation. And, since I can remember, I have always allowed a bug or small spider to continue crawling on my skin for as long as it likes. Watching “Behind the News”, a line of us girls, eight or so, used to sit and draw on each other’s backs in five-minute rotations. Miss Cowley didn’t stop us, it kept us quiet I suppose. Sitting in line, I found drawing on the back in front of me difficult when the intoxicating sensation on my own back made my limbs heavy. Ascending to the front of the line meant five minutes of bliss. Followed by torture at the back. Around age ten I started paying my little sisters five cents an hour from my pocket money to draw on my back. I think they were the ones who named it. “Oh that’s ni-ice…” I would croon as they drew maps on my back, shoulders and arms with tiny fingers, twigs and lengths of grass. If there was no pocket money left I would resort to reading them stories from our favourite Greek Myths and Legends for hours at a time. They were enthralled and happy, I was in Nicey Land. At some point or other Mitzy discovered that she too liked Nicey-Nice and so I had to start trading Nicey sessions with her. Rozie couldn’t tolerate it and therefore could always be relied upon to give and not receive. But Ezmi, to this day, continues to be the best at Nicey-Nice, especially on Christmas afternoon when we are all lying around like glazed hams. Mitzy says Jed gave fabulous Nicey-Nice in the beginning but these days he protests with “But I like Nicey-Nice too!” Matt used to do it very late at night when he came in from a shift to send me back to sleep. He would quickly drift off, but continued in our dreams. Ed was on his own drugs, so there was no room for mine. With Jeremy I developed a fond love of cricket. Like Mitzy, he liked to trade sessions but, if the cricket was on, he’d give me Nicey-Nice for hours provided I sat still on my cushion and didn’t ask to change channels. I really loved cricket. For Andy Nicey-Nice can be a chore, so sometimes I get Crap. But if I am willing to give him a decent, generous and demonstrative session I’ll generally receive the same in return. Lately it’s been perfect.   Now and then, when I am so sleepy that I struggle to reach for the lamp switch, my thumb finds its way into my mouth and I find myself gently stroking my face. And it’s then that I am reminded of a time, before those days in the playground, when my Mum used to roll a tissue into a point and gently trace over my upper lip, jaw-line, cheeks and eyelids in the lamplight. Yes. That’s where it began.

NEW SHOP IN TOWN by Craig Mintoul There's a new business opened up on The Gap Road Where it splits from Edmunds street and runs south out of town.                                                                                         Well not a new business, not actually: like the location, It's set up where Molina's Hardware used to be. Moliona's was established in the 1880s, three generations ran it since, Then Valerie was out of here because there seemed nothing more to do And no kind of future for the kids, Gillian and Ashley. The new business is named Jensen's, you'd guess that's a family name, They sell stuff made in China mostly, cotton trousers, tees, So many joggers, runners, gum boots, plus those coloured plastic shoes With holes to let the water in and out when you're, say, wading in rock pools. Crocks, is that what they are called? The town's two hours from the sea - You go straight on past once-was Molinas to get there - and the local river's Dry. Still the crocks are there for all to buy. Oh, they sell hats as well. So you venture in after a hat for summer. Brian, who it turns out Breaks horses by the Jeffrey method, was wearing this particular hat When I caught sight of him outside the Huang's Chemist shop. Nice kind of hat, and Brian never being in the money, you asked him Where'd he get it. Which is what brought you to Jensen's On this particular heat wave morning. 41 fucking degrees outside. This character, Jensen I guess, asks, “Can I help you?” Predictable. “Just looking.” You move down to the back of the shop                                                                                                         Where the Molina family had kept power tools under lock and key. Where now this blond hair woman is kneeling, wiping out a bar fridge. “Problems?” You say, only because her eyes meet your eyes. “I't's dead, this spell's too much for it, I expect.” And you say, “Happened to me two weeks ago. Jesus, the dog bones, didn't They go off, stinking the shed out when I opened the door.” “Shit happens,” she adds, a philosophic touch. You shift your gaze Searching out hats but she says, “The cat warned us once, When the freezer – in the garage we had this big old freezer, you know - Well the cat, I heard it crying like something's wrong. Opening the door, God-damn, the thing was on fire at the back.” The old freezer, you think Not the cat. “They say,” she said “cats can get to piss on the wiring Of freezers and stuff, gives them this kind of thrill, so they like it.”

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