Early Morning Stroller Oblivious to King Street's Recent Horrors
Newtown – Basking in the glow of a perfect Sunday morning King Street stroll, local boomer Walter Smith remained blissfully unaware of the sheer debauchery that had plagued his slice of paradise only hours earlier. Beginning his seven o’clock ramble at The Marley, Smith beamed with pride, reflecting on how lucky he was to live in this Great Southern Land. Little did he know, however, that the one hundred and sixty year-old building had played host to an orgy of vomiting and borderline sexual assault at its underground Tokyo Sing Song club less than five hours ago. Continuing down the road, Smith skipped past Istanbul on King, completely ignorant of the fact that just six hours ago, two Irish tourists had come to blows at the establishment, after an argument over who had ordered their chicken and mushroom pide with chips first. Crossing the road towards the 7/11, Smith paused to take a triumphant whiff of the fresh morning air, looking directly at a building upon which two nineteen year-olds had urinated only four hours ago, the recently purchased blue Powerades being the straw that broke the camel’s back. Smith then made his way to the Commonwealth Bank to withdraw actual cash like some kind of Luddite, never realising that the ATM had witnessed a spectacular argument between Troy and Shazza eight hours ago, the former calling the latter a ‘dirty slut’, due to her alleged but unproven infidelity. Turning around at Newtown Station, Smith looked across at the Townie, where the multitude of recent shenanigans are too gruesome in detail for this family-friendly publication. “What a time to be alive,” Smith reflected, as he turned back towards home, his peaceful idyll broken only by a brief encounter with a sweating, gurning, disco-biscuit acolyte outside Kelly’s, who enquired as to whether he had any chewie.