A short story called "Australia Day"

Australia Day

Hundreds of stupid, patriotic, macho and violent-looking hooligans were running past him on the wide footpath, holding beers in their hands. As they moved past a lot of them would shout things like “Australia, wooh!” and “This is fucken great!” Occasionally they shouted things directed at him: “What the fuck are you doing you poofta?”, “Where are your mates, mate?!” Almost all of them had flags tied around their necks which were suspended behind them as they ran, flapping aggressively in the wind. Jim himself was walking fast, with rapid steps. He felt panicked and he felt vulnerable and he suspected his expression conveyed that.

It was hot. He could feel the heat of the bitumen through his thongs, and the rocks that occasionally got caught between his foot and the soles of the thongs as he walked were very warm. He felt like his skin was burning as he walked. He had no sunscreen on at all and he had been out since nine o’clock this morning. His arms were already basically bright red. He wondered what his face looked like. Probably a vision of floridity. That thought made him more self-conscious.

He started walking faster. A group of women passed, for the first time in a while, all wearing bikinis, two of which were Australian flag ones. They were all expressing the same patriotic fervour as the men that ran alongside them.

He felt ill.

Luckily it was only a few more minutes till he would get home, then he could relax. Certainly if he wasn’t so paranoid now about the burliness and aggression of the men actually manifesting itself in a savage attack on him he could relax now. And it was paranoia because surely they wouldn’t attack him unless they provoked him. Or maybe they would. What if they did? Yeah, they did seem pretty aggressive and he was a prime candidate for attack being the outsider, the guy not wearing any emblems of Australia or even any colours associated with Australia, the scrawny guy with the worried expression on his face, the intellectual among the plebeians. So he was vulnerable to a savage beating. That thought made him nervous. He decided to accelerate into a canter, and felt even more keenly self-conscious than he had before. He didn’t know if he looked spastic.

Suddenly, he noticed a more intimidating man than he had seen all day running towards him on the footpath. This man was wearing an Australian flag and looked like he a massive steroids user, with enormous bulging muscles all over his body, and veins running all over those muscles. As he came closer and closer, Jim saw he had a mean face, with tiny angry eyes, and a completely bald, shiny head. As he came even closer, Jim noticed his fists were clenched and he was staring directly at Jim, a violent look in his eyes. Jim felt like he should run the other way, but he kept moving straight ahead – he couldn’t look scared, show weakness. They were now only a few metres away from each other and the enormous, muscly man was slowing down.

Shit, what the fuck is he doing, shit.

“Stop” the steriod man boomed.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

“Were you staring at me, mate?!”

“Not-not intentionally.”

“It looked like you were to me.” The steroid man moved towards Jim until he was right in front of him, his huge chest heaving as sweat dripped torrentially off his body.

“No-no I wasn’t, I promise you.”

Suddenly he raised his fist, ready to punch Jim; Jim cradled his head with his arm, preparing himself for impact… But the man was still in the exact same spot, breathing heavily and dripping sweat. He had brought his arm back to his side. Nothing had happened. Jim stopped cradling his head. He felt humiliated.

“Ha ha ha” the steroid man boomed and ran off down the footpath.

Jim started sprinting now. He needed to escape this hell as soon as possible, to get home, where it would be quieter and cooler, where he could be alone and not be bothered. His apartment building was only a hundred metres away now, he was almost home. He was running running running, his legs were striding on the footpath beneath his feet, but he kept running past the endless waves of aggressive men “Why are you in such a hurry mate?”, “What’s wrong mate?”, fifty metres, “It’s Australia day mate, lighten up!”, “What the fuck Dan, look at this cunt.”, twenty metres, “Slow down, mate!”, ten metres, five metres – he was there! He was at the gate! He quickly fumbled to get it open and ran down the path through the familiar communal garden and got to the door. He opened it and pressed the up button for the elevator, and waited. Finally, the doors opened. He got in and pressed 6, and pressed the Close Doors button, and watched as it went up: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, DING! He got out and ran down the corridor and found his room and entered it.

He locked the door.