The Great Escape

We knew things were getting too comfortable – general physical appearance had disintegrated (fingernails were black and hair was dreaded). The private toilet (shower) smelt like a sewer and we were growing ever more accustomed to having bonges (cones) for breakfast. We found ourselves entertaining one another by feeding cow and horse cow from pies we stole from MaryFuckAnne. “cannibalism HAHAHA looook cannibalism”

            Cow Eat Cow

At this tragic point we knew it was time to move on and began to plan our escape. The Showies wouldn’t take kindly to us leaving so soon. They’d spent their limited funds in buying us Oak milkshakes, slush puppies, Take-Aways and of course Dagwood dogs. We knew telling them of our departure would have been a bad idea... one can picture Mark’s agitation, contorting and convulsing as he tried to comprehend why K, the woman he wanted to harvest his children with, would be leaving; Josh’s skeletal figure aimlessly passing up and down the trailer, distraught with the idea of no longer being able to cook Annie gourmet dishes. We had overheard that when people leave the Carny they give no notice, they up and leave in the middle of the night never to be seen again. Being dramatic and wanting another adventure we chose to do the same...

We got paid a week’s wage, cash in hand, and took turns that evening in distracting the Showies while the other would pack their backpack. We called Clay who had recuperated after the Wolf Creek ordeal and arranged for him to meet us outside the caravan park at 1am.

The clock struck one – we could see the lights from Clay’s yute at the bottom of the hill. Silence on the campsite apart from the odd muffled snore. Both determined to be as quiet as possible, fully packed, we switched on the light and attached our oversized backpacks, K picked up her wheelie bag with a large squeak. We began our great escape. With every slight movement the caravan shaked and the wheelie bag squeaked. The knowledge of MarryFuckAnne sleeping in the bedroom a few meters from ours combined with the fear of getting caught and adrenaline left us crying with laughter. We tip toed ungracefully through the kitchen, lights off, pissing ourselves as we tried to sneak towards the front door. K successfully got down on the grass – Annie followed, unsuccessfully falling flat on her face still cackling with laughter. Rolling around like a haemorrhaging turtle, too weak to stand up. K disorientated from laughing and crying was running in the wrong direction. All the commotion resulted in caravan doors opening, lights flicking on, K realising her positioning swerved and started sprinting towards the yute. Annie catching up we threw our rucksacks into the back of the yute, scrambled our way into the front seats and screamed at Clay ‘fuuuuuuuck DRIIIIVE!!’ laughing, he calmly removed the hand brake and moved off. A few yards down the road K panicked, demanded Clay to stop and jumped out the yute to check she had her handbag.

Later he explained our lovers; Josh and Mark had witnessed the whole ‘Great Escape’ from their trailer window.... All in all it was the worst escape in history!

The next day K received an incoherent text message from Mark, “k2y3g h£$ egr you all hfgg s6gdejgba b\x/hg” after much debating we decided to interpret his rambling as him wishing us the best of luck.