Episode 11: Fish Cakes

The Labor Party was back in government after 10 years of Liberal rule. The first African American was inaugurated as the President of the United Stated. Worldwide, kids were dancing in clubs and fist-pumping to Boom Boom Pow, while all the single ladies demanded that their boyfriends “put a ring on it”. Michael Jackson died. Tiger Woods got caught with his pants down. And a portly, middle aged housewife won the hearts of portly, middle aged housewives world wide with her operatic performance on British television.

These were the events that shaped the world in 2009. However most of these moments went by him, unnoticed. He had settled for the year in Albany: a beautiful, sleepy, backwater tourist town on the southern coast of Western Australia. Nestled 400 kilometres south of his home city of Perth, news seemed to take longer to reach Albany. And he was never one to keep up with popular culture in any event (except for the life and times of the King of Pop, whose death would truly shake him).

Albany was his home for the year as it was the only place with a law firm that would hire him as an Articled Clerk: the final step in practical training required in order to be admitted as a fully fledged Western Australian lawyer.

During his stay, he subletted a room from Shania. She was a single mother of 31 years, who had sole custody of her 4 year old son, Simon. Shania was not a beastly woman, however the throws of single-motherdom had not been her friend. Poor Shania looked older than her age and had an inescapable unkempt appearance. She had scraggly, dirty-blonde hair which was greying at the roots, a hint of cynicism in her eye, and she was known to wear baggy black Addidas jumpers, pink leggings and Ugg boots in public.

Shania was, what many would regard as, White Trash.

For the first few months, he was fairly uninterested in Shania and kept to himself. Sure, he was polite and he was always happy to tell Shania about his day at work, or his supposed latest conquest. But, other than their daily half hour of chit-chat, Shania may as well have been invisible. She had a child after all.

But things change.

Albany was a small town. A dozen restaurants. A few pubs. Two nightclubs. After six months of attempting to plough his seeds in the country fields, the local mutton started to catch wind of his philandering pheromones. The taps to his limited resources quickly dried up before he’d even had a chance to take a proper drink!

So his attention turned to Shania. She was a woman after all. A perfectly adequate woman. A cougar. And she had a child. He didn’t think he’d been with a mother before.

He ramped up the niceties and started to give her compliments.

“Your hair is looking flat today.”

He bought Simon Milky Bars.

“Here is a treat for the little one, Shania.”

He helped out with the chores. He sat with her and watched television. He made an effort to show that he was interested.

Shania enjoyed the attention. After her bastard ex-boyfriend walked out on her and Simon, Shania had become jaded about men. However, Shania was a woman after all and women have needs too. He may not have been much to look at, but neither was she. And he was nice.

For Shania, nice bordered on romance.

One chilly July afternoon, he decided to take action. After work, he drove to the local fishmonger and bought a big piece of Snapper. He then drove to the bottle shop and bought the biggest bottle of Classic Red he could find.

When he arrived home he was wired; buzzing with nervous excitement. If he knew anything about the opposite sex it was how to woo a vulnerable woman. He entered the front door juggling the Snapper in one hand and the Classic Red in the other.

“I’m hoooome.”

Shania was waiting in the kitchen for him. She flicked her head back and combed her hand through her hair.

“How was your day? You look like you’ve been busy.”

He slammed the fish on the bench and gave Shania the Classic Red. This was it.

“I brought dinner. You cook the fish… and I’ll give you DESSERT!”


After four minutes of passion, he laid on top of her and stroked her hair.

“Beats neopolitan, huh?”

Whilst he stroked Shania’s hair, something rustled in the door way. Shania didn’t have a bedroom door so she tried to maintain some semblance of privacy by hanging a faded, flannel bed sheet from the door frame. Simon was wrestling with it to see his mother.

He panicked and rolled off of Shania just before Simon managed to break through.


“Hello Simon! What are you up to? Mamma’s just getting a little massage because she’s had a rough week.”

He slipped his pants on and patted Simon on the head as he left the room.

What smooth moves, he thought.

Like a tiger.

This is the Chronicles of Creepy Pants.

Stay tuned for Episode 12: What a Dick


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