FLASH GARRET AND THE BOYS HAIR OUT IN… THE PER­FECT TACO

Surfing World - - Introduction - Story by Money Pussy. Pho­tos by Nick Rap­ley

Chap­ter 1. Cop­per Ki­mono

Low tide. 5pm. The Pass (carpark stairs). An­other muted sun­set.

Watch­ing dream flavoured green ma­chines roll down the line up like Waikiki; Flash Garret and his boys look busi­ness in roughed sleeves and wet swim­mers, they’re match­ing slip­pers of old dry sand, they’re reg­u­lars of the go-by-easy Pass Carpark buzz col­lec­tive. The cof­fee shop is very closed… Over there, that’s Flash… not as flaky or flam­boy­ant as you might sup­pose, and Sammy (The Who) hey Sammy play­ing the yo-yo with the red glit­ter star on the side wiz­zzzzzz wiz­zzzz wiz­zzzzz the star spins up and down its string and he knows ev­ery trick, Tommy Turnta­bles, click­ing with both hands do­ing the limp knee hip twist to Bach, sud­denly turns to Cop­per Ki­mono who’s read­ing Date A Veg­e­tar­ian Guide, and says hey where’s Cheese Louise? Every­one looks out into the wa­ter as a blue and brown mound swirls in the sun­set and the speckle of a white shirt blobs down it and pops be­hind the il­lu­sion rings for two… three… five sec­onds… and rushes back out like a baby-bean shoot, when every­one on the carpark stairs cheers.

See for Flash and the boys (and any more ag­o­niz­ingly funny at­tempts to main­tain dig­nity in a town that wanted to take it from them) By­ron Bay and be­yond was sadly the dy­ing me­trop­o­lis of world-class beachies. Th­ese guys couldn’t even get a girl­friend around here any­more let alone a rock bomb from be­hind the head­land with­out some guy jump­ing in on them and scream­ing HELLO in French Cana­dian.

And so sun sets over rain­bow re­gion and our heroes watch her from the car-park stairs, won­der­ing about the power of an eclipse and this still-life in Wa­ter­colour, Cop­per Ki­mono thinks they should sleep on the beach. Flash reck­ons some party might get down later on Lit­tle Wat­e­goes. Sammy and Cheez eat olives and yoghurt to­gether be­cause their fam­i­lies are both Ital­ian, and some­where in the mid-east, foul magic is at play.

Chap­ter 2. Crazy Cat Sleep­ing Drips Drool like a Saint. - He Who Knew About Ki­netic Sand

They crept out of the yel­low and tan Ur­van on the hill­sidse with the moon in what I guess they call hot pur­suit and walked around the rocks on low-tide to the lit­tle bay (Lit­tle Wat­e­goes). Cheez Louise made a fire for the last kiss of Tues­day’s light fall­ing be­hind the world. Too tired to see the night through, our hero and his usual mod-mob fell into deep sleep amongst the drift­wood of dreams.

(When the winds blows it means any­thing can hap­pen.)

But there’s a big wind hap­pen­ing and a so­lar eclipse in Leo. Air mys­ter­iso.

A shoot­ing star vom­its across the night above Flash and the boys while they dream of sum­mer and Egypt in the Au­tumn moon­light, warm coals that look like sleep­ing pos­sums hud­dle to­gether burn­ing. Guess the party was no go Joe.

Be­neath them the sand moved. Ki­netic. Grooved around in the earth like a dance. Spi­ralled sound­lessly and dropped in at its cen­tre, gen­tly, mag­i­cally, the moon watched them with his big eye as Flash and the boys fell through the quick­sand.

Chap­ter 3. A Nat­u­ral Leader

Cop­per Ki­mono smiled to him­self in his dream and woke to find them in the mid­dle of the jun­gle. Rainforest ev­ery­where. Thick glossy green wet palm had re­placed the sand at Lit­tle Wat­e­goes. The ocean had van­ished. The head­land and the trees. The stars, the sky. Thick trop­i­cal is­land for­est tow­ered around them like a bully bri­gade or march-on of an­tique sol­diers look­ing for Jack Ni­col­son in a war time clas­sic. Bird calls in an­other lan­guage, the sound of wind and sea for­eign. Some wild and ( that word again) “mys­te­rioso” shift in the pa­ram­e­ters had quite ap­par­ently oc­curred…

Flash led them through the for­est. The nat­u­ral leader. Push­ing and pulling and break­ing branches in obliv­ity. Cheez Louise fol­lowed still wear­ing his wet­suit rolled down and fluffy on the in­side pads. March of the daf­fodils. A mo­ment later it cleared and the sea stretched its mouth out and down for­ever (hori­zon). The sun fresh and new but gloomy and cool lit the ocean. The boys looked out upon it and no­ticed some­thing stylish and pe­cu­liar. There wasn’t any sand. It just went blue some­times but mostly green, fo­liage, then straight to the wa­ter. Bizzaro?

Straw­berry tree’s, Jabot­i­caba’s with Huck­le­ber­ries grow­ing un­der­neath. Yum. Sammy stayed at the wa­ter edge eat­ing poi­son berries and the rest set off around the shore (if we can still call it a shore). TT and Cop­per, Flash in front, and it wasn’t 5 min­utes be­fore they re­turned to Sammy at the same spot they’d left him eat­ing berries. Though from the op­po­site side they’d left from…

Chap­ter 4. The Par­al­lel Uni­verse - Jabot­i­cabas All Over Tree Trunks. Wet and dark. A Unique for­est.

It was. It seemed. A per­fectly cylin­dri­cal is­land. Jabot­i­cabas and huck­le­ber­ries all over the tree trunks. Wet and dark. A unique for­est. But so were many things.

When off the hang­ing rock out be­yond them broke this one per­fect and di­a­mond flavoured green-ma­chine that wrapped around the is­land to meet it­self again on the op­po­site fac­ing side of the rock. Weird! Then an­other. And an­other again. Can you imag­ine it? I’ll try to draw it for you. Put your cof­fee cup up­side-down on the ta­ble in front of you and PUT THAT CIGARRETTE OUT now draw your fin­ger around the cup in cir­cle lines. And that’s what the wave was do­ing! Like a mar­tian mar­tini. Like a per­fect taco. A sign flashed on and off in neon red be­tween the tree’s. On: THE PER­FECT TACO, and Off: THE PER­FECT TACO. Flash and boys wet­suited and their sur­face boards hit the cool and milky win­ter wa­ter and rode ma­jes­ti­cally into the nev­er­com­ing sun­set for­ever.

My favourite thing about Kelly Slater is that he never mort­gaged his 70-acre heart and in­stead made wave-pools and wave-pools of emo­tion com­mo­tion in the quaint but starry; surf­ing world.

“THE BOYS LOOKED OUT UPON IT AND NO­TICED SOME­THING STYLISH AND PE­CU­LIAR. THERE WASN’T ANY SAND. IT JUST WENT BLUE SOME­TIMES BUT MOSTLY GREEN, FO­LIAGE, THEN STRAIGHT TO THE WA­TER. BIZZARO?”

*I should take this time to point out that both Sammy and FG were ex­cel­lent ten­nis play­ers, and had it been down to the wire, at any point, there would al­ways be an ex­it­ing mo­ment.

Flash tears a hole in the fab­ric of the uni­verse big enough for a can­dle eat­ing bush turkey to fit through. And don’t those rocks re­mind you of stolen kisses at Dol­phins years ago?

Jo Gould

Josh Sleep

Josh Sleep

Open­ing spread: Flash Gar­rett Parkes it on the hind quar­ters in the dunny bowl of con­fi­dence. Just like that time a butcher bird swooped from the trees and stole a crois­sant from his fin­ger­tips, gen­tly brush­ing his lov­ley’s cheek with its wing. This spread: Afends boys get­tin red hot & green crispy snapper stylez.

In­tro­duc­ing:

Josh Sleep, Sam Nolan, Jo Gould, and Jono Sal­field Flash Garret, Cheez Louise (Cal­i­for­nia), Sammy the Who, Tommy Turnta­bles, and Cop­per Ki­mono.

Josh Sleep

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