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how being a little guy gets you out of a fight

There’s the Slipway Hotel in Ballina and across the road a bench. Three people are sitting on it, two blokes and a woman. And there’s a another bloke coming out of the Bank right there.

One of the men on the bench, a wiry bloke of about 35, wearing jeans and flanno, thongs, smoking – has just roared out F U C K .. and thrown his phone onto the footpath. They all stand up.

Some shit has happened.

The bloke walking out of the bank stopped to look, just for a second, but that’s enough some days. The guy who used to have the phone swivels his madfuckenman stare over at him and that’s the impalement.

You looked.

You’re going to get hit right away. Who hasn’t lived with this.

But a little guy never gets hit, and the bloke coming out of the bank is a half-head short of average.

‘You OK for SEX tonight?’  ..   !!’

He yells this at the road, which is busy, and everybody turns around to see who it is that will book a midget for a bonk without a deposit.

In daylight. In Ballina. Just across from The Slipway, and now half of those drunk fuckers are looking over the pub wall.

Plenty of time to slip away.

Power to the little people.


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