Les Norton and the Case of the Talking Pie Crust Read Online Free Page A

by. ‘Shit! It’s noisy here,’ said Les. ‘It’s a wonder you don’thave a coffee at your place, where it’s a bit quieter.’
    Menny gestured. ‘I have to get out. Otherwise is like I’m married to the job.’
    ‘Fair enough, I suppose,’ agreed Les. ‘But I didn’t know you were into the film game, Menny.’
    ‘Hey,’ said Bodene, ‘this is Bondi-Wood on the sea. What else do you do round here?’
    ‘That’s true,’ nodded Les.
    ‘Actually, I’m making two movies,’ smiled Bodene.
    ‘Two?’
    ‘Yes.’ An ironic smile flickered around Bodene’s eyes. ‘You know what I like about Australia, Les?’
    ‘What?’ said Les.
    ‘You’re weak.’
    ‘Weak? Hey, turn it up, Menny. Haven’t you heard of the Anzac spirit? Our bronzed Aussie life-savers?’
    ‘I don’t mean like that,’ gestured Bodene. ‘You’re weak because you want to appease everybody. You roll over and let the world scratch your stomach and kick your arse at the same time. Political correctness. And to make bad with the worst: conspicuous compassion.’
    ‘Conspicuous compassion?’ queried Les.
    ‘Yessss,’ sniggered Bodene. ‘Look at me everybodys. I’m crying for what happened to the stolen generation. Look at me everybodys. I’ve got my mouth taped up for the peoples in the detention centre. Look at me everybodys. I’m rolling in dog shits for the childrens overboard.’ Bodene gestured dismissively. ‘Is bullshit.’
    Les thought for a moment. ‘You know, you’re half right, Menny.’
    ‘Of course I’m right,’ smiled Bodene. ‘And if you say different, Les, I call you a racist.’
    ‘Hey. As you should, mate. You’re a wog.’
    ‘In my country,’ asserted Bodene, ‘these bullshit peoples don’t last five minutes before they get knife in ribs. Charity begins at home in Albania. Is that right, Lasjoz?’
    ‘Is right for sure bastard,’ growled the big man.
    ‘I see what you mean,’ agreed Les. ‘If these…conspicuous compassionistas carried on about the old diggers and kids with cancer as much as they do about illegal immigrants and such, we might be a lot better off.’
    ‘Yes. But there’s no show and glow for them in that, Les,’ said Barbara.
    ‘Exactly,’ agreed Bodene. ‘So what I’m going to do to get started, Les, is make most politically correct, conspicuously compassionate movie ever filmed.’
    ‘You are?’ queried Les.
    ‘Hundred per cent,’ enthused Bodene. ‘Director and producer will be critically acclaimed. It will scoops the pool at Australian Film Industry Awards. All the actors will get warm inner glow, hot enough to melt Antarctica. Film Council will finance me to buggery. And,’ beamed Bodene, ‘best part is, no one in right mind will go see this load of critically acclaimed horse shits. So me, being wog producer, I can put more horse shits on Australian general public for being insensitive racist bastards, and take moral high ground, enough to give me nosebleed. I can’t go wrong. They might even make stamp and name street after me.’
    Les drew back. ‘I’m in the presence of genius.’
    ‘Tell me about it, Dude.’ Menny took an envelope from a bag at his feet and handed it to Les. ‘Here. Read this. Is…’ He turned to the girls. ‘What is word? I can never say.’
    ‘Synopsis,’ replied Topaz.
    ‘That is the one. Sirnopsusis. Anyway. Movie is called Gone With the Willy Willy. Read on, my friend Les. You like. Writer does good job.’
    Les carefully opened the envelope then took out a sheet of neatly typed foolscap paper and started reading.
G ONE WITH THE W ILLY W ILLY
P OST N O G RAVY P RODUCTIONS A USTRALIA
This is the sensitive and ambitiously moving story of Dulcie Dugong, a hygenically challenged, hunchbacked, Aboriginal lesbian from Alice Springs. Dulcie, after drinking a flagon of ’72 Grange Hermitage, confronts her demons and hitchhikes to Woomera. There she breaks into Baxter Detention Centre and frees Ibrahim, a gay, HIV positive,