Thursday, 21 October 2010

Part 5 - Tongan Fill-Up

New to Thieves? Start at Chapter One




While the Kiwis plotted their next move from Bondi Beach, over in Tonga, Filipe, the guy who ran the service station, was dozing behind the counter. It was a searing hot afternoon and there’d been hardly any business all day.

Filipe was woken by the sound of a high-revving engine. A vehicle looking remarkably like the South Island of New Zealand slewed between the pumps, sending salty spray all over the building.

Filipe grumbled to himself and stepped outside.

The passengers were all piling out of the island, playing with the pumps and pulling out the hoses.

‘Excuse me. EXCUSE ME!’ said Filipe. ‘This is an attendant-serviced station. Just wait in the vehicle, I’ll see to you.’

The Chief Aussie was sitting behind the wheel of the South Island. He had cunningly disguised himself by putting a kakapo feather in his hair and whistling the theme to ‘Shortland Street’.

‘How much would you like?’ asked Filipe.

‘Fill ‘er up, mate,’ said the Chief Aussie.

Filipe unscrewed the island’s filler cap and began to pump petrol. Behind him the 22 million Aussie passengers of the island were kicking up quite a ruckus.

‘Behave in there!’ shouted Filipe, but they took no notice. They had gone into his shop and were causing trouble however they could. Some were opening packets of crisps and tipping them into their mouths. Others were grabbing magazines off the top shelves, or leaning over the counter to snatch cigarettes.

‘Can you not control your passengers?’ Filipe asked the Chief Aussie.

‘Mate, I can’t even control myself!’ beamed the Chief Aussie, letting out a massive, pungent fart. He cackled loudly, pumped the accelerator on the island and pulled away from the station. The passengers ran to jump on board before the island reached open water. The pump line stretched and stretched until the nozzle slipped out and snapped back with a rubbery BOING!

Filipe caught the nozzle one handed and squinted at the license plate of the rapidly receding island.

‘N - Z – 2,’ he read. ‘Bloody Kiwis!’

And he stomped inside to report New Zealand to the police.