Raelene to the Rescue

"Raelene, Raelene, you've got to let us in. Quick!" her brothers clamoured at the door. Raelene was planning her wedding and had fabric swatches and sample invitations scattered across her kitchen table. The brightly coloured silks shimmered next to the sparkling gold and silver embossed cards forming an exotic patchwork such as the Queen Mum might sew together for her great grandchildren, if she were a Country Women's Association member. Raelene leapt to the door at Bruce and Robbo's insistence. Bursting in they cried, "Raelene, that crazy Dingo must really be off his nut this time. He's shot a hole in Robbo's ute, blown up Bruce's dunny, knocked over Bruce's house and he thinks he's having us for tea."

"Fair dinkum? I wouldn't be having tea with anyone who blew up my dunny," said Raelene.

"No, no, he means to eat us. He's definitely working a few tinnies short of a six pack."

Raelene, of course, found this alarming news. She too closed and locked her door (it wasn't an entirely traditional hole, since she didn't need to use her posterior for closure). "What would Hazel Hawke do in my position," she thought to herself. No answers sprung immediately to mind. It surprised her that Bluey was acting so strangely. He was always so polite everytime he purchased a jar of Vegemite or a can of Milo from her, and that was most every day.

When Bluey made it to her door he rang the doorbell and waited quietly for Raelene to answer.


Copyright May 1996 Katherine Phelps