The Day of the Jackhole

The Day of the Jackhole

Celebrating 40 years on this earth

You can scroll the shelf using and keys

1980. Reprise: Love at first rogue.

October 26, 2011

I am with my Dad and Michael. We’re at the Tamworth Drive-In in Dad’s work ute, which is yellow with a McCollouch Chainsaw decal along the side. There are speakers hanging on the windows and it is endlessly fascinating. The weird ripples of car park that people park on, the concessions stand, the giant screen. We’re watching The Empire Strikes Back.

I crush pretty hard on Han Solo. Han quickly knocks Frank ‘Ponch’ Poncherello from my ‘he’s so dreamy’ pedestal. It’s interesting to note that my fantasies about these gents do not involve them saving me from anything. In fact, it is always I who swing in to save them, as they inevitably get injured and need tending to.

Rogues. Can’t live with ’em, can’t stop putting some balm on their boo-boos for the kisses.

When Darth Vader cuts off Luke’s arm, I gasp. And then the whole I’m yer Dad thing blows my mind out the back of the ute. I am catching flies with my open mouth.

In the coming months, my brother and I play ‘lightsabers in the yard with real sticks, and sometimes broom handles until Mum catches us and tells us to stop it. Michael is better at the activation noise than I am, and for some reason he’s always Darth Vader, which annoys me no end. When we tire of Star Wars, we play Monkey, again with broom handles or cardboard tubes. Michael is always Monkey, and he makes me be Pigsy, which is fine. Because who the hell ever wants to be Sandy? But I still resent the fact that I never get to choose if I’m Lord Vader or Monkey.

There is much hate within me. My thoughts are most definitely on the dark side.


Born in 1971?

Share a story about 1980 in the comments.

What do you think?

Please keep your comments polite and on-topic.