Ground Zero Pumice Feast
Not many people know this, but you can actually find my family in the history books. My father, Steven Zanzibar Gardner, was an explorer and an adventurer of sorts. The thing about Australia is that much of this wide sunburnt land is unmapped, because there's just too much of it, and cartographers can't spare the ink. There could be like, a small country the size of Genoa in the middle of Australia, and no one would even know. They could even have dealings with Indonesia and Spain, unbeknownst to any human society. So it is that bored rich men like my father were held in high esteem back in the Day, as there are many indications that boundless treasures still exist somewhere in the heart of Australia.
The legend that particularly interested my father was that of Captain Cook's lost diamond budgie. The story goes that James Cook was viciously beating his pet budgie with a hefty chunk of coal, and that with the intense heat caused by the continual friction, the budgie became coated with diamond dust over a period of about two million years. One day Cook's ship was on its way to Alice Springs when it crashed into the coast of Australia, Alice Springs of course being several thousand kilometres inland and at that time non-existant. Cook cursed and raged, naturally taking his anger out on the budgie, who was so despondant it flew inland to the Simpson Desert and broke into a million pieces. Many modern scholars have dismissed this myth as physically impossible and 'lame', but my father had enough faith in it to spend his entire family fortune on an expedition into the burning sands of the Simpson Desert, employing the greatest metal detectors money can buy.
Alas, as he eventually discovered, diamonds are not made out of metal. The metal detectors were good for only one thing - finding other discarded metal detectors from past expeditions. Even with these supplementary metal detectors the search was in vain, but my father refused to give up. Some people say his ineffable courage came from his alleged 'gypsy' blood. Others claimed he'd suffered a severe head wound when a blind worker with a metal detector mistook my father's steel-rimmed glasses as the legendary diamonds, and struck him a mighty blow to the skull with a shovel, leaving him under the impression he was a pixy looking for underground rainbows. Whatever the cause, he pressed on to search for the diamonds as well as a number of other Australian legends, such as the Bunyip, Ned Kelly's hideout, and Mulga Bill's bicycle.
For many years my father and his men wandered the baking centre of Australia, digging wide trenches and mines, sifting the dusty bottoms of empty riverbeds, and mastering the lagerphone. They searched dune after dune of sand, but the result was not diamonds, but merely sand, and the occasional scorpion. Years of searching without result caused my father's men to mutiny. One morning he awoke to discover they had left in the night, leaving behind only enough metal detectors and lagerphones to eke out a miserable survival. For ten long days he trudged up and down the sandy slopes, navigating by the stars. He became so adept at reading the stars that he was able to discern his own horoscope for that day. It was "Look behind you". He did, and was surprised to see the legendary Bunyip standing right there. The Bunyip led my father down to an underground cave which apparently used to be inhabited by none other than Ned Kelly, and what should he spot down there amid the ammunition and Betty Boo comics but a penny-farthing, which he could only assume was Mulga Bill's. In glorious triumph he rode back across the sands, down south, into Adelaide, where he was hailed as a hero. He didn't have the diamonds, but he did find the love of his life in the Bunyip, who he took for his bride. He lived happily ever after until the next day, when he was examined by the country's top neurosurgeon.
"I'm sorry, Steven," he said, "But your head trauma has caused you irreparable brain damage. You've been having delusions."
"Oh no!" my father cried. "You mean everything I saw was an illusion? The Bunyip? Ned Kelly's lair? The bicycle?!"
The doctor nodded his head compassionately. "I'm afraid so. Even this bit right now."
My father awoke, still lost in the Simpson Desert. He was inconsolable, so it was fortunate there was nobody there to try and console him. He continued to keep himself alive by drinking the blood of desert snakes, and he battled boredom by kicking bilbies. He continued to experience delusions. In one he thought he was flying against the Germans on the back of a giant chicken monster, who roasted the enemy lines with its Hot 'n Spicy breath. In another mirage he thought he had found James Cook's legendary diamonds next to a billabong, and had been reduced to gobbling them up as a means of sustenance. He continued to have dreams about finally escaping and coming back to civilization in a blaze of glory, and also ones where he thought he was going to the toilet, and would wake up having wet himself. Finally he stumbled across a highway, and waited there until a passing trucker found him and gave him a ride back to Adelaide.
My father returned home a very different man to the one who had left five years earlier. He was gaunt, filthy, and bright red. He underwent an intense medical examination to restore his bodyweight to normal, and also to stitch up parts of his head. During X-rays doctors noticed something odd, and prescribed an intense enema. The results were sand, parts of a lagerphone, and a handful of diamonds.
My father was ecstatic. He had found the legendary diamonds afterall, though at the time he was completely delirious, and he had no idea at all where they could be. He resolved to lead another expedition into the desert to retrace his steps. On hearing this, my mother stabbed him to death with a knitting needle.
So goes the tale of the Gardner family. My mother made bail with the money she got selling the diamonds, and skipped the country, leaving me behind to write my father's memoirs and pursue my study of the lagerphone. My father was cremated, and his ashes were scattered over the yellow reaches of the Simpson Desert when the urn fell out of the plane on its way to Disneyland.
Some people say his ghost still walks across the sand at night. Of course, some people will say just about anything to get you into bed.
The legend that particularly interested my father was that of Captain Cook's lost diamond budgie. The story goes that James Cook was viciously beating his pet budgie with a hefty chunk of coal, and that with the intense heat caused by the continual friction, the budgie became coated with diamond dust over a period of about two million years. One day Cook's ship was on its way to Alice Springs when it crashed into the coast of Australia, Alice Springs of course being several thousand kilometres inland and at that time non-existant. Cook cursed and raged, naturally taking his anger out on the budgie, who was so despondant it flew inland to the Simpson Desert and broke into a million pieces. Many modern scholars have dismissed this myth as physically impossible and 'lame', but my father had enough faith in it to spend his entire family fortune on an expedition into the burning sands of the Simpson Desert, employing the greatest metal detectors money can buy.
Alas, as he eventually discovered, diamonds are not made out of metal. The metal detectors were good for only one thing - finding other discarded metal detectors from past expeditions. Even with these supplementary metal detectors the search was in vain, but my father refused to give up. Some people say his ineffable courage came from his alleged 'gypsy' blood. Others claimed he'd suffered a severe head wound when a blind worker with a metal detector mistook my father's steel-rimmed glasses as the legendary diamonds, and struck him a mighty blow to the skull with a shovel, leaving him under the impression he was a pixy looking for underground rainbows. Whatever the cause, he pressed on to search for the diamonds as well as a number of other Australian legends, such as the Bunyip, Ned Kelly's hideout, and Mulga Bill's bicycle.
For many years my father and his men wandered the baking centre of Australia, digging wide trenches and mines, sifting the dusty bottoms of empty riverbeds, and mastering the lagerphone. They searched dune after dune of sand, but the result was not diamonds, but merely sand, and the occasional scorpion. Years of searching without result caused my father's men to mutiny. One morning he awoke to discover they had left in the night, leaving behind only enough metal detectors and lagerphones to eke out a miserable survival. For ten long days he trudged up and down the sandy slopes, navigating by the stars. He became so adept at reading the stars that he was able to discern his own horoscope for that day. It was "Look behind you". He did, and was surprised to see the legendary Bunyip standing right there. The Bunyip led my father down to an underground cave which apparently used to be inhabited by none other than Ned Kelly, and what should he spot down there amid the ammunition and Betty Boo comics but a penny-farthing, which he could only assume was Mulga Bill's. In glorious triumph he rode back across the sands, down south, into Adelaide, where he was hailed as a hero. He didn't have the diamonds, but he did find the love of his life in the Bunyip, who he took for his bride. He lived happily ever after until the next day, when he was examined by the country's top neurosurgeon.
"I'm sorry, Steven," he said, "But your head trauma has caused you irreparable brain damage. You've been having delusions."
"Oh no!" my father cried. "You mean everything I saw was an illusion? The Bunyip? Ned Kelly's lair? The bicycle?!"
The doctor nodded his head compassionately. "I'm afraid so. Even this bit right now."
My father awoke, still lost in the Simpson Desert. He was inconsolable, so it was fortunate there was nobody there to try and console him. He continued to keep himself alive by drinking the blood of desert snakes, and he battled boredom by kicking bilbies. He continued to experience delusions. In one he thought he was flying against the Germans on the back of a giant chicken monster, who roasted the enemy lines with its Hot 'n Spicy breath. In another mirage he thought he had found James Cook's legendary diamonds next to a billabong, and had been reduced to gobbling them up as a means of sustenance. He continued to have dreams about finally escaping and coming back to civilization in a blaze of glory, and also ones where he thought he was going to the toilet, and would wake up having wet himself. Finally he stumbled across a highway, and waited there until a passing trucker found him and gave him a ride back to Adelaide.
My father returned home a very different man to the one who had left five years earlier. He was gaunt, filthy, and bright red. He underwent an intense medical examination to restore his bodyweight to normal, and also to stitch up parts of his head. During X-rays doctors noticed something odd, and prescribed an intense enema. The results were sand, parts of a lagerphone, and a handful of diamonds.
My father was ecstatic. He had found the legendary diamonds afterall, though at the time he was completely delirious, and he had no idea at all where they could be. He resolved to lead another expedition into the desert to retrace his steps. On hearing this, my mother stabbed him to death with a knitting needle.
So goes the tale of the Gardner family. My mother made bail with the money she got selling the diamonds, and skipped the country, leaving me behind to write my father's memoirs and pursue my study of the lagerphone. My father was cremated, and his ashes were scattered over the yellow reaches of the Simpson Desert when the urn fell out of the plane on its way to Disneyland.
Some people say his ghost still walks across the sand at night. Of course, some people will say just about anything to get you into bed.