Read Online Here Come the Dogs by Omar Musa - Free Book Online

talking about millions of people. We’re talking about a few thousand. Also, it’s not
illegal
to seek asylum.’
    â€˜Yeah, but you let one in, you let em all in.’
    â€˜Bro, you of all people should know how war can make people desperate.’
    Solomon is about to speak again when Crawford claps his hand on Aleks’ shoulders. ‘
This
is a man who’s talking some sense.’ He turns to Solomon. ‘What school did you go to?’
    Solomon tells him.
    â€˜Rugby scholarship?’ asks Crawford.
    Solomon flinches, but replies truthfully. ‘Basketball.’
    â€˜Right.’
    â€˜How you know I’m not a maths freak or something?’
    Crawford shrugs and smiles again. ‘Just a hunch. Tell you what though, you’d make a good footy player. We definitely need it at the moment. The Wallabies are atrocious. No heart.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, I’m not.’
    Crawford sizes them up, looking at Jimmy’s cap and Solomon’s Elefant Traks shirt. ‘I heard you talking about Sin One. You must have heard he’s coming back to town. He might very well be the only Aussie rapper who really competes on the world stage. Party, political, personal – he does it all. Pity time’s moved on without him, though.’Crawford sounds passionate as he speaks – there’s something entrancing and terrifying about him. How does he know about hip hop? About Sin One? His eyes seem to change colour, and then he becomes suddenly dismissive. ‘Aussie rap – bit of a joke, don’t you think? Can never compare to the real thing. Boys. Let me tell you another story.’ Crawford begins to speak about boats and wars, deserts and islands. He says that truth is a metal you can bend with your will and with heat. He talks about an alley cat that tried to act like a tiger. The alley cat walked tall, it growled, it stalked through the city as if it was the jungle, but no matter how hard the alley cat tried, he could never shake the stink of the gutter. People always knew what he was and he was eventually castrated. ‘This alley cat should have known his station,’ Crawford concludes. He must have drunk a full bottle of liquor to himself but is still speaking in clipped, perfect phrases, as if he has rehearsed everything he is saying. Georgie excuses herself and leaves the bar.
    Jimmy goes to the bathroom to take a shit. He scratches a tag into the toilet roll dispenser with a key but his mind is spinning. He sits with his head in his hands and spits out the saliva that is flooding his mouth. When he goes back to the bar, the place is almost empty. He goes into the smoking area and sees Solomon beating Crawford savagely and silently in the corner. The blood sparks off his face like garnets and he is grimacing or smiling. Aleks is nowhere to be seen. Jimmy joins Solomon and soon Crawford’s face is unrecognisable. ‘Wrong place at the wrong time buddy,’ one of them says. ‘They teach you ’bout that at university?’ Holding him by his collar, Jimmy looks up and sees the bouncer standing in the doorway. He nods at them. They turn back to their task and continue to punch, now crouched over him, thrashing him against the bloodsprent cement. Crawford has not made a sound and is soon so disfigured that he couldn’t even if he wanted to.
    Solomon and Jimmy look up and the bouncer is no longer in the doorway.

9

    Hand tatts

    There are five men in the studio,
    each one bigger than the next.
    A woman walks in confidently
    and says,
    â€˜Who’s Wil?’
    â€˜Me.’
    â€˜Sweet. Over here.’

    I scan the walls.
    Thousands of tattoo designs –
    pin-up girls, Southern Crosses, skulls.
    The tattoo artist has dark hair.
    She moves to the CD player
    and puts on a David Dallas album.

    The man called Wil reclines in the seat
    and she points to his neck.
    â€˜Right here?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Too