Migaloo was back in town. He might only swing by the coast once or twice a year. Hence the name. That, and this cat loves to cut some rug. Ya dig?
Myself, I’m known about these waters as Muddy Kegs. I’m known to swing into a few round ones near the seaways after the summer rains. Bullsharks nippin at my cropped churchill swim-fins.
Then you got Beef Carvey, a man nearly as solid as the walls he throws himself over. And thats saying something.
The trio of us set out the back for some at the local. Spread out along the lineup. Calling the sets. Calling the rides. Dominating the small crowd of blow-ins who know to just keep on paddling when this crew is eyeing off the sets. Solid times for a solid crew out the back in Balmy Palmy. The 4221. Original Gold City Underground town.
Though it would be a laugh to head to the name breaks to check the circus and show Nigaloo what he’s been missing whilst he’s been slapping down Arctic walls like some kinda rubber seal. The real mobs.
When that cat Migaloo got on the plane back to Norway he wouldn’t be missing that mess no doubt. I’m sure that cats dolphin kicking onto a few cresters off the shallow end of an iceberg right about now… with no crew in sight.