Don't Smile Till Easter

Les Horovitz

0:00

Audiobooks

106

Description

Audiobook sample - fiction

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

Australian

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Lucas is my grandson. Kick up his *** now and again. It wouldn't hurt him, but I reckon he'll turn out okay, eventually. I've never hit him or kicked him, but he invites it sometimes. And when he stirring up a bloke his own age, he always seems to know when to pull back just before the kid. Let's fly at him. Lucas is 14 years old with a grown up head on his shoulders, short for his age, skinny like you could do with a good drench and always wearing that bloody cap. Thank the Lord. He don't usually wear it backwards like some retard yank apology. Lucas has got dark brown hair, which you can't help but having their hat hairstyle. He burns up pretty bad if anybody tells him to take his cap off. And I wouldn't be surprised if he wears it to bed. He knows his hat wearing annoys me being a smart little bugger. Some would say smartass Lucas don't fit into well in groups. He's a bit too clever for the blocks his age, but they seem to respect that because in many ways, he ain't up himself at all. I can't find me trouser belt one day, so I grab a length of binding twine and tie it around your waist instead. Binding twine is what they used to tie hay bales. Lucas self opinionated little ******* that he is, goes crook on me tells me I look like a hillbilly and that I'm an embarrassment to the family of all the twine Azmi belt ever since just to annoy him. And that's exactly what it does. Cooper Bella, the town where I live. It's pretty big. More than 2000 people. I moved to the big smoke when I was about 20 from hillbilly heaven, about 30 miles out in the scrub. People reckon I'm a bit different to the norm, that I must have been born in the 19th century, such as me ways and wherefores. I don't know how old I am. I do remember having an 80th birthday, but I give up counting after that. Cooper Bella used to be a thriving metropolis, but in pretty quick fashion, the railway stations shut up shop even though the town is on the main southern line between Sydney and Melbourne, and the mill went west, followed by the Pipeworks and the abattoirs. We used to have four new car dealerships, and now there's only one where there used to be a long line of going business concerns. Now there's a mess of empty shops empty, that is, except for peel and paint, dust, cobwebs, the odd broken window and the occasional ****** stained mattress. The kids broke into these old buildings to start fires, smoke cigarettes or, worse, drink grog and have sex, which is all very romantic of going that far down market. Don't particularly worrier, and at that age it don't prime evil. Lustful urges will always win out over any niceties in the way of ambiance. I went to Sydney once, but I didn't like it, never went back too big, too busy, and no ******* wanted to know you. I also read a poem once by Banjo Paterson called Clancy of the overflow gritty of the dusty, dirty city through the open window, floating spreads its foulness. Overall, I tell you what, old mate weren't wrong. No offence to city people. It's just my point of view.