Undacuvva maintains the illusion

It’s the fifth time I’ve tried to resign and failed abysmally. There’s no such thing said the Boss. “This is a lifetime committment with no escape clause Helen,” still not my real name which he’s clearly forgotten.

So we amended the contract. Now I just have to co-operate whenever they have an operation in the area. They give me 24 hours notice of the role I must play and in return they promise not to wound me. “Unless absolutely necessary to maintain the illusion of unda identities,” says the manual. Well, thanks very much!

The copshrink was caring and concerned for my mental health state and I left with a huge bag of pills that promptly got flushed. I know what medicine I need and this years confiscated bush is top class I must admit. Some days it leaves me on the street with a headfull of bluesky. I can’t even remember my name or what I’m supposed to be doing which makes it easy to blend in perfectly in the village of the stoned.

The offer from the idiot hippies at their protest to sell their weed to us for $500 an ounce, considerably less than our current costs which work out at nearly $2500 for every ounce found, has infuriated the Head Office so much we’ve been instructed to find 2 kg per week to undacut them.
Of course the only way we can do that is by finding cakes. Last weeks bust of 1.83 kg of rum balls helped enormously and no one seems to care she only put 7 grams of mouldy leaf in the mix. In fact the Boss insisted we weigh the tin as well which put the stash at over 2kg! God only knows what we have to score this week to keep him happy.

Once again HQ with Garuda sponsorship is offering ridiculous bonuses including trips to the Vatican for anyone finding twenty kilos or more of weed before Christmas. That’s only a couple of decent fruitcakes! I withdrew my entry when I thought I was resigning which ended up getting me on the security detail for Oprah, who apparently enjoys the sacred weed as much as her brother Obama. With an entourage of 1500 people her crew will need every ounce we can find between now and then anyway. And they’ll pay top dollar those Americans.

One of the biggest upsets this month was the Commissioners wifes sister and her kids visited Nimbin. They came to Byron for the school holidays but the endless rain forced them out for a drive and they ended up in the back carpark. She claims she was offered “marriage you arna” twelve times before they even got to the shops! I may well have been one of the offerers though at the time I think I was searching through the bins for a coke can with several thousand dollars stuffed in it I’d thrown out by mistake. I never did find it.

The family apparently fled back to their car only to find a shaven headed teenager squeezing his pimples in the BMW side mirror. The children by now were completely wide eyed, sheltered between mum and her toffy friend, incessantly asking “what’s wrong mummy, what’s wrong?” Well may they ask, trapped in the middle of a warzone as they were.

She starts looking for her brother-in-laws number in her phone and the youth says, while watching her in the mirror between the pimples, “you calling the taxi?” He said it as an afterthought almost, before straightening up from the mirror as he realised she was.
“They wont even come lady. They know what we’re doing. They can’t stop us. It’s a joke.”

The boy then says, as she reported in a written statement. “You don’t get it lady, your kids’ll be smoking cones in a few years. At least they wont have to deal weed to get a session, they’ll be able to buy it. The law is crap, we know it and the cops know it.”
It had a profound affect on her apparently. And that was only one of a dozen “important person” complaints to HQ about Nimbin this month.

So much so an Assistant Commissioner visited a WKTA (Well Known Tourist Attraction) this week to try and undastand what on earth is making the wacky village so popular with the young international travellers. Do they really like unemployed derelicts, drug addicts and dirt? Is the Great Unwashed now a tourist attraction? A novelty, a reaction to compulsory wipeable surfaces?

The AC washed her hands very thoroughly as soon as they returned to the station and who wouldn’t?

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