This story is very loosely based on true events…
xxxx Dolling
Abscess
by Alice Dolling
I learnt about talcum powder dance floors from the oldies at northern soul parties. You sprinkle talc everywhere so you can groove around silky smooth, until drinks get spilled and turn it to sickly smelling mush. As an avid talc floor dancer and the driving force behind talcing the floor at this particular house party I took it upon myself to police the drink situation. I arranged party goers I deemed to be a security risk along the edge of the dance floor. They couldn’t dance until they put down their beverages. I felt they were being a bit petulant and kept a close eye on their antics. In between duties, I was dancing better than I ever had before, my moves were impeccable. I would jump into a slide flawlessly and glide across the room like a proud sphinx. Kicking wildly and landing on my butt mid-flight.
It was one of those parties that left you feeling exhilarated for days. I had performed well and fraternised with lots of new friends. At breakfast the next day I became vaguely aware of a dull throb in my lower back. Over the next week the dull throb intensified into a blanket of fiery agony. I adjusted my marijuana intake accordingly and staggered down to the local Coles at a right angle, my swollen lumbar exposed. I bought $5 worth of mi goreng and home brand ibruprofen and right angled back home to my nest.
The next morning I rang my dad from my bed and cried with my rank Gatorade bong clutched in my sweaty hand. In the waiting room of the hospital people gaped at the watermelon sized growth throwing me off balance. I was trying to explain to the nurse that I must have fractured my coccyx when I was dance sliding across the floor when suddenly I was engulfed by black.
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‘Dave, Dave…can you hear us? Blink if you can hear us Dave.’
‘I don’t think he blinks…can you talk to us Dave?’
‘Why is he looking at us like that?’
I came to and found myself surrounded by medical staff.
‘What’s going on?’
They turned to me in startled unison, one of them quickly pulled a sheet over my exposed rump. Someone uttered a low nasal grunt and the meds looked at each other uneasily.
‘What’s wrong with me?’
Nobody wanted to look at me.
‘Show her, get it over with.’
The sheet is slowly pulled back,
‘Try not to be alarmed, it’s a bit unusual, uhhh hmm. Well, ahh…you’ve got Dave Hughes down here’
I twisted round to have look and there he was. Dave Hughes’ face grinned at me from atop my butt.
‘He isn’t particularly responsive, but he seems quite happy.’
I shifted in the crisp bed and Dave let out another long, low, smiling grunt.
‘Dave, can you make that noise again so we know if you can hear us?’
Dave’s grin widened a little baring a gap tooth and his wet lips glinted in the fluoro lights.
At first it was a bit awkward having Dave Hughes develop on my posterior. I had to cut breathing holes in my clothes because he tended to drool and snuffle loudly if he was confined inside tight clothing. I started cutting eyeholes for him too because I felt guilty about covering him up every day. He rarely demonstrated any sense of conscious thought but I felt as if we had formed a connection and I grew protective of him. Eventually all my clothes had a big opening in the back to expose his whole head. Sometimes I would shove food in his mouth and give him little sips of beer through a straw. Usually he just drooled everywhere or grinned brightly while chunks of mushy food fell off his face. But every now and then his blue eyes would flash causing my heart to beat madly in my chest and he would say ‘awwwhh thanksssss’.
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