The Town that Tripped: Chaos in Morelis

On a hot day there was nowhere to go. The swimming pool was dry. The skatepark was covered in yellow hazard tape. The front doors of the library were criss-crossed in plywood. And the bowling club closed its doors to under-18s, after Tommy J. bowled down the bar glasses, like dominoes.

Pete and Macy, along with dozens of other young people, congregated outside the mall, smoking and drinking on weekends, the footpath littered with stubs and stubbies. The police patrolled day and night, trying to maintain control, but the crime rate kept climbing.

Macy was playing Xbox in the lounge room one morning when he overheard his mother talking to her friend Gayle in the kitchen. ‘There’s nothing for young people to do anymore, especially when it’s hot out. Something needs to be done.’

‘But what? Council is stacked with conservatives.’

‘Lots of people are moving out. Morelis used to be so progressive, and now look at it!’

Macy relayed the discussion to Pete while they played poker on the roof of their apartment building that night.

‘Any ideas?’ Macy lit up a joint.

‘Maybe a petition or a rally outside the Council offices?’

‘Nah, those things have already been tried. People are so stubborn and backwards. We need something that makes people nice again, like get the Mayor really high. That’d be sick!’

‘Maybe we could get the whole town high,’ Pete said. ‘Spike the water?’

###

People in pyjamas lie in cuddle puddles, purring on the footpath. Dogs hump on the grass, cars park willy-nilly in the street. Shopkeepers hand out freebies. The Mayor stands on a street corner hugging passersby, shouting through a megaphone. ‘We’ll re-open the skatepark! We’ll fix the potholes.’

Pete and Macy watch from the balcony of their apartment. ‘We did it!’ says Pete. The two boys crack beers and knock them together, foam spilling onto the floor. ‘This town needed a good kick in the butt,’ says Macy, wiping his chin. ‘Pretty brilliant, spiking the water supply,’ says Pete. ‘Town will be much better for it—we can skateboard again.’

In the street below, a group of teens glide down the middle of the street, boom boxes blasting, shouting and laughing. ‘We did it! Woohoo, we did it!’ Macy leans over the railing and shouts out to his friends.

‘Macy, what the fuck!? Cut it out,’ says Pete.

Macy hops up and down on one leg, beaming from ear to ear.

‘Did you drink the water?’ Pete asks. Macy nods his head vigorously. ‘I did!’

‘Why would you do that? We need to stay level-headed. That’s why I got us all that bottled water.’

‘I wanted to see what it’s like. It’s amazing, you should try it Peeetieeeeeee.’ Pete shakes his head, then turns on the television. A newsreader laughs. ‘Kissing you all g’day!’ He wraps the weatherman in a hug.

‘Whoa—that toddler’s climbing the fire escape across the street,’ says Pete. Macy takes out his phone, click-clicks to snap a photo. ‘Watch out!’ Pete shouts. ‘Get down from there.’ The child continues to climb. Brakes squeal, crescendoing into metal on metal. ‘Bloody hell,’ says Pete. They peer over the railing—two cars sit at right angles to each other in the roundabout. ‘Did we do that?’ asks Macy. ‘Dunno.’

A bassy voice breaks through from the telly. ‘We are broadcasting to you from Sydney. Mayhem has hit the rural town of Morelis. It is alleged that the entire community has been drugged. Police from Sydney have flown into the region and are exploring the possibility that the town’s water supply was infiltrated with psychedelics. CCTV footage shows two teenage boys in black hoodies, jeans and work boots.’

‘Oh shit,’ says Pete.

The voice continues. ‘A woman has landed in the mental health unit at Morelis Base Hospital. Two people injured in a car crash in the CBD. A possible OD has been called in from South Morelis.’

‘We’re fucked,’ says Pete. ‘Why don’t they also report the good things?’

People on the footpath stand up, peering through dilated pupils, arms draped around each other’s shoulders. A fire engine roars by, followed by a naked woman twirling a hula hoop and a couple of cows bucking on hind legs. Macy lies on his back on the deck, staring at the puffy clouds overhead, humming lightly.

There’s pounding at the door. ‘Police. Peter McCormack? Macy? Open the door.’ Pete looks down at Macy. ‘We were just trying to do a bit of good…weren’t we?’ says Pete. He tosses a spliff to the ground. ‘Mum’s going to be mad. Good thing Dad’s not around to see this.’ Macy is in another dimension.

Pete trudges down the stairs, shoulders hunched. He opens the door. Two cops stand with downturned mouths and blazing eyes. The short one’s hand grazes his gun, the other blocks the entryway. ‘We were just trying to help…’

Macy comes barrelling down the stairs and runs straight into one of the cops. ‘Cool costume,’ he says. ‘Can I check out your gun?’

‘Is your mother home?’

‘Is that Mum?’ Macy asks, squinting. Outside, a woman sprays whipped cream into her hair and over her breasts.

‘Come with us boys.’ They raise their hands as sirens blare like a war zone. ‘It’ll wear off soon,’ Pete says as the police escort the boys to the station.

###

Word spread. Morelis became known as the town that tripped. Journalists flooded in, curious tourists followed. But aside from the odd cow pat and a car wreck sculpture in the roundabout, life began to return to its sleepy pace.

Pete and Macy sat at home, idly—no screens, no outings. Mum was barely speaking to them, other than to scold them.

‘You’re lucky they didn’t send you to juvie,’ she said.

‘But everyone’s at the skatepark,’ Macy protested.

‘Maybe it was good to shake things up a bit,’ Pete said.

‘Tell that to the woman in the psych ward. A bit of community service work won’t hurt you. About time you both grew up.’ The boys moaned. The doorbell rang and Mum answered it. Mayor Bills wore tweed pants and a t-shirt covered in love hearts. He leaned on the door frame, slugging from a water bottle.

‘You here to speak to the boys?’

‘Actually, Louise, I have something to tell you.’ He reached out and took Louise’s hand in his. The boys’ mother pulled away, looked at the Mayor’s eyes. ‘You’re not still drinking the… ‘

‘I was wondering where I can get more.’ He laughed like a hyena, braying uncontrollably.

Pete’s eyebrows raised. His attention turned towards a car driving backwards down the street, a woman in a lacy wedding dress balancing on the rooftop.

‘Could I have a sip?’ Pete asked.

‘Oh, what the hell,’ Mum shrugged and reached for the water bottle.

The car horn tooted rhythmically. It wasn’t over yet.