Blood Thirsty Vegan

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My destination is set towards my Bondi home when I get a job offer in Bondi Junction. I wonder if it’s worth the bother, knowing it’s likely to only be a $6 trip. I decide I may as well take it – especially as my current motto is: “Something’s better than nothing.” Allie, a young woman in her twenties, hops in the front. Sure enough, her destination is ‘Pepe’s’, a restaurant not even two k’s down Bondi Road. It’s also near my flat – so I’m glad I took the job. I turn to her. “My wife’s been to Pepe’s. She said it was fantastic.” Allie matter of factly states, “It’s vegan.” I nod, confirming I’m aware of this. I then slow down as a wispy bearded hipster ambles across the road. Allie shouts: “Kill him!” Whoa – that’s a first – no passenger has ever ordered me to run anyone over. “Uh – yeah – I think I’ll pass on that.” Allie sighs. “That’s why I can’t drive anywhere.” I laugh. “Good. I don’t think I want you driving on the road, especially if I’m crossing it.” She shrugs. “I’d never actually do it. But it’s good to shout it out and release some positive energy into the universe.” I’m unsure if I’ve heard her properly. How in the hell is shouting out, “Kill him!” releasing positive energy? She’s seriously kooky. We pass another hipster on a bicycle. Allie turns to keep her eye on him. “That guy’s off with the pixies.” I wonder if that’s worthy of a death sentence in the eyes of Allie the Blood Thirsty Vegan. Or if saying that he’s off with pixies is just releasing more of her positive energy into the universe. I turn the corner and drop her off. “Okay – here you go.” She looks down the street. “So it’s just there?” I nod. “Yep.” She hops out and says, “Have a good night.” “Yes – you too.” I watch her walk down the footpath, hoping she never gets behind the wheel anywhere near me.

Bed Hopper

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It’s after midnight on what’s been a busy Saturday night. I get notified of a job in Bondi and wait outside the building for five minutes. Just as I decide to phone my rider, a dark skinned woman comes running up to my Mazda. “Thanks for waiting. I’m hopping out of one bed and straight into another.” This throws me – being a statement I’ve never encountered. “Fair enough” is all I can come up with. But of course my curiosity is aroused. What’s her story? Is she a prostitute? I want to check her out in the rear view mirror but decide it’s too creepy. Oh well – whatever. As I drive I notice she has a strong, musky yet sweet scent. We sit in silence, except for my music mix which, thankfully, doesn’t play anything I feel compelled to skip. As we come down the hill into Coogee, a heavy mist hangs over the beach and surrounding streets. “Can I roll down my window?” I’m surprised by the request. “Sure. Here – I’ll roll down the others.” The windows slide open and suddenly our cool cocoon is breached, warm humid sea air rushing in. I drive out of the valley and up the other steep incline. Soon we arrive at a South Coogee cul-de-sac. “Thanks. Have a good night.” “No worries. You too.” It’s as she walks in front of my headlights that I get my first good look at what she’s wearing – a flimsy nightie, bare feet and only her phone in her hand. Wow – she really is hopping out of one bed and into another. I decide that she’s probably not a call girl but more likely a booty call girl. Is she returning to her own bed or will she be hopping back out and into another Uber later tonight? Either way, she won’t be hopping into my Mazda. Time to call it a night.