Mike Dixon

„That‟s Doris,‟ David tried to gather his thoughts. „She‟s the
one I got the suitcase from.‟
„You mean the one with the suitcase?‟
„Yeah.‟
„She doesn‟t look more than fifteen.‟
„She‟s a lot older now,‟ David replied abstractly.
„The other bird‟s a bit severe.‟ Tim pointed to the young
woman supporting the man‟s head. „I reckon I‟d go easy with
her.‟ He took a second look. „Who‟s the fella?‟
„His name will be on the back,‟ David said.
Tim turned over the print.
„Colonel Samuelson.‟
A broad smile developed on his face.
„Colonel Bigus Dickus.‟
He turned to the next print and commented on the small
size of the displayed male part.
„Quarter Master Sergeant Pennyfather.‟
He turned over another.
„Captain Slim.‟
„Ooh! This one seems to have suffered an injury … Major
Boomerang.‟
The Bishop and The Rabbi followed.
David‟s patience failed. „For Christ‟s sake! Stop mucking
around.‟
„What‟s the matter, Davo?‟
„I still can‟t find Charlie‟s maps.‟
„The what?‟
„The maps! Have you forgotten what all this is about?‟
„Cool it!‟
„Don‟t tell me to cool it.‟
David rose and Tim was suddenly aware of his young
friend‟s superior size.
„Sorry, mate.‟
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