Guns 'n' Rose by Robert G. Barrett Page B

majorette, then across his chest and up under his arms like he had a nunchuku. Whatever Jimmy was doing it had a definite technique and Les was curious—that curious that Les wasn’t watching where he was going and, of all things, he trod on a poor dead bee.
    â€˜Yeow, shit! You bastard!’
    The sting went in just under his big toe and though the pain wasn’t excruciating it hurt enough and was certainly annoying.
    â€˜I don’t bloody believe it,’ cursed Les as he floppedon his backside and rubbed his toe with wet sand. ‘It could only happen to me.’
    Jimmy was still strolling along, playing around with his stick and Les was about to call out to him when he saw a movement coming down the beach to Jimmy’s left. A big, ugly, burly man in a blue cap, old shorts and a sweatshirt with the sleeves hacked off came walking across the sand with a big, black Alsatian just as ugly as he was. It had no collar or lead and was just plain mean and vicious and out looking for something to bite or kill. There were no cats or dachshunds around, so as soon as it saw Jimmy it snarled, drew back its fangs and went for him. Les was about to warn Jimmy when the owner called out to him.
    â€˜Run into the water!’
    Jimmy turned around, saw the dog coming at him and spun the stick into his right hand.
    â€˜Run into the water, you fuckin’ goose,’ yelled Blue Cap, the owner.
    The Alsatian charged at Jimmy and was just about to sink its teeth into his thigh when Jimmy smashed the stick down across its snout. The dog howled with pain and crashed onto the sand front legs first, like a horse going down in a Western movie. Before it had a chance to let out another yelp Jimmy belted it across the snout again, only harder this time. That was the last thing the Alsatian was expecting. It literally dogged it. It stuck its tail between its legs and, yelping and screeching, tore off up the beach towards North Avoca and parts beyond. The owner watched his heroic killer attack dog disappearing into the distance and came charging over.
    â€˜What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he bellowed at Jimmy.
    â€˜What am I doing?’ answered Jimmy. ‘Stopping myself from getting my leg torn off.’
    â€˜Why didn’t you run in the water like I fuckin’ told you?’
    Jimmy’s temper started to rise. He was entitled to an apology, but instead he was getting abused. ‘Fuck running in the water,’ he snapped. ‘You’re not even supposed to have the fuckin’ thing on the beach. And where’s its fuckin’ lead? Lucky I wasn’t some poor little kid.’
    â€˜Fuck the lead. And fuck the sign,’ bellowed Blue Cap. ‘If I want to bring my dog down the fuckin’ beach, I’ll fuckin’ bring it down.’
    â€˜Good. And if the rotten thing comes back and tries to bite me again I’ll give it another belt in the head, you fuckin’ big goose.’
    â€˜What!? Ohh fuck you, you poofy-looking little cunt.’
    Blue Cap charged at Jimmy and shaped up to throw a big looping left.
    Oh-oh, thought Norton, I’d better make a move here or Jimmy’s face is paste. That mug’s a bit big for young James. Les ignored the bee sting and started to run over. But he didn’t need to.
    Jimmy stood where he was and as the bloke moved in he brought the stick down across his wrist then backhanded it across his shin all in the one movement. The bloke yelled and cursed with pain, not sure whether to grab his wrist or his shin first. Before he got a chance to do anything, Jimmy bent down behind him,shoved the stick between his legs near his ankles, turned it around and jerked back tripping Blue Cap face-first into the wet sand. Norton was stoked. Hey, good one, Jimmy. Now shove the stick right up his arse. Jimmy stepped back smiling as the bloke wiped the sand from his face and lumbered to his feet.
    â€˜Why, you fuckin’