Back in the day when Moses was a college footballer, my partner was young and growing up in the Northern Territory on this island called Australia.
Back then his mates called him "Chook" and his mode of transport was a 10 speed racing bike his mates had named the "chook chaser"
Some of the native folk of the area made camps in the tall grassed areas of the town and they were known by the locals as "Long Grassers"
This particular night, chook left his mate and was riding home on his trusty chook chaser down the long dark path he had ridden many a time on his way home. Cruising along with the breeze in his hair and not a care in the world he pedalled with confidence. About half way home he hit a bit of a bump with his front tyre and over the handle bars he went. Arms and legs being used as brakes to come to a holt. In this moment that seems to be in slow motion, he hears "faarrkk" in only what could be described as a "blood curdling scream", which he then realises was a long grasser who had decided to sleep on the path rather than in the grass. With blood pissing out of his knees and grazes that would put the chasms on Uluru to shame, Chook pushed passed the burning sensations that were calling for him to cry like a bitch, and he jumped on the chook chaser and was out of there as quick as the snot running from a screaming kids nose. He was not about to stick around to find out what the long grasser had in-store for him.
Image from Giphy
