Pat Ritter. Books

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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 23:

The Republic

‘Who wants to be the first President of Australia?’ A shout from the opposition echoed through Parliament. Julia Gillard’s ears opened to the sound of Malcolm Turnbull. She’d been in a slumber during the boat people debate.
‘I will – I will.’ Julia called out to Malcolm suddenly finding she was wide awake and shouting.
‘Sit down Julia. I want to be the first President of Australia.’ Malcolm expressed in a diplomatic voice.
‘Over my dead body,’ Julia replied. ‘I’d make a better President than you. The Australian people love me – I know they do and since I’m the first female to make Prime Minister than I should be the first female President of Australia.’ She proclaimed.
‘We’ll take a vote – shall we,’ rebutted Malcolm Turnbull.
Julia shouted to her fellow members of Parliament, ‘all those who want me as their first President of Australia and a female one say ‘eye’’.
One lonely voice was heard ‘eye’ – it came from Wayne Swan her deputy. He whispered across to her, ‘can I be your vice-president?’
‘I doubt it Wayne.’ She whispered back.
‘Those who say ‘no’’, she called to the members.
A resounding ‘no’ almost lifted the roof of Parliament.
‘If that is the resolution of the honourable members present, we’ll stick with out Westminster system and I’ll remain your Prime Minister. Thank you for your continued support.’ She returned to her seat and went into another slumber.
‘What about me?’ Tony Abbott jumped to his feet stomping and shouting waving his hands in the air.
‘Sit down Tony, who wants to have a President who romps around in bungee smugglers.’ Malcolm Turnbull replied. ‘I’m taking my bat and ball and going home if I can’t be the first President of this fine country. It’s all I ever wanted to be.’ Malcolm stood and left the Parliament without another word.
‘Look at Malcolm leaving Wayne, we might be able to now vote for me to be the first President of Australia.’ Julia commented to Wayne Swan.
‘I don’t think so Julia, if you won’t make me your Vice-President than I too am taking my bat and ball and going home, good-bye.’ Wayne stood and promptly followed Malcolm from the Parliament.
Word count: 373
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 24:

Get Off Your High Horse

An argument was brewing, I could tell. Words cut through me like a hot knife through butter. I detested confrontation of any type. Visions of hatred formed in my mind – those moments when you wished the other person would stop what they were doing or saying and leave you alone.
What caused this catastrophe to make me despise the ground this person was standing? What happened to good old common sense and the ability to talk about ones issues? What caused a grown adult to behave in this way? Was it jealousy, rage, misunderstanding, or something else to cause this family member to go into a fit of anger, shouting uncontrollable words in my face?
It happened when my sister and her husband were the only two from my side of family to be invited to my son’s wedding. My sister, as soon as she laid eyes on me spat out angry words which curled the back of my hair. She wanted to know why her children weren’t invited.
Over the years growing up with her, I put up with abusive behaviour because of the love we had for one another, this latest outburst was the straw which broke the camel’s back. How dare her – I pondered and wanted to give her a piece of my mind.
Instead I allowed my temper to cool, showing a controlled voice I muttered, ‘get off your high horse and enjoy yourself for once in your life.’ With these words she stopped her belligerent behaviour.
We had a wonderful time at the wedding and nothing more was said between us about not inviting her daughters. From that moment on we went back to being brother and sister putting up with the untold factors which bonded us together.
Blood is thicker than water, I thought. Thinking back to other similar events when my sister terrorised me with her outbursts, I should have given her a similar outburst myself by telling her to ‘get off her high horse’.
Growing older, we seldom see one another only at family functions or funerals. It’s not often she takes the bull by the horns and attacks me with her uncontrolled outbursts but when she does – I now have a self defence mechanism to warn her off.
‘Get off your high horse’ has become a weapon I use when she attacks me with these outbursts and it seems to keep her in check until the next time she decides to ‘give it to me’.
Word count: 422
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 25:

It Is Impossible

If you’re not in it – you can’t win it. It was Wednesday when I decided to take a punt on winning one million dollars in lotto.
My thoughts were only winning first prize; the money was already in the bank. I could see it deposited. What were my chances of winning one million dollars in the Wednesday night draw of lotto? To win first prize, the odds are approximately, eight point four million to one for six numbers to fall in-line. These were series odds.
A couple of advantages were on my side; the draw was for Queensland players only. This reduced the odds; also up to four winners were guaranteed a first prize of one million dollars each. Anything over four winners would share first prize. I was excited. Would this be my turn at winning one million dollars?
Another advantage was: Victoria, a member of this group, gave me two good luck charms which I have in my office. After taking the lotto on-line, I printed the winning coupon, you’ve got to be positive, I thought; folded it into three to place beside these lucky charms hoping Victoria’s luck would help the selected numbers fall exactly onto the games played on the coupon.
Pam, another member of the group, helped me decide on what night to play lotto. Her thoughts were it was better to play on a Wednesday night when you were guaranteed a first price of one million dollars. Also her thoughts were the odds much better because it was only played for Queensland players.
I’m writing this story before the draw. My mind is racing in anticipation of winning one million dollars. I’ve even decided how to share the prize with my loved ones. I would be left with sufficient money for my own devises.
Expecting to win this large amount of money by thinking the numbers would fall in the right order, may look to you to be impossible. Someone has to win and that someone should be me. Each week someone wins.
The games are on and tonight when the numbers tumble out my whole faith and self belief is how they fall. Hopefully the numbers I have on the coupon fall from the tumbler on a select game on the winning coupon stuck next to the two lucky charms.
Otherwise it is impossible to win the one million dollars. As the slogan says, ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful’.
Word count: 411
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 26:

Looming Beyond

Have you ever visited Birdsville, a town with a population of only sixty citizens which include a policeman, hotelier, bush nurse and others who love to live in outback Australia?
I’ve been fortunate enough to visit Birdsville twice. My first visit was when I installed the first computer at the police station. My boss and I had travelled to outback police stations to install the latest computer technology which at the time via satellite communication in the late 1980’s.
Earlier in the day we installed a computer at Windorah police station and left to journey toward Birdsville, some distance away and wanted to arrive before dark. Whilst at Windorah the fly population increased. The menacing little creatures appeared to take over the town like a swarm of bees.
After a couple of hours travelling through this harsh outback country, looming beyond us we saw rising hills and open country. This part of Australia is breathtaking because of the expanse bushland which to the human eye goes on forever. We decided to stop and enjoy the beauty and serenity of the outback.
We stood on top of a hill viewing as far as the eye could see. My boss said, ‘what happened to the flies – there’s no flies.’
‘They haven’t caught up with us yet boss – they have only small wings.’ I suggested with a slight grin on my face.
‘What’d mean – they haven’t caught up with us yet.’ He replied.
‘You know how many there were back in Windorah. Well, we’ve been travelling too fast, for them to catch up. They only have small wings’. I reiterated.
‘You’re kidding me – they wouldn’t fly this far west. Would they?’ He replied and looked directly at me, ‘you’re having a go at me again – they don’t fly that far.’
‘They do boss – we’d better get going before they catch up with us. You don’t want to be swishing flies again do you? Doing the Australian wave like you did back in Windorah.’
My boss looked at me with a strange frown on his face deciding whether I was telling him the truth or not. In the looming beyond I saw a whirl of dust stirring up like a tidal wave knowing it was closing in on us.
‘We’d better get going before that whirly-wind hits us otherwise we’ll join the flies back in Windorah.’ I told him.
Word count: 400
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 27:

When You Wake Up In The Morning In A Strange Place

Where am I? The words exploded through my mind. Opening my eyes I looked at the ceiling of a room I didn’t recognize. A beautiful woman lay beside me, her eyes sparking blue; looked directly into mine.
‘Who are you – where am I?’ I muttered shifting the bed clothing to cover my body. I was fully clothed wearing the same clothes I wore the previous night.
‘You don’t remember,’ her voice sweet as a bird singing replied.
‘No.’ I muttered. ‘I can’t remember anything.’ My thoughts tried to piece together the previous twelve hours – they couldn’t.
I remembered leaving work in the afternoon, driving home, showered and dressed for a night out. Normally, on a Friday night after work my place of entertainment was the local pub where I’d catch up with my mates; ah, that’s it – they set me up with this woman. How could I ever thank them?
‘You’re awake.’ A sweet voice echoed in my ear.
‘Trying to – where am I and who are you?’
‘I’m Jill – we met last night at the pub.’ I couldn’t remember.
‘Did I behave myself?’ I asked, not understanding how I was dressed in the same clothes I’d worn the night before.
‘Ah – yes, you behaved. Even if I wanted to get up to any hanky panky – you were too drunk to do anything.’ She blurted out.
‘I’m sorry – I’ve never been able to handle my drink.’ What was I saying to this gorgeous living creature? ‘Remind me – how did we meet and I ended up lying beside you in this bed?’
‘We danced last night at the pub and you were falling over and couldn’t stand up. You were drunk.’
‘How did I get here in this bed?’
‘It’s my bed. I helped you walk to my place. You flopped onto the bed and I covered you over. I needed to sleep somewhere so I crawled in beside you.’
‘Did I try anything not gentlemanly?’
‘No – you were far too drunk for any hanky panky.’
‘Where does it leave you and me then?’
‘You’ve woken up in a strange place – that’s all.’
Word count: 366
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 28:

Talking To Strangers

Being a retired police officer; one of the many roles, was to instil into a child’s mind the danger of talking to strangers. Unfortunately there are predators out there in our society who prey on children.
I remember a time when I was Officer-in-Charge of Juvenile Aid Bureau at Petrie in Brisbane. Regularly our patrols took us to parks to detect these types of people.
In the early eighties a Superintendent from Victorian Police travelled to Queensland to speak with thousands of children at schools about ‘stranger danger’.
She’d created a successful programme; it expanded nation wide. When explained, it was quite simple.
She spoke of a child’s feelings. If a stranger approached the child, if the child felt an ache in their stomach, this indicated the child felt something was not right and could be in danger.
Each child was required to know a person they could immediately contact if they felt this pain. She explained the closest person the child would contact was either one of their parents, followed by a school teacher; a policeman or another person they trusted.
A child’s palm of their hand was displayed on the board for the child to write the name of each person. Starting with the index finger; this person should be their mother; next finger should be their father and so forth until the child knew who to contact when this feeling of danger was felt by them in their stomach.
If they couldn’t find the first person, they should continue to find the next person on their list until they found someone they could trust to tell about the stranger.
It sounded too simple to be effective; however, each pupil at each school in my region was taught this method of ‘stranger danger’. Posters and brochures were displayed and provided to each pupil displaying telephone numbers; and contacts of trusted people.
Among the many programmes delivered at schools for pupils to be aware of ‘stranger danger’; until the disappearance of Daniel Morecombe, I now think the message is being delivered in a way of true grit displayed by Daniel’s parents who travel to each school in Queensland to spread their word on child safety.
I commend their resilience and courage to protect each child in the State by delivering their message of hope and safety so no other parent would go through what they have experienced.
Word count: 404
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'Brilliant - OMR - Stories' - Page 29:

If Music Is The Food Of Love – Play On

Life as a teenager was enjoyable. Saturday nights with my friends we attended a dance at Sandgate Town Hall which I was on familiar ground.
Having attended Sandgate High School; on many occasions Sandgate Town Hall was used by the school for theatre plays; meetings and any other activity the school wanted to perform. These Saturday night dances bought back happy memories of my days attending high school.
This period was highlighted by hearing ‘The Beatles’ music play on the radio, record player, if one was fortunate enough to have one, or to sing along to the lyrics of their songs. If there was a heaven, I think perhaps, I could have been there.
One night at a dance, an angel in disguise arrived. She was seated on a long seat waiting to be asked to dance. You see in those times it was gentlemanly when you wanted to dance to walk up to your dance partner and ask ‘if they wanted to dance’. When she accepted, I thought I was floating on cloud nine.
Because of my adolescent mind – I think I fell instantly in love with this angel. I now acknowledge from personal experience, this could have been puppy love, for me it was the real thing at the time.
We danced to the music of the Beatles and by the end of the night swore to one another we would see each other again. Actually, I never ever wanted her out of my sight to tell the truth.
After I received my next weekly pay I purchased a record player and two Beatle’s records, played them over and over until the needle on the record player was almost worn out. Memories of the night returned with my angel and each word sang by John, Paul, Ringo or George resonated to imagines of my angel and I dancing to their music.
Alas, all good things had to come to an end. My angel for the time being didn’t want to be serious about our relationship and only wanted to be ‘friends’. My mind shattered by this news, I returned to the music of ‘The Beatles’ and if music is the food of love – play on.
Word count: 379
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