Barefoot and Fancy Free

The moment exams are over, I’m off. I can’t believe I’ve managed to get through thirteen years of school, and just two more essays stand between me and doing whatever I want 24/7, for the rest of my life. I can smell the exhilarating air of freedom already!

The first thing I’m going to do is drive up north and… well, do whatever. I’ll probably stay with my sister in Noosa. My grandma’s giving me $1000 as a graduation present, so I’ll be loaded. I reckon I’m going to start by getting a tattoo; my sister will know the best tattoo place. Brisbane must have some really good ones, right? All the celebrities live in the hinterland up near there, and they all have tattoos, so it makes sense that the leading tattoo shops would be up there. 

I’ll stop off in Byron Bay on the way, and maybe trade my Micra in for a van. That’ll really unlock the possibilities. I guess I’ll just keep going north from there… hey, maybe I should get my tattoo near Surfers Paradise. I heard that Kylie Papyrus got one done there, and she’s like the most legendary person in the universe. 

That’s it. I need to find out where she went to get that Baby Bulb Dinosaur done on her ankle. That, I officially declare, is my new raison d’être (previously, it was to legitimately use the phrase raison d’être in a sentence, and I’ve achieved that now). It might sound shallow, given the pressing problems that abound in the world we live in, but what are you gonna do? 

Look, if the world didn’t want me to turn out like this, it wouldn’t have put that old movie Shoeless in the English curriculum. It’s a real nihilist classic, that one – so underrated in its day. The way it reimagines The Taming of the Shoe is pure genius, honestly.