Cast
Jonny: a thirty-something-year-old male wearing a painter’s overalls. Bit rough.

Scene
I have the biggest surprise lined up for Amy. She is going to go hysterical. I mean she will have no idea this is coming and it’s going to blow her mind.

There are a few minor challenges setting it up but everyone knows I don’t shy away from one of those. First is I don’t have a key to her place. She’s been my girl for what – ten months? – but she hasn’t given me “the key” yet. (laughs) That’s going to change quick smart when she realises how devoted I am to her. I am more serious than a brain haemorrhage when it comes to Amy Nelson.

That’s why I’m masquerading as a painter standing up the top of the world’s shakiest ladder. Not because I’m trying to rob her. I need to slip inside her second storey window without the nosy bloody neighbours calling the cops. As an added bonus she gets a free upgrade from puce to bone on her window frames. Not part of the surprise but she’ll be grateful if she ever looks up from the car park.

Jonny looks around.

You know what? No one’s looking so I’m going to slip inside. She shuts but never locks this window. “No one can get in, Jonny. It’s way too high,” she says. (climbs in) There we go. Access not denied. Boom!

Ah shit, I got paint on the venetians. They’re this really nice shade of avocado. She’s going to come in and the first thing she sees’ll be bone paint on her avocado venetians. Fuck, this won’t do.

I head through to the bathroom and get some paper towels to wipe ’em clean. Smear it everywhere but it doesn’t come off. Try a bit of water, then Spray and Wipe, then Ajax then Mr Muscle then fucking turps. Venetians are usually PVC or some kind of plastic polymer and they’re meant to clean way easier than this. I scrub all the paint out but I clearly put too much elbow into it ’cause when I was done I’d scrubbed a hole all the way through one of ’em. Jesus, I’m supposed to be surprising Amy, not ruining her décor.

Check the time. I have at least six hours before she comes back. All good, I can multitask. Call Spotlight while I set up in the kitchen. Pull out all the pots and pans I need and raid the spice rack. Amy adores Italian food and she’s going to wet her panties when she tastes my tortellini. “Oh, yeah hi. Do you stock vertical venetians? Great, do you have any avocado in stock? Avocado. Avocado. Not the fruit, you nong. The colour.”

Jonny puts his hand on his forehead.

The clown puts me on hold and I get started on the pasta. Bruschetta for starters, tiramisu for dessert. Amy will go wild when she sees this. By the time we get to dessert she’ll be mad keen to eat it right off the washboard. (pats stomach) Alright, fresh tomatoes, expensive gruyere, field mushrooms. (into phone) “Yep, I’m here. Okay, I’m after avocado-coloured vertical venetian blinds. Stocking any? Brilliant, can you deliver to the city? Sweet. I need them by two at the latest. Three days? Fuck, that won’t do. Can you send ’em by courier? Don’t care what it costs. Fine, I’ll hold.”

Useless bloody monkeys. Anyways, I spend the next ninety minutes slicing and dicing and garnishing and waiting for the store manager to call me back after I offered three hundred extra bucks for priority delivery. Toppings are ready to go on the bruschetta, pasta is cooked and ready to heat and serve. When the store manager finally gets back to me she says they can’t do it! Unbelievable. I tell her I’ll head out there my-damned-self as soon as I get on top of the tiramisu.

I leave the front door unlocked as I head off. Drive the ute to the nearest Spotlight store. Fuck me with a bendy tyre-iron, they don’t stock avocado blinds here! Have to drive out to Lidcombe. Normally this kind of run-around would make me seriously consider killing a nun but… today is all about Miss Nelson...

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