Fenny and Gina had spent the best part of the day stuck in the back of Ritza’s car. Although their hands were no longer bound, it was still close to hell. While Ritza enjoyed the cat squeals of Celine Dion, Rona was eager to play as much Michael Bolton as possible. They’d been allowed one toilet stop and were forced to share a packet of chips and a Coke between them. Fenny was pondering how much it would hurt to jump from a moving vehicle, while Gina fidgeted uncomfortably with the possibility of a broken rib or two.

“I’m tired Ritz, let’s go somewhere for the night,” Rona demanded.

“I want to get to Melbourne,” Ritza huffed.

“We’ll get there tomorrow, I hardly think the Stooges are going to catch up to us.” Rona sighed and looked blankly out the window at the purple haze that was setting over the approaching town.

“I’ve never known you to get tired,” Ritza countered.

“Yeah, well I’ve been babysitting your brat, haven’t I,” Rona yawned.

“Ok, ok, we’ll find somewhere here to stay,” Ritza sighed, giving in unhappily to her sister’s demands.

It took ten minutes for Ritza to find a decent looking, quiet motel. She pulled into the parking lot and slid out of the driver’s seat. Ritza and Rona hauled Fenny and Gina to their feet and into the reception area where they booked two rooms.

The motel was abysmal, with stained carpets and strange, unfamiliar odors. Fenny and Gina were thrust into one room and Ritza turned to them fiercely.

“We’ll be next door listening to everything you say and everything you do. So don’t even try to escape.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gina hissed.

Ritza smiled devilishly, shut the door and locked it. They listened to her footsteps as they disappeared into the next room.

“I’m assuming this place isn’t five stars,” Fenny whispered.

“I suspect it’s only used by prostitutes and murderers,” Gina replied in a whisper.

“Oh, we’re in the right place then,” Fenny mused.

“I think I can help us,” Gina said as quietly as she could.

“How?” Fenny gasped and then hushed herself.

Gina slid a hand into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. Fenny had to stop herself for gasping out loud. Gina put a finger to her lips to remind Fenny to stay hushed.

“So a dickhead is the same as a wanker?” Brad asked.

“Yeah, but a wanker is different from an arsehole,” Paul nodded.

“Is an asshole the same as a bastard?” Brad queried.

“What the hell does queen bean mean?” Greg cut in.

“What?” Brad and Paul said in unison.

“I got a message from Gina…all it says is queen bean,” Greg huffed.

Paul snatched Greg’s phone and let out an offended grunt. “It’s QUEANBEYAN you fuckwit.”

“What’s a Queanbeyan?” Brad asked.

“It’s a part of Canberra, the nation’s capital,” Paul sarced.

“That must be where they are, then,” Greg enthused.

“Oh gee, you’re quick this evening, Proops,” Paul scorned.

“Don’t start, McDermott,” Greg spat.

“Out of the gate like a whippet,” Paul continued.

“I’ll insert something large and inflatable up your ass if you don’t lay off,” Greg retorted.

“Ohh, I’m so scared. Ya fuckin’ pansy,” Paul jeered.

Greg grabbed the only thing he could find, and smacked Paul over the head with a shade from one of the windows. In return, Paul grabbed hold of the shade and they began a fierce tug of war over it. Brad pulled to an abrupt stop, causing Greg to let go of the shade and Paul to be thrust forward, arms flailing, into the dash.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Greg snapped.

“You’re acting like children,” Brad snapped. “Now Paul, you instruct me how to get to this bean place…”

“QUEANBEYAN,” Paul yelled.

“Ok. And Greg, try and get more information out of Gina,” Brad demanded.

Paul and Greg fell back into their seats, muttering various obscenities about each other as Brad started the engine again.

“What’s that noise?” Gina asked still in a hushed tone.

“Your phone vibrating,” Fenny sighed pointing to the Gina’s phone on the bedside table.

Gina grabbed it and read Greg’s message, she gave a small smile.

“Well?” Fenny asked.

Gina was still transfixed on the message. Annoyed, Fenny grabbed the phone and read the message: “I love you.” She looked curiously at Gina and then her eyes went wide.

“You fucked him,” she gasped.

“Shhh,” Gina whispered trying not to giggle. “Bloody oath, and more than once.”

“What happened to your morals?” Fenny cussed.

“I lost them somewhere between ripping Greg’s wet shirt off and falling asleep bathed in sweat,” Gina mused.

“And that was more than I needed to know,” Fenny sighed, getting up from the bed.

“I made a big mistake, though,” Gina sighed, falling back onto the pillows.

“Well, they do say it’s never the same after you’ve had sex,” Fenny remarked, crouching down to look in the bar fridge.

“Oh no, not that, that was mind blowing. No, I told him that I loved him,” Gina breathed.

“You don’t love him?” Fenny asked. “Christ, I wish we drank.”

“I wish I could, but in reality it’s just too painful,” Gina sighed.

“And you’re still hung up on Paul,” Fenny chided.

“I’ll always be hung up on Paul,” Gina mused. “Do you think the psycho sisters would mind if we ordered room service?”

“They’d have to deliver it through the window,” Fenny huffed as she closed the fridge door again.

“Good point,” Gina agreed. “Did I mention that Brad is crazy about you?”

“You might have brought it up,” Fenny replied, pretending not to care as she opened the curtains to see what the view was like.

“He also said he HATES RITZA,” Gina announced loudly.

“You are so not helping the situation,” Fenny said as she attempted to muffle a giggle.

“True,” Gina nodded. “BRAD SAYS HE ALWAYS THOUGHT ABOUT YOU FEN, EVEN WHEN HE WAS FUCKING HER.”

Fenny leapt onto the bed and clamped her hand over Gina’s mouth. Gina was giggling hard, and Fenny soon cracked up as well.

“If she decides to kills us because of that I won’t be happy,” Fenny sniggered. She cocked her head for a moment. “Did he really say that?”

“How long to Queanbeyan?” Brad asked as the road signs became harder to read.

“Rough estimate…two hours,” Paul breathed.

“Oh man. Well can we at least stop somewhere and get food?” Greg whined.

“We might as well, it sounds like the girls aren’t going anywhere for the night, anyway,” Paul agreed.

“Ok, next diner we come across,” Brad nodded.

“They’re called road houses, man,” Paul said wearily.

“Sellers of greasy, overpriced potato products and bubbly sugar water,” Greg added.

“Hold on, looks like someone’s broken down,” Brad announced and slowed the car to a stop. The three men got out of the car and began to approach the car in front of them, which had its hazard lights flashing furiously. They’d taken only a few steps when the car door flew open and two men stepped out. It was too dark to see clearly, but they heard the unmistakable sound of guns cocking.

“Oh fuck,” Brad breathed and took off in the direction of a clump of trees, Paul and Greg following close behind. Paul overtook Brad and burst through the trees first. He came to a very sudden stop when he discovered that before him was a very full reservoir. Greg and Brad stopped just as quickly.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Brad shrieked as they heard the heavy boots of the heavies approaching.

“Get wet again,” Paul gasped and dove into the water.

“Fuck it,” Greg spat, took of his glasses and followed.

Brad was last to dive in and the three men began to swim as fast as they could to the far side of the reservoir.

“Tell me there’s no crocodiles in here,” Brad panted.

“It’s a reservoir,” Paul hissed. “How the fuck is a crocodile going to get in here?”

“I’m never gonna make it,” Greg wheezed.

Brad and Paul stopped and treaded water for a moment, so they could all catch their breaths.

“Looks like our friends have retreated,” Paul pointed out.

“Come on, we have to keep going,” Brad gasped and started swimming again.

They were virtually unable to move by the time they hauled themselves onto the grassy bank. The three men lay on their backs, soggy and trying to catch their breaths. The moonlight lit up the whole area and sparkled off the water. Paul began to laugh and Greg and Brad turned curiously to him.

“What can you possibly find that is funny?” Greg asked.

“See that hill over there?” Paul asked, pointing weakly.

“Yeah,” Brad and Greg panted.

“It’s called Mount Misery,” Paul chuckled.

Brad and Greg caught onto the irony and began to laugh as well.