Those That Can't, Those Who Can

Out of Petrol, behind schedule - my rig conked out on the gravel road Through the bush I could see a tiny glimpse of light With my jerrycan, and the vaguest plan, I went dredging through the scrub (and braving the redback spider bites) I went off, fumbling through the night They were garbed up, they were scented, their eyes were bloody well demented They were circled around an object on the floor When they saw me emerging, they all motioned to me, scooching over, urging me to sit (well, one stood up to close the door) “Can you hear voices of the “Aunties”? Here in this telephone? There's only just two kinds of people - those that can't and those who can” Out of fear, or maybe boredom, I just said “hell yes I heard ‘em!” They lost their shit! COMPLETELY lost their cool. “Ahh tell us! We beg you! For all that’s holy, tell us what their prophecy revealed “Uhh, they said, I think, to give your mate some fuel…” Now I’m the leader of “The Rellos” (that’s what they’ve named themselves) I go there Sundays for a refill, fielding phone calls from the “Aunties” or whatever they're called..