"It’s getting late…do you want to call it a day?" Chip asked as he looked over at Wayne who was doing the driving.
          "It’s still pretty early…and we haven't seen any sign of Brad," Wayne replied.
          "I don't think I have the energy to do anything constructive…let’s go and get a good night’s sleep and start again tomorrow," Chip yawned.
          "Isn't the worrying about Brad keeping you all pumped?" Wayne quipped.
          "Not really," Chip breathed.
          Wayne gave Chip a disgruntled look. "Fine, I'll pull into the next town."
          "And that would be?" Chip asked looking at the welcome sign that they were nearing.
          "Nimbin," Wayne mumbled.
          "Well that's different," Chip remarked pointing out a banner sporting a huge marijuana leaf that hung over the welcome sign.
          They looked at each other and shrugged.
          Wayne parked the car near a run down looking hotel and they both piled out and wandered into the lobby. A hairy looking man in a tie-died caftan approached them.
          "G'day can I help you?" he asked.
          "Yeah, actually…we're looking for rooms for the night," Wayne perked.
          "Right…smoking or non-smoking?" the man said before chuckling.
          "Non-smoking," Chip announced.
          "It was rhetorical," the man scorned as he turned sharply back around.
          "Right," Chip said cautiously.
          The man handed them both a key and pointed upstairs. Wayne and Chip dashed upstairs (mostly to escape the weird dude) and were greeted by a group of scantily clad, twenty something's.
          "Hey dudes," one giggled.
          "Hi," Wayne and Chip smiled together.
          "Oh cool…you're yanks," another piped up.
          "Ah huh," Chip nodded.
          "You guys coming to the Bong Off?" asked a girl.
          "Are we supposed to?" Wayne asked.
          "Yeah…big Nimbin event…that's what people come here for…" perked the first guy.
          "You are here for the weed right?" another girl asked.
          "Wayne can we speak for a moment?" Chip piped up and dragged Wayne into his room.
          "I think we stopped in the wrong place," Wayne peeped.
          "No, really? Maybe we should just move on," Chip breathed.
          "It’s just a night…we'll be fine," Wayne soothed.
          "C'MON DUDES…LET’S ROLL," announced one of the stoners as he bashed on the door.

          "Ok…we have a decision to make…it’s getting dark…do we (a) stop and make camp, (b) keep heading back to the city or (c) well actually there is no c," Ryan announced.
          "I say we take the journalist back to the city," Greg scorned.
          "Ah hello, speccy…the name's Gina…I say we set up camp," Gina retorted.
          "I am not spending any more time with you than I have to," Greg hissed.
          "Oh trust me…the feeling is more than mutual," Gina spat.
          "Well then I suppose it’s up to the responsible ADULT to make the decision," Ryan snapped.
          "There's a responsible adult here?" Greg mused.
          Gina fought back a giggle.
          "Just for that we're gonna set up camp," Ryan said smoothly as he stopped the 4x4 in a small clearing.
          Greg stormed out of the 4x4 like a spoiled child while Ryan went around the back to see what supplies they had.
          "I wish we'd picked up a tent," he said to no one in particular.
          "Have you got a tarpaulin?" Gina asked.
          "Erm…yes…and some rope," Ryan nodded.
          "Perfect…I'll get changed and then we'll erect something," Gina perked.
          "Don't say it!" Ryan said swiftly to Greg.
          "As if I'd fall for such a petty gag," Greg said innocently.
          Ryan rolled his eyes and turned back to Gina who was grabbing one of her bags. "Did you say you were gonna get changed?" he asked.
          "Ah huh…I always bring a change of clothes," Gina perked. "Back soon," she added and disappeared into the bush.
          "I hate her," Greg hissed.
          "No really?" Ryan sighed as he grabbed the tarpaulin.
          "She's just a bitter, sarcastic bitch," Greg spat.
          "Takes one to know one then," Ryan mused.
          "That's not even close to funny," Greg huffed.
          "Sorry buddy," Ryan sniggered.
          "Trust you to pick up a journalist," Greg continued.
          "Oh, so it’s because she's a journalist you hate her…right…" Ryan nodded.
          "Fucking scum of the earth," Greg breathed.
          "Ah huh," Ryan said absently.
          "She'll use this against us you know," Greg whined.
          "Of course," Ryan sighed.
          "Ruin our careers," Greg hissed.
          "Do you think we might need a hammer?" Ryan asked.
          "Are you even listening?" Greg shrieked.
          "Hell no…I got bored after you called her a bitch," Ryan mused.
          Greg narrowed his eyes, let out a huff and marched over to a rock where he sat and sulked.

          "So where are we?" Drew asked, giving Colin a quick look before focusing back on the road.
          "Dubbo…do you want to stop here for the night?" Colin asked checking his map.
          "Oh man…Do I," Drew groaned as he pulled into the car park of the nearest hotel.
          Colin and Drew wandered into the lobby (Colin limped) and approached the desk.
          "Hi…could we have two rooms please?" Drew asked the receptionist.
          "I'll just have a look," she smiled. "I'm sorry…we've only got one room left…and it’s a double."
          "Twin beds?" Colin said meekly.
          "Sorry," the girl winced.
          Drew and Colin looked at each other and shrugged.
          "We'll take it," Colin said reluctantly.
          The girl took their names and passed Drew the key before Colin and Drew headed upstairs to find their room. It wasn't too bad, the bed was clean, and there was an ancient looking TV, telephone and a ceiling fan.
          "Do you sleep on the left or the right?" Drew asked as he flumped on the bed.
          "Left," Colin replied briskly and went searching for the ceiling fan's switch.
          He looked under the curtains, near the door and even behind a mirror but couldn't find it. Colin was contemplating calling reception when he was greeted by a loud snore. Drew was asleep already, and in the centre of the bed.
          Colin looked at him bitterly and then weakened. Well, Drew had actually been through a traumatic time. Colin shook his head as he realised he was thinking perhaps Drew hadn't been through enough trauma.
          With an overwhelming sense of boredom and loneliness looming, Colin decided his only hope to keep his sanity was to go for a walk. So he left Drew sleeping and began to wander the main street of Dubbo.
          He ended up at a pub, where he ordered a large drink and fell into an easy conversation with some locals.

          "Ok, we've eaten all the strawberries, half the mud cake and two packets of chips…I can't eat any more," Brad gasped as he fell back onto the rug.
          Ritza smiled, as she looked down at Brad. "Not my fault you've got a stomach like a bottomless pit," she perked, poking his stomach.
          The sunny day had turn into a purple twilight and the warm afternoon air was being quickly replaced by a cool breeze.
          "Hey, you're the one that kept feeding me," Brad mused.
          "And you're the one who kept taking it," Ritza chided.
          "How could I resist?" Brad said coyly.
          "Are we still talking about food here?" Ritza asked.
          "You tell me," Brad smirked.
          Ritza tilted her head and bit her lip. "Come on, it’s starting to get cold," she smiled and slowly got to her feet.
          "Well that was subtle," Brad mused, sitting up.
          "Are you accusing me of avoiding the subject?" Ritza said with mock outrage as she began to collect up the rubbish.
          "Me? I wouldn't accuse you of anything…unless beauty is a crime, then you'd be doing life," Brad cooed.
          "Oh that was painfully lame," Ritza giggle.
          "I know…I apologize from the bottom of my heart," Brad smiled.
          "You really are a goof," Ritza perked, dumping the rubbish in the bin. "Here, help me fold this," she added, grabbing one side of the tartan rug.
          Brad grabbed the other side and they proceeded to fold the rug in its usual, mundane fashion. With the last fold they ended up only centimetres apart. Brad looked down at Ritza and swallowed; she tried desperately to avoid his eyes.
          "Come on…it’s getting chilly…" she babbled, taking the rug and moving quickly away from Brad and back to the car.
          Brad watched her walk back. He couldn't remember her as the mad woman, or the gun-toting psycho. In fact he could swear it was a different person. No, the woman he was watching was driving him absolutely wild and as far as he was concerned everyone else could go to hell.