Early Morning Jogging

Ben and I go jogging early in the morning, just in our shorts. 6am to avoid everyone else, even if there are relatively few people on the streets. It is still dark, it is crisp and wearing very little, you know you are alive.

I'm awake at that time, anyway, but Ben takes some cajoling back into the conscious world.

We wear little black shorts and nothing else, as it inspires us both to jog hard to get warm. Straight off the blocks, bouncing around on the balls of our feet in the middle of my street, Ben’s street, wherever we start, we soon get going.

We like jogging up the middle of the road, and at present it is relatively safe to do so. A nice wide path with the horizon somewhere in in the distance.

We have to train hard to counter the effects of our biscuit, coffee and pot diet, we've been enjoying in lockdown. Well, not so much weed for Ben, I smoke his allocation, ha ha.

I follow Ben’s hot arse, my guy is sexy as. I think I love him more and more as time goes by. Oo, there you go, even I wasn’t expecting that to come out of my mouth.

We jog up Carlton Street and I look over at him and say, “Hey.”

He looks at me. “You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else on earth.”

“Or with anyone else,” I say.

Then he smiles at me with those blue eyes. “I’ll race you to the corner.” Then he powers off.

I take off after him, but he is faster than me, he has longer legs and he gets to the corner first, no matter how hard I run after him.

We run out into the middle of Rathdowne Street. “Woohoo!” Ben calls out in the virgin morning light.

The world is a wonderful fucking place, I think, as we dance around each other, in the intersection of Grattan Street, the empty intersection of Grattan Street. Queue the spooky music. It really is like something out of Doctor Who.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too, you big dope,” says Ben.

(Oh yes, I know, reach for the sick bag)

We kiss in the empty intersection, I’m not sure that has been done for, what? 100 years? Not even. These are strange times.

Then we head home and close the door. Well, you know lockdown requirements and all.



Jumbo still delivers to dope.

"Aren't you worried about the police pulling you over."

"No," said Jumbo.

"You're not?"

"No mate, I'm going to the doctor."

"They are checking, now, I hear."

"I know a doctor's surgery in every suburb of Melbourne, mate, so I am covered." Remember, Jumbo has an photograph memory and is gifted. He has a PHD in something extraordinary, I can never really remember what. "If they check my appointment, I'll claim privacy..."

"I'm not sure it works..."

"The fucken pigs don't come with fancy law degrees, mate."

"You reckon you'd get away with it?"

"This face gives nothing away," said Jumbo. "I don't know why, but I have a poker face when it comes to the pigs."

"Don't you have a car load of pot..."

"They are not going to check unless you give them a reason to check, babe, don't sweat it," said Jumbo. "Same time next week?"

"Yes," I said.

Jumbo sashayed off down my front path with a wiggle of his sexy arse. He stopped at the gate and slapped his firm rump. "I bet you still want a piece of that?"

"Be off with you."

"Why? So, you can head back inside and wank off thinking about this?" He slapped his arse again, smiled…

"Yeah..."

And then he was gone.

Then his face reappeared. "Oh, just by the way, if a copper ever comes to your door and ask if I live here, just say yes will ya?"

"What?" I said incredulously.

He laughed and disappeared again.