"I leaf free firty on a pus"

yesterday the phone rang, there was a Tongan on the other end. I could tell he was a Tongan cos he said...
"My name Apa, I need jop, I see you at free firty, I be on a pus".
I said to the new P.A. "I think we're interviewing someone for a job, he'll be here on the bus at three thirty,... meet the bus and get rid of him"
(Actually he said he would be on 'a pus at two firty', but 'free firty' sounded better.)
P.A phoned and said "you better come down here"
So there he was ramrod straight, and looking like someone had beaten his face with a track shoe, an obsequious little thing, obviously pregnant, was hovering nearby, as were three bags of luggage.
"He seems OK" she had said.
I searched, unsuccessfully, for signs of this.
Finally I threw him a hawk and float. "Show me " I said.
He handled them like a pianist.
"Start tomorrow" I said.
"They need somewhere to sleep" said P.A.
"Sheesh" I said.
As chance would have it, I had just evicted a psycho-feral low life from one of the apartments.
The tenant, and I use that term loosely, bless him, had redecorated his room with cans of red paint, that, before he had got hold of them, we had used for marking cattle.
It would seem that not taking your medication when the moon is full, will sometimes bring out the artistic nuances in some people.
So, Swastikas, and Nazi paraphenalia spray painted on the walls had not improved my already low opinion of him...and a small altercation had ensued...and here I give thanks to my late father for making me swim all those years, (and for, of course, the wrench) ...before he saw the error of his ways, and left.
"I'll take them down to show them" said P.A.
I rolled my eyes under my breath, and left them to it.
This morning, he greeted me with bleary red eyes.
I took one look at him and could feel my rising cynicism bubbling away gaily.
When I looked inside the apartment, however, it was spotless clean and freshly painted...he had worked all night.
"Better give him a weeks free rent" said P.A.
"Better give him two" said I.
The Phone rang.
"G'day Hep" said I.
"I'm 10 minutes away, got time for a cuppa?" said Hep.
"Always" said I.
So10 mins later we were slurping hot tea at the local cafe....well I was, he was slurping hot 'flat white'
Now, I've known Hep for about 5 years, and he's a bloody good bloke, and also a customer. I'm not sure what he does for a living, and I'm not sure that he does either...but he's damn good at it.
"I'm gunna do Ironman" I said, knowing that he was part of the organising team.
"Yeh, Ant told me" he said.
"So, I'll flick you the entry cheque this week" said I.
"Don't worry, it's all taken care of" said he.
"Bloody hell, thanks mate" was the best I could muster.
(An Ironman entry fee is $750).
"Jarmen" I said, as the phone ran again.
"Is the moon full"? she asked.
"As a matter of fact it is" I had noticed it sitting fat and heavy on the gabled roof of the pub last night.
I told her once that it was more than hormonally coincidental that the only time she ever rang was when the moon was full...she didn't believe me...so now every time she rings, she asks.
"We're going shopping" she says.
"I'm in the cafe, so stop for tea" I say
"Three green teas" she says, and hangs up.
"You're in for a treat" I say to Hep.
She breezes in, all chiffon, designer jeans and bling and waving diamonds that would choke a horse. Heps jaw bounces off his knees. I hadn't told him that she has the best boobs that her ex husbands money could buy, and for which the chiffon was fighting a losing battle to contain.
Last time I saw her, (two full moons ago) she was dragging her arse and covered in paint, and was trying to get rid of a couple of houses and the mortgages that went with them...she looked dreadful. The transformation was astonishing.
She invited herself out to dinner with me on Saturday night...and while Hep was trying manfully to regain his composure....she finished her green tea and wafted out again, followed closely by her two friends, and a dazed Heps frazzled libido.