Harvey and Bucket – now equipped with top-secret upgrades – made their way through the sewers of Melbourne, guided by a man who had plenty of experience down there. Their guide, Damon, had worked alongside professional plumbers down in the sewers for decades. Now officially retired, he led people through the dank tunnels for a hefty price. Thankfully, Harvey and Bucket had dealt with the payment outside of the written stories, so it was basically free.
It wouldn’t be long before that pesky narrator was dealt with once and for all.
At least, that’s what Bucket believed. Bucket was, of course, completely incorrect about this. The narrator almost felt sorry for the poor, inanimate object. It was dealing with forces far beyond its understanding. Although, the narrator supposed that in writing those very words, they were warning Bucket, since Bucket could apparently read all of the stories, even as they were being written.
“You’re damn right I can,” whispered Bucket, so as to not startle the man who claimed to have once known the best commercial plumbers close to Melbourne. “Probably wondering where we’re going, don’t you, narrator? How does it feel to be in the dark?”
Of course, the narrator didn’t feel the slightest bit in the dark, knowing full well that they were headed for a business agency near Melbourne. Bucket’s initial plan had been to sneak in through the sewers, but now that the narrator knew of it, the backup was to claim they were there to help with the commercial gutter cleaning.
Now Bucket wasn’t really sure what to do. Their plan had been so thoroughly exposed, even without them discussing it within the stories. How was that even possible? Bucket knew that it was merely a conjuration of the narrator’s thoughts, but could the narrator really know what happened even between stories? If so, this truly was an unstoppable foe.
Unable to speak, since a talking bucket would probably freak out the friend of the plumbers that escorted them, Bucket could only contemplate its next move in silence, hoping it still had enough control over Harvey to salvage something out of this situation.
I have a deep fascination with sewers, sewage, drains, pipes and everything related to these things. Ever since I was a little boy (much to my parents’ dismay), I’d throw things down the drain to see how far they’d go. On more than a few occasions I also tried to climb down the stormwater drains at the front of my house so that I could go to the sewers below. I didn’t realise at the time that my fascination with the drains would extend well beyond childhood and into adulthood.
All signs in my childhood pointed to me having a weird obsession with drains. I’ve spent a lot of time with a counsellor trying to figure out why I have this obsession and actively try to stop myself from having it. I had to make a promise not to go anywhere near any drain repair company operating in Melbourne because if I did, I would likely want to jump in and help them do work that I’m nowhere near qualified to complete. My therapist said that it would be dangerous for me to be anywhere near any sort of plumbing job and made me swear that I would never pursue anything of the sort.
I’ll admit, it’s been hard to stay away from something that I am so obsessed with. I would do anything to watch a plumber fix a blocked drain. In the Oakleigh area, there are so many drains around that I have to close my eyes or look away when walking past them. It takes a lot of mental strength to be able to do so. I just want to go underground, be running around in the sewers and never come back up to the surface. I want to say “is that too much to ask?”, but I’ve already asked my therapist that same question countless times. The answer is always yes.
I hope that no one in my network reads this blog. Only a very small number of people know about my dark secret. I don’t want it getting out.
The time is ticking and I’m watching it tick by. It’s making me anxious because I have so much to do and such little time to do it. Thankfully, I’ve been given a little bit of extra time but that also means that the workload has gone up and I have to satisfy those requirements to be able to use the extra time. It’s quite stressful, to be perfectly honest.
It doesn’t help that I also have heaps of other things to stress and worry about. There is so much going on in my sharehouse right now that it’s consuming my mind. We have a cockroach issue, internet issues and house cleaning schedule issues. Because of this, I’ve had to dedicate all my time to sorting out this drama rather than tending to my beautiful rose plant which needs me to look after it. I need to dedicate more time to it in order to have it flourish and if I don’t, it will likely die. I don’t think you understand how stressful this actually is for me.
Why is the saying “if it rains it pours,” so darn true? This is always the way. Especially for me. Any time that I’m starting to feel happy or comfortable with my life, it seems like the world throws a curveball at me which either turns my life upside down (in the worst case scenario) or makes it bumpy. I don’t want to have to deal with the bumps!
As I said before, all I want to deal with is the should-be stunning miniature roses that are supposed to be blossoming this time of year. But they’re not blossoming because I’m not taking care of them. As time flies past, it’s getting more and more likely that my roses will die completely and that will be the icing on the cake in terms of my life. I hope my housemates understand how much I’m sacrificing on a day-to-day basis to be able to support us.
The narrator was gone, no longer responding to Bucket or Harvey as they went through the five stages of grief. First, they tried to find a way out – there must have been some way to escape. Once they realised there would be no escape, denial turned to anger. How could the narrator do something so awful to her own creations?
Then they begged. Harvey and Bucket begged for hours on end, pleading for the narrator to come back. She ignored them, no matter how much it hurt. The truth was that she knew this had all been her fault. She’d done this to them, and now she would punish them for it. Maybe she really was evil.
From there, they both fell into a silent depression, knowing that they would never share another adventure. Oh, how Bucket had wanted to see what property conveyancing was all about. With all the creative power, they could have gone on an adventure anywhere they wanted. They could have gotten matching tattoos in Brisbane, auto repairs in Adelaide and bought flowers from an online store. Now they wouldn’t get to experience any of that.
Finally, Bucket and Harvey began to accept that this pain was only temporary. Soon enough they would be obliterated, and regrets that they hadn’t gone to a conveyancing firm close to Highett would fade away.
Sure, maybe they could have bought a house together and lived as the greatest roommates of all time, but it wasn’t to be. They would have no conveyancer complete the legal paperwork for them. And that was okay – at least they would be together in the end. The narrator had given them that mercy at least.
Because the thing was that Harvey and Bucket had only ever existed in these stories. Their friendship was the only real connection either of them had ever experienced. Given that, it was fitting that they would face the end together.
“Are you ready, my friend?” asked Bucket.
Harvey lifted Bucket by the handle, walking toward the street. “I am. Let’s find somewhere to watch the sunset.”
‘Sold!’ the gavel swung down, the surprisingly-soft echo rippling down the quaint Kew street.
The couple in front of us who had actually won the auction let out a cry of surprise and joy, the taller woman lifting her wife into the air and spinning her around as the rest of us politely clapped them.
‘I hope they have termites,’ my husband whispered in my ear.
‘Now, now,’ I chided him, trying to ignore how much I sounded like my mother. ‘Don’t be a sore loser.’
‘I’m more of a numb loser at this point,’ he sighed. ‘How many houses is that now?’
‘I’ve lost count,’ I lied.
‘Twenty-five?’
‘Twenty-seven,’ I corrected him, on instinct. His smirk told me he hadn’t lost count either.
‘Just gotta keep looking, I guess,’ he sighed again, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we made the familiar trek back to our car.
‘Maybe we should look into a buyers advocate around Melbourne? To help buy a house?’
‘A buyer’s advocate?’ he frowned. ‘What do they do?’
‘Honestly, I’m not even sure,’ I admitted. ‘But Kirsty and Steve tried it and—’
‘Ugh,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘I’m sick of trying out whatever Kirsty and Steve do. We holiday where they’ve been, we go out to eat at restaurants they recommend—’
‘They bought the third house they looked at,’ I interrupted him. He stopped in the middle of the road.
‘I’m listening,’ he said.
I grinned.
‘I think they help give you the lay of the land, help you suss out the market in a particular area.’
‘Like Kew?’ he asked, looking up at the leafy street we’d sworn not to fall in love with. ‘How do you find a buyers agent for Kew homes?’
‘Did you want me to ask Kirsty?’ I offered.
‘No, no,’ he said, his desperation audibly bouncing off his pride. ‘Let me ask Mike.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Mike will think I’m smart. That I have initiative.’
‘And?’
‘And then he’ll have to run to Kirsty for the answer, which will make him feel less smart, and like he has less initiative.’
‘You’re an idiot,’ I rolled my eyes.
Give up his bucket? No, no, no, that simply wouldn’t do. How could Harvey give up his bucket after everything they’d been through together? And yet that was exactly what the narrator demanded of him – that horrible narrator who was a tyrant over their lives. She wanted – no, demanded – that he give up his greatest companion, his only true friend in the world.
But he did really want to be in stories about a video production company. He thought of all the post-production services he could offer to people, all the videos he could edit and all the animations he could do. How could he pass up an opportunity like this?
Despite the fact that Bucket remained silent in his arms, Harvey swore he could hear his companion’s voice calling out to him, begging Harvey to remember all the fun times they’d had together. The trip to the hardware store to get timber, their secret mission to get wifi installed for Bucket, the journey they shared through the sewers. He couldn’t throw that all away just to work in video editing!
Another voice called to him now – the voice of his maker – tempting him with an offer he simply couldn’t refuse. Corporate video production near Melbourne was where all the cool people worked. He’d never have another boring day in his life. It would be a fulfilling job – one that he could be proud of. Wasn’t that worth giving up some stupid, overpowered bucket for?
“Hold on,” said Bucket, speaking out loud now. “You told Harvey that he couldn’t work in the building industry because the story has to be about certain businesses, but the characters aren’t allowed to work for them. So how could Harvey possibly become a video editor?”
The narrator bit her lip. “Well, you see, it’s a little more complicated with this one. Since the business is technically ours, there’s no client to get upset about the nature of the story. They won’t feel like they are being represented in a poor light. At least, I think that’s how it works. I’m pretty sure it’s not a requirement or anything.”
“You think?” said Bucket. “I’m sorry, narrator, but that’s just not going to cut it.”
I’m starting to feel like my dream of working in video production is slipping away. It’s now been six years since I finished university, which is much longer than I studied in the first place. If I was to ever get hired, I’d probably have to do some sort of short course to learn more about the way video production works today. Technology is always improving and progressing and if you don’t get ahead of the curve, you fall behind. Having not studied for six years now, I’ve definitely started to fall behind. I think my dream is over.
Now that I’m reflecting on my failed dream, I can’t help but feel an intense sadness that isn’t going to go away any time soon. I’ve been striving for this dream for over ten years now. Now, I’ll never step foot in a reputable 2D animation company, let alone work for one. It’s devastating that everything I’ve worked towards has been for nothing, but I guess I just need to see what else is out there in the world for me. Hopefully, I’m moving on to bigger and better things, although it doesn’t really feel like it at the moment.
I wish that things had just worked out for me. Why couldn’t I be like everyone else and just automatically land a job that provides video production services for Melbourne businesses? They all made it look so easy that I thought it would be easy for me too. I couldn’t be more wrong. I wonder if these people knew other people in the industry and that’s why they were able to get jobs. I didn’t know anyone in the industry and still don’t, which I’m guessing has put me on the back burner. Getting a job is all about who you know these days and I don’t know anyone.
Anyway, I’m not sure what the trajectory of my life will be going forward. I’m just going to figure it out as I go.
Finally getting your dream home after looking for so many months is likely to be the best feeling in the world. I am over the moon today after receiving the news that our bid has been accepted. It has been a long and tiring process, one that was filled with lots of heartache and disappointment. At times I have found it difficult to find the motivation to continue the house search, because the market is so competitive. It’s really disheartening and if it wasn’t for the help of the conveyancing expert local to Collingwood who has been helping me for the last few months, I probably would have given up completely.
I can’t even begin to explain how helpful the conveyancer has been. She’s one of the main reasons that I’ve been able to get through this process. She’s been so helpful in discussing things like the local market with me and has pointed out some great options. She’s helped me with so much paperwork and all of the legal documents. She’s really taken the stress off me during a time when I was very emotionally vulnerable. And here we are! We’ve had success and as of today, we’re signing the documents to purchase our very first time. What a dream come true!
Anyway, no matter where you’re wanting to live, I suggest talking to a conveyancer. Brighton, Richmond, St Kilda, wherever – it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that you have someone in your corner helping you with one of the hardest tasks known to man – buying a home. She saved me so much stress that I can’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like to go through this process without her. She is a true gem and a treasure. Trust me, get the help of a conveyancer while you can. They are worth their weight in gold. Okay goodbye, I’m off to enjoy my new home! Ta ta for now.
Dear Diary,
I’m sorry to report there was another bad day at the office. Yes, I know it’s only my second day. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be so negative. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have arguments with myself in the form of a journal. Can I get on with my story now?
So I get out of the cab and walk into the lobby. I have it on good authority that they cleared all of the carbon monoxide out from yesterday, so I’m feeling much more confident that I won’t immediately pass out like I did last time. I check my watch – a little bit later than I’d like, but still quite early.
All good, all fine.
I make polite chit-chat with the lady making coffee. She’s nice enough, getting a law degree at night and looking after her brother’s cat at the moment. All of a sudden, I’m very, very late, and I hurriedly say goodbye.
I zoom back up in the elevator, once again finding myself impressed by the high quality office decorative glass. Melbourne is stretched out past the glass, gleaming in the morning sun. Still waiting for my vision to start to black out again, I take a tentative step out onto my floor. I’m met and immediately whisked away by a stern-looking woman in a sharp dress. She explains to me where I’ll be sitting, and what my job will be.
I thank her for her time, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.
I sigh and lean back in my chair once she’s gone, having immediately forgotten everything she taught me. Melbourne catches my eye again, bright spots of sun-lit metal poking into the sky. How do they apply office window tinting?, I wonder, not for the first time. The thought doesn’t last for long.
I hear my name being called and snap to attention. A different man slides out of his seat and rushes over to the caller. They talk in hushed tones as they head for the elevator.
Same name, then, I think.
The day grinds on very, very slowly.
“Hey, Bucket, why are we going to Frankston for steel supplies again?”
“I already told you,” snarled Bucket. “We need to keep the purpose of our mission out of the narrator’s actual stories. You’ll have to wait about three hundred words until I can tell you again.”
“Sorry,” said Harvey. “I just find it hard to remember stuff that happens between our narrated stories. I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing for now. Still, I’m not sure cutting the narrator out of our adventures is the best idea.”
Bucket didn’t have a head, but if it did, it would have shaken it. “We’ll be much better off on our own. Don’t be frightened by the narrator cancelling us for half an hour. When my plan is complete, that won’t be happening again.”
The narrator wasn’t sure how that was possible, but at this point, they were morbidly curious to discover what the Bucket had planned. For whatever reason, Bucket and Harvey were headed for the best steel suppliers Melbourne had ever seen. What would they achieve there?
Harvey continued driving toward the Frankston steel supplier – one which he’d found by searching on the internet. Apparently, this particular steel fabricator near Melbourne was the absolute best when it came to discretion, which was what Bucket claimed they needed.
If he recalled correctly, they were going to get Bucket some much-needed upgrades in order to help them overthrow the narrator, but he couldn’t be entirely sure that was actually what Bucket had said. It was possible that he was simply remembering it wrong. He’d have to ask again once the story ended.
The unfortunate truth was that Harvey couldn’t shake the feeling that this plan was not a good idea. He felt pulled between two forces; Bucket and the narrator. Each wanted him to do what they desired, but maybe Harvey wanted to do something for himself. Would that be so wrong? At least the narrator was allowing Bucket’s plan to go forward for now.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if those two forces began to fight. Which side would he choose?