Kaylah is a real housewife of Rockingham. Like many families in the area, her hubby’s line of work means he’s away from home a lot. He is currently doing a 2-year swing in prison for burning down a rival tattoo parlour in an attempt to get noticed by the local bikies. Kaylah couldn’t be prouder of her man.
Naturally, the couple has an understanding – Kaylah gets a few Hakea-hall passes each year to fulfil her needs in her hubby’s absence. She loads her children into the VL Commodore and drops them off at her mother’s house. As she drives off, a tear rolls down the eye of a lout living next door as he salutes her “backdoor queen” bumper sticker, “ken oath”.
Now it’s time to go shopping for ladies night. She steps out in an ensemble that would make the pope want to wear a condom: tight pink unit shorts with more buns on display than an Easter morning tea. She completes the look with a visible bra and a Midori stained singlet from her last Bali session. Oh, and a stud above her top lip. Mandatory.
She catches up with her girlfriends at the Rockingham Shops to pick out a new Supre dress for the evening. Her friend cautions her, “don’t get black this time, remember the stains last week?” In Kaylah’s defence, her little bathroom suckfest was a small price to pay for a bar card and a verbal guarantee they could skip the line next week. Nevertheless, as a Rocko fashionista she decides on a little-understated number: bright pink and thigh tatt exposing. Yum.
She hasn’t been this excited about a night out since the crusty demons earlier in the year. She checks her funds. Fark, as she suspected, the “dogs” at Centrelink are being real dicks about that undeclared income snafu last month. Not to worry, she jumps on Tinder and within 25 minutes she is having a drink with a Garden Island Navy man at the Swinging Pig.
7 free Jack & Cokes later, she ditches her dashing date and meets up with her girlfriends at the foreshore. They are doing damage to a cask of Fruity Lexia and hurling abuse at some Mandurah lass that used to date Kaylah’s hubby and had the nerve to rock up to his last sentencing hearing. Kaylah barely spills her plastic cup of goon as she hair-slams the 621-hoe into the turf, “roc city bitch”.
Having proven a point Kaylah decides to get some food in – the way they party in Rocko, it could be a while between meals. She is so pissed that she gets half her Nicko’s kebab on her new dress. “Cunnova thing”, she reckons before awarding herself a consolation prize, “the boys like a bitta meat anyway”. She straightens by munching a handful of her kid’s dexies. Sorted.
Inside Liquids, Kaylah parties with the who’s who of the Foot Locker wall of shame. She watches lustfully as a heavily tattooed local and a bouncer have a staunch off by the bar. One of these handsome men is getting lucky tonight. After an aggressive back and forth, the local is able to name drop more cousins that know bikies and is declared the winner. She feels like she’s in love again.
He turns to Kaylah and gets her attention by holding up a Smirnoff Black and then spitting on his fingers: the mating ritual of the Rocko wildlife. From that point it’s not just the floor that’s sticky: it’s love, 6168 style 😉
For more on beautiful Rocko: Mr Rockingham
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
