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generator: pandoc
title: '2011-04-18-'
viewport: 'width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0, user-scalable=yes'
---
They say no-one in Perth locked their back doors until
the mid-sixties, when the Claremont killer was declared at large. I'd
dispute that. People still leave their back doors open all the time.
Unfortunately, the same can't be said for their front doors. It's
difficult to detect a pattern or create a useful test to determine where
and when you'll find an unlocked door, and so obviously the endeavour of
finding unlocked back doors comes down to intuition. If that doesn't
help, I suppose if you wanted some more helpful instruction on the
matter, you should know that you should become very good at climbing
fences. Chances are you'll never really need to know if someone else's
back door is unlocked. Such things, however, are without a doubt my
business. Out in Victoria Park, you're sure to find a salmon-brick
building shrouded in Moreton Bay fig trees, its fruit perpetually
overripe and strewn all over its roots, the trees tearing up the
property's old bore-water stained concrete pavement. My friend Vanessa
and I were told that an old doctor that carried on a surgery there
recently passed away. We knew a shady friend of ours Snagglepuss lived
down that way, and the whole thing seemed pretty fun, if not potentially
rewarding, so we decided to pay him a visit. "The front room?" "Yeah we
need it for a couple of days." "What?" "Look, there's some money in it
for you." "I remember the last time y-" "If we told you what we were
doing, you'd go and do it before us." Snagglepuss used a long, gangly
arm to rub a dinner-plate hand over his face in frustration. "Just don't
spill anything like last time, guys, okay? I swear it's as if you're
both wearing newspaper pirate hats and you're rolling around in
cardboard boxes -- please, for chrissake, just fuck off and leave as
soon as you can." That night we ate vegemite on crumpets on the
apartment block's utility-access stairs because Snagglepuss left and
went somewhere, deliberately locking us out. The next day we spent the
whole day watching the old surgery from Vanessa's car in the shopping
complex car-park right across the road.