Do you ever just feel crazy?

[Rook]

The other day, at my ex-girlfriend's sister wedding I was allegedly assaulted by a girl. There were twelve of us, drinking with the bride and groom by the Botanic Hotel. When my assailant approached me and sat on my lap, I was crushed with conflict. Luckily, I was also flushed with wine. The fact that an attractive blonde, whom I had never met before, was sitting on my lap, with her arms around my shoulder, was somewhat far more significant than the fact that my ex-girlfriend was sitting across the table, looking unimpressed. It beats me. She was the one who called it quits so I felt little remorse as I took the situation in. Of course that after about a minute, my rational mind took action. Who was this girl? A self-proclaimed gentleman must act as such from time to time to uphold what he pretends to be, so I carefully slid her onto the chair as I got up to face her and make my enquiry. As I turned, she surprised me for the second time. Like an arrow breaking down the wind, she tackled me onto the floor, immobilising me with her body. At that moment I felt a sudden pleasure. As I looked into her eyes, I understood what was happening. The pleasure of realisation. This lady was cooked. If I had to guess I'd say a fuckload of acid, maybe mushrooms or peyote. No, there is no way to get peyote in the Australian Outback, Is there? Well, she was cooked alright. It was then that my ex-girlfriend decided to take matters into her own hands. She got up and confronted the mysterious blonde, her fiery crimson hair reflecting the last few rays of sun. "Who the fuck are you?", she said. The silent assailant gracefully stood up and faced her. No hesitation; just the strike. And then it started. I will never forget it. Later, I overheard the detective saying that she was Canadian. A traveller.

And I never got her name.