The Glass Kingdom

PRAISE FOR CHRIS FLYNN'S DEBUT NOVEL
A Tiger in Eden

‘If ever Irvine Welsh (
Trainspotting
) and Elizabeth Gilbert (
Eat, Pray, Love
) had a love child, then
A Tiger in Eden
would be the result…Hilarious and wholly surprising.'
Daily Telegraph

‘Excellent…A voice that is blue-collar, profane, naïve and funny.'
Saturday Age

‘Filthy, smart and unconventional.' Claire Bidwell Smith

‘Frequently very funny…A quick and engaging read, with an oddly tender streak.'
Australian Book Review

‘Hilarious and confronting.' Nick Earls

‘Terrific.' Susan Johnson,
Australian

‘A joy to read.' Adam Levin

‘The business: brutal, funny and surprisingly uplifting.' James Bradley

‘Often poignant…a cracking first novel.'
mX

‘Involving…Likeable, even loveable.'
Big Issue

‘Not for the faint-hearted, but unmissable.'
Courier Mail

‘Destined for immediate cult status.'
Sunday Territorian

Chris Flynn is the author of
A Tiger in Eden
(2012), which was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Book Prize. He edited ‘Terra Australis: Four Stories from Aboriginal Australian Writers' in
McSweeney's 41
, and his writing has appeared in
Griffith Review
,
Meanjin
,
Paris Review Daily
,
Monster Children
,
Smith Journal
,
Age
,
Australian
,
Big Issue
and many other publications.

textpublishing.com.au

The Text Publishing Company
Swann House
22 William Street
Melbourne Victoria 3000
Australia

Copyright © Chris Flynn 2014

The moral right of Chris Flynn to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright above, no part of this publication shall be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

First published in 2014 by The Text Publishing Company

Cover art and design by WH Chong
Page design by Text
Typeset by J & M Typesetting

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Author: Flynn, Chris, author.
Title: The glass kingdom / by Chris Flynn.
ISBN: 9781922147882 (paperback)
ISBN: 9781922148889 (ebook)
Subjects: Carnivals—Fiction.
Dewey Number: A823.4

This project has been assisted by Arts Victoria.

It's not like it's impossible to win a prize. It's just hard. There's a certain technique to beating the game. All you have to do is land three balls in the same circle. The first one's a bit of a shit, true dat, as Mikey would say. Nine times out of ten the throw bounces back out. That's because there's half a tennis ball glued to the rear of the board. But if you float it in there real slow and soft, it'll rattle around some and stay put. Then you have to avoid hitting it with your second and third throws. Most people figure it out after a dozen balls or so. By then they've spent ten bucks and if they win a plush wallaby, well, I don't give a shit. Money in the bank for me.

About ten per cent of the time the mark can't work out what he's doing wrong. He (it's always a him, and they always look the same) keeps throwing exactly the same way, not altering his action even though he's not winning. To avoid trouble I usually throw my leg over the counter and step outside to demonstrate. Most times I can tell they're intimidated that I'm suddenly right there beside them. It's all very well when the freaks are on one side of the counter and you're on the other, but not when I'm grabbing you firmly by the wrist and showing you what you're doing wrong.

The burns on my throat prickle every time. I can feel their eyes crawling over me. I know what they're thinking. I know what they'll whisper to each other as they walk down sideshow alley after.
Holy fuck, did ya see that guy's neck?

I probably should've stepped in earlier but watching Mikey deal with this guy was a lesson in how to irritate someone.

‘Yo, it's all in the wrist, dawg.' Mikey sniffed and winked at the mark's girlfriend, who snorted. ‘Come on, come on, just stick 'em in there, it's easy, just roll those balls in there real smooth like y'all is teabaggin' your little lady here.'

The guy watched with mounting fury as Mikey performed a grinding motion with his hips, eyes closed, biting his lower lip.

‘Do you fucken
mind
?'

‘What? Oh sorry, bro, my bad.' Mikey leaned against the counter, resuming his bored stance. ‘Go ahead, white bread, let's get this over with.'

I knew the mark was about to snap. I'd seen it happen a hundred times before. He lined up his shot carefully, concentrating to make sure it went in. He knew what he had to do.

As his arm went back Mikey muttered something I didn't quite catch, but I'm pretty sure I heard the word ‘pussy'.

The guy threw the ball at Mikey instead. It whacked him hard on the cheek. That's gonna leave a mark, I thought. Mikey was shouting, ‘What the fuck, man?' when the guy grabbed a handful of his Dockers shirt and dragged him over the counter.

I let him get a few digs in before I stood up from my chair at the back of the stall and unlocked the door. When I stepped outside the guy had Mikey down on the ground and was trying to kick him. Mikey was flailing around madly and scrabbling at the guy's shins, not a bad technique if you're down. Best thing to do, if you can, is to lock your assailant's leg in the crook of your arm and roll over. He'll fall hard and you can drive an elbow into his chest or face if you keep rolling. Then you're up and he's down.

Mikey didn't have enough sense for that, or enough weight. He's such a skinny little fucker, all veins and bones, Freo shirt about five sizes too big for him.

The mark's girlfriend clocked me first. She went a little pale at the sight of me, her eyes flitting, just like everyone's do the first time, to the spider web of scar tissue snaking up over my throat and chin.

‘Uh, Darren…' she said, before stepping back out of the way. This was obviously not the first time little Dazza had lost his temper.

‘What?' he said, then looked around and saw me. ‘Oh.'

His hands went up immediately in the universal gesture of surrender. Smarter than he looked, our Darren. Mikey used the break in hostilities to wrap himself around the guy's legs.

‘I've got him, Ben, I've got him. Lay into him, mate!'

I could have king hit the bastard but what would be the point? We'd end up calling an ambulance and then the cops would come round, and the Kingdom would have to move on in the morning and everyone else on the show would be on my back for making their lives more difficult. Besides, I didn't want anyone sniffing around Target Ball, so I just poked the cunt hard in the forehead four times with my index finger.

‘No…hitting…the staff…Darren.'

He nodded, mumbling an apology. I stretched an arm across the counter, took a plush wallaby down from the prize shelf and handed it to his girl. She accepted it with an arched eyebrow.

‘You can let go now, Mikey.'

As he scrabbled to his feet, I flashed a grin at the departing couple. ‘Thanks for playing, folks.'

‘Yeah,' Mikey called after them as they were swallowed by the evening crowd, ‘and if I see you here again it'll be
blam blam
, fucken glockjaw for you, a'ight?'

‘I have no idea what you're saying half the time, Mikey.'

‘That's 'cos I'm straight up gangsta, yo. Nice double team on that hick, man. He stepped the fuck off when he saw you coming at him and no mistake.'

‘Get back in the stall.'

He brushed himself down and vaulted the counter, pumped from the altercation. It wasn't great for business but I needed him there to deal with the customers out front while I tended to my own clientele. Anyways, a kid like Mikey gets used to being roughed up by those he's pissed off.