Chapter 1 - So....Tell Me About Yourself?

                                    

                                          
NATE
Awwww, c'mon you lot!
Why did you have to say those FIVE EFFING WORDS?  🤬
Did you do it simply to tick me off? Or has narrating the story of moi bored you to death already?
Had I known that'd be a tried-and-true method of mass destruction? I'd have used it to kill the un-dead....again.
Forrest Gump's Momma once told him, "Life is like a box of chocolates".
My Mum always said to me, "Bubba....your life is an apple tree".
Ok, so not quite as poetic? But Mum's analogy is just as meaningful and you'll eventually learn why.
I was  going to start my story by climbing straight to my life-branch. The one that began growing in earnest during my first encounter with 'the man'.  Albeit without my even realising it.
But you guys just had to go and screw it all up didn't you! So, as payback? I'm going to give you exactly what you asked for and start where most stories do.
Right at the very beginning....so there!
😜
***
My pre-zombie home was on the outskirts of Narrogin, a little country town in the southeast of Western Australia.
You know....Down Under?
Australia, not Austria! Different hemisphere and a bloody big island with deserts rather than desserts.
Though we do have Pavlova....
Most of our town's thousand or so residents made their living from farming sheep, cattle or wheat. Along with a bit of whacky weed in some sheds.
We had a smallholding with a menagerie of horsies, piggies, moos, bok-boks, baa-baas, cats and dogs. And last but not least? Goats....aka 'nature's lawnmowers'.
Dad emigrated from London. Once he finished his re-training in Perth, got sent to the country as the town's new doctor. This is where he met Mum on the house call from hell.
As part of his posting, he inherited a medical receptionist. A lovely, scatterbrained, nearly deaf and flatulent fifty-year-old. Who I always knew as Aunty Farty.
She misheard the request for a home GP visit and advised Dad it would be a mammary exam for Mum. In reality, it was supposed to be some tests for Gran. Who was showing some early signs of dementia.
Mum got a bit of a shock, when upon greeting Dad at the door? He strode in all business-like. Promptly ordered her to remove her blouse and bra....so they could get on with it!
All the while briskly rubbing his hands together.
'To warm them up for the exam'  was Dad's explanation. Whilst Mum swears it was in breathless anticipation  😏
Talk about the ultimate, unintentional 'come on'.
Never did find out if Granny got her memory test that fateful day. But poor old Aunty Farty had to retire shortly afterwards.
When she reported to Dad that Mr Evan's circus-sized penis had developed warthogs!
Mum took over as Dad's receptionist.
Needless to say after such an auspicious beginning, Mum and Dad were married less than six months later.
There was a not-insignificant age gap between the two, yet that never stopped them. And boy....could my parents 'get on with it'  or what!!!!
Nine months from their wedding day my big brother Al came along. Quickly followed by three more boys.
Frankie - nine months after Dad's birthday. Mick - nine months from Mum's. And Stevie - nine months after Easter.
My parents believed in really celebrating life and other events....a whole lot  😉
Four years after Stevie, Mum thought she was going through some sort of uber-early menopause. Imagine her shock when she found out she was cruising through her second trimester....with me!
Dad had to be frugal as it wasn't easy being a country doctor. Bringing up four....soon to be five kids. Especially when his patients mostly paid in eggs or other produce.
So, to save money he performed Mum's check-ups and her ultrasounds himself.
She was stoic when he announced another boy. Put away the pink wool and resurrected my brother's old baby clothes from the attic.
Every evening for the next four months the boys would sit next to her. Telling stories or reciting their homework to her tummy. So little Nathaniel Alexei or 'Nate'  as they decreed my name should be....could listen and learn.
After Mum's efficient thirty minutes of huffing and puffing while swearing her box off in their bedroom? The local midwife placed my slimy bod on her chest.
Announcing the birth of a bouncing baby girl.
WELL!!!! Didn't the shit hit the fan?
All hell broke loose.
Dad got on the phone with the Country Health Service. Demanding a new ultrasound machine as the other was clearly  defective.
Al, Frankie and Mick were horrified at the news.
A STUPID GIRL FFS!
While Stevie was beyond inconsolable. Demanding the midwife shove said, 'stupid girl'  back where it came from. And bring out his much-longed-for, little mate....'Nate'.
Mum apparently sat calmly in bed throughout all the mayhem. With me snuggled in her arms and contentedly chowing down on a boob.
She advised Dad to clean the tomato sauce off his glasses the next time he does an ultrasound. Lest he gets a lawsuit.
Ordered the boys to get the hell over themselves. Otherwise, their baby sister was going to kick their asses if they kept it up with the sexist attitudes.
And advised Stevie in no uncertain terms. That there'll be no 'shoving anything back where it came from'....thank you very much!
They had me baptised which I thought was really weird? I just assumed as I was born nine months after Lughnasadh, that we must've been Pagans or something.
Turns out, I was simply the result of a freezing night on the farm....aided by an almighty snail stampede.
Anyways....officially I'm Natalie Alexei Moriarty.
But call me that bloody girly-girly name and I'll kick you fair and square in the balls!
You've been warned!
I AM AND ALWAYS WILL BE....NATE!
And this is my story as I know it.
So Gidday! That's Strayan for....pleased to meet you!

Dictionary
Down Under - Australia, otherwise known as the Land Down Under (under the equator)
Pavlova - Australian meringue dessert (though the New Zealanders like to claim it as their own too!)
Whacky Weed - Marijuana
Bok-Boks / Chooks - Chickens
Tummy - Stomach or abdomen
Strayan - Australian home-grown lingo (language)
Lughnasadh - A harvest festival celebrated by Pagans or Wiccans