Michael Gray Griffith: Café Locked Out

It was not a question of not wanting to take it, Tom was adamant, he was not going to. His wife felt the same. Trouble was, Tom was a young Australian father who had a young family to support, and a mortgage, plus the other usual bills to service, which he routinely honoured by working hard at the job he was about to lose if he didn’t take it.

Up to this point he’d also been attending most of the rallies in Melbourne and had been constantly outspoken on social media, to the point of being censored, perhaps even having his details recorded by our country’s’ ever growing and secretive, surveillance network.

So, when he finally reached the date where he was expected to provide proof of vaccination, he did so. An achievement that his unjabbed friends, the hesitant few, did not believe. Together they set about grilling him until he revealed his secret.

There were saviours amongst us. People who, either coping with unbearable pain, or simply unable to authentically act in the script we call normal Australian life, had opted to create a new reality to survive in, a counterculture supported by drugs.

In a previous life, Tom had run a business and one of his employees, a nice bloke in his early thirties had, for unknown reasons, turned to drugs and as yet, was displaying no interest in returning to the hamster wheel. So, Tom approached this ex-employee with a deal.

Would you take the jab for me for $1000?

Yes, and the deal was done.

After giving the Junkie his Medicare card, and another form of ID, Tom helped the junkie memorise his birthdate and the first names of his family members that were listed under his name on his Medicare card.

Prepared, the Junkie entered the vaccination centre and a while later, returned with Tom’s proof of vaccination. A few weeks later, for another thousand, the Junkie would repeat the procedure, so that Tom would be officially recoded as double jabbed.

Tom was now a Jew pretending to be a German in prewar Nazi Germany.

But there were many other Jews desperate to remain hidden too. And so after identifying an opportunity, capitalism created, as it always does, a new business.

Those Australian’s attempting to cope with life by remaining high have a constant problem, a need for funds, lots of funds. But now a new income stream was becoming available to them; Australians who, for their own reasons, did not want to take the jabs.

When I interviewed Dr Hobart and Dr Borsos, two Doctors who both suspended for handing out exemptions, recanted to how their surgeries were besieged by desperate Australians. Doctor Hobart told me how he had people at his window, crying whilst waving wads of cash.

Cash was what these junkies craved.

Tom set about become their secret manager.

With everyone invested in keeping it secret, he began to recruit other junkies and even created a coded language; such as the mafia would do when they talking shop on the phone, knowing that they were probably being bugged.

It was an egalitarian business. He had everyone applying, from CEO’s of powerful, multinational corporations to police officers, prison guards, shop assistants, teachers, nurses, tradies and truck drivers, you name it.

And since this was capitalism in its purest form; supply and demand, the price kept rising, driven up too by the amount of risk Tom was taking.

In the end, people were paying $5000 a shot. One thousand for Tom, the rest of the drug addict.

“What will happen if you are arrested?” his partner asked him once, when they were both unable to sleep.

“I don’t know” he replied, listening to the dark suburban silence for an approaching siren or sirens, “I don’t know”.

The sirens never arrived.

Willing female drug addicts were especially difficult to recruit so therefore they became the most expensive.

One client required his junkie to be of Indian decent. A requirement that Tom finally managed to fill and once again the transaction took place.

Thanks to the fresh victory of Trump, Tom does not think that the Australian Government will try it again. But they are building MRNA factories, he said, so he does not, and will never trust the Government again.

Tom’s children are beautiful, strong and healthy. Each a part of the foundation of the next generation of Australians. A foundation Tom is not only determined to protect but now regrets ever giving them any vaccines.

When I was growing up, I always sensed that there was something amiss about our country. It shifted in our silences. Lurked in the shadows underneath the Paul Hogan’s tourism posters, it underwrote the conversations of men talking about footy as though footy was all that mattered. It left clues in the suicide notes of people who decided to leave our lucky country before their time. It was like there was a fault in our otherwise perfect diamond, an open wound that many felt, but few mentioned.

Covid liberated this secret.

It was the fear that we knew we were not who we thought we were. To a degree, we were all acting. Pretending to be brave and free when it turned out we were debt slaves, who, thanks to an endless propaganda attack, showed the world how easy we were to control and subjugate.

Many of us have not gotten over this shock. Nor have they delt with the consequences, for the fear we used to smother with bravado is still out, liberated by our responses, and now it is busily redefining our character.

For years now, we have lived in a world of lies, thanks to a refusal to accept responsibly for any of it, or even acknowledge those who have been injured or worse. A world of lies that has is devouring our identity. Feasting on our culture where it’s appetite has been supported by Government policies and corporations, determined, for their own reasons, to prise our grip free, our love for our country, with their crowbars of shame.

Ironically, our new unspoken ghost, the splinter of our quiet spaces, visible often, in the troubled backwoods of our eyes, is the truth. Or as the state calls it ‘Misinformation’.

Stirred by Trumps victory, will it now rise to the surface? Drawn back to our lips, by fear’s nemeses. Courage.

One by one we are all learning that fear has an Achilles heel, that that those who have tried to oppress throughout time, using fear, cannot rectify.

Despite its endless appetite, and promises to keep you safe, no matter how much you feed it, including your own identity, in return fear will always return to you this amount . . . Nothing. Nothing but shame.

We then talked more about the Junkies.

Since they are all still alive, perhaps Big Pharma should use them as models for their posters; ‘See, we told you it was safe’.

Or, were their veins so toxic that whatever was in the jabs fizzed up upon entry?

Or is it, as Tom fears, too early to tell?

If any of them do pass away, what will be ultimate price their customers and Tom publicly, or in secret, will pay?