I bought the king parrot from an old bushie in a pub in Exhibition Street.

Only rarely do we find a brainworm-infected moose that has larvae in its feces.

Burnett holds the door while Lowrey holds Francine. She's broken, crying, and giving up the ghost of her past.

Ruthless urban warrior cyclists reclaiming the streets and hurrying to deliver that urgent parcel or meet the immoveable deadline of workplace arrival, add to the mêlée.