Agnes Norma Electra and Rose...

Not everyone is aware of the fact that a longish strip of toothpaste placed on the bottom of a second-hand bath is virtually invisible to the human eye. And if you can't see the trap has been laid then the chances are good that your arse is going to get burned.

Toothpaste burns the skin on your bum; okay?

My Sister's and I discovered this little truth, probably by accident, but we often used this little trick to annoy each other. Same goes for when our Parent's would go out, leaving the eldest two in charge. I was always on the Outer. I couldn't tell you how many times I was locked out of the house, only to be taunted with the promise of being allowed back in via a different entrance, told to run around as fast as I could around the outside of the house, only to have that door slammed in my face as well.

We would chase each other around with horse-whips and coat-hangers, and then pin each other beneath the kitchen stool- sitting nonchalantly up on top- while the one beneath screamed profanities. And we would scratch and hit and bite each other; but there has never been any doubt of our fierce loyalty to each other when it has been called upon or questioned.

I have three Sisters. We all start with an R. There's a funny story in our family that when my youngest Sister was born my Mother had to ring the Rabbi because she had run out of Hebrew names that began with R, and so the baby was called Bubbles for a month, until he got back to her with one that She liked well enough to use. Not that we are Jewish. Or even religious. But I think that all of our names suit us, at least more so than Agnes, Norma, Alectra and Rose; which was what we almost got called.

There is a photo of the four of Us, in a see-through photo album, sitting on the old brown, white and yellow-striped lounge. Our Mother had just come home from hospital with my baby Sister; she is on my lap and I am sitting next to my older Sister's who are holding their identical stuffed Giraffe toys. The photo was taken just before the baby pissed all over Me, which is the reason why I started to believe that I hated her, with a passion, for the next dozen or so years. I made her life hell- which greatly pleased me at the time.

There are other photos of Us; the one where we went to Sydney for the first time, on the train, to go to the May Day March and then over the Harbour by ferry to Taronga Zoo- and we are standing next to our little Morris Minor, with our matching blue flannelette shorts and white handbags. When we got there I rememeber my oldest Sister being so ashamed that we had never experienced purple taxis- we only had red and white ones- and her telling Me not to point them out so obviously, because then They would know how gauche and backwards we were because we weren't from There.

There were also the times that we would stay over at our Grandmother's house and sneak out of the big window in the down-stairs loungeroom, and play Knock-and-Run down her street. We do all of the houses, watching our victims from the shadows, giggling as the frustrated people answer their doors for Nobody. We walk down to the main street of our Town, and order hamburgers with the works and play the pinball machines while we wait. We've collected the money from in and around our drunken Uncle's mattress- and he never even notices- he probably just thinks he spent it all on booze. There is a pub across the road from the hamburger shop, and there are always a lot of drunks getting something greasy to eat at this hour of the morning- but nothing ever happens to us, and we noisily make our way back up the steep hill to Grandmother's house before they notice we've even left.

This could have been what happened the night before we all got caught shoplifting at the biggest department stores in the Mall. It was a Saturday morning, and we were going to the movies to see Screwballs- though we had told our Parents we were going to see something a bit more age appropriate, like Herbie Goes Bananas, or something equally as boring. I was pretty excited to be seeing Screwballs- I was only eight at the time- but my Sister or Cousin were going to buy me the ticket and then smuggle me in somehow past the Usherettes in their stiff red uniforms. They looked like blood clots, standing there on the red and yellow carpet by the Candy Bar.

We all had plenty of money, and the movie wasn't going to be starting for a little while, so we purchased our tickets and then went back to the Mall to look for some five-finger-discounts. I stole a tiny pair of pin-earrings; which was a little bit retarded of me- mainly because my ears weren't even pierced back then- but I just wanted to take something that wasn't too big or bulky.

I had on my purple jumper with the Deer among the Snowflakes, which was where I concealed my loot, up the sleeve, and I had made it out of the shop- I was free- but then my older Sister suddenly starts yelling out across the cobblestones of the Mall "There they Are- That's Who I'm With- Them Right There" sort of stuff, and the next thing I know I am being whisked up inside a glass elevator, just like the one that broke through the ceiling in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory after he had pushed the magic button- and we are being taken down a long corridor to the office of Denise Richard's- Store Manager.

I am so shit-scared by this time I think I started to cry, thinking we will all have to go the Police station in the back of a paddy-wagon and have our fingerprints taken. But worst of all is that I know we won't be going to see Screwballs anymore- and I won't get to see if that blonde chick on the poster's tight top really does bust open in the movie, showing off her big boobs...

Denise Richards- if you are out there reading this somewhere- you are one scary lady. And I guess you were damn good at your job because I never stole anything else ever again. Except for a few cans of red Salmon from my Father's pantry every now and then. Red salmon isn't cheap- but I do like it.

After we had the shit frightened out of us and our Parents had been notified we were allowed to leave. I was just grateful not to have been sent to jail. We went back up the Hill to Grandmother's house, not even pausing to climb on the Rotunda in the park- imagining punishments that were progressively worse than the last one we'd invented. We weren't kidding ourselves- we were still in big trouble for stealing- and we've shamed the Parents and our Grandparent's in the process.

But the ironic part of the whole day didn't come until a little later, when our little Sister- who was only about six and hadn't been out shoplifting with us- went uninvited over to the house next door to Grandma's; they had been having a big party the night before in their backyard under a giant Marquee that was as big as a circus tent. She stole a whole heap of Fanta and chips and massive bottles of Orange juice. My Sister's and Cousin and I failed to see how what she had done was any different to what we had done- except that She hadn't been caught in the act.

So then why didn't she get into trouble like we did?

I have a sneaking suspicion it's because they thought our little Sister was just following our bad example, and that if We were the only role-models that she had, then it was no wonder that she was a little thief as well.

Hey?