When Pascalle and I were kids, we were this awesome shoplifting team.

The way we’d work it was we’d go into a store – it didn’t matter what store or if Mum or Dad or anyone else was with us – and we’d split up. Pascalle would then create a distraction. She was really good at distractions, because it made her the centre of attention and Pascalle loves being the centre of attention. Some things never change.

Anyway, sometimes she’d have a massive tantrum; sometimes she’d throw up (she was practicing to be a model); sometimes she’d knock over a display stand (especially effective in supermarkets); sometimes she’d flash her knickers at the guys behind the counter. Once she even peed herself in Bunsen’s the chemist, which was a total act of devotion just to get the lip-gloss I was meant to be stealing for her. (Pity I was laughing so hard I forgot to flog it.)

Anyway, while Pascalle was distracting, I would take care of the business end of things. Man, we got away with heaps of stuff. CD’s; DVD’s; sweets (I think the real reason they don’t make Snifters any more is that we stole most of them back in the late-90’s); auto-accessories; plumbing supplies… Once I even walked out of the BBQ Factory with a three-burner barbecue plus gas bottle for Dad’s birthday, while Pascalle was stripping in a spa pool.

There was another time we went clothes-shopping for school clothes with Mum and along the way we hit so many shops at the mall that I was running out of places to hide the stuff. Pascalle had so many tantrums that day that Mum screamed at her all day, then threw a kebab at her in the food hall. Then, on the drive home, Mum stopped at a bottle store and actually started drinking the hip-flask of Coruba right at the counter, even before she’d paid for it. Which was great because it meant I could walk out with a 6-pack of wine cooler which I sold to Van and Munter.

Yeah, Pascalle and I had our moments together.

Then came the hockey stick and the glory days came to an end.

When she was at Ivan Mauger Intermediate, Pascalle became obsessed with stealing a hockey stick from Stirling Sports. She wanted the stick not because of any sporting reason (the closest Pascalle has been to organized sport was two years later, in the pool with the Shadbolt High water polo team), but because she was obsessed with Craig, the captain of the school hockey team.

I tried to tell her that Craig would never fall for her charms because he was gay. Even though I was still at primary school I could tell he was gay because: (a) he was incredibly neat and tidy; (b) he played hockey; and (c) all guys called Craig are gay. But she wasn’t listening to me and became totally fixated on stealing a hockey stick so she could pretend to like hockey which would give her an excuse to be near Craig and to therefore jump him.

(As an aside the only West ever to play organized sport was Jethro, who played hockey, until the day he managed to knock himself out with his stick. Special.)

Anyway, back with gay Craig, when Pascalle gets an idea in her head it is very difficult to shift. Again, some things never change.

But I said no to the hockey stick because I draw the line at stealing sporting equipment (everyone has to have standards). So Pascalle decided to steal it for herself. So I settled in to watch from a safe distance and enjoy the fun of her inevitable capture.

But bugger me if she didn’t walk straight into the store, pick up the stick and walk straight out with it. Somehow this gawky blonde giantess in pink hot-pants and a boob tube had become completely invisible. Remarkable.

I guess the point here is that Pascalle has this ability to sail through life. She doesn’t see the potential shit all around her and, somehow, the shit doesn’t stick to her. The down-side of this is that she doesn’t see the danger right in front of her – even if it is fucking obvious to everyone around her. Pascalle is deaf, blind and (especially) dumb, when it comes to anything outside her field of vision – a field of vision which extends, of course, only as far as “me want, me get”.

She’s gone now, has Pascalle. Left the loving arms of her Mother and family. Over to the other side. With Him. In return we get to keep Sheree hostage. Great. Fucking wonderful.

Pascalle only ever used the hockey stick once. She was carrying it when she put the moves on Craig after school, the day after she flogged it. When he rejected her (and his gayness was therefore confirmed), she used it to smash up all the spokes on his 10-speed.

I live in hope that one day, in the near future, Pascalle will come to her senses and history will repeat itself.

I live in hope that some things never change.