Supanova 2: Roo’d

welcome to Australia, mate.

Some years back, when I was working on Intruder JIM, I took a trip to Korea to visit the overseas animation studio where the show was being animated and was treated to a rather unexpected little bit of local business custom.  I was taken, by the suit and tie wearing executives from the studio to a ‘gentleman’s club’.

The extent of it, for me, was that the studio people, all your very average, distinguished Korean types in suits and ties, glasses and smart, short haircuts, brought the few of us that were visiting into this dark place where women came out and walked around on a stage, each of them wearing a number.  The numbers were for picking which women you wanted to come down and be your server and company for the time you spend there, serving drinks, chatting about whatever it is there was to chat about, and looking generally thankful for not being their feet anymore.

Not my scene at all, but surreal in a David Lynch way to be sure.  And really, sitting and talking was about as far as that went that night.

SO…on Friday, just one day into my Australian visit, I wasn’t too surprised when the Supanova people took a few of us out for what they would only refer to as a “genuine Australian welcome”.  Immediately, my mind goes back to my Korean welcome experience, so I just assumed that was what was in store, or something along those lines.   The rule for the people that had already been through this was that you couldn’t talk about what the first timers were about to experience, so it was a lot of knowing looks back and forth or excited mystery, depending on the person.

We end up being driven a ways out of Melbourne, to what I could only describe as a barren patch of nowhere, in the middle of which was a single, fairly unassuming two story building, the only thing around for miles that I could see.

By this point, a couple of the Supanova crew and a couple of seasoned guests are laughing and just all around excited to get down to business, what I assumed was a bout of drinking and possibly something not unlike what I had been through in Korea.  Not being a drinker nor someone that has to pick a lady by the number on her chest, I was prepared for some amusement, but nothing terribly involved.  I’d likely be more an observer than the eager participants that I was imagining some of the other guys being.

We get led into a waiting area with some weathered couches that we crash on, waiting for whatever will happen to happen.  The head Supanova guy vanishes behind a red curtain for a moment, coming back into the waiting room, preceding a new character in the night’s festivities, an old woman that looked to be held together by dust alone.  She stood there, scanning the people in the room with her eyes, slowly and knowingly, a grin breaking across her weathered face.  The grin gave way to a crackled, croaking laugh that got a couple of the guys laughing along, building into what I could only describe as the laughter of the ancient ones about to feast on guests that didn’t know they were dinner.

Feeling a little uneasy, I attempted my own little laugh, wishing I was actually nowhere near the place, easing up a little when the old woman offered us something to drink.  Everyone else hit the hard shit but I only had a Bundaberg ginger beer (my favorite!), and cheered up at the first sip.  See, I could be crawling my way out of a car accident, covered in the entrails of my closest loved ones and still feel a bit of a pick up after taking a swig of a good ginger beer, so the crazy laughter was forgotten instantly.

My nerves settled just in time for us to be told that the “room was ready”, prompting everyone to stand up and head in, some of the guys actually clapping their hands together and rubbing them excitedly” as if they were cartoon characters about to dig into something good.  I figured, hey, I’m in a different place, why not just go along for the ride.

In the time I’ve been here, just a few days, I’ve laid my eyes upon some fiendishly beautiful women, right?  I’m walking around this place on my own, taking in the sights, the least of which are not the local female population.  I’m not on the prowl or anything.  Hardly so, but I do enjoy a pretty face, so that got me thinking that the night might not be so bad afterall.  Hell, why not try to enjoy a bit of the local customs, right?  Right.

The Supanova organizer guy gave a little speech, standing before the curtain, keeping everyone from going in until he had his say, drawing out the anticipation.  The gist of it was that this was a bit of thanks for coming all this way to make the convention what it is, and that for doing that, we were about to be treated to the best they could offer.  Everyone lets out a whoop and a cheer and the curtain was pulled back.

I stared in horror at a room filled with kangaroos wearing lipstick and false eyelashes.  Some milled about while others were on their backs, legs spread, presenting us with their female genitalia.  All females, all ready for action, dripping kangaroo juices down kangaroo bits and pieces.  I dropped my bottle of ginger beer, but nobody else noticed.  Some of the guys, like me, stood slack-jawed in hideous awe at the horror grotesque scene before them.  Others, eyed the banquet of roo-fuck hungrily, steeling themselves for the proceedings.

Someone brushed past my shoulder, jarring me out of my daze a bit.  It was the lead Supanova guy, already stripped bare and he wasted no time.  “Get it while it’s hot, boys!” he barked out before plunging his engorged self into the nearest kangaroo, kissing it and smearing the gaudy face paint all over his face.

Other joined in, unleashing a nauseating barrage of squishing and honking noises, some from the beasts, some from the men that had become beasts.  One of the few that stayed back, slowly got drawn in, looking sickened but unable to resist the allure of one roo in particular, bedding it with an uncertain, clumsy lust.

One guest, another comic book writer, nice guy, nervous type, stumbled backwards, his back thudding against the wall.  He covered his ears and slid down the wall, crying.

Not turning my back on the nightmare that had begun, I walked away from it all, the kangaroo/man orgy, the seedy place in the middle of nowhere.  I wandered away from the bus from everything that could get me back home.  I couldn’t get far away enough from the sights, from the sounds, and most of all the old woman’s insane cackling.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, I managed to find a really nice italian place and had a kickass lemon chicken.

More later.