by Susan Berran
“Scratch … point … bend … click…” Suddenly his eyes lit up and he swayed his head about. “Click, hmmm … click down … click on … click off … click photo …” Jared nodded furiously.
“Photo … ?”
He tapped the second finger to his arm then to his ear. “Sounds like?” I mouthed as Jared nodded again. Then he SHOVED that finger up his nose, wriggled it about in there and pulled it out. Now all I wanted to do was throw up. Then he did it again.
“Stop!!” I mouthed in disgust. But he did it again … and again. The only way I was going to get him to stop was to guess the word.
“Nose …” was obviously my first guess. But he shook his head and SHOVED it up there again. And this time he started to draw lines down his face with the boogas. I was really seriously thinking about giving myself up to the ALIENS, even if I was going to be a deep-fried human with chips. Anything was better than this.
I started to mouth words as quickly as I could. If I didn’t get the answer really soon, I was going to chuck and then there’d be veggies in there to roast with us.
“Pick … green … boogas…” Sure, that’s what he was doing. But what was the word?
“Runny … slimy … snotty …” That was it! Snotty! Jared’s face was smiling painfully and he was touching his ear over and over to signal ‘sounds like’.
“Snotty … botty … boppy … soppy … floppy … copy…” YES!!! Jared just about screamed in silence with happiness.
“Copy photo … photocopy?” I mouthed. He was nodding like a crazy man, flaring his eyes and nostrils at me. PHOTOCOPY!! I got it, boy I’m good! But Jared was still looking really weirdly at me. Photocopy, photocopy … oh no!! The photocopy, it was still up there in the out-tray above us.
I had to let the door go and then as carefully but as quickly as I could, I slid my hand up into the photocopier trays above us. Feeling about, I almost hit the print button. Where was it … it had to be there … got it! I took the photo down into our hideaway and gently wrapped my pinkie finger back around the latch. Just as I got it closed, the sheet was ripped off and all the machines kicked into life.
Wow; Jared was Sooo lucky that I thought of that and just in the nick of time too. The animals were all still going berserk at each other and every sound echoed inside our box. It still seemed to be the guinea pigs that were copping all the blame.
And even though I’m really clever … I can’t speak ALIEN or guinea pig. But it was obvious they weren’t happy at all.
Through our tiny air gap all I could see was legs and fur, and furry legs and occasionally through a gap, I saw what was on the televisions. They’d recorded everything and now they were rewinding it. And I was betting it was to see what had happened at Jared’s place.
Every beady little eye was on the televisions as they rewound … played it for a minute … yapped at each other some more and rewound further. This went on and on for what seemed like forever. I was beginning to think that if we didn’t get out of there soon, we’d drown in our own sweat! And then it happened … complete and total silence. Did the world just end … did they leave … had the pool of sweat reached our ears??
On the centre TV was Jared’s place, the kitchen … and there was Jared and I running back and forth, taking food out and coming back empty-handed … OH NO. Now they knew it was us, now they knew that we knew, now we’d have to be … taken care of!!
The room erupted into a frenzy of even angrier animals, only now it wasn’t directed at the guinea pigs. I had an idea that it was now at us. All of a sudden, Fluff Butt took control with one almighty bark. A note had been taken by the rat and photocopied by the furry French Eiffel Tower, Mademoiselle Poo Poo and then handed around to everyone else. They even seemed to laugh as they looked at the note … what did they have in mind? I imagined Jared on a skewer being slowly rotated over an open fire … and me being whipped as I knelt on the floor cleaning ALIEN bathrooms forever. Another droplet of sweat fell from my face. Ever drop sounded to me like my head was inside a drum that was being beaten by a gorilla on steroids and echoing as if trying to tell the animals where we were hiding. Just then the power switched off, the sheet was thrown over the televisions and then the photocopier … we were back in the dark. Then came the clattering of paws on the floor as they left. We strained our ears to listen for the front door closing. Click. For the first time in an eternity … we breathed.
My finger was totally numb from holding onto the door. I yanked it off and opened the door a little further, air at last. We listened some more … nothing. We couldn’t wait any longer and we hadn’t heard a sound since the door closed. So we pulled at the sheet, it slid to the floor in a second, creating the best breeze ever.
“ You go first,” Jared said, finally breaking the silence.
“No no, you go,” but neither of us was going anywhere without the other. We’d been jammed in there so long that we’d lost the circulation and feeling in our arms and legs ages ago.
We were a human pretzel in a box and we’d have to get out of this together. Jared tried to edge his feet across but they wouldn’t move. The only way out was to ‘walk on our butts’. We squeezed up one butt cheek and pushed out the other, squeezed up the first butt cheek and pushed out the other. Like a crab walking sideways, except that they use their legs not their butt … but you get what I mean.
It took us forever to get out of there and when we finally slid out onto the floor … Slop! The biggest, goopiest poop splashed right onto my shoulder and quickly ran down my neck and under my clothes like a slug snow-boarding.
That #@x# galah … when I catch that bird I’m gonna stuff it, tip its head back with its beak wide open and use it as a toilet brush holder …
The world stopped. I looked at Jared, Jared looked at me … and we both looked up. There, perched on the light sat Nicholas, Mrs Duckson’s pooper bomber galah. And on the floor beside us was one of the photocopied papers. It was a picture … a cartoon of me and Jared cramped up together like a human pretzel in a steel box under a photocopier. Suddenly the office door flew open and there stood Mademoiselle ‘I-don’t-even-own-a-French-beret’ Poo Poo and all the other pets.
With Fluff Butt right at the front.
I’d like to tell you that this is where they peeled off their fur and feathers to reveal their hideous ALIEN bodies of yellowy-green slime that made them look like giant boogas. And how they brain-froze Jared … not that you’d be able to tell the difference, and made him prepare the vegetables to cook with himself for their feast. And how I was being taken to their world, across the galaxy, to go on display in their universal zoo as
‘Most Intelligent Human’ … of course.
I’d like to tell you that … but I can’t. How would you like it if you were fed liver in goop, brains in slime, tongue, entrails, pellets, straw or seed … every single day, every single year, for your entire life! Never allowed to have an ice-cream, a chocolate bar, a packet of chips or any other junk food at all … ever!
If you have a pet … don’t just give it ‘Pet food’. Spoil it once in a while with something special … or it just might take matters into its own paws.
Fluff Butt hasn’t had one ‘accident’ inside and Jared isn’t getting blamed for chocolates going missing since we made our ‘junk food deal’ with Fluff Butt and Ying and Yang. But the other kids are still getting into heaps of trouble for pinching junk food, shaving their pets and heaps of other stuff. They all still think it’s something to do with Jared and me though … but we don’t care. We’re working on the most awesomely wicked skateboard ramp ever.
We’ll let the other kids know about their pets, eventually … well, maybe.
… I needed to stop the bleeding, it wasn’t much, but enough that something might be able to smell it, and that was the last thing I wanted.
“Actually, that was the second last thing I wanted - the last thing I wanted was to mess my pants, and when I saw that blood, … well let’s just say, it was cl
ose.”
It was magnificent and as I shone my torch down the tunnel’s entrance, I suddenly realised how completely alone I really was. Maybe I should’ve waited for Jared after all.
Toe-jam, … yum …
Damn, I can’t reach it!
Don’t you just hate that?
You’re sitting on the edge of your bed in just your undies, and all you want to do is use your finger to dig between your toes and drag out the fluff, and sweat, and dirt all chunked together like a huge dob of mouldy, smelly mud.
Be careful though; remove it from its home, it might not be too happy about the move …
Crap! Why is it always dark?
You know … it’s midnight, there’s no moonlight and your head’s shoved into a toe-jammed, fungus-filled, smelly old gumboot. That dark!
I cautiously took a mirror out of my utility belt. My hands were sweating like a baboon’s butt wrapped in sheep. Gingerly I poked it around the corner (the mirror, not my butt), then, for a split second I saw it; teeth, really, really, really big teeth …
Sam and Jared are on holidays … in the most dangerous place on the planet.
With the poisonous plants, ferocious animals, tree-swinging hippies and Smelly Melly’s deadliest fungus-growing, chunky chuck-up nappies yet!
This time, adventure is hot on their heels . . . and they just might not be able to keep their stomach contents down.
The Author
My 11year-old daughter Mel has had a story told to her every night of her life until recently. This is one of ‘Mel’s Imagining Stories’
I hope you enjoy it too.
S. Berran
c/o Bethanga Vic 3691
www.susanberran.com