In fact, it was so roomy that Tony could almost stretch out on the floor with his head up near the bowl. But then Tony thought of all the thousands of bottoms that had sat only centimetres from his head, and he switched ends.
Really, the whole set-up could almost be described as cosy. Tony had put a blow-up airbed on the floor, followed by a blanket, two sheets, two more blankets, a doona and two pillows.
Not bad, thought Tony. No worries about a quick visit to the loo during the night, either.
Earlier, Tony’s mum and dad had said they would still cook tea for him but he had to eat it in the dunny. No sweets, either. And tonight was his favourite, chocolate ice-cream.
But just as Tony was about to nod off to sleep, he heard a scraping noise. He flicked on his torch and there, sliding under the door, was a big bowl of ice-cream.
‘Is that you, Gary?’ whispered Tony.
‘Don’t tell Dad,’ replied Gary.
‘Thanks,’ said Tony. ‘Thanks heaps.’
‘What’s it like in there?’ asked Gary.
‘Not too bad. A bit like a cubby house,’ said Tony.
‘Does it still stink?’ asked Gary.
‘Yep,’ said Tony. ‘Look… Sorry I punched you this morning.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much,’ said Gary. ‘I just pinched those lollies from your drawer. And you know all your basketball posters? You should see how excellent they look in my room.’
Tony heard the sound of running feet.
As Tony lay there, he started to wonder, for the first time really, why he got into bad moods. Maybe he was spoilt. Maybe his mum was right when she said that he needed more sleep and that he really should try going to bed earlier.
He knew his parents loved him. And they weren’t that bad — as oldies go, anyway. So what was it? Maybe it was just the way he was. The way he was born.
Whatever, Tony knew it was much too soon to go back into the house. That would be weak. Who knows, it might suit him to never go back.
It so happened that winter was coming on and the next two nights were freezing. A cold wind whistled around the dunny bowl, the door rattled, strange noises seemed to come from every corner and a snail tried to slide into Tony’s ear. He caught it just in time by squashing it against his cheek.
Poor Tony. Much as he hated to admit it, he was becoming scared. But there was still no way he was going back inside the house. Not yet, anyway.
He’d got himself into an awful situation. What am I going to do? he thought, shivering. I’ll be stuck out here forever.
Well, it’s a matter of fact that there aren’t too many old dunnies left these days. Most of them have burnt down or blown down or just fallen over from old age. And so it was with Tony Boyd’s dunny.
The very next day, Tony arrived home to find nothing except a blackened dunny bowl and a pile of ash.
As he stared in amazement, his dad came up from behind, put his hand on Tony’s shoulder and said, ‘Must have been a spark from next door’s chimney.’
‘What about my doona and stuff?’ asked Tony.
‘Got them out just in time,’ said his dad. ‘They’re in your room. Now that the dunny’s gone, I thought it might be time to come back inside?’
Tony still hadn’t turned around to look his dad in the eye, but he said, ‘Yeah, I reckon it might.’
‘Mates?’ asked his dad.
‘Mates,’ said Tony.
And with that, Tony turned and gave his dad the biggest hug they’d had in years.
It might have been a spark that caused the dunny to burn down…or it might also have been a match.
From the box in Tony’s dad’s pocket.
Sally couldn’t understand it. Lately, she seemed to be hungry all the time. Always going to the fridge. Always dreaming of food.
Then Jenny, her sister, said something too. ‘I’m so hungry I could eat a horse and chase the jockey.’
Jenny, whose usual idea of pigging out was a glass of water and a deep breath!
‘What do you think it is?’ asked Sal.
Jenny didn’t know. Perhaps it was like Dad said, that they were both just growing girls? Perhaps.
But going to the kitchen and actually making a snack for themselves? Looking in the back of the fridge? Drinking milk? Something had to be wrong.
And then Dad noticed. And Dad wasn’t happy. ‘Why, may I ask, is there only one muesli bar left for lunches? Three days ago there were six whole boxes!’ he yelled.
Jenny and Sal hung their heads in shame and said nothing. For a very good reason. They knew if they kept quiet then sooner or later, Dad would stop. And later on still, he’d say sorry for yelling at them and tell them he loved them and ask for a cuddle. It worked every time.
‘Don’t I feed you enough?’ shouted Dad. ‘I’ve bought bigger lunch boxes, I’m having trouble squeezing the lid on because I put in so much — and still it’s not enough!’
Sal couldn’t help herself. This time she had to say something.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Sal. ‘I reckon you’ve been giving us less!’
‘Less!’ roared Dad. ‘What was it this morning? Two sandwiches, a drink, an apple, a banana, a muesli bar —’
‘What sandwiches?’ interrupted Jenny.
They all went quiet. Suddenly it all made sense. The fights for the last piece of cake were finally explained. Someone had been stealing their lunches.
Jenny and Sal knew they should leave the whole thing up to their dad. He was absolutely right when he said the best way to handle it would be for him to speak to the teacher. And they knew if they even tried to do something themselves, their dad would crack a wobbly.
But it didn’t stop them. Here was a chance to play detective. To catch a thief. Just like on television. Surely being naughty just once couldn’t hurt?
Jenny had a plan. First they’d try to find out who the thief was, grab them after school and then really tell them off. If that didn’t work, they’d secretly put something awful in their sandwiches. Something that tasted really, really terrible. Something that would make a rat chuck. That would teach the thief a lesson.
Excellent idea, thought Sal, but how?
‘Well,’ said Jenny, ‘whoever it is, they must be stealing our lunches during playtime. Because a couple of times we have arrived at school right on the bell, and then we always go straight to our bags as soon as lunchtime starts. When else could it be?’
‘Good thinking,’ said Sal. ‘So if one of us hides inside during playtime, then we’ll be able to see who it is?’
‘Exactly,’ said Jenny. Jenny had that same grin she used to get whenever she was planning to tease her sister.
The very next day, Sal hid behind the door and used the windows as a sort of mirror to see who was hanging around their bags.
Suddenly she could hear someone. And then she could see someone. And that someone went straight to Sal’s bag. Out came her lunch box and into that someone’s mouth popped a sandwich. The someone turned around and you’ll never guess who it was.
Dirty Darren.
I suppose I’d better tell you first why he was called Dirty Darren. He had the most disgusting habit of letting goobies hang out of his nose. And then he licked them. It always seemed as if Darren needed to blow his nose. But he never did. He just licked. Filthy, dirty, disgusting Darren.
So Jenny grabbed Darren after school and said, ‘We know.’
‘Know what?’ said Darren.
‘We’ve seen you!’ said Jenny. ‘Pinching our lunches.’
‘So what?’ replied Darren. ‘Finders keepers.’
‘Finders keepers?’ yelled Jenny.
‘Yeah,’ said Darren. ‘I used to look in all the girls’ lunch boxes. But your sandwiches are always the best.’
Jenny could feel herself getting really angry. She couldn’t help asking, ‘Why only girls?’
‘Because girls are stupid. And weak,’ replied Darren. ‘What are girls going to do about it?’
‘Good on you for walking away,’ said Sally, back at their house. ‘Like Dad says, it’s no use fighting. Just makes you as bad as they are.’
‘Bad?’ said Jenny. ‘I’m going back to our plan of putting something in our sandwiches, and I tell you what, it’s going to be the worst, filthiest, stinkiest mixture you can think of. Darren’s going to wish he’d never even heard of lunch.’
First, Jenny found some cat poo.
They didn’t have to pick it up with their hands because they used Dad’s kitchen tongs. Then they got some ash from the fireplace, some scraps from the compost heap and then they threw in a pair of Dad’s undies.
Finally, they added milk and dog food and then let the whole lot sit in the sun for a week.
Well, you can imagine what it waslike after that. It wasthe worst-smelling sort of cheesy stuff you could ever imagine. Just to spread it into the sandwiches, Sal had to pinch her nose shut.
They took the secret sandwiches to school, hid behind the door and waited. Sure enough, Darren crept up and checked to see no-one was watching. He had a particularly large gooby that day — so large, in fact, that Sal and Jenny could see it in the window they used as a mirror.
Darren took out the sandwiches, opened his mouth and took the biggest bite you’ll ever see. The girls held their breath and waited.
Darren chewed, and thought about the taste, and chewed again, and thought again. And do you know what he said?
‘Excellent.’
And as he spoke, that very large gooby rolled out of his nose and onto the sandwich. Right onto the corner from which Darren took his next large bite.
‘Rad,’ said Darren.
The girls just couldn’t believe it. Dirty, filthy, disgusting Darren thought they were the best sandwiches he’d ever tasted! The girls’ heads dropped with disappointment. Sometimes life’s just not fair.
It’s funny how things have a way of catching up with people, though. You see, Darren eventually got sick of stealing lunches. Somehow it wasn’t funny anymore. And besides, he’d found something else to do. Chase after Kelly Lipton.
Darren had decided he liked girls after all, and he especially liked Kelly Lipton. But Kelly wasn’t so sure about Darren. She couldn’t decide if he was handsome and funny, or a real dork.
Well, one day, Darren organised this game of kiss chasey. You can guess who he chased! And he caught her.
But just when he asked if he could give Kelly a little kiss on the cheek, this huge gooby appeared. A monster.
It slid out of his nose and sat trembling on his lip.
I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble guessing what Kelly’s answer was. And that’s not all she said. I’ve promised not to tell, but let’s just say it wasn’t very nice. And straight after, Jenny and Sal started telling a joke.
‘What’s the difference between kissing Darren and putting your head in a bucket full of goobies? The bucket.’
The joke went around for ages and Darren was really upset. What a shame.
These days, Darren carries a hanky. And he spends a lot of time checking himself in the mirror. Instead of feeling tough in front of girls, I think he’s just a little bit scared of them.
And so he should be.
An Upside-down Boy and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls Page 3
