by J A Mawter
I kick off the game with the following orders. ‘Pour your goop into a cup. Swap it. Then it’s down the hatch. Whoever finishes first is the winner.’
‘Without barfing,’ adds Elliot.
‘No barfing,’ I agree.
Finn tips the contents of his bowl into one cup and slides it over to Josh.
Josh does the same, then stands up saying, ‘Better go outside. Or Finn’ll make a mess of this kitchen.’
‘Very funny,’ says Finn.
I think of Mum and her or else. ‘Good idea,’ I agree, also standing up.
I head for the back yard. Josh and Finn follow, Elliot and Ryan behind.
Josh and Finn sit opposite each other on the grass, the rest of us in a semi-circle around them. The cups are in the middle.
‘What the heck!’ says Finn. Without waiting for the countdown he grabs his cup and puts it to his lips.
‘Hey!’ says Josh. ‘Now who’s cheating!’ He, too, grabs his cup of goop and starts to throw it down.
Finn seems to be swallowing, but with a mouthful like that it’s hard to tell.
Same for Josh. He’s holding his nose, trying to get past the dog-food smell.
Maybe it’s not the smell? I look at the goop. No, it’s the texture that’s going to do him in. Big meaty chunks have floated to the surface. They’re pink and lumpy and bob up and down in the green cordial. Bet there’s heaps more on the bottom.
Josh is trying to swallow and chew at the same time. It’s dodgy. Rivers of green are gushing down his chin. There’s brown flakes in the rivers, too small for dog food — probably the crunchy bits of peanut butter. Josh pauses to take a quick breath. A thick gelatinous paste is stuck to the roof of his mouth. Those squished bits between his teeth will be hard to budge.
He reminds me of the cannibal joke. You know the one: What did the cannibal have for breakfast?
I decide to concentrate on Finn. Take my mind off Josh’s blobby bits.
Finn’s taking a breather as well. More than a breather, really. He is gulping in huge lungfuls of air, fanning his face at the same time. His face is pure white, except for the yellow mustard. The chilli must’ve drowned out the ice cream. I watch as beads of sweat roll down his forehead and head for his top lip. Finn’s looking hotter than anything a fireman could handle.
I’m beginning to feel sorry for both of them.
Josh distracts me with some major throat-clearing. He’s wearing a marrowbone jelly moustache and has aged ten years. He manages to rasp, ‘Give up, Sunshine?’ with more than a hint of desperation.
Finn shakes his head. He can’t speak!
Josh goes to say something more but all that comes out is a gurgle.
Both cups are still half-full.
I put on my Judge Red voice and ask, ‘Would you like to call it a tie?’
In answer, Josh picks up his cup. Glug, glug, glug. He’s going to do it! But then he stops. The look on his face spells trouble.
‘Duck!’ I yell, trying to move out of the way.
A huge burp rips. I brace myself. But the only thing that hits the air is the smell of canned beef.
Even Josh looks pleasantly surprised. He grins. Again, he picks up his cup. He tilts the cup to his lips but keeps his eye on Finn as he says, ‘Last few mouthfuls, Sunshine.’
As bad as it is for Josh, it is worse for Finn. He has started to froth. Saliva foams from the corners of his mouth, spume slides from his nose, his eyes gush. His body is blistered with sweat. He’s moaning incoherently. I catch the words dash of chilli as he goes down.
‘Done!’ As proof, Josh up-ends his cup, earning himself a cheer from Ryan and Elliot.
‘Urrgh.’ Finn’s not looking too good. He burps, too. A vanillary, mustardy, garlicky burp floats my way.
Finn burps again. A bubble slips out. And then comes the fountain. Like a drilling rig that’s hit oil, spraying the whole back yard.
I dive out of the way.
Ryan and Elliot trip over themselves in their efforts to get clear. Mustard and olive oil spear into the air. Josh is too slow. He is moving like a drunk. In seconds he is covered. He’s wearing greasy yellow crocodile skin.
A series of after-shocks follow, each with their own gusher.
‘Good one, Sunshine,’ croaks Josh.
‘Another successful game of Goop!’ announces Elliot.
‘I win,’ splutters Josh, wiping his mouth on his underarm, the only clean patch on his shirt.
I look at Finn, who has emptied his guts. I look at Josh, who is wearing them. Who am I to argue?
‘Josh wins!’ I announce.
Chapter Five
It is the day after. We’re back at my place. I can’t believe we got away with Goop but we did.
As usual it’s back to the competition.
‘How about Knockdown?’ asks Ryan.
‘Or Dead Leg?’ asks Elliot.
‘They’re both not fair,’ I say. ‘Josh’s heaps bigger than Finn. He’ll win easy.’
‘You saying I’m gutless?’ demands Finn, puffing himself up and grabbing my shirt.
‘No.’ I remove Finn’s hand and direct my next comment to both him and Josh. ‘Why don’t you two let up? Call it quits. The comp’s pretty even.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ interjects Josh. ‘I’m winning.’
Finn’s shaking his head. ‘No, Red,’ he says, quietly. ‘I’m no quitter. Besides, Josh is only two ahead.’
‘Spit Ball, then?’ interrupts Ryan, his mind still on track.
‘No!’ I’m almost shouting. ‘This is getting too serious. Forget the competition. Let’s go back to having fun.’
Then I notice that Finn’s developed a keen interest in our clothesline. ‘What about a swimming race?’ he asks, completely ignoring me.
‘A swimming comp is boring,’ moans Ryan.
‘No, it’s not,’ says Finn, which takes me by surprise because at last year’s swimming carnival Finn lost every time. Finn continues, all the while looking at the clothesline. ‘Let’s have a swimming competition. But not freestyle — butterfly.’
‘You’re on,’ says Josh.
‘Are you mad?’ I whisper in Finn’s ear. ‘Remember last year? Miss Talliope’s dress shrank when she saved you!’
Finn has a look on his face like he remembers. But he’s smiling. ‘You game for butterfly?’ he repeats to Josh.
‘Sure, Sunshine,’ Josh answers. ‘Only this time the sun’ll be shining on me.’
‘We’ll see,’ says Finn.
I give up. They can kill each other for all I care!
Finn pulls down the waistband of his shorts, revealing a pair of bright yellow swimmers and says, ‘I’m ready, if you’re ready.’
Josh frowns. ‘I’m wearing jeans. I don’t have my swimmers.’
‘I do,’ announces Elliot.
‘Me too,’ adds Ryan.
Finn’s wearing that funny look again. ‘Can’t you borrow a pair?’ He looks around the yard. ‘Like these,’ he says, striding to the washing line and pulling down a pair of fluoro pink shorts. ‘Yours?’ he asks me.
I shake my head and say, ‘Rob’s.’
‘How about these, then?’ Finn asks, holding out the shorts to Josh. ‘Colour too hot for you?’
‘Whatever!’ says Josh. He shrugs, takes the shorts from Finn and pulls down his dacks at the same time.
I make a mental note to have the shorts washed and dried before Rob gets home.
When we get to the pool, Finn throws down his towel and heads straight for the starting blocks.
I run after him. ‘There’s still time to pull out,’
I say.
Finn keeps striding along. ‘I don’t want to pull out,’ he says. ‘I’m sick of Josh thinking he’s so good. And I’m sick of him calling me “Sunshine”. He treats me like a loser!’
I stop in my tracks. I can see Finn’s point. ‘Okay!’ I call after him. ‘But swim in the lane closest to the wall. I can get to you more easily.’
Finn flaps
his hand to show he’s heard. Then he turns round and calls, ‘Tell Josh to get on the blocks and wait for me. I’ll be back in a minute!’
Chapter Six
I head back to the others and tell Josh that Finn’ll meet him at the starting blocks.
‘What a loser,’ says Josh with a laugh. ‘Must be going for a leak!’
Elliot and Ryan laugh with him.
I don’t join in. I’m thinking of the race. Josh Carruthers and the Sunshine Kid. I know who’s gonna win.
‘Wish me luck,’ calls Josh, swaggering off. I watch him take his place on the blocks.
Elliot and Ryan head to the other end of the pool to judge the winner. I hang down at the start, ready to play lifesaver.
I look at my watch. Finn’s taking forever.
‘Must have the runs!’ hollers Josh, clutching his bum and laughing.
Finally, Finn turns up. ‘Sorry about that,’ he says. ‘I got sidetracked. Ready now.’ He looks Josh in the eye. ‘One lap. No stopping, no changing strokes. Butterfly all the way. Okay?’
There’s something about Finn … He seems too confident.
As he’s stepping up on the blocks, the loudspeaker comes on. It crackles a minute, then a voice booms out. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. May I have your attention.’ I frown. What’s going on?
The voice over the loudspeaker continues. ‘Would you please clear the pool. Today, we are witness to a special event. A butterfly race between two boys — Josh Carruthers, in the pink, and Finn “The Sunshine Kid” Hartley. He’s the one wearing yellow.’
People sitting around the pool applaud. Some are calling, ‘Go, Josh!’ Others, ‘Go, Sunshine Kid!’
I walk over to the starting blocks. ‘What’s happening?’ I ask Finn.
At the same time Josh hisses, ‘Yeah. What’s going on?’
Finn shrugs and says, ‘It’ll be more interesting with an audience.’
‘The more people who see me cream you the better,’ is Josh’s reply. He’s good at the bluff.
Everyone has cleared the pool. They’re lined up around the sides, sometimes two deep. I can’t believe it. Why would Finn want to embarrass himself in public like this?
‘Take your marks!’ calls the loudspeaker. ‘Ready …’
Finn and Josh step up onto the block.
‘Set …’
Josh bends down for a racing dive. He’s showing enough crack to get a job as a bicycle stand.
‘Go!’
The boys leave the blocks together but Josh hits the water first. He’s gliding underwater, biding his time. Finn surfaces first. I hear him suck in some air. Metres ahead, up comes Josh. He starts his stroke, rearing out of the water. In two strokes he leaves Finn for dead. The crowd starts to cheer.
I watch as powerful arms arc out of the water. Josh looks like a whale beaching. A bum starts to wiggle. The cheer turns into a roar.
In the lane next-door only two hands, and maybe an elbow, manage to flap on the surface. Finn is making a complete idiot of himself. He moves like a dying sardine. I can’t bear to watch.
The shouts from the crowd are deafening. Most are chanting, ‘Josh, Josh, Josh!’ Occasionally, there’s a, ‘Go, Sunshine!’
This is the end of Finn. I’m crucified for him. I want to look away but I can’t.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. The chanting falters. It stops. A gasp goes up.
Finn’s drowning! I think to myself. I start pulling off my T-shirt when I hear, ‘Moon! Moon! Moon!’
I falter, thinking, We’re talking Sunshine, you fools. Not Moon.
More and more take up the cry. ‘Moon! Moon! Moon!’
I scan the water. And then I know why.
I see the Sunshine Kid … I burst out laughing. He’s with the Moonshine Kid!
Josh is wiggling like crazy — up, down, up, down, up down. The perfect butterfly style. But fluoro pink is now fluoro white! Josh is mooning every person at the pool. His bum looks like one of those giant jelly-blubbers pulsing through the water. No, better make that an octopus — an octopus with an enormous dome-shaped head and a huge eye.
I laugh from the toes up. I can’t stop laughing.
As Josh moves, his bum is going blink, blink, blink.
If that was me, I’d stop. Not Josh. He’ll do anything to win.
Finn’s flailing about three metres behind. I don’t think he’s noticed. Guess you can’t see much when your whole body is underwater. Hang on a sec. A fist punches the air. He’s seen him! The fist gives a victory salute.
I wet myself.
The crowd cheers.
And Josh goes wink, wink, wink.
You’ve got to admire the guy!
Josh comes in a good twenty seconds ahead of Finn. He taps the wall. He’s won! But instead of getting out, he snatches a breath then plunges deep.
Probably going back for his strides, I think.
When Finn comes in, the crowd goes wild. Finn’s so tired he has to roll himself out of the pool. He lies there for a minute, then staggers to his feet.
By now, Josh has made his way to the side. He, too, climbs out, his face as pink as his swimmers.
Finn strides over. He shakes Josh’s hand. ‘Really wowed the crowd! Had them eating out of your …’ he pats Josh on the bum and says with a giggle ‘ … er, hand.’
‘Ha, ha,’ snarls Josh, pushing Finn away.
‘From now on I’ll call you JC,’ says Finn. ‘Not for Josh Carruthers. For Jesus Christ. You sure crawled on water!’
‘Very funny!’
‘Don’t be a bad sport,’ says Finn. ‘You won. Losing your shorts was just a crowd pleaser.’ ‘It was bad luck,’ I add.
‘It wasn’t a case of bad luck,’ says Finn, quiet-like.
Josh looks taken aback. He pushes me aside and stands in front of Finn. ‘If it wasn’t bad luck what was it, then?’
Finn chuckles. ‘It was your swimming costume.’
‘How d’you mean?’
Finn gives Josh a nudge. ‘I tricked you,’ he says with a smirk. ‘Into wearing Rob’s shorts. I saw them on the clothesline.’
Josh glowers. ‘I still don’t get it,’ he snaps.
‘Me either,’ adds Ryan.
‘Uh-huh,’ agrees Elliot.
I think of our washing on the line. I think of Rob. Rob who never swims! And then I get it. I turn to Josh and say, ‘No wonder your shorts fell down. They’re Rob’s boxers!’
‘Useless for swimming,’ explains Finn. He punches Josh on the arm. ‘Red’s right. I knew the boxers would fall down. Why else would I choose butterfly?’
Josh’s face turns white. ‘You mean …’
‘It was a set-up,’ Finn finishes for him. ‘To teach you a lesson.’
‘What lesson?’ growls Josh.
Finn plants himself in front of Josh. ‘Next time you call me Sunshine, remember the place where the sun don’t shine!’
Baby in a Bottle
Chapter One
Whhhoooosh!
The thing sailed past Gavin’s ear, close enough to part his hair.
Kerthump!
It hit the tree he was hiding behind and … Whack!
… thudded to a halt.
Gavin lurched backwards, grunting as he tried to get out of its way.
Lucky he’s a lousy aim, he thought, kneeling down to inspect the object.
Protruding tongue. Demon eyes. Shrunken head … Head!
‘Aaaaaagh!’ screamed Gavin, ejecting himself over the fence at the same time.
‘You’ll be next,’ threatened Mr Bellows, ‘if I catch you on my property again!’
Gavin bolted down the street, his ‘Eeeeeegh!’ slicing the air. Past Shellingham’s nursery, past Mrs Pie’s pawnshop, down the lane to the train station and over the walkway, Gavin didn’t stop. Breathing in raggedy gasps he fought down his fear.
It wasn’t till three blocks later, with his home in sight, that Gavin allowed himself to slow down.
‘What’s up wit
h you?’ asked Thomas, his older brother, when Gavin staggered into the TV room. ‘You’re whiter than an undertaker’s apprentice.’
Gavin gulped as an image came into focus — the wide mouth, lolling tongue and wisps of black hair. ‘I feel like an undertaker’s apprentice,’ he gasped as he threw himself into a chair. ‘I’ve just seen a real dead head.’
‘Sure,’ said Thomas. ‘And I bet its name was Nancy.’
‘I’m not joshing,’ yelled Gavin. ‘There’s a shrunken skull, I’m telling you, at the Bellows’ place.’
Thomas’s eyes narrowed and he whistled. ‘You been messing around at the Bellows’ place?’ Gavin nodded.
Thomas whistled again. ‘They call it the threebie-geebie house, you know.’
Gavin slumped into the chair. ‘Why?’
‘Three g’s. Ghosts, ghouls and grave-diggers!’
Gavin’s heart was doing a ‘g’ of its own — galloping. ‘Hmmph!’ was all he could manage to reply.
Leaning forward with a twinkle in his eye, Thomas went on, ‘The place’s got a curse on it, y’know? A curse …’ He let the words hang and watched as Gavin’s eyes widened. ‘They say anyone who trespasses is automatically cursed.’ Thomas prodded Gavin in the shoulder. ‘You didn’t trespass, did ya?’
A lump formed in Gavin’s throat and he swallowed to clear it. ‘I … I never went near the house,’ he said. ‘Only up to the big tree in the front yard.’
‘Front yard, back yard, it’s all the same,’ said Thomas, shaking his head. ‘I heard of one fella who carked it — just from opening the letter box!’
Gavin sank deeper into the lounge, moaning and wringing his hands.
‘Yep,’ said Thomas. ‘I reckon you’re cursed. Done for.’
Gavin’s lips pursed and he hunched over. ‘Will…’ he began in a very small voice. ‘Will I die?’ An image flashed into his brain. The shrunken head. Could that soon be him?
Thomas looked at his little brother. ‘Die?’ he asked in a voice that bounced around the room. ‘May as well start measuring you up.’
‘What for?’ gasped Gavin.
‘Your coffin.’
‘Oh, no!’
Thomas loomed over his brother and added, ‘Unless, of course, you break the curse.’
