Washy and the Crocodile

“I nearly had her.” The voice was very low and deep and croaky, and somehow it sounded as if it had never been used before. “I nearly had her. Until you jumped in. What did you want to do that for?”

Washy looked around. There was no-one else near-by. From an unsafe distance on the bank, the girl was watching them intently.

“That’s right,” croaked the crocodile. “I’m talking to you… Sunshine.”

“How?” Asked Washy. “I’m holding your jaws closed.”

“I don’t need jaws to speak.” The crocodile sniffed. “We crocodiles have been around for a long time. I’m speaking in your mind.” He flicked his tail. “And by the way—“

“What?” Said Washy, and released his grip in surprise. He didn’t know that crocodiles could speak. Let alone in his mind.

“I could have had you then,” said the crocodile. “But I didn’t choose to. You’ve got guts, you have, coming in like that after me. Weren’t you scared?”

“Didn’t have time,” said Washy. And I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“What do you mean?” Asked the crocodile.

Washy blushed. “I said, you smell appalling. I’m sorry.”

The other smiled. “Don’t be, “he said. “I’m a crocodile. We’re supposed to smell.”

“Are you sure?” Asked Washy in surprise.

“Don’t push it, Sunshine,” snapped the crocodile. “I have feelings, you know.”

The aborigine scratched his head.

“What’s your name?”

The crocodile’s skin turned a sort of soft pink all over. He was blushing.

“I don’t really know,” he said. “But my friends call me Crusty.” His skin flickered gold and blue and yellow, and he looked rather wistful. “Or at least, they used to.”

About the Author

James and John Maguire live in Devon and enjoy rowing, singing, acting and writing books together. James is adventurous, witty and excitable, whereas John is the quiet one who tries to think ahead. Do they really know Washy? They do. Have they met him? Not for a long time! But they know how to make contact. When they need to do so.