‘Then you think of a plan, Hils, because we’re still trapped.’
‘I am fully cognisant of that operational actuality.’
That’s how the army says, ‘I know we’re trapped.’
‘The Stinkly Wrinklys are going to find us and then who knows what they’re going to do to us. They’ll probably eat us.’
‘Negative. No one eats children.’
‘There are millions of Stinkly Wrinklys in the world, Hils, one or two of them must eat children.’
Hils thought for a moment.
‘You’re probably right,’ she said.
I was probably right? I was never probably right. I just wished that the thing I was probably right about wasn’t that there might be one or two Stinkly Wrinklys in the world who eat children.
‘You’re right, Hils. They’re going to eat us.’
I had always wondered how I would react if my life was in imminent danger. I was sure I would develop superhuman strength.
Well, now my life was in danger.
I didn’t develop superhuman strength.
I didn’t even develop human strength.
I farted.
It sounded like a duck exploding.
It smelled like a nappy sandwich with extra pickles.
‘Poo,’ said Hils.
‘Sorry,’ I said.
From outside the wardrobe I heard a long, terrifying clanking and grinding.
‘What was that?’ I said.
I farted.
It sounded like a thirsty pig drinking yogurt from a bucket.
It smelled like an old gumboot full of cat food.
‘Poo.’
‘Sorry.’
I heard a petrifying clinking, a heart-stopping plopping and a deathly snorting.
‘WHAT WAS THAT?’
I farted.
It sounded like a squeaky shoe popping a balloon full of bacon.
It smelled like opening your lunchbox after it has been in your warm schoolbag for a thousand years.
‘Poo.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Time to evac,’ said Hils.
‘Evac’ is army for, ‘Get out of here’.
That’s exactly what Hils did.
SHE OPENED THE WARDROBE DOOR AND STEPPED OUT TO A CERTAIN DEATH BY STINKLY WRINKLY EATING.
I didn’t fart.
I was so scared I had run out of farts.