CHUNDER DOWN UNDER
After what seemed like hours but was actually six minutes and eighteen seconds, a car screeched into the parking lot and slid to a halt in front of the bus shelter. A six-foot-tall chicken sprang out of the driver’s seat and stood looking at us as hailstones the size of tennis balls bounced off his head as though they were made of popcorn. Mom and I stared back.
Maybe the hail was popcorn. Nothing would surprise me about Australia anymore. For all I knew, the hailstones contained exploding poison darts, or possessed claws, or six sets of fangs. Everything else in this country seemed to have unnecessary protective armor.
Or the chicken possibly had a head made of solid granite.
Either way, he didn’t seem to notice.
The chicken’s car, on the other hand, took a beating. I watched the left side-view mirror get caught by a particularly large hailstone and crash to the ground. Ice rat-a-tat-tated the roof, and the windshield cracked in three places. The chicken didn’t seem to mind. Maybe these giant chickens had plenty of spare cars.
“G’day, you blokes!” the chicken boomed. He lifted his wings and pulled off his head to reveal someone who looked very much like Blitz Coogan. “Biff Coogan’s the name, and I’m mayor of this joint!” Biff Coogan pointed at his chicken suit. “I don’t normally dress like this, but me and Mrs. Coogan have got a fancy-dress party coming up, and I’ve just been to pick up my costume. Thought I’d leave it on and give you a bit of a laugh!”
“Fancy-dress”? “A bit of a laugh”? It was obvious he’d lived in Australia a long time. Any trace of American in his voice was gone. He even sounded more Australian than any of the Australians we had met so far. At least I could still understand him, though. It could be worse—he could be speaking Chicken.
“Ha, ha,” I said, doing my best to appear amused.
It seemed to satisfy Biff.
“What about your car?” I asked. “It’s getting totally destroyed.”
Biff glanced at the car. “Oh, that’s not mine. It’s Mrs. Coogan’s. My car had a bit of a run-in with the hailstones, but this car’s a beaut. She’ll—”
“Let me guess,” I said. “She’ll be right, mate?”
“You got it, buddy,” said Biff. “We’ll make an Aussie of you yet!”
He stepped forward and shook Mom’s hand.
“Ha!” she said. “I mean, hi. Ny mane’th Rafe and this son is my Jules. I mean, my name’s Rafejools and this son is my. Wait, what I mean…”
She may have been trying to look like she wasn’t auditioning for a role in a zombie flick, but she definitely wasn’t succeeding. She sounded as if her tongue had been replaced by a drowsy ferret. I began to wonder about those travel pills she’d been popping on the plane. She had mentioned something about side effects…
“No worries, Rafejools! Welcome to Australia!” Biff opened the doors to what was left of Mrs. Coogan’s car. “Pity we couldn’t have fixed up some sun for you guys. Okay, let’s go!”
We made a death-defying leap through the hail and into the relative safety of the backseat. The hail sounded even louder inside the car than when we were standing under the bus shelter. Biff looked around the front seat at us.
“You blokes are traveling light!” he yelled.
I didn’t bother explaining. I was too tired. Our luggage would turn up or it wouldn’t. After twenty-six hours on the move, plus a sleepless night before that, I didn’t care if the bags ended up in Saskatchewan.
I sat back and watched as we drove through town. A sign read WELCOME TO SHARK’S BAY, AUSTRALIA’S MOST FEARLESS TOWN.
“‘Most Fearless’?” I said. “What’s that all about?”
“Shark’s Bay surfers,” Biff replied. “We got sharks here in Shark’s Bay—lots of sharks—but that never stops a Shark’s Bay surfer!”
I gulped and exchanged a meaningful look with Leo.
“Did he say ‘lots’?” Leo asked.
I nodded.
“Oh, boy.”
“But don’t worry,” Biff said, “hardly anyone gets eaten. Heh, heh, heh.”
“Great,” I muttered. “How far to the hotel?”
All I wanted was a shower and a bed I could sleep in for, say, three weeks straight.
“Oh, you’ll be staying at our little beach shack,” Biff said as he swerved around a fallen tree in the middle of the road. He turned in his seat and grinned. “More cozy than a hotel, hey?”
I sat up and looked at Leo.
A shack? That hadn’t been part of the deal. I’d thought it’d be some swanky five-star resort, not some complete stranger’s backyard shed.
“I didn’t know about this!” I hissed.
“Of course, Rafe,” Mom said. She had a strange, glassy expression on her face, and her skin looked a bit green.
“I mean, we don’t know these people!”
“Mmm, yeah, apples,” Mom said, nodding. Her eyes wobbled in different directions. “And oranges. Christmas stockings.”
I looked at her. “Mom, are you okay?”
“What a strange question, Rafe. Of course I’m Wednesday.”
And then, before anyone could stop her, Mom leaned forward and did the unthinkable.
She puked.
All over the back of Biff Coogan’s head.
It was a full-on, pedal-to-the-metal puke tornado, too, not a measly quarter or half hurl. It was the real deal, chunks blown, projectile Vom City to the maximillion. It was messy. It was loud. It was spewtastic!
It was probably the single most awesome thing I’d ever seen.
