The Teleportaloo finishes its F.L.U.S.H. sequence.
Matt and I look at each other.
My stomach feels like I’ve been on the scariest roller-coaster ever. But at least this ride seems to be over.
‘Arrived. Please. Wash. Hands,’ says the Teleportaloo.
‘Arrived where?’ I say, attempting to wash my hands in the slightly too small basin.
‘Who cares?’ says Matt, not washing his hands.
He goes to unlock the door, but I block his way.
‘What are you doing? Are you mad?’ I yell. ‘You can’t just stroll out there. Who knows where this crazy contraption has pooped us out. There could be ANYTHING outside!’
‘Woah,’ Matt stops for a second. ‘Could there be snakes?’ he asks.
‘Worse!’ I say!
‘Space snakes?’ he asks.
‘Probably!’
‘What about laser sharks?’
‘Possibly!’
‘What about space snakes riding laser sharks?’
‘Maybe!’
‘What about space snakes riding laser sharks being chased by adorable-but-way-too-big wombats wearing assorted hats?’
‘Who knows?’
‘And the space snakes throw bees at the wombats. Then the bees turn into snakes that bite the wombats, which infects their blood with bacteria, and that turns them into laser sharks?’
‘Not sure . . . but I’m gonna say yes!’ I say.
‘Well, I hope that one of them knows the way to the toilet, Rich, cause my body is literally 99% wee right now,’ Matt says as he pushes me out of the way, slams open the door and leaps outside.
I hold my breath in case the air is acid or lava or something. I peek outside.
Things I see:
1. A tree
2. A pond
3. A park with a slide and some swings
4. A massive sign that says WELCOME TO NAPLANDIA on one side and on the other it says:
5. Underneath that sign there’s a mostly normal-looking group of people wearing fluffy white onesies and pillows for shoes.
Things that I don’t see:
1. Space snakes
2. Laser sharks
3. Space snakes riding laser sharks
4. Space snakes riding laser sharks being chased by adorable-but-way-too-big wombats wearing assorted hats
5. Space snakes throwing bees at wombats and the bees turning into snakes, which bite the wombats and infect their blood with bacteria, turning them into laser sharks
6. Matt (he’s run off somewhere)
The people stare at me like I just farted in a library.
Nan says to always be friendly, so I try a hearty ‘hello’.
They all shhh! at exactly the same time, and angrily point to the sign.
There is a deathly hush. We stand staring at each other in silence. Then, from a public toilet across the park, we hear the loudest wee in all of human history. It’s got to be Matt.
Then we hear a . . .
No prizes for guessing what that was.
‘Sorry about this,’ I whisper to the fluffy people. ‘He was desperate.’
Once more they all go:
From the public toilet I hear Matt singing the opening bars to a song he made up called ‘Matty had a Little Poo’.
A bearded Naplandian angrily tiptoes towards me in his pillow shoes. He passes a piece of paper to me without the slightest rustle.
It says:
I turn the paper over. That says:
‘Woah, do not go in there.’ Matt’s voice echoes around the park. He bounds out of the loo spinning a roll of toilet paper in his hand.
‘A number 1 turned into a number 2,’ he bellows. ‘Anyway. Greetings, my fuzzy friends. Thanks for the pit stop. That was a LIFE CHANGER! High fives all round!’
The Naplandians go:
