As I desperately try to grow gills at the bottom of a lake of baby tears, Abbey is in Nan’s lounge room still taping together the list of final demands.

It’s almost finished. She’s working like a Rubik’s cube champ after too many energy drinks.

Nan chews on a crumpet as she watches.

‘You missed a bit!’ she says, spraying Abbey with crumpet crumbs.

‘What was that noise?’ asks Abbey.

‘Oh, sorry,’ says Nan. ‘Namaste? Did I let one slip?’

‘That came from the indoor loo, Nan,’ says Abbey. ‘This is bad news!’

Abbey drops the tape and runs up the hall. ‘The Quantum Flush Disruptor’s giving out.’

There’s nothing Abbey likes more than technical jargon. She once called her scooter the Humanity Trundle Platform.

‘I should have used fresh double AAs, rather than the ones from the TV remote,’ says Nan, following Abbey up the hallway.

As they reach the bathroom, they see the Quantum Flush Disrupter on the cistern fizzing and smoking.

There is a flash of green Lootrino energy.

The toilet seat flies off and wedges into the ceiling like a half-dipped nacho chip.

Nan drops her crumpet. ‘Well, that’s in the top five explosions I’ve ever experienced in this room,’ she says.

An otherworldly voice booms from the toilet bowl.

Nan pulls Abbey out of the way as the toilet roll doll whizzes past their heads.

‘I TOLD YOU! UNLESS YOU BEGIN TO RETURN MY THINGS, EVERYTHING YOU LOVE WILL BE SUCKED DOWN INTO THE SEWAGE DIMENSION!’

The toilet is very angry.

A rubber ducky flies across the room towards the swirling green vortex in the toilet bowl. With one swift move Abbey reaches out and catches it.

‘Rich and Matt better get a wriggle on with that hoop,’ Nan says.

We sort’ve are.

At that moment I am . . .