Читать книгу Toe Jamm'd - Susan Berran - Страница 9

Maybe I should have showered a bit more. You know, a quick rinse every couple of days. But I did have a few dips in the half-empty dam where the cows hang out. I always left my shoes and socks on the top edge though. That way Mum wouldn’t bug me to clean my shoes before coming into the house, smart huh!? Each time I walked down to the dam, the fresh cow pats squelched and squeezed up through my toes like squishy brown Play-Doh.

It’s actually very warm.

The trouble is, that once you’re out of the water, you have to walk back up through the freshest cow pats to retrieve your shoes. I usually run around for a while, until the poop gets crusty and dry enough to just pull my socks on over it.

Make sure it’s really dry though. Once I put my socks on before the dung had set properly. It soaked right into their fibres and then set like concrete to every hair on my leg. I couldn’t ask Mum for help, she’d be all … “That’s disgusting,” and, “You walked in poop, you can get out of poop.” It took me over half an hour to get them off. I had to wedge a ruler down between my leg and the solid sock. Then I sawed up and down all the way around my crusty leg. It was just like taking off a pair of gumboots except that the inside was stuck like glue to every single little hair on both of my legs. As I carefully levered off each sock, the hairs were slowly being ripped out, one by painful one.

I was being plucked by a sock.

By the time I’d managed to remove both socks, it looked like I’d shaved my legs with a jagged piece of glass. Droplets of fresh RED BLOOD slowly wound their way down my legs … my pink, raw legs. The only bright side was that between the cow pats, the dirt, the slugs and plenty of sweat, I’d built up quite a good wad of toe-jam.

I even had to wear bigger shoes.

It had taken all summer to build up. My feet were more like flippers. But now it was time to dig out the prize-winning wad. I guess I could just soak my feet for a few hours in a bucket, but where’s the fun in that? Or I could have a decent bath … Nah! Digging is definitely the way to go. That way you can get up nice and close to really smell and study what you’ve created.

I waited until bed time when Mum gave the usual, “Your turn for the dishes,” … so what else is new? “Hurry up and do your homework and teeth. And don’t forget to shower!” she shrieked.

Well, I reckon three out of four should be enough.

So in the middle of doing the dishes, I splashed a bit of water around my face and shoved some soap suds under my armpits and down into my pants … the trick is to get done before the water gets too greasy.

“Night Mum,” I yelled out from the kitchen as I took off into my room. Ok, homework … I’ll do it in the morning, maybe. Teeth … I stretched up the hem of my T-shirt and wrapped it around a finger. Then I stuck it into my mouth and gave a quick wipe along the top and bottom row, done!

Footsteps … Mum’s coming!

I ripped off my T-shirt, tossed it into the corner and dived under the bed covers. “Lights out!”

“Yeah,” I replied, flicking off the switch and being plunged into darkness.

I waited and waited … then, there it was, the sound of Mum’s favourite TV show starting.

Crackle … she opens the bag of chips, Ffsssssss … that’s the can of drink, and up goes the volume.

Torch, on!