Toe Jamm'd - Susan Berran The Freaky Series

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want him to know that I was actually a bit nervous about heights so I just shut up and kept going. By the time I was halfway up, my arms were aching like crazy, so I had to stop for a second.

      “Get up here, ya girl!” Jared suddenly yelled, poking his head over the side.

      “Yeah yeah, keep ya bra on!” I spat back.

      Finally, with my arms about to drop off, I reached the top. And as my face rose above the top edge of the wall, where Jared was already sitting, the wind hit me. It hit me like a CHARGING elephant with diarrhoea heading for the loos and almost knocked me right off the plank. I looked out across the horizon and then down to where the other end of the roof was touching the ground …

       ‘oh … crap!!’

      Talk about sweat! I was a raging waterfall under my T-shirt.

      We sat on the top for what seemed like hours, not saying a word, just staring off into the distance. Suddenly Jared leapt up as if he’d been stung by a bee on the butt.

      “Well … I’m off,” he said.

       And that was that!

      Without another word, he hooked the back wheels of his skateboard over the edge of the wall, stood up and placed one foot on the front of the board. Then as he raised his back foot, the rear of the skateboard lifted … WHOOOSHHH!!!

      He flew down the roof like someone had just lit a rocket that he’d been hiding up his backside.

      Down the roof … building speed, FASTER and FASTER. The hair on his head was barely hanging on. Each curl stretched out into a long, red streamer. His clothes began to tear away from his body, forming great billowing sails along his back. The wind filled his cheeks, puffing them out like a couple of beach balls. His lips looked like slimy-red Play-Doh, flapping about and slapping him all over the face.

      This was going to be great!

      He was going to fly off the bottom of the ramp at warp speed ten,

      … shoot across the ground,

      … race up the hay-pile ramp,

      … sail through the air, and land gently and safely on … on … oh oh, I knew we forgot something.

      Jared! STOP!!

      It was like watching some great world catastrophic event unfolding in front of my very eyes, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

      Jared ZOOMED down the roof,

      … sailed across the ground,

      … raced up the pile,

      … soared through the air,

      and slammed straight into the most massive tree I’ve ever seen in my entire life. WHAMM!!

      Then he crumbled to the ground like a cheap soggy tissue soaked by the snottiest nose on earth …

       SPLATT!!

      We were both grounded until camels grow a third hump.

      But worst of all, Jared’s mum got one of the farmers to bulldoze our shed while he was still in hospital.

      Eighty-three stitches, two steel pins and a couple of false teeth later, Jared came home with some of the most awesome, wicked Scars ever … the lucky bugga!

      I spent the rest of that summer doing any crappy job that Mum could dream up for me; pulling weeds, cleaning the gutters, washing my little sister’s nappies …

      … and any other dirty sweaty job that Mum could think of.

      Jared’s punishment was sitting around in bed all day eating ice-cream and having his pillows fluffed. Every time his mum started on about how he could’ve died, blah blah blah, he just moaned a little louder and faked another tear-drop. Straight away his mum would be running to get more ice-cream for him.

      What an actor … he’s brilliant.

      But while he enjoyed his PUNISHMENT, I sweated so much that I reckon I could’ve filled a pool and swam in it.

      ‘Mmmmm, salty.’

      

      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

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