Just Crazy (11 page)

‘And manly,' she says.

‘And strong,' I say.

‘Be serious,' she says.

‘I was being serious,' I say.

She stares at me.

‘Before we go any further I have to ask you a question,' she says.

‘Anything,' I say. ‘Ask me anything you want.'

‘Promise me you will answer truthfully, my darling,' says Lisa.

‘I promise,' I say.

She leans forward and whispers into my ear.

Her breath sends shivers through my body that run right down into my toes. I feel dizzy and I hear a roaring sound as the blood rushes to my head. It's so loud I can hardly hear what she's saying. All I can hear is a roaring sort of grinding sound.

Lisa pulls away from me.

She's studying my face.

‘Well?' she says.

‘Well what?' I say.

‘What's your answer?'

‘What was the question?' I say.

‘I said,' she says, raising her voice above the roar, ‘Did you remember to put the bin out?'

‘The what out?' I say.

‘The bin!' she screams.

The bin? The bin? What bin?

Oh no — the bin!!!

Suddenly the sun goes behind a cloud and the street around us is alive with rats — Lisa's hair turns to cobwebs, the skin peels off her face and she crumbles into a crumpled mummy-like heap on the footpath. I scream. The whole street dissolves — Lisa disappears. I open my eyes. The room's full of light. How could that be? I look across at the clock. It's 7.30 a.m. I must have fallen asleep! The room is full of the roar and grind of the rubbish truck out in the street. And my finger is throbbing. I forgot to cut the string off. But even worse — I forgot to put the bin out!

I jump off the bed and charge out of the room. Luckily I'm wearing my Action Man pyjamas. I can run faster when I'm wearing them. I leap down the stairs in one huge bound and sprint for the back door.

I grab the bin. It's heavy — feels like it weighs at least a thousand kilograms — but luckily it's a wheelie bin. I tip it backwards and
run as fast as I can with it down the drive — just in time to see the rubbish truck turn the corner at the bottom of the hill and disappear.

Aaggh!

Dad's going to kill me!

Mum's going to kill me!

If they don't die from the bubonic plague first, that is.

I have to get this bin emptied . . . and there's only one way to do it.

The rubbish truck can't be that far away. They have to stop all the time. And I'm a very fast runner when I need to be.

I take off down the hill.

Or rather the wheelie bin takes off down the hill and drags me along with it. If it wasn't for the stink this would be quite a fun ride. But at the bottom of the hill the ground levels out and I have to start pushing. I turn left up the next hill.

I can't do it!

It's too hard.

The bin is too heavy.

The hill is too steep.

Then I remember the rats.

I think of all the people in the neighbourhood who are going to die because I forgot to
empty the bin. Little innocent children — still sleeping — oblivious to their fate. Oblivious to the fact that they are going to be deprived of life because I can't even remember a simple thing like putting the bin out on rubbish night. The fate of the neighbourhood depends on me. I have to go faster.

I bend over and put every bit of strength I have into pushing the bin up the hill. I'm going up at such an angle that the lid of the bin flips back and whacks me on the head. It's a blow that would have knocked anyone else out, but not me. I've got a very hard head. I flip the lid back and keep pushing. Nothing can stop me.

The roaring of the rubbish truck is louder now. I'm getting closer. I crest over the top of the hill and see it less than a hundred metres away.

‘Stop!' I yell. ‘Stop! You forgot one!'

There are two men in fluorescent yellow vests running alongside the truck. They pick up the last two bins in the street and put them on the tray at the back. It lifts the bins up and empties the rubbish into the top of the truck.

I'm pushing the bin down the hill as fast as I can.

The men put the empty bins onto the side of the road and jump back onto the truck to ride to the next street.

‘No!' I yell. ‘Please stop!'

One of them sees me coming and calls out to the driver.

The truck stops and I run up to it with my bin.

‘Well, if it isn't Action Man!' says one of the men.

‘You forgot this one,' I say, panting hard. ‘From the next street.'

‘Forgot it?' he says. ‘That's not possible. Are you sure it was on the street when we went past?'

‘Yes,' I lie. This is another one of those situations where dishonesty is the best policy. It's a lie that could save many lives.

He looks at the other guy.

‘Did you forget this one?'

‘Nope,' says the other one. ‘I would have seen it.'

‘Sorry, Action Man,' says the first guy. ‘If it had been there we would have got it.'

‘Are you saying you don't believe me?' I say.

‘I'm not saying anything, mate,' he says.
‘I'm just saying we can't take it. If it's not outside the house then we're not permitted to empty it. For all I know you could be from out of our area — you could be trying to dump your rubbish illegally.'

‘But I'm not!' I say. ‘Why would I want to do that?'

‘You'd be surprised what people try,' he says, thumping the side of the truck. ‘Okay, Mac!'

The truck takes off again and the man jumps up on the back.

I watch helplessly as the truck turns into the next street.

But I don't give up that easily.

I know a short cut through to the next street.

All I have to do is take the bin through, put it into position and hide. They'll empty it just like a regular bin.

I run down the hill a bit further and then turn right into a laneway. I push the bin for all I'm worth and within seconds I'm there.

Up in the distance I can see the yellow flashing lights of the truck. They've only just turned into the street. They're still too far away to see me.

Good.

I push the bin across the opening of the lane and head towards the nature strip, but the bin hits the gutter and lurches sideways.