Charlie and the War Against the Grannies (15 page)

 

Hils and I walked into the toilet.

(Not the same toilet. She went into the
LADIES
and I went into the
GENTS
. I once went into the
LADIES
by accident. It didn't look or smell like a
GENTS
toilet. The
LADIES
was so clean and it smelled like it was made out of rose petals. Really strong smelling rose petals. It was lovely. I would have felt guilty doing a poo in there.)

I put my ear against the wall between the
GENTS
and the
LADIES
. I heard Hils slam a toilet lid twice, flush three times and then use the hand-dryer. In Flush Latin that meant, ‘Do you have your ear against the wall yet?'

I slammed a cubicle door, turned on three taps, scrunched up a paper towel and flushed three toilets one after the other. In Flush Latin that meant ‘Yes.'

You see, last school holidays Hils and I had decided that if we were trapped in a dangerous situation and we were both in separate toilets we needed a way of secretly communicating with each other. A secret toilet code. We invented one and called it Flush Latin.

This is how our Flush Latin conversation went.

 

‘I trust you found our cloaking facilities to your liking,' said Mr Norma Michaels as we came out of the toilets.

‘Yes,' I said.

‘I have trained my body not to require the toilet,' said Hils.

‘ILL-MANNERED. You had better have washed your hands, you filthy urchins,' shouted Mr Norma Michaels.

He was really, very, super angry again.

‘SINFUL. Dirty hands invite the devil to make them his instruments,' he said.

‘I do not know what that means but I order you to stop being rude to us,' said Hils.

‘IMPUDENT. You order me? You insolent toad. How dare you speak to me with that tone. Did your parents not teach you not to be rude to your elders and betters?'

‘You don't know anything about my parents,' said Hils. ‘Did your parents never teach you not to call people you've just met “insolent toads”?'

Mr Norma Michaels didn't reply. He just stared at Hils. Hils stared at Mr Norma Michaels.

Mr Norma Michaels laughed.

Hils did not laugh.

‘Well, well, well, you are a feisty one, aren't you? I like you,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

That was not a good thing to say to Hils.

‘Don't patronise me,' said Hils. ‘I'm not feisty. When men call a girl “feisty” they really mean “loud and weak”. I am loud, strong
and
angry.'

Not good at all. Ever.

‘I am angry with you because you were rude to me and my friend and because you patronised me. Cease doing both those things ASAP.'

‘ASAP' is army-talk for ‘now'.

Then Mr Norma Michaels fell asleep.

His eyes closed then he fell to the ground and started snoring.

‘Wow,' I said. ‘Your angry made him go to sleep.'

‘My angry has never done that before,' said Hils.

‘It'll be hard to beat,' I said.

 

‘Affirmative.'

‘What do we do?' I said.

‘Run,' said Hils.

Then Mr Norma Michaels woke up.

‘Allow me, if I may, to ask you a question.'

‘Why did you just fall asleep?' I said.

‘IMPOLITE. Never interrupt an adult when he is speaking, you impertinent twit.'

‘You just fell asleep. While Hils was talking to
you
.'

‘True. True. I did fall asleep.'

‘Why?' I said.

‘I have not the faintest idea.'

‘Have you ever tried to find out?'

‘No. Never.'

‘Why?'

‘I rather like it, truth be told.'

‘You like falling asleep without any warning?'

‘No. No. I don't like that. It's embarrassing and it leaves marks on my trousers. No, I like not knowing why it happens. I like that part of me is a mystery to me.'

I didn't understand that at all.

‘I see exactly what you mean,' I said.

‘To return to my original question: what are you two young people doing down here?'

I didn't know what to say so I looked at Hils.

As soon as I looked at her I could tell that she didn't know what to say either.

We needed to have another secret conversation.

‘Excuse me,' I said, ‘I need to visit the privy again.'

‘So do I,' said Hils.

‘We're looking for a secret headquarters,' I said.

‘Well you've come to the right place,' said Mr Norma Michaels. ‘Underground is positively teeming with secret headquarters. May I be so bold as to enquire who might headquarter themselves in the particular secret headquarters you seek?'

‘Two Stinkly Wrinklys . . . I mean, two grandmothers,' I said.

‘Is one Mrs Cyclopolos?'

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘There's a small round one with a really wrinkly neck . . .'

‘Mrs Cyclopolos,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

‘And,' I said, ‘a tall skinny one . . .'

‘We call her The Skrink,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

‘The Skrink?' I said.

‘Skinny plus wrinkly equals The Skrink,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

‘You know them?' I said.

‘Are you working with them?' said Hils.

I dropped to my knees and covered my eyes.

‘OFFENSIVE. They are appalling old tosspots,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

He was angry again.

‘REVOLTING. Their reign of terror must end. Those wizened old hags have scared too many of the people down here. One day we shall rise. We shall rise and they shall fall.'

‘We are planning a war against the grannies,' said Hils.

‘Well, young madam and young sir, you may consider Us your allies. May the road rise to meet you and may the wind be always at your back as you continue on your mighty quest. Young sir, why is it that you are kneeling on the ground with your hands covering your eyes?'

‘Rooster brand chilli sauce,' I said.

I stood up.

‘Who exactly are the “us” you just referred to when you said “you may consider us your allies”?' I said. ‘Is that the “us” working in this office? What do the “us” do?'

‘The “us” I refer to are “The Us” with a capital U,' said Mr Norma Michaels. ‘The Us do work here in this office but they also work everywhere. Unbeknownst to all normal people, The Us are constantly toiling throughout our fair city.'

‘Doing what?' I said.

‘The job of The Us is to make the city more interesting in little, unexpected ways.'

‘I see,' said Hils.

‘I don't see,' I said. (I don't think Hils did see but she never wants anyone to think that she doesn't know what's going on. She says it puts her at an ‘operational disadvantage'.)

‘Even though cities are big and full of shops and theatres and supermarkets and taverns, they are, on the whole, fairly boring, predictable places. The Us believe that it is the little touches that make a city interesting. The small. The unexplainable. The mysterious. Have you ever been walking through the city and smelled a delicious smell? A delicious smell that smells familiar even though you have never smelled it before and will never smell it again? A smell that no matter how hard you try to discover where it is coming from, you never can?'

‘That happened to me last week,' said Hils. ‘I was going to buy a new pair of night vision goggles. I turned into a lane and my nose filled up with the most outstanding smell. It smelled like bread baking. Then it smelled like warm butter. Then it smelled like opening a bag of brown sugar. I conducted a mission to uncover the source of the smell but I failed.'