‘Here, for your relief, are the privies,’ said Mr Norma Michaels.

  ‘What are the privies?’ I said. ‘The latrines,’ said Hils. ‘What are latrines?’ ‘The toilets,’ said Hils.

  Other names for the toilet

  The Water Closet

  The Powder Room

  The John

  The Jacks

  The White House

  The Bum Bed

  The Comfort Stop

  The Cloakroom

  The Bog

  The Poo Catcher

  The Hell Mouth

  The Home for Retired Food

  The Crap Cemetery

  The Squirt Stop

  Harry Pooper and the Chamber of Smells

  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.

  Me:

  Flush-Slam-Flush-Dryer-Crumple-Crumple-Flush-Squirt = We have to get out of here.

  Hils:

  Slam-Slam-Tap-Tap-Flush-Crumple = We don’t know where we are.

  Me:

  Crumple-Dryer-Tap-Tap-Squirt-Crumple-Tinkle-Flush-Slam-Dryer-Fart = So much for the dumb The Lurker’s dumb map.

  Hils:

  Flush-Squirt-Slam = I believe the only strategically viable course of action is to stay with Mr Norma Michaels and remain vigilant.

  Me:

  Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Crumple-Satisfied End Of Poo Noise = I just hope he doesn’t get angry again. That was scary.

  Hils:

  Dryer-Squirt-Slam-Flush-Crumple = Affirmative.

  WARNING

  Be careful how long you hold your ear against the wall of a toilet otherwise you might get ‘Toilet Ear’, a disease which makes you hear hot-air hand-dryers wherever you go. It can be deadly.

  ‘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.

  OTHER THINGS HILS’S ANGRY HAS DONE

  Richard Kahui tried to crawl into his school backpack.

  Dean Heatherington-Longacre screamed ‘She’s the Devil’, ran into a wall and knocked himself out.

  José Wickramasinge and his family moved to Antarctica.

  ‘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.

  Me:

  Flush-Flush-Crumple-Squirt-Squirt-Squirt-Tap-Slam-Flush-Flush-Flush = What do we tell him?

  Hils:

  Slam-Slam-Flush-Dryer-Squeak-Roll-Flush = Given he is currently our only viable asset I believe the only course of action is to divulge our mission objective and hope he helps us.

  Me:

  Slam = I bet he’s a cannibal.

  Hils:

  Dryer-Squirt-Slam-Flush-Crumple-Dryer = Negative.

  ‘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.

  34

  THE US

  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.’

  ‘That,’ said Mr Norma Michaels, ‘is The Us at work.’

  ‘What else do The Us do?’ I said.

  ‘We write rude words where only small children can see them. We place small plastic fairies on the top of no-parking signs. We pick letters off signs to make them say funny things. We smile and say hello to people who look like they’re feeling sad or lonely. We make loud noises to stop people walking into lampposts. We leave shiny objects lying about where children can find them and take them home to put with their other treasures. We keep playground slides slippery. We give you the wrong directions so you end up somewhere much more interesting than where you were going in the first place. We leave pairs of dark blue men’s underpants lying around in alleys.’

  ‘You do that?’ I said. ‘Why do you do that?’

  ‘Because underpants are funny.’

  ‘That sounds like a really cool job,’ I said.

  ‘It is NOT,’ said Mr Norma Michaels. ‘It’s an awful job. We used to get paid to deliver council newsletters and political pamphlets. Then those . . . what did you call them?’

  ‘Stinkly Wrinklys,’ I said.

  ‘Then those Stinkly Wrinklys moved in and stole our jobs. We were forced to move underground. We were forced to steal and beg. The Us hate those Stinkly Wrinklys. WE WILL DO ANYTHING TO STOP THEM.’

  ‘Will you show us to their headquarters?’ I said.

  ANSWERS TO ALL THE IMPORTANT

  QUESTIONS THAT HILS AND I DIDN’T GET

  AROUND TO ASKING MR NORMA MICHAELS

  QUESTION

  ANSWER

  Why is your secret tunnel so boring?

  So people don’t come all the way along it. They get bored and turn back and don’t discover The Us.

  Is Phyllis the biggest person ever in the world ever?

  No. Her younger sister Yvonneasaurus is bigger.

  Have you ever met a cannibal?

  No.

  Are you a cannibal?

  Yes, but only at Christmas.

  Are you going to eat us?

  Yes, if you decide to stay for Christmas.

  Which one of us would you eat first?

  You.

  Are there vultures underground?

  No. But there are multures. They are a cross between a mole and a vulture.

  Why is your name Norma?

  I was meant to be Mr Norman Michaels but when I was born the nurse typing out my name on the birth certificate forgot the second ‘n’. So Norman became Norma.

  35

  THE DIVA

  Phyllis escorted Hils and me out of The Us’s office into an immense tunnel which led to the Stinkly Wrinklys’ secret headquarters. This tunnel was perfectly circular. It looked like it had been made by a colossal carnivorous space-worm.

  ‘Phyllis,’ I said. ‘You’re The Us’s receptionist, right? What else do you do?’

  ‘I protect The Us.’

  ‘Why?’ I said.

  ‘They protected me.’

  I really wanted to know how The Us had protected her and I really wanted to know why Phyllis was so big but I decided not to ask her. I thought it might upset her. I didn’t want to upset the hugest person I had ever seen.

  ‘Phyllis, why are you so big?’ I said.

  Bum. Why couldn’t I stop myself asking things I didn’t want to ask?

  Phyllis laughed. Well, I think she laughed. It sounded less like laughing and more like a whale burping into an erupting volcano.

  ‘I’m in training.’

  That was not the answer I had expected.

  ‘Training for what?’ said Hils. I don’t think that was the answer she had expected either.

  Though, Hils expects most things.

  THINGS HILS EXPECTS

  1 Ambushes

  2 Chemical weapon attack

  3 Killer bee attack

  4 Killer wasp attack

  5 Killer bees and killer wasps working together to mount an attack using chemical weapons

  6 Spontaneous human combustion

  7 Our art teacher – Miss Knott-Welles – going mad and holding our whole class hostage

  ‘A competition called “World’s Strongest Diva”.’

  ‘What’s a diva?’ I said.

  ‘A lady singer with a very bad temper,’ said Hils.

  ‘Oh. Phyllis, what do you have to do to win World’s Strongest Diva?’ I said.

  ‘Have to lift up aeroplane with bare hands while singing a song.’

  ‘I would like to see that,’ said Hils.

  ‘So would I,’ I said.

  ‘I stop here.’

  I realised that Phyllis had to stop. All the time we’d been walking, the tunnel had been getting smaller and smaller. Now it was so small Phyllis couldn’t go any further.

  ‘Not far now. Straight ahead to end of this tunnel. Go down ladder. You will see another tunnel. Straight ahead down new tunnel. Go past retired rats home. Turn left at shop selling books with one important page missing. Climb ladder. Open secret tree trunk trap-door. See old, rusty shack. You are there.’

  36

  THE DISAPPOINTMENT

  We went to the end of the tunnel.

  We went down a ladder.

  We found another tunnel.

  We went straight ahead down that tunnel.

  ‘Hils. I just saw a rat sitting in an armchair smoking a pipe. That must be the retired rats home. We should stop and have a look.’

  ‘Negative. Our mission is time sensitive.’

  That’s the army way of saying, ‘We’re not going to stop and look.’

  We kept on going straight ahead down the other tunnel.

  We turned left.

  ‘Hils. In that shop, there are lots of disappointed-looking people at the front counter complaining. That must be the shop selling books with one important page missing. We should stop. We really should.’

  ‘Negative.’

  ‘Awwwww,’ I said.

  Hils had already come to the ladder that Phyllis had told us to climb and was climbing it.

  I followed her.

  37

  THE DOOR

  Hils and I climbed out of the secret tree-trunk trapdoor and were above ground again.

  There, at the corner of two dark overgrown alleyways, in a part of town neither of us had ever been to before, was the Stinkly Wrinklys’ secret HQ.

  It was a tall, rectangular shack, covered in all different sized pieces of rusty corrugated iron. It looked like it would fall down any minute. Actually, it looked like it had already fallen down.

  I tried the door.

  ‘It won’t open,’ I said.

  Hils tried the door.

  It opened.

  I wished it hadn’t.

  ‘I’ve got a very bad feeling about this, Hils.’

  I did have a very bad feeling about this. I had a feeling like there was a bunch of concrete butterflies in my stomach that were trying to fly up into my throat.

  Hils opened the door right up.

  Inside the Stinkly Wrinklys’ HQ it was pitch-black.

  ‘We can’t go in.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Hils.

  ‘Have you never watched any TV?’

  ‘I don’t watch TV. It’s useless.’

  ‘It is not useless. In fact, in situations like this it is very useful. If you watched TV you would know that if we walk into this pitch-black secret HQ, as soon as we are inside, the Stinkly Wrinklys will come back and we will be trapped.’

  Hils walked straight into the pitch-black secret HQ.