After half a pack of tissues, I resolved to be on the winning side from that day on. My Dad's soft side only lead to heartbreak, and a stinky room.
Free of such worries, I began packing my backpack. A warm jumper, in case space is as cold as it looks. Space snack food, including two leftover containers of Vietnamese rice. Some handy off-world survival articles: a LameBoy game, mini disc player, my Bratty bear (I've outgrown bears, but this is a koala and could have educational benefits for aliens), a pair of boardies, a novelty hat and party shirt (in case any cuties invite me to a space disco). I packed then unpacked my mobile phone, figuring Uranus would probably be a few million kilometres out of roaming range. Sunscreen, in case I zapped too near the sun (my dad would be pleased). Comb. Toothbrush? Nah. Chocolate toothpaste? Why not? Chocolate bars? For sure.
Hmmm. Something to trade might come in handy too. So I printed out a few dozen schematics (invention plans) and sealed them watertight. Maybe I could trade the plans to build a microwave oven for an alien death-ray off Jar Jar Stinks?
I paused. What if I really did zap to somewhere gross or deadly? Would sunscreen save my bum in a black hole? Then I remembered. I could just transport myself straight back to my dad's lab with the portable zapporter! Everything would be cool, as long as I didn't freak out. And I never did that.
But first, I had to wait until my dad ran out of inventing steam. Around midnight I heard him stagger down the hall to his bedroom. Next came a whump as he collapsed onto his bed, followed by a series of smaller plop sounds that I knew came from the road-kill animals hopping onto his bed with him. I tiptoed down the hall and peered into Dad's room. He was snoring already, still fully dressed, and covered in bandaged mini-beasts. I pulled his door shut (that way, he'd be kept busy a little longer when he awoke, cleaning up their multiple poopsicles (especially Abdul's)), and snuck down the hall toward the secret door.
With luck, I'd be zapped back in time for breakfast, my backpack bloated with booty.
DC Green is the author of 'Erasmus James and the Galactic ZAPP Machine', a funny and action-packed tale of friendship, intergalactic zapping, flatulent horses, environmental havoc and bus-sized chickens for 8-108 year olds. An award-winning fiction and non-fiction writer, DC used to travel the world for surf magazines, mainly because he couldn't afford his own air tickets. He lives on the NSW South Coast of Australia with one slightly crazy daughter and three very crazy cats.
Check out the first four chapters of 'Erasmus James and the Galactic ZAPP Machine' free at DC Green Yarns: http://dcgreenyarns.blogspot.com/
Order 'Erasmus James and the Galactic ZAPP Machine' at Bookmark Australia: http://www.bookmarkaustralia.com.au/
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