Just Stupid! (3 page)

   It doesn’t help that the front of the map is suddenly smeared with water. I turn around. Two little kids are squirting each other with water pistols.

   ‘Quit it!’ I say.

   They don’t reply. They just squirt me. Right in the front of my pants.

   There’s a guy wearing a rainbow-coloured shirt standing next to me. He looks like a hippie but I’ll ask him anyway. That’s how desperate I am.

   ‘Excuse me,’ I say.

   He turns towards me. His eyes are half-closed. He looks like he hasn’t slept for about three weeks.

   ‘Can you help me find the toilets?’ I say.

   ‘Looks like it’s a bit late,’ he says in a slow voice.

   ‘What do you mean?’ I say.

   He points to the front of my pants.

   ‘That’s not what you think it is,’ I say. ‘But it will be if you don’t help me find the toilets.’

   ‘Chill out, man,’ says the hippie. He turns back to the map and studies it carefully. ‘Says here the toilets are at M 16 on level two.’

   ‘What level are we on now?’ I say.

   ‘Ummm, level three,’ he says, squinting at the map. ‘No, hang on . . . level one . . . oops—make that level four.’

   ‘Level four?’ I say. ‘There’s no such level!’

   ‘Hey man,’ says the hippie, ‘open your mind. There are many levels. More levels than you ever dreamed of.’

   ‘Are you insane?’ I say.

   ‘Relax,’ he says. ‘Take it easy.’

   ‘I can’t!’ I yell. ‘I’m busting! I’ve got to get to a toilet! Quick!’

   ‘No man, you’re missing the point,’ he says. ‘The destination’s not important. The journey is where it’s at.’

   ‘Not when you’re busting it’s not,’ I say.

   I can’t stand still any longer. I start running. I see an escalator going up. I jump on.

   I don’t believe it. It’s almost too good to be true. At the top of the escalator is a sign. A man, a woman and a wheelchair.

   I bound up the last few steps and leap off the escalator. Suddenly my leg is jerked backwards.

   I look behind me.

   My shoelace is caught in the top of the escalator! I try to pull my foot away, but I can’t. The lace is in too deep.

   I have to unlace my shoe.

   I bend down and poke my finger in between the tongue and the lace. But I can’t pull the lace out because the escalator has grabbed the other end of it as well. My finger is trapped.

   The laces are being pulled tighter and tighter. My finger is going bright red. It’s throbbing.

   Great! Now I’m busting
and
I’ve got my shoelace stuck in an escalator
and
my finger stuck in my shoe.

   I have to get my shoe off. I don’t care about my shoe. All I care about is . . . well you know what I care about.

   I put the index finger of my other hand into the back of my shoe to try to lever my heel out. Oh no. I don’t believe it.

   I can’t get my finger out of the back of the shoe. The shoe is getting tighter. And tighter. And tighter.

   The escalator is sucking. And sucking. And sucking.

   There’s nothing I can do, apart from chew my foot off. That’s it! Chewing! Only I don’t have to chew through my ankle . . . just my shoelace.

   I bend right down. I’m trying to get close enough to the lace to take a good bite. All of a sudden my scalp starts burning. My hair is caught in the escalator!

   This is like the most impossible and painful game of Twister ever. I’m bent over double, looking upside down through my legs.

   Oh no.

   The old man is coming up the escalator. He’s got his walking frame held out in front of him. He’s coming right for me.

   He hits me fair and square in the bum.

   I tumble forward. The shoelace has snapped and a huge chunk of my hair has been ripped out, but I don’t care. I’m free!

   ‘Now we’re even!’ shouts the old man.

   ‘No we’re not,’ I say, scrambling to my feet, ‘because you just did me a big favour!’

   He looks dumbfounded.

   I start running.

   I’m almost there. Only a few metres more. Something is stabbing me in the leg. What is that? I put my hand into my pocket.

   Aaaggh! Something jabs me in the thumb. It’s those stupid pencils. They’re too sharp. Like little spears. They could do me a serious injury in there. As I pull them out of my pocket they spill onto the ground in front of me. Uh-oh. Bad move. I’m going too fast to stop. I slip up on them and fall backwards. I whack my head.

   Next thing I know I’m being shaken awake. I open my eyes. A fireman is kneeling beside me. The corridor is filled with smoke and I can hear sirens.

   ‘Wake up!’ says the fireman. ‘Are you okay?’

   ‘What?’ I say. ‘What’s happening?’

   He lifts me to my feet. I slip on a pencil and fall back down.

   ‘You have to get out of here,’ he says. Fire!’

   He lifts me up again and starts shepherding me towards the exit. Away from the toilet!

   I try to head back towards the toilet but he grabs me.

   ‘Wrong way,’ he says, pointing towards the exit. ‘That way.’

   ‘But I have to go to the toilet,’ I say, ‘I’m busting!’

   ‘You’ll have to wait,’ says the fireman. ‘It’s not safe! You have to get out of the building.’

   ‘Not safe?!’ I say. ‘If I don’t get to the toilet soon, nobody will be safe. This shopping centre will be flooded!’

   But he’s not listening. He’s escorting me to the exit.

   Outside there are four fire trucks in a row. The firemen are spraying enormous arcs of water onto the building. It might be helping to extinguish the fire but it’s definitely not helping me.

   I overhear the fire chief talking on his walkie-talkie.