It came out of the shadows. It was big, it was brown and it was ugly.

“G’wan,” it said, “gimme a kiss.”

Walt Arthur paused. By the glow of the outside light, he studied the waiting creature. The first time that it had spoken to him, he’d scurried inside. The second time, he’d merely edged around it.

Now, knees atremble, he took a good look. The cane toad was as big as a football. Its skin was a minefield of knobs and knots and knurls. Though a declared pacifist, Walt had a strong urge to boot it.

“I’m not kissing you,” he declared, “and that’s that.”

“You would if I were a frog.”

Walt considered for a moment. “I might,” he admitted. “It’s more likely.”

“You would if I turned into a beautiful princess.”

“That would help. I’m not too keen on an ugly princess.”

“Yeah, well it’d have to be a princess, wouldn’t it?”

Walt turned that over in his mind. It was fraught with possibilities. “You mean,” he said slowly, “that you don’t turn into a princess.

You turn, maybe, into a prince?”

It’s hard to tell when a cane toad blushes. Especially in the night.

By the light of a forty watt bulb. But Walt fancied that this one did.

“A prince?” the creature said. “You should be so lucky. I’m a common cane toad, I turn into a bloke.”

Walt put his key in the lock. “A frog who turned into a princess, I might kiss. A cane toad that turned into a princess, I might, perhaps, maybe touch lips with. But a cane toad that turns into a bloke? No way! No blooming way!” Walt rocked his kicking foot. “And don’t even think of asking me again.”

He opened the door, entered the living room and dumped his tennis bag. Gwen, his wife, was just taking an etching plate onto the back veranda. “You win?” she called.

“No!” he snapped. “Bloody cane toad!”

“You played a team called Bloody Cane Toad?”

“No. It’s the one that wants to be kissed. It. Him.”

Gwen put down the plate and hurried to the front door. She didn’t actually expect an articulate cane toad. What she did expect was one of Walt’s friends in a costume. Only last week, one had called as a koala, asking for money to save the cuddlies. This time, one could well be asking for money to get rid of the uglies. So she stood in the doorway and peered both ways. No one was there.

“Toady, toady,” she called. It remained in the shadows. “Toady, toady.” Gwen turned, her hands on her slim hips. “Wart,” she declared, “if I didn’t know that you were crazy, I’d think that you were crazy.” She was one of the few people who could say Walt when she meant Walt and Wart when she meant Wart.

Walt stripped off his soggy tennis gear. He was mostly tanned except for patches of white where clay had seeped through his tee shirt. “Lucky for him, I’m a vegetarian. Otherwise, it’d be barbequed cane toad. Toad in the hole.” He chuckled.

Still thinking friend, Gwen asked, “Does it really want to kiss you?”

“It’s a him,” Walt replied. “And not me personally. He’d kiss anyone, I guess. Well, any bloke.”

Gwen’s brown eyes lit up with mischief. “I know! Why not ask Save-A-Door Dali? He wouldn’t mind kissing a bloke and he’ll do anything if you call it art.”

Walt thought about that. He’d known Save-A-Door for about a year and he’d decided that his friend was definitely in the way of being crazy. He went out of his way to be so. He’d leap at the chance to get down and dirty with a cane toad. “That’s not a bad idea,” Walt said eventually. “I’ll give him a go.”

Save-A-Door Dali was not his real name. A while ago, Nambour had decided to clearfell a street of old houses. Save-A-Door had been allowed to turn it into a happening. He’d choreographed the demolition until only a street of doors remained. He managed to save one a day. For this, he was called Save-A-Door Daily. And that transmuted into Save-A-Door Dali.

His most recent event had involved him being slowly hit by a car on various zebra crossings. This shocking sight led to a remarkable drop in road accidents. By the time that he came out of hospital, however, the rate was back to normal. In comparison, kissing cane toads would be a walk in the park.

Early the next day, Walt drove to his studio in NambArt. He peeped under a few plastic bags to make sure that his pots and masks were not too dry and then wandered down the corridor.

Save-A-Door was already in. Another happening was clearly in the making for he was wearing a see-through plastic bin bag with a ribbon tied around the top.