“Oh, mate! What’s that?” Walt cried.

Save-A-Door pivoted. “What does it look like?”

“A giant condom? If it’s not on then it’s not on?”

“Exactly. Sex ed for kids.”

“Sex head!” Walt exclaimed. He eyed the other critically. “Can you breathe in that bloody thing?”

“Running out,” Save-A-Door gasped. “I just need to make a tiny hole.” Searching through his pockets, he muttered, “It just needs a little prick.”

“That,” Walt agreed, “is what the doctor said when he was doing a vasectomy.”

Save-A-Door laughed so much that the plastic moved in and out.

Afraid that the next happening might be an out-of-the-body experience, Walt yanked off the bag. “Thanks.” Save-A-Door fanned his face. “Was I turning blue? I probably owe you one.”

Save-A-Door was a tall slim man of around thirty with the ethereal ponytailed look of the eternal art student. His happenings, however, showed that he was tougher than he looked. Tougher than a cane toad.

“Too right you owe me,” Walt agreed. “Because I’ve got one to ask of you.”

“Ask away.”

“Would you kiss a frog?”

“What sort of frog?”

“A little green animal one.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Would you kiss a toad?”

“What sort of toad?”

“A big brown warty one.”

“What’s in it for me.”

“Turns into a bloke.”

“Cane toad turns into bloke.” Save-A-Door said it in headlines. He wasn’t exactly straight. “You’re telling me a real cane toad can turn into a bloke?”

“So he says.”

“Which he?”

“The cane toad.”

“Sounds familiar.” Save-A-Door looked as if he were trying to remember something. “Or…” He came closer and peered into Walt’s eyes. “You’re not on something, Walter? Pin pricks for pupils? No, you seem OK.” He absentmindedly tied a knot in the plastic bag and swung it a few times. Becoming aware of what he was doing, he growled, “Huh, that could be their first lesson in sex ed.” He swung the knot as if it were a golf club. “OK, can we get this event on video?”

“Which one, kissing cane toads or giant condoms?”

“The cane toad.” Save-A-Door grinned. “Hey, maybe I can combine them?”

“Whatever. But remember, he only comes out at night.”

“And smack into a condom.”

Walt sighed. What was with his friend and happenings? “As long as we’re not too noisy.”

Save-A-Door Dali whirled the knotted condom around his head.

When it had picked up sufficient speed, he let go. Splat! The plastic hit the wall. “You’re on!” he cried. Hopping around the room, he began to croak, “Tonight, tonight, I meet my toad tonight.”

Shaking his head, Walt returned to his studio. In an hour, he converted newspaper, sticky tape and non-toxic paint into a fairly good model of a fairly ugly toad. He went down the corridor and threw it at Save-A-Door. “Desensitize yourself on that,” he said.

Save-A-Door took a good look at it. “Yuk, it’s uglier than you!”

He threw it back. “I’ll kiss it from here, then.” He puckered his lips and kissed air. “That’s not too bad.” He shuffled forward and kissed again. By the time that they were finished, Save-A-Door was disgusting. His passionate sloppy kisses were sucking bits from the paper. If he did that to the toad, he’d be swallowing warts.

Pleased with himself, Walt rang Gwen. “He’ll do it,” he said quietly.

“Why are you whispering?”

Walt glanced around NambArt’s tearoom. “I don’t want the others to hear. They’ll think we’re crazy.”

“And Save-A-Door isn’t?”

“Yeah, but they don’t think I am. Anyway, I said I’ll collect him tonight.”

Walt put down the phone. Why had he been whispering? Save-A-Door and a talking cane toad, that’s why. A recipe for disaster.