At seven, Walt drove up the hill to Image Flat Road. Save-A-Door was already sitting on the veranda of his old Queenslander.

It was cool enough for him to be wearing his black woolly beanie, a hole cut out of the back for his ponytail.

“Nice night for it,” he called.

“Any night will do,” Walt replied. He was again feeling a bit uneasy.

“A magic night,” Save-A-Door insisted. He rolled his slim shoulders. “I think something will happen tonight. Tonight, tonight…” he hummed quietly.

At seven fifteen, Walt carefully closed the driver’s door and began to walk towards the house. His unease had grown. Yet he hadn’t gone far when it/him came hopping out of the shadows.

“G’wan,” the cane toad said, “gimme a kiss.”

Walt halted. He took a deep breath. “Tonight,” he declared, “tonight just might be your lucky night.”

The cane toad rose on its haunches in excitement. Walt waved to the car and Save-A-Door slid out of the passenger seat. Cane Toad and he exchanged significant moonlight glances. They hopped towards each other. Save-A-Door hunkered down and puckered his lips. Cane Toad puffed out his. Flesh met flesh and there was a long revolting sucking sound. Then, unexpectedly, a bright blue butterfly-sized figure hovered between them. Blue light shot from it and shimmered over the cane toad. The butterfly shot away. Phtt! The cane toad shrank to normal proportions.

“Croak,” it went.

“What?” Walt said. He blinked. Had he really seen a butterfly-sized person?

“Croak!”

“Blimey!” Save-A-Door exclaimed.

“Croak?”

The cane toad hopped into the shadows.

“I’ve been cheated,” Save-A-Door complained. “That didn’t turn into a bloke. Bloody magic, a cane toad that turns into a cane toad! Funny, I feel a bit odd.” He began to run his hands over his body. “I haven’t turned into a talking condom, have I?”

Walt shook his head. But he had to admit his friend was not looking too good. Save-A-Door was shrinking quickly and his clothes were looking warty. Save-A-Door was fast becoming the new giant cane toad on the block!

Unnerved, Walt dashed inside. Breathing heavily, he pressed his back against the door. The noise brought Gwen. “Walt,” she said, “what’s wrong?”

“Save-A-Door!” he gasped.

“He wouldn’t kiss the cane toad?”

Walt nodded fervently. “He did! He did!”

“It didn’t turn into a prince?”

“It didn’t! It didn’t!”

Astounded by this neurotic turn, Gwen murmured, “Relax, relax.”

But Walt shook his head. “I can’t! I can’t!”

Gwen patted him soothingly and tried to draw him away from the door. “So, there’s still a problem?” Walt’s head went up and down like a yoyo, banging his chest, but he still refused to budge.

“Enough!” Gwen declared. She gripped Walt by the collar and pulled. His eyes bulging, she dropped him into a chair. “Sit! Explain!”

“Oh!” Walt wailed, his eyes as big as omelettes. “Oh!”

“Oh, oh, my foot!” Gwen exclaimed.

She’d never seen Walt like this before. What to do: soothe his furrowed brow or give him a big whack over the ears? She finally decided on a glass of water. Walt took it, slowly sipped and gradually began to calm.

“Terrible,” he declared. “Just terrible. Their lips met like…” He made a noise of sucking spaghetti. “Then some sort of… of faerie appeared. She magicked some lights and the huge warty toad turned into a…” His voice faded, “into a normal cane toad.”

“A faerie?” Gwen’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “And the huge warty toad turned into a normal cane toad. Well, Walt, that’s not so bad.” Her voice rose. “But what happened to Save-A-Door?”

“Save-A-Door?”

“Yes, Save-A-Door.”

“Save-A-Door.” Walt turned pale at the memory. “He turned into a huge warty toad.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not.”