“Save-A-Door,” Gwen echoed, “turned into… a huge warty toad?”

Walt sighed. “Yes.”

“That’s not an improvement, not even for him. Walt, we’ve got to do something.” Gwen ran to the door. It was now quite dark outside. “Save-A-Door,” she called. “Save-A-Door.”

Walt pulled her back inside. “What can we do? Take turns in being a cane toad? And maybe no-one comes back. First one becomes a steroidal cane toad but then one becomes a normal cane toad.”

Gwen waved her arms in frustration. “But we’ve got to do something. Maybe there’s someone out there who wants to be a cane toad.” She assumed cane toad was symbolic for something.

“Oh yeah? And maybe there’s someone out there who wants a hole in their head!”

They glared at each other. Suddenly, there was a noise at the door. “Quick!” Walt pushed Gwen. “Duck under the table!” He spread his arms as if to protect her.

The noise came again. A knock. Walt looked at Gwen. She looked at him. Her look won. Walt went to the door. His body behind it, he slowly turned the handle. With great care, he peered around. To his delight and amazement, Save-A-Door was on the other side. A tiny glowing form hovered at head height and it was chirruping excitedly into his ear.

“Save-A-Door!” Walt gasped. “You’re back.”

“My back? Oh, you mean: I’m back.” He waved casually at the tiny figure. “Of course, thanks to Tinkerbell.”

“Tinkerbell?” Walt gaped. “That’s a bird, a butterfly?”

“C’mon, Walt, you can see she’s a faerie.”

“Of course, yes, right. Silly of me. A faerie.” Walt felt he was gasping for air. “And you were just twittering at each other.”

Save-A-Door frowned. “We weren’t speaking English?”

“No!”

Walt twittered in a falsetto imitation. Tinkerbell burst into laughter and fell out of the air in a cascade of chirrups. “That was very rude,” Save-A-Door said, “and almost impossible to do – except for a faerie.”

At that point, Gwen looked over Walt’s shoulder. “Save-A-Door! Thank goodness!” She paused to take him in. “And you’re looking so well.”

At Gwen’s remark, Walt took a good look at Save-A-Door. It was true. His ethereal friend had acquired a little of Tinkerbell’s glow even though she had already sparked into sky. It was hard to distinguish her from a star. In fact, maybe they were all faeries.

“She’s an eco-faerie,” Save-A-Door said proudly. “She protects native species from cane toads.”

“Really!” Walt was jealous of Save-A-Door’s glow. “So why turn a cane toad into a cane toad?”

“Stuck on tradition.” Save-A-Door ignored Walt’s acidic tone. “I said next time to turn him into a spark plug. He’s more likely to get kissed that way.” Save-A-Door’s raised his coffee. Instead of sipping, his tongue flipped out. “Oops, sorry.” When a fly buzzed near, he put his hand across his mouth.

“Ta, Gwen.” Save-A-Door put down his cup. “Reckon I’ll walk home now, get a cane toad’s view of the world.” He hopped to his feet and bounced out. After a few steps, he began to sing, “High hop, high hop/and off to work we slop. We paint and draw/with flies in jaw. High hop, high hop.”

“Well,” Gwen stretched out on the settee, “that’s enough excitement for one night.”

“I reckon,” Walt agreed.

They were just feeling comfortable when there was a faint noise on the door. They exchanged glances. “Your friend,” Gwen declared.

With a groan, Walt pushed up from his beanbag. There was a sharper rap. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he called. He opened the door. Save-A-Door was not there. No one was there. But a soft touch made him look down. A small brown duck had just brushed past his feet. “Save-A-Door?” he moaned. “Save-A-Door?”

Gwen sat up, her mouth wide in surprise. “He’s changed again?” she asked.

Then a small blue shape shot out of the night, Tinkerbell. She frantically waved her arms while twittering and shaking her head.

Walt blinked. “OK, OK, so you’re for real.” He waved his hands placatingly. “Right, thanks, Tinkerbell, I get the message. It’s not Save-A-Door. Great. So, who is it?”

The faerie paused and hovered as beak down, the bird sniffed its way forward. It stopped where Save-A-Door’s feet had been.

Gwen used her hands to close her mouth. Then she used them to help her speak. “There. Is. A. Duck. Under. The. Table.”

“Duck. Under. The. Table,” Walt repeated. “Yes. Jeez, I thought we’d had enough excitement for one night.”