Gary the Wombat’s Diary entry #2

It’s been about a week now. Susan still hasn’t said a word to me.

I fixed the entrance to the burrow. I’m sure she’s noticed, but she still hasn’t said anything.

Why do I need to put up with this crap? I should just scoot, leave town, find another burrow, start another life just like my old man did when I was about Gary junior’s age.

No, I can’t. I swore I’d never be like that bastard; the cycle ends with me. Just gotta suck it up, apologise and make peace.

I came back to the burrow. I could hear Sharon was over as I made my way down the hole. I didn’t walk in the kitchen straight away; I stayed just within earshot. I wondered if they were talking about me.

“Can he really use all 4 heads of his… his you know…” said Susan timidly.

“His what?” said Sharon, taunting Susan out of her shy, conservative nature.

“You know his… his… bits.” She whispered the last word.

“You mean his man junk? His love weapon? His passion dragon? Steamy thrust wand? Creamy heat snake—”

“-Yes, yes, yes,” said Susan hastily, cutting Sharon off in embarrassment.

“Oh girl, you have no idea! He can use them all independently.”

“What!?”

“Mmmhmm, and once he’s done with one, he can just rotate in the next one, and this can go on ALL… NIGHT… LONG…” She emphasised each word. “Round after round, and by morning… Girl, I’m like one of those cream-filled eclairs we find at some of the campsites, completely stuffed.”

“Oh my…” said Susan, blushing and clearly flustered.

I’d heard enough. I barged into the kitchen. “Hey Sharon” both reeled back in alarm.

“Oh, Gary. You scared us…” said Susan, trying to pull her mind out of Barry’s crème-filled pastries.

“Hi Gary, nice to see you,” said Sharon.

“You too, Sharon.”

“How are the campsites looking?”

“Yeah, not bad. They keep leaving those meat-on-a-stick things lying around, but I’m a vegetarian, ya know, so….”

“Ah.”

“Yeah…”

An awkward silence.

“So, what are you guys talking about?” I said.

The two looked at each other; Susan spoke first. “Oh, I was just saying to Sharon how great the entrance to the burrow looks.” I actually believed her for a second; it scared me how convincing she was. What else had she lied to me about?

“Right…” I said.

“Yeah, looks great, Gary,” Sharon chirped in, reinforcing the lie. “I really like how you tucked all the dirt to one side; very creative.” She said, trying to distract me by massaging my ego. She knew I’d been talking about it for weeks.

“Yeah, I used to just leave it all out the front, but I kept tripping over it—”

“Me too,” said Susan, cutting me off in that whining tone of hers, barely concealing her frustration at my ineptitude.

“…Like I was saying,” I went on, “I kept tripping over it, then one day I was like, ‘Why don’t I just move it off to the side?’ and I just kind of went with it.”

“Well, it looks great.”

“THANK you,” I overemphasised to Sharon while looking at Susan.

Awkward silence hung in the air like a thick whipped cream straight out of Barry’s… what was it? Creamy heat snake? Jesus, how can I compete with that? We were all suspended in this dairy-based emulsion of tension, everyone unsure where it would flow next. It was Sharon who broke the ice.

“What’s on for today, Gary?”

“Gonna go check up on Darryl.”

“Is he still…”

“Yep…”

“That’s terrible, just terrible what happened to him.”

“We told him not to go out that day, but you know what a stubborn bastard he is. Wouldn’t listen; said he’d be fine with that casual arrogance of his,” I said.

We all knew which days were safe to go roaming. Ranger Thomas would put you in the cages for a couple days if you were caught — that was a Tuesday. Ranger Sam would just move you along — they were Monday’s. Wednesdays were Ranger Tim; hell, you actually wanted to get caught by him. He’d feed you and rub your belly, top bloke. But Ranger Travis…

Everyone had his schedule memorised by heart. You DID NOT go out on one of those days. You just didn’t. But one day… Darryl did.

He’s always been a bit of prankster, our Darryl; he never took life too seriously. To him, it was all just a big game, full of adventure, excitement and mystery. He had an almost childlike innocence about him. It’s what made him so loveable. It’s what MAKES him so loveable. I need to keep reminding myself he’s still the same Darryl we all love. He’s still in there, I keep telling myself. Somewhere… I know he is…

I left the girls and headed over to Darryl and Martha’s place. I picked a few choice leaves and shrubs on the way over for Martha. Martha struggles, even though she’ll never admit it; she’s a proud woman. But taking care of and providing for 3 kids and… whatever Darryl is now… ain’t easy. She’d never ask for help, but she wouldn’t say no when it was offered either.

“Scratch, scratch. Hey Marth’.”

“Oh, hey Gazza. Great to see you.”

“Brought you a few leaves and shrubs.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“Ah, it was nothing. How are the kids?”

“Oh, they’re fine, you know what they’re like, still crazy as ever. They just miss…” I could hear the emotion caught in her throat. “They just miss… playing with their dad.” She was unable to suppress the emotion this time; the floodgates opened as tears rolled down her face.

“Come here, come here.” I hugged; she wept. “He’s still in there, Marth’. Your Darryl, our Darryl. He’ll make it out of this, you’ll see.” I tried my best to sound convincing; I hope she believed me.

“Maybe he wants some tea? His favourite flavour — do you still have it?” I knew distracting her mind with a task would help.

She lifted her head off my shoulder, sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I think…” sniff… “I think so…”

“Great, how about you put on a pot, and I’ll see if the cheeky bugger’s thirsty today.”

Sniff, sniff. “Ok… I’ll make some tea…” She wiped another tear and turned around to put on a pot.

I went down the hall into the living room.

“Scratch, scratch. Hey buddy, how ya doing?” I automatically spoke to him like a child these days. Gotta stop doing that, I told myself. It was hard not to, though; he just seemed so… so delicate, like at any moment he could shatter into a thousand pieces.

“We missed you down at the park the other day,” I said, fishing for some reaction. Darryl kept staring off into oblivion, mouth half open, saliva pooling up on one side, drool trickling out. “Everyone was there. Davo, Mark, Sean… Oh you’ll never guess what — or maybe you can, it was bound to happen I suppose — Mark and Trish are back together. Haha, I know, right? Yeah, gluttons for punishment, aren’t they?”

All this seemed to wash over him like a silent wind. No recognition, no reaction; no twitch, no twinkle of the mate I once knew. Just some lifeless zombie, some vegetable, a motionless sack of wombat meat that my friend once inhabited.

I looked at him — that droopy fucking look on his face. Where was that mischievous smile? That playful jester, prankster, provocateur? Where was my mate? Where was Darryl? Dazza? D-schweezy, and whatever other silly names he went by.

“Darryl…” I said in a straight voice, no longer pretending that everything was ok, or that he was some delicate child.

“Darryl, mate… What happened that day?” Nothing. “Why did you have to go out there?” I shook him slightly; a fresh dollop of drool drizzled down his chin. “You didn’t need to prove anything to us. We already thought you were… you were great… why?” I could feel the emotion in my throat welling up now.

Unconsciously, I put my hand on his and squeezed. “Darryl… I need to know you’re in there.” Nothing. Just a lifeless, grey emptiness of mass keeping a heart pumping, and that was about it.

“Ok,” I said in acceptance. “We’ll try again tomorrow.” And then I felt it. He squeezed back!

“Darryl! Mate! Are you in there?!” I said frantically, searching in those vacant eyes for something.

“Don’t…” He said, painfully squeezing the word out of his mouth.

“Yes, Darryl, what is it? Anything!”

He grabbed me by the fur of my throat; for a moment the wombat I once knew broke through to the surface. He pierced into my eyes and yelled, “Don’t… GO OUTSIDE!!”

His body went limp and fell off the couch. Foam began bubbling out of his mouth as his body started violently shaking, him in the foetal position.

“Martha! It’s happening again! Come quick!”