6.
That night, Emily dreamt of home. She was tucked up in bed, all snug and comfy, her dinosaurs, griffins and monsters snarling down at her from up on the shelf. The night light bathed her in its soft yellow light and the comforting ron, ron, ron, of her dad’s snoring filtered through from next door. As the night wore on, the slimeballs from Pluto returned and Emily woke up, soaked in sweat as a giant blue slimeball pursued her along the beach towards her little cottage. Her legs were heavy like lead and the slimeball gained and gained on her until it opened its cavernous mouth and sunk its sharp teeth into her flesh. She sat bolt upright in bed, panting and crying.
She flicked on the bedside lamp and read her diary, happy memories of the desert soon pushing the slimy blue monster back to the dark corner of her mind where it came from.
Going outside, she sat on the old battered sofa and looked at the beach and seascape, shimmering in the gentle starlight.
Purr, purr, purr, purr.
Emily reached out a hand to stroke the black blob beside her.
Snarl, hiss, hiss, snarl.
Little flames licked at her fingertips. It hadn’t taken the cagoon long to find the comfiest spot on the asteroid.
‘What shall I call you? What about Negrita, little black one? I’ll look at you and think of Spain.’
Snarl! Hiss!
‘Yes, you like that, don’t you?’
Hisss, hissss.
Pow! Shoon! Shong! Shong! Kapow!
The sentry moons opened fire, sending blue and red beams arcing across the sky. Leaving Negrita to fend for herself, Emily slammed the heavy front door firmly shut as she retreated back to the yellow and cream comforts of her bed.
The sun had climbed high into the sky by the time loud knocking dragged her sleepily to the door. She peered into the brightness, rubbing her eyes but seeing nothing.
‘We can’t wait around all day,’ said an impatient voice. ‘Where would you like your vegetable garden?’
Still seeing nothing, Emily said, ‘Wha, wha, what are you, who are you and where are you?’
‘Down here’
Emily was so used to looking up to see people, that she’d completely missed them. She looked down to see four zinodes, wearing red and white football shirts and armed with spades, ‘Oh! Hello!’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I slept in. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘With ginger nuts, yes that would be delicious, but let’s get your garden dug first. The big spade and gumboots are for you. Where would you like your garden?’
Emily decided on a spot tucked into the sugar cane, which would be sheltered on windy days. At least it would be if there were any windy days, which she wasn’t sure about. Singing zinonian football songs, the zinodes slashed about with the sides of their spades to clear the sugar cane, then dug away happily, turning the rich red soil. Emily wondered if they were ready for her singing, she didn’t want to scare them away just yet, so she hummed along as she helped with the digging, thick juicy worms wriggling about at her toes.
When the sun reached its highest point, the head zinode said, ‘You had better put the kettle on, it’s time for tea!’
They all squeezed onto Emily’s old sofa and sat, slurping tea and dunking ginger nuts. Emily drew a plan of the garden and marked out where the corn, beans, tomatoes, potatoes and last, but certainly not least, the lettuces, would go.
‘You’ll need a fence too,’ said the zinode.
‘Why?’
‘To keep the winkles out.
‘Can I have a green one?’ asked Emily.
‘No problem,’ said the zinode. ‘The sentry slugs are a damn nuisance too. They monitor the growth of every plant and then just when you decide the day has come to have a tossed salad, you’ve had slugs in your garden! I put pellets down one time, but they got revenge by letting a slimeball land. It’s always best to put a few extra lettuces in.’
By the end of the afternoon the fence was up with tight green mesh dug deep into the ground, and the garden was planted, seeds and seedlings in neat little rows and a compost bin in the back corner. The bean wire was up and the gate painted in shiny pink. Emily didn’t like the pink, it was a bit girly, but decided that if her biggest complaint in the world was having a pink gate; she was doing pretty darn well!