Number 4 was some heavy duty masking tape to fix up anything that might break or come apart or to secure the burglar she intercepted with Number 3.
Number 5 was a block of chocolate to help mend a broken heart.
Number 6 was a radio to listen to songs that reminded her of the times she had spent dancing with her friends and to hear any cyclone updates.
Number 7 was some rope so she could tie up any loose ends.
Number 8 was a little toolkit to repair anything that needed a little mend.
Number 9 were various glues to help her out when she was in a sticky situation
Number 10 was a bag of two-dollar gold coins to get her a ticket home if she ever missed the company of her friends or family.
Number 11 was a plastic mould with a smiley face on it and the word Smile written on it that you could position on a piece of bread and press firmly on it then place the bread in the toaster and the message would be visible when the toast browned.
Kylie loved Smiley faces and her Dad had called her Smiley Kylie all her life so it turned her frown upside immediately, until she realised something.
“Ahh fark, I don’t have any flamin’ bread!” she said sadly.
She ripped open the slab of chocolate and took a bite. She had tears running down her face from the joy she had found by opening up each little gift in the emergency parcel but sadness in her heart from feeling so alone.
Kylie sat on the kitchen floor and curled up into the foetal position and cried. When she sat up again, she wrapped up the chocolate and pushed it aside and poked through the items from the parcel. Picking up the masking tape, she slipped it on her left arm like a bracelet and crawled back to the lounge room, grabbed her drink and continued on her crawl to the bedroom. Pulling up stumps in front of her mirror, she took a good hard look at herself, as she continued to sip at her drink. She looked dishevelled, her shower had not washed her mascara away, her face looked tired, her hair was messy from drying wet and not being brushed. There she sat on the floor, amongst a pile of clean laundry that she had not yet folded or put away, when she saw her Lycra bike pants. A smile found its way onto her face. After taking a sip of her drink, she grabbed the bike pants and spread them out on her lap. Pulling the tape bracelet off her arm, she took a length of tape, cut it with her teeth then crumpled it up and repeated the process. She stuck both pieces of tape side by side onto the Lycra bike pants and then pulled off a large straight piece and stuck it under the crumpled bits. Then she completed her stick-a-thon by adding a final piece of semi-circular shaped tape under the other straight one. She wrestled her way into the Lycra bike pants pulling them up over her boxer shorts, then she picked up her drink, carefully and awkwardly made it to the standing position – without spilling a drop – and stood with her back to the full-length mirror. Turning her head towards her reflection, she introduced herself to her newly created friend, Smiley Duds.
“Allo allo allo. What do we ’ave ’ere then?” Kylie asked the reflection of her arse, which resembled a smiley face.
“I don’t have ears? I’m just a face!” it replied in a deeper voice – born from the same mouth as Kylie.
“A Face?” Kylie said to her new friend. “What sort of face are you?”
“I’m Bum Face?”
“Allo Bum face! I... am.... Shit faced!” She laughed, raising her drink to the mirror.
Kylie clenched then unclenched her bum cheeks together repeatedly to make her taped creation’s mouth move to reflect the motion of laughter. “That’s funny,” Bum Face said.
“Have you been here long?” Kylie asked her rear.
“I’ve been hanging around all of your life, you’ve just ignored me until now!”
“I don’t remember ever hearing from you?”
“What? Are you deaf? I’m always chiming in after dinner?”
“Really? After every dinner?” Kylie ars-ed.
“You’re a vegetarian, it’s inevitable! Don’t you remember what I said the other night....you know, after the tacos?”
“Oh shit! That was you!”
“That was me.”
“Maaaaate, you stink!” Kylie said disgusted.
“Me? Stink? I don’t think so. But I don’t have a nose so I can’t tell. Though I do have an eye I can’t see out of.”
“Ripped off mate. Least you have a voice!”
“Yes, lucky I am to have a voice. All be it one that people usually run away from when I am heard. Look, I know it’s a bit arse about face but maybe we should chat more often?”
“Maybe, we’ll have to sort out an easier way Butt, my neck flamin’ hurts, I think I’m feeling a twitch?”
“Oh don’t start talking to her!”
“What? Who?” Kylie was confused.
“Forget it. Hey, I was just wondering, does my face make your arse look big?” Bum Face asked.
“As a matter of fact yes, you do look quite wide. Have you always been that elongated?” Kylie asked.
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been on an expansion project since you left the Isa. What’s up with you broadening my outlook?”
“What are you talking about, you cyclops? How was I supposed to notice you were getting bigger? I can’t see you! My eyeballs point this away! You are behind me! Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on it?”
“I told you, I can’t see shit.”
“I can’t believe it, I’m harbouring a smart arse, that can’t see shit, but ironically hangs out with an arsehole every day.”
Bum Face burred up, “Who are you calling an arsehole? Shit Faced? Maybe if I wasn’t so BIG, you wouldn’t be so SINGLE!”
“Oh that’s bloody lovely. Kick me when I’m down,” Kylie said sniffling and wiping her nose on her forearm.
“I’m only being honest, you wouldn’t want me to lie to you would ya?”
“No, so I guess I arsed for that,” Kylie whimpered.
“Let’s make a deal, if you don’t make me the butt of all your jokes, I’ll help you get back your smaller Bum Face.”
“How are you going to do that?” Kylie asked, thinking her mind was in charge of her decisions, not her arse.
“I’ll have a chat with the gang in plumbing and colonics. If we work as a team, we might be able to move some stuff out of storage for you.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
“I’d love to. Plus it will help get rid of this acne I have on my Bum Face.”
“That ain’t acne,” said Kylie eyes wide open “That’s....”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it!” said Bum Face, afraid of the “C” word, cellulite.
“Oh okay. I’ll let you live in Egypt if you want. Seems like I have been!” said Kylie.
“What do you mean?” Bum Face asked.
“You’re living in De-Nile mate. Get it?”
“Oh dear!” Bum face seemed to frown.
“So? Where to from here?” Kylie took another sip of her drink.
“I’ll keep a blind eye on things back here until Lycra becomes your friend again, and maybe you could do me a favour?”
“Sure, anything