Sticky Tape

Once there was a young wombat named Benson, who lived in a very nice hole in the ground with his mother, and his two aunts, Lillibet and Moss.

One day Benson got some sticky tape stuck in his hair.

‘Oh dear,’ said Aunt Moss, ‘you’ll have to soak your head in eucalyptus oil to get it out.’

‘Just when I needed some sticky tape to wrap a parcel!’ said Aunt Lillibet.

Benson’s mother said, ‘Stand still, Benson, and I’ll pull it out. One sharp pull and it will all be over.’

Benson didn’t want a sharp pull, and he didn’t want to smell like a koala. He jumped onto his bike and rode away.

A long way down the road, he stopped and got off his bike. He tried pulling the sticky tape out slowly, bit by bit, but it hurt every time he pulled it.

Then he thought he would push his head into a bush, and the branches would scrape the sticky tape out. He found a sharp, scratchy bush, and put his head into it, but the prickles and leaves and bits of stick all stuck to the sticky tape too, and he had a big, prickly lump of sticky stuff on his head.

‘Maybe it will wash out,’ he thought to himself. He found a cool, green pond on the side of the road, and he put his head down into the water. He waited for a long while, but the sticky tape didn’t wash off. Instead, bits of weed and mud and dragonfly wings and old paper boats stuck to the sticky tape. The big, prickly lump turned into an enormous lumpy sticky clump of mucky mess.

Benson sat down and thought, until he knew what to do. He got on his bike and rode back home.

Aunt Lillibet said, ‘Benson, is that you? What have you done to yourself?’

Aunt Moss fainted.

Benson said to his mother, ‘Do you think one sharp pull will still do it?’

Benson’s mother nodded. She took hold of the lump of sticky stuff. ‘One, two, three,’ she said, and gave a short, sharp pull.

‘Ow,’ said Benson. The sticky tape and all the mucky, messy stuff came out of his hair. It hurt for a minute and then it stopped.

‘That’s better,’ said Benson.

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