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When Lois got home from winning bingo that afternoon, she was a little surprised to find a young man sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper.
'What're you doing in my house?!' she yelled.
'Your house?!' said Tederick, giving her a weird look, but in a way that Lois found somehow familiar. 'Don't you mean our house, Lois?'
'Who are you?! How do you know my name?!'
'I'm your husband,' said Tederick. 'Remember?'
Oh dear, he thought, she's getting all forgetful again.
'My husband's dea... coming home any minute now. I'm calling the police!'
'Don't be silly dear,' Tederick sighed. 'You remember me! It's me, Frank.'
Frank?! thought Lois. What on earth is going on?!
Then she saw the glove.
'Where did you get that?!'
'What?'
'That glove.'
'You knitted it for me, dear.'
Lois saw there was pain in Tederick's eyes.
It's not possible, she thought. But the glove... I gave it to that young man at the university today. And now this fellow turns up wearing it; says he's my husband.
Lois took two deep breaths.
'If you're my husband,' she said, 'how come you look younger? And how come you don't look like you've been rolled over by a hill?'
'Rolled over by a hill?' said Tederick. 'But I thought that must've been just a dream!'
Tears welled up in Lois' eyes.
'It wasn't,' she said. 'It really happened.'
'Then why aren't I flat anymore?'
'I don't know!' said Lois, bursting into tears.
'Come over here, dearie,' said Tederick, reaching out to Lois.
Lois sat down on the couch and they hugged.

CDs

'Ohkay,' said Tederick as he ate a sausage, 'so you want to give me that glove you're wearing, and me to give you something better?'
'Tha's right,' said Timott.
'Hmm... Oh dunno about that,' said Tederick. 'Does it come with a warranty.'
'No,' said Bricks. 'See, once we get something better of you, we'll swap that for somethin' better off someone else. So we won't be able ta reimburse ya.'
'Oh,' said Tederick.
'That's 'ardly fair,' said Timott. 'Back in my day, if there w's somethin' wrong with something you'd paid good money for, ya could expect a full refund! Not that you needed one very often anyway. Things just aren't made ta last these days.'
'That's right,' said Tederick. 'If there's something wrong with it, I should be able to get whatever I give you back.'
'Oh, alright,' said Timott. 'What're you offering?'
'Umm... Umm... What about some blank CDs?'
'How many?'
'There's five left in the packet.'
'Orright,' said Timott, 'hand 'em over.'
Tederick unzipped a pocket in his laptop bag, pulled the CDs and handed them to Timott. Timott took off his glove and gave it to Tederick, who put it on.

Button

Botox had gone and sat down on one of the benches at the edge of the courtyard, to watch the watermelon rugby while she ate her sausage. Timott and Bricks followed her over.
'Hey,' said Bricks, holding a sausage in one hand and a pack of cards in the other, 'can I swap these for somthin' better?'
'Operation Embryo?' said Botox.
'Yeah, how'd ya know?'
'What's this?' said Timott. 'Operation what?'
'Shut up, Timott,' said Bricks. Turning back to Botox, he asked, 'You doin' it too?'
'Um, nah,' said Botox. 'The Bach Pad? Mmm... not exactly my kinda scene. But when oh w's in first year a lot've the guys were trying get membership.'
'Okay, cool,' said Bricks. 'So can I swap these for something better?'
'Mmmm... how about one've these?' she said indicating the button-badges pinned to the left strap of her backpack
'Hmmm...' said Timott, 'orright.'
Botox unpinned one and gave it to Timott. It was black, with a pattern of blue bubbles on it.
'How about that one?' said Botox.
'Yeah, that one's good,' said Timott, handing her the cards.
'Cheers,' said Botox, putting the cards in her pocket, as a slippery watermelon landed on the bench next to her.

Frank

By this stage it was about one o'clock, so Timott and Bricks were getting pretty hungry. They decided to join the que for sausages.
'Nice glove, by the way,' said Bricks.
'Why thank you, laddie,' said Timott. 'My dear wife made it.'
Your wife? thought Bricks, raising his three eyebrows. Although he'd only met Timott the previous morning, when they'd both moved onto res, he was pretty surprised to find out that he was married, at only eighteen years old.
'How long've ya been married?' Bricks asked.
'Married?!' said Timott, nearly choking. I'm not married!'
'But you just said you were.'
'No I didn't!'
'Yeah ya did. I said the glove you got w's cool and you said your wife made it for ya.'
'No Oh didn't! Ya must've imagined it.'
'Nah. Oh didn't imagine it.'
'Oh don't worry, son,' said Timott, patting Bricks on the shoulder, 'I imagine things all the time these days. Mind's not what it once was. Why, I imagined a rollin' hill came up behine me an' squashed me flat, just th'other day.'
'Wha...?' said Bricks.
'Hmmm?' said Timott. 'What is it?'
'Ya jus' said you imagined a hill rolling over ya yesterday.'
'No Oh didn't!'
'Yeah ya did,' said Botox.
Botox had an Standing Tall t-shirt, and a ring through her nose, and was in front of them in the line.
'An' what w's that about yer mind not bein' what it used to be?' said Bricks. 'Are you trying to say that your mind hasn't always been a mind?'
'Yeah,' said Botox, 'what was it before it was a mind? A racoon?'
'You should watch that tongue've yours, young lass,' said Timott. 'Women should be seen and not heard, I've always said. Disgrace to your family! Ah! Wha' w's 'at for?!'
Botox had slapped him.
'Bein' a male chauvanist pig,' said Botox. 'And who're you to call me young anyway. Oh twenty-two; how old're you?'
'Seventy-six,' said Timott. 'Or is it seventy-seven?'
'You look a lot younger than that mate,' said Botox, giving Bricks a weird look, partly because she thought his friend was weird, but also partly because Bricks had three eyes.
'Younger than what?' said Timott.
'Seventy-six or seventy-seven. You must age well.'
Timott gave Botox a weird look.
Botox had now arrived at the barbecue, and was given a sausage, as were Timott and Bricks.

Glove

'See,' said Bricks, giving Timott a wink with his middlest eye, 'that wen' 'eaps better.'
'Mmm...' said Timott. 'Ya could be right.'
Timott spotted someone else in the que who looked bored. A grey-haired lady in a faded, purple cardigan. Probably a lecturer, he thought. Or a mature-age student.

'Hi,' said Timott, walking up to Lois.
'Hullo, dearie,' she said.
Student, thought Timott. Lecturer wouldn't say 'dearie'.
'I was wondering if I could swap this for something better,' he said, holding out the egg.
'Oooh. Maybe. I don't know.'
'Well, do you have anything you wouldn't mind swapping for an egg?'
'Wait a moment, duck; I'll see.'
Lois began to rummage though her handbag.
'What about this, pet?' she said, pulling out a single, red, knitted glove. 'I knitted it for my 'usband, Frank. But 'e died*.'
'Oh, that's awful,' said Timott, wondering why she carried a glove she'd made for her deceased husband around in her handbag.
'Will it do?' asked Lois, looking hopeful.
'Well,' said Timott. 'I suppose so.'
'Oh good.'
Lois gave Timott the glove, and he gave her the egg.
'I'd like to see you put it on,' said Lois. 'Please?'
'Ah, alright,' said Timott.
He put it on.
'Perfect fit!' said Timott, wriggling his fingers.
'Oh how nice! Take care, won't you?'
'Yeah, you too. Thanks!'
Later that day, Lois won bingo. She was quite pleased.

*Lois and Frank had taken a day trip to Daylesford. While looking at the beautiful, rolling hills, one had rolled up behind Frank and squashed him flat.

Cards

'Hey, can I swap this for something better?' said Timott, holding out the egg.
'What for?' said the trackie*, giving him a suspicious look.
She'd already been tricked into paying ten bucks for a useless O-week pack, which consisted mostly of discount coupons and a men's magazine which turned out to be full of pictures of women wearing not very much at all. Then she'd been tricked into spending another fifteen on one of those O-week t-shirts, before realising it didn't go with any of her trackie-dacks. Her newly-made friends were waiting to go watch the boys play watermelon rugby, and it didn't look good for her to be talking to this scrawny, rodent-faced hippy kid or his three-eyed friend.
'Fine then!' said Timott. 'I'll take me wares elsewheres.'

'That's not the way to go about it, mate!' said Bricks.
'Why?! What'd I do?' said Timott.
'Well, f' starters she was in a group, and they were goin' somewhere. We're gotta find someone who's on there own an' lookin' bored.'
'Orright then. You find someone.'
'Oh will. That guy over there.'
Bricks pointed to a guy in the long line that snaked its way toward one of the free barbecues**.
'Why that guy?' asked Timott.
'Well,' said bricks, 'nearly everyone else that's queing up is in a sort of cluster; they've qued up with their mates so they can talk while they wait. This poor sod's all on 'is own; not talkin' ta anyone. So 'e more likely to pay attention ta me offer.'
'Orright.'
Bricks went up to the guy, closesly followed by Timott.

''Ey, can propose a deal to ya?' Bricks asked the guy.
Drew had been waiting in the que for fifteen minutes and was pretty bored.
'What is it?' he responded.
'Can I swap this wonderful egg for somethin' better?'
A wobbly grin appeared on Drew's face.
'What like?'
'Oh d'nno. What've ya got that y'd be willing to swap?'
'Um, what about a pack've cards?'
'Yeah, that soun's good,' said Bricks.
Drew reached into his backpack, pulled out a pack of playing cards and gave it to Bricks. Bricks gave him the egg.
'Pleased to do business with you, sir,' said Bricks.
Drew eventually got his sausage, ate it, went home and put the egg in the fridge. The next morning he cooked it in his frying pan, along with two rashers of bacon, which he ate for breakfast. This high-cholestrol breakfast contributed to a heart-attack which killed him fifty-four years later.

*Physical Education or Human Movement student. Frequently sighted wearing tracksuit pants, sports shoes and sunglasses. The male variety are known for their loud voices and their habit of pushing each other around all the time. These students always travel in herds, and make up a majority of the student population at the University of Ballarat's Mt Helen campus.

**As long as you can live on sausages for five days, it's impossible to starve during O-week. Each day there are at least three free barbecues being run by the various clubs and societies in an effort to convince new and returning students to join up.

Item 323

'Hello Agent Saffron.'
'Oh. Hi Agent Magenta!'
'Item 323 has been sighted, Agent Saffron.'
'Oh, goodie! Where?'
'It was seen in Horsham at two twenty-five yesterday afternoon. It was in the boot of a pink Hyundai Excel, heading along the Western Highway, towards Ballarat. We think that's where it's going.'
'Ballarat?!'
'That's right. It's heading straight into your hands, Agent Saffron.'
'Any idea where in Ballarat? I mean, it's almost a hundered thousand people.'
'We're convinced that the driver's a student. So try the universities.'
'Orright. Cheers.'
Clickbeerpbeerpbeerp.

Residence

Eggs in hand, Timott and Bricks walked back from The Bach Pad, throught the 'business park', along University Drive, to their residential unit, in the north-eastern corner of the university grounds.

It was one of around twenty two-storey, concrete buildings which were separated from the rest of the campus by a stretch of wetland known affectionatley as Lake Syphillis. Though devoid of fish and ducks, Lake Syphillis supported a diverse and delicate ecosystem, which consisted of television sets, microwave ovens, bar fridges and a variety of other defunct appliances that had been thrown in from the middle of the bridge that crossed the fetid swamp.

Timott and Bricks arrived at the door of their unit and went inside, into the living area. To their right was the kitchen, separated from the living area by a bench. In front of them was the dining table, and in the far corner the television set*, with two old, blue couches facing it. At the back of the living area was a hallway leading to the guys' rooms, and a staircase going up to the girls rooms, bathroom and laundry. The guys' bathroom and laundry were behind the stairs.
Although the sink was full of dirty dishes, and there were toast crumbs on the bench, it didn't seem as though anyone was around. This wasn't surprising, as it was the second day of O-week, the week before classes started. Everyone would be in the university courtyards, either watching or taking part in the O-week festivities. Timott and Bricks decided that would be the best place for bargaining at the moment.

*'Can't believe it!' Bricks had said, 'A full set of televisions!'

Operation

Timott and Bricks were left standing on the porch of The Bach Pad.
The Bach Pad was the most notorious party house that side of Ballarat. Everyone one on campus wanted to be invited to the parties that went on there each weekend - and all through the holidays. Bach Pad members got instant admission. What's more, they could bring along four friends to any party - so Bach Pad members were never short of friends. As first-year arts students, Timott and Bricks had decided that the surest path to popularity was through Bach Pad membership. The only thing was neither of them could afford the exorbitant fee.
Bricks, who had been born with a third eye, had considered selling it on eBay* in order to raise the money. However, he had quickly forgotten about the idea after being distracted by badgerbadgerbadger.com.

It had turned out that perhaps Bricks wouldn't have to auction of his eye anyway. Tash, a seventh-year psych student from their res unit had told Timott about Operation Embryo.
'Operation Embryo?' Timott had said. 'Sound's kinda gross.'
'Yeah,' said Tash, 'It's jus' called that 'cause ya start off with an egg. Eggs have embryos in them.'
It turned out that James Spigott, the guy who'd first given the Bach Pad it's reputation as a party house, had started Operation Embryo back in 1984. As a business student, he'd decided to make a challenge that involved the barter system, and made other students look stupid.
As soon as Tash had finished explaining it to them, Timott had told Bricks, and they'd rushed off, up University Drive, to the Bach Pad to sign up and collect their eggs.

*Trinocular vision is so overrated.

Egg

Sleeves gave Timott and Bricks an egg each.
'Orright,' said Bricks. 'So all we've gotta do's swap them for somethin' better?'
'Yep,' said Sleeves, sneering. 'Then swap whatever ya get for somethin' else better. And then swap that for soemthin' else, et cetera, et cetera. Pretty simple. Whoever's got the best thing by nine o'clock Sunday night gets Bach Pad membership. And don't just bring something you bought in a shop of somethin', 'cause we'll know.'
With that, Sleeves slammed the door, muffling the music* that was playing inside, and died sixteen years later on a flight to Kuala Lumpur. He had an allegric reaction to the person in the next seat.

*Radiohead, Kid A