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Near a sandy rock lay a tired Tasmanian devil. He’d had his fill of cool water from the billabong. He tried to keep one eye open, but soon slipped into restless sleep, snuffling and snorting.
‘Wassup?’ said a voice. ‘You sure twitch in your sleep.’ A young kangaroo was peering down at the young devil. ‘You ‘right, mate? I’m Blue.’
The Tasmanian Devil adjusted sleepy eyes to focus on the joey. ‘You don’t look blue to me,’ he said.
‘It’s an Australian thing. All red animals are called Blue. Guess you wouldn’t know that if you’re a tourist. What’s your name? I’m Blue Roo.’
‘I’m Australian too!! I’m a Tasmanian Devil.’
Blue laughed so hard he had to hold his ribs. ‘That’s a horror of a name! And you thought me being called Blue was weird. That takes the biscuit.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a biscuit.’ The stranger’s stomach rumbled.
