It happened like this:

It was 6am.

Cesira said the party was dead so they drove towards the city but halfway across the Story Bridge Sam veered left and they crashed off the side.

Dooris said: I don’t want to die but if I have to then at least I will die in the greatest river on earthhhhhhhhhh.

Keelan said: Ahhhhhhhh.

Cesira stared out the window, grinning in a sort of unfazed way.

Sam said: Don’t worry. I just want to take you to this secret spot for two years to make an album.

Then everyone nodded like: yeah, that’s chill.

They landed on the Brown Snake and a couple jet skis lassoed their car with ropes.

They pulled them inland to the space where bush becomes jungle.

Night fell.

They made a fire and lay on their backs reciting satanic verses.

Lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove.

Eventually Satan’s little helpers materialised from the fire and began clapping.

They were like: Well done. Very satanic.

Cesira said: Are you being sarcastic?

But they shook their heads and promised they weren’t.

They gave them: watermelon, chicken, corn, lettuce, Sriracha sauce, apple pie, avocado, Brie cheese.

Everyone made faces like: shit yeah, because it was their first time practicing Satanism.

Satan for president! Keelan yelled when he realised it was enough food to eat for two years while they made their album.

Food fight! Dooris yelled, throwing a Sriracha sauce bottle directly into Keelan’s eye, which killed him.

So yeah, Keelan was dead.

Poor Keelan.

But their Satanism was so strong that Satan’s little helpers said: We’ll bring Keelan back to life if you dedicate the album to our devil daddy.

Devil daddy, Dooris said. Sounds like a nightclub for… like … horny dads.

Hehe, went Satan’s little helpers.

Well, they flirted and seduced each other for three hours but then they sort of lost momentum and decided to be friends.

Okay, the band said. We’ll dedicate the album to your devil daddy.

So Satan’s little helpers were like: oh gosh, you guys, thank you, like, so, so much, and then Keelan was brought back to life.

Well, Keelan looked magnificent.

Everyone said so.

It’s true.

There were no fence sitters regarding this subject.

Everyone was in 100% agreeance, although he did look a lot paler, except everyone also agreed that made him look even more magnificent, kind of like Edward Cullen.

Then Sam said if The Jungle Giants were gonna dedicate the album to their devil daddy, they’d need a studio.

Satan’s little helpers said: Sure. Whatever you want. We’re pretty rich. It’s gravy, baby. It’s gravy, while winking a lot.

So Sam told them about the studio he wanted, the studio that existed beneath a pool with a glass ceiling, and then he told them how in the middle of the pool there would be a portal, and how you would swim to the portal, go down a ladder, dry off in the dry room, and then you’d be in the studio.

So then Satan’s little helpers fingered their belly buttons and the studio appeared.

The Jungle Giants swam across the pool, went down the portal, dried off in the dry room and then were in their studio.

Sam put the drum kit on its side like a saucepan and began adding the things he remembered from long ago.

He added the hellos and goodbyes and don’t leave mes and I love yous.

He added the Queensland sun in the backyards of houses and the storms that became floods in the Brisbane streets.

He added the people he remembered who were no longer here and the bad dreams that hide in the future for us all.

And in the pool glass ceiling above their heads future memories projected like movies announcing who they truly were.

Who were they?

They were the ones who made the kids dance.

Who made them believe.

They were the ones who brought everyone together so they’d never be alone.