Cartoon Kid Strikes Back! Page 2

  And who’s that near the finishing line? It’s Masher McNee! He’s got Jaws with him. He’s let Jaws off the lead! Jaws is racing towards the runners. Jaws is going to eat them all! Oh no! There’s only one thing to do. It’s time for –

  It wasn’t like that, though, even if it should have been. In fact something more amazing happened. Mr Butternut and my dad were trapped up the tree. Mrs McNee and Masher were chasing after Jaws, but they weren’t trying to catch him, they were just frightening everyone. Children were screaming. Teachers were shouting. Parents were gathering up their little ones. It was chaos.

  And then, who should step forward to the rescue? Uncle Boring.

  UNCLE BORING?!

  We certainly weren’t expecting THAT! He stood there, as stiff as a wardrobe, right in Jaws’s path. The dog came howling towards him at hyper-speed, fangs at the ready and growling like he had a thousand furious killer sharks charging around inside him.

  We gawped at Uncle Boring, astonished. So did Jaws. Uncle Boring quietly put a lead on the dog and handed it over to Mrs McNee. Incredible! That Uncle Boring was pretty brave. Or possibly not very bright.

  ‘You’d better take that dog home,’ Uncle Boring told her – and she did! Masher went with her too. Boy, did we let out a sigh of relief!

  When Mr Butternut and my dad climbed down from their tree they were both declared winners of the parents’ and teachers’ race and everyone clapped them, especially me. My dad’s got a trophy now. It’s got a silver label on it that says: Joint Winner of the parents’ and teachers’ race. But between you and me I think it should say: Jaws Very Nearly Ate My Dad’s Bottom.

  As for Pete, he was strangely silent as we walked home together. Eventually he stopped dead and looked up. ‘Uncle Boring just stood there. Why didn’t Jaws eat him? I shall never understand adults. Or dogs.’ He sighed deeply. ‘Can I come to your house?’ he added.

  I grinned at my friend. ‘Of course,’ I said.

  The Talking Cake

  Please, no! Please, no!

  That was the noise I made when Pete and I were tidying my bedroom and I accidentally vacuumed up our class hamster. Am I Mr Stupido, or what?

  It wasn’t my fault – it was Dad’s, and the hamster’s. OK, so my room was a mess. My dad said that if we didn’t tidy it at once he would call the Tidy Police and have us both arrested for Grievous Rubbish Making.

  As for the hamster, I was supposed to be looking after it. Someone in our class always takes it home at the weekend and it was my turn. Why are hamsters always escaping? That’s what I want to know! Pete’s hamster, Betty, is always wandering off. He found her in the shower the other week. Anyhow, Pete said Betty was on the loose again too.

  Our class hamster is brown and he’s called Geronimo, which is a brilliant name for a hamster.

  I have no idea how Geronimo got out of his cage. Maybe some Apache friends helped him. Anyhow, it was MUCHO HORRIBLO. One moment he was skittering about the floor and then

  His little brown body suddenly went whizzing up the vacuum tube.

  ‘Pete!’ I yelled.

  ‘What now, my knobbly-kneed twig-person?’

  ‘I’ve just vacuumed Geronimo!’

  Pete’s eyes bulged. They puffed out so much I thought they would go SPING!! right across the room, like bouncy tennis balls.)

  ‘Oh no!’ he cried. ‘Major emergency! Crash stations! Send for a hamster ambulance!’

  ‘Pete! No! A hamster ambulance will never get up our stairs. It’s too small!’

  Pete was dancing round and round, waving his arms and generally behaving like some mad creature from outer space.

  ‘Quick,’ I gasped. ‘Empty out the machine. Maybe he’s still alive. Maybe we can save him.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Pete shouted excitedly. ‘Then you can give him the kiss of life!’

  I stopped and stared at my best friend. ‘No, Pete. YOU can give him the kiss of life.’

  ‘OH NO, CASPER! YOU can give him the kiss of life.’

  ‘No,’ I insisted. ‘You can, cos your mouth is bigger than mine.’

  ‘Yes, but your mouth is smaller and hamsters have VERY SMALL MOUTHS, so you would do it much better than me. Look, my mouth is way too humongous for such a poor little furry thing. I would probably blow too hard and then he would burst!’

  We glared at each other for a couple of seconds.

  ‘JUST OPEN THE VACUUM CLEANER AND GET HIM OUT!’ I bellowed.

  We pulled every bit of that machine apart and yanked out the dust bag.

  It ripped apart in our hands and the MOST REVOLTING, CHOKING DUST billowed out into the room.

  We staggered around, choking and covering our eyes, while great clouds of murk and muck drifted round the room, slowly settling on everything – the bed, the chairs, the cupboards, the clothes and most of all, us.

  ‘Not good, not good,’ croaked Pete. ‘Can you see Geronimo?’

  I could, and I didn’t like what I could see. There was a little brown thing poking out from beneath a pile of dust and cobwebs.

  I bent down and very carefully pulled it out.

  ‘Is that Geronimo, Little Twiglet?’ Pete asked, and I nodded. ‘Well, he looks a lot longer than usual, and much thinner. You should feed him more often. And by the way, Casper, have I ever told you that you are the Craziest Stick Insect in the solar system?’

  ‘Yes, you have,’ I answered calmly. ‘And you are Mr Crummy Conk-Nose and your feet are the size of Africa.’

  We were just about to start killing each other when we heard a tiny noise.

  I looked at Pete. He looked at me. We both turned and stared into the corner of my room. There, sitting on my bookshelf and rubbing his wrinkly-pinkly nose, was Geronimo. Hooray! He was OK. I’d never been so happy to hear a sneeze. The little hamster sneezed again. It was hardly surprising. He’d had half a ton of vacuum rubbish dumped on top of him.

  I was about to make a grab for him when Dad put his head round the door to see how the tidying was going, and of course it wasn’t. In fact the room was worse. A lot worse. And so was my dad. We got into deep doo-doo and by the time Dad had finished, Pete had been sent home and Geronimo had vanished yet again. That school hamster was a pain in the pants. Oh well, at least I knew he wasn’t in the vacuum cleaner.

  In any case, no sooner had I got Dad off my back than Mum was on it. She had a job for me.

  Did you know my mum makes cakes? I don’t mean for us to eat – she sells them. She is the best cake maker in the world and the house smells of cake in every room. (Except, of course, big sis Abbie’s bedroom, which stinks of her favourite perfume. I think it’s called MANURE.)

  Mum had made a huge pile of fairy cakes. I have often wondered why they’re called fairy cakes. Do you think it is:

  A because they are made by fairies?

  B because they have bits of fairy stuck in them?

  C because they are small and light?

  I think the answer is B – they’ve got bits of fairy stuck in them – lots of little arms and legs and bits of wing sticking out.

  OF COURSE IT ISN’T B! I’M JUST JOKING!

  So there I was, all alone in the kitchen with a huge pile of fairy cakes. Now then, what would you do? Would you:

  A pinch a cake? (After all, they’re only small.)

  B pinch TWO cakes? (They’re very small.)

  C pinch THREE CAKES (because you’re a big fat pig, you oversized fairy-cake thief)?

  Anyway, that’s quite enough with all these quizzes. What happened next was this. I had pinched a cake (only one) and was munching on it, when I heard someone coming. It was probably Mum!

  My mouth was still full of cake! Big Problemo!

  I slipped under the table and squeezed right to the back out of sight. I peeped out and saw the kitchen door open. A moment later, who should walk in? Abbie. I’d know her big fat legs anywhere. (Actually she’s not fat at all, but if you’ve got a big sis you have to say things like that, don’t you?)

&nbs
p; So big sis came wandering in. She closed the kitchen door and tiptoed across to the table. She was so close now I could have chewed her knees off. (YUCK! What a horribly knobbly thought!)

  And then she began talking to herself! Ha ha ha! I’VE GOT A BONKERS SISTER WHO TALKS TO HERSELF! I thought I’d die laughing.

  ‘Hmmmmm, Mummy’s yummy cakes. They look utterly deeeeelicious. Now then, which one shall I have?’

  She was just about to reach out for one when I gave a little squeak from beneath the table. ‘Please don’t eat me!’

  Abbie screamed.

  Mum walked in. ‘What on earth was all that noise?’ she demanded.

  Abbie’s knees were knocking together. I was holding myself as hard as I could to stop myself bursting with laughter.

  ‘The cake spoke to me,’ she said in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘Oh, Abbie!’ smiled Mum. ‘Of course it didn’t.’

  ‘It did. It told me not to eat it. It even said “please”! Ohhhhh!’

  ‘Casper,’ said Mum. ‘Would you like to come out from beneath the table?’

  Uh-oh! I hurriedly wiped the crumbs from my mouth and showed myself. Mum folded her arms and fixed me with an accusing gaze.

  ‘I understand you can do rather good talking-cake impressions,’ she suggested.

  Was that a tiny smile I saw her trying to hide? I think it was.

  ‘Please don’t eat me!’ I squeaked again and doubled up with laughter.

  Abbie snarled at me. ‘Oh, ha very ha ha, I don’t think. I knew it was you all the time.’

  ‘OK, you two. We’ll have no more of this,’ Mum butted in. ‘I’m in a hurry and I’ve a job for both of you. Gee-Gee’s care home is having a special party this afternoon. The oldest chap there, Leonard, is celebrating his hundredth birthday and I have to get all these cakes up to the home. But I have to stay here baking. The pair of you can deliver these cakes. You can say hello to Gee-Gee while you’re at it. Neither of you has been to see her for a while.’

  I should tell you that Gee-Gee is my great-grandmother, which has got two Gs and that’s why she’s called Gee-Gee. Also she likes horses. (I bet she wouldn’t fall off like Geronimo the Apache did.) Gee-Gee is amazing, even though she’s into her nineties. She’s a real live wire.

  Abbie was already moaning. ‘Do we have to go to the old people’s home? It’s full of old people.’

  ‘That’s what old people’s homes are for, potato brain.’

  Abbie ignored me. ‘Do I have to do this with my idiot brother? Can’t Shashi help me?’

  Mum shook her head. ‘No, she can’t. The whole point of this is to get rid of you both. You’ve been moping about complaining of being bored, while Casper has been filling his bedroom with the insides of a vacuum cleaner.’

  ‘But, Mum, the school hamster is lost in my bedroom and I’ve GOT to find him!’

  ‘Tough. You can hunt for Geronimo when you get back. Take the cakes and go. And don’t you dare eat a single one on the way! I have counted them and they’ll be counted again when you get there.’

  Huh. There was no escape. That mum of mine can be a real pain. The cakes were packed into a couple of cardboard boxes and off we went. Would I ever, ever, EVER manage to find Geronimo?

  On the way to the care home we met Pete. As soon as he heard we were going to a party he wanted to come too.

  ‘But it’s for VERY OLD people,’ I explained.

  ‘I know, but your great-gran is amazing,’ he said.

  Abbie stared at him. ‘She is a dinosaur,’ she told him.

  Pete grinned back at her. ‘I know. I love dinosaurs. Aren’t they stupendo?’

  Abbie was speechless. She turned on her heel and went flouncing ahead.

  Gee-Gee the dinosaur was very pleased to see us and insisted on giving both of us a big kiss.

  That great-granny of mine must be the world’s slurpiest kisser.

  ‘Stop whining or I’ll give you another,’ she threatened. ‘Now then, bring those cakes through here. The party has already started.’

  We carried the boxes through to the lounge. Music was being pumped out from somewhere. It was that old-time stuff; you know what it’s like – wibbly-wobbly voices singing about bluebirds and never meeting again and all that crumbly rubbish.

  Leonard – the birthday boy, all of one hundred years old – was sitting in a big armchair, surrounded by cards. I think he thought we were deaf, the way he shouted at us.

  The old lady beside him leaned across and shouted back in a wavery-quavery voice.

  ‘I can’t hear you, Lem, Lemmy, Lemon –’ She shook her head hard and finally got it out. ‘LEONARD!’

  Gee-Gee spotted an old lady who was sleeping in the corner. Her head was tipped back, mouth open, and she was snoring loudly.

  ‘Would you mind passing me a fairy cake, Casper?’ Gee-Gee asked politely.

  I thought Gee-Gee was going to eat it, but, oh no, definitely not. She took careful aim and lobbed it into the air. Pete and I watched in horror as it sailed across the room until – SPLOP! – it landed right in the old lady’s wide-open gob.

  That great-gran of mine is definitely a big-time trouble maker!

  ‘How’s zat!’ roared Leonard, cheerily waving his bat and getting to his feet. ‘Good bowling! Chuck one my way!’

  So Gee-Gee took another cake and bowled it at Leonard. He took a mighty swipe and sent the fairy cake zinging across the room at high speed.

  ‘It’s a six! Let’s have another,’ shouted Leonard. ‘I haven’t batted this well since I was thirty.’

  And that was it. Leonard was having a great time as the oldies bowled fairy cakes at him as fast as they could and he batted them every which way. WHIZZ! SPLAMM! ZEEOOWWWW! SPLATT!! At that point the nursing staff came rushing in to see what all the noise was about.

  ‘Leonard! Stop that at once!’ yelled Matron.

  A fairy cake landed on top of her head, like a little hat.

  Leonard had really got into his stride and was busily batting cakes in every direction. The lady beside him tried to clutch at his sleeve.

  ‘What are you doing, Lem, Lemming, Lentil, LEONARD!’

  ‘I’m batting for England!’ he bellowed.

  Another cake hit its target and a nurse staggered back with cake, icing, crumbs and hundreds and thousands plastered across her chest.

  ‘What do we do?’ yelled Pete. ‘We’ve got to stop them before they wreck the place!’

  ‘There’s only one thing TO do,’ I shouted back. ‘It’s time for –

  If only things really had been like that, but, of course, they weren’t. The nurses sent for reinforcements, which included three cleaning ladies, two cooks and the gardener.

  It didn’t take them long to wrestle the bat off Leonard and quieten everyone down.

  Matron folded her arms across her chest and glared at everyone in the room as if we were all guilty of murder.

  ‘Right,’ she began. ‘I want to know who started this.’

  We all looked at each other and then the blame game began, starting with the old lady sitting next to Leonard.

  ‘Len, Lennon, Lenin, LEONARD DID!’ she blurted.

  Birthday boy pointed straight at Gee-Gee.

  ‘She bowled me a fairy cake!’ he roared.

  And Gee-Gee drew herself upright and stared straight at – guess who?

  US!

  ‘They did!’ she declared. And all the other dinosaurs nodded their heads in agreement.

  Now EVERYONE was staring at the three of us. Matron’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

  ‘Well, what have you got to say for yourselves?’ she demanded.

  ‘It’s true that we brought the cakes here,’ I admitted. ‘But we didn’t make them.’

  ‘Then who did?’ demanded Matron.

  ‘Our mum,’ said Abbie smugly. That big sis of mine was pretty smart to come up with that one!

  Matron calmed down a bit when she heard that. ‘I see. Right! Everyone get to work. I want t
his place scrubbed clean from top to bottom. Now!’

  We were there for hours, at least that’s what it seemed like.

  When I was leaving, Leonard came over and patted me on my back.

  ‘Blistering birthday! Best batting I’ve ever done. Must have scored a hundred runs, or rather – a hundred crumbs!’ Leonard fell about laughing so much that it became a coughing fit. Then he almost DID fall over and two nurses had to help him off to bed. That Mr Leonard was a pretty cool dinosaur if you ask me.

  So there we are. As soon as we got home I frantically set about searching for Geronimo. You’ll never guess where I found him. He was curled up in the corner of Colin’s tank, and so was Betty! How on earth did they get there?

  Hamster Trouble

  That’s the noise my best friend Pete makes when he gets into bed and his feet plonk down into a warm, squidgy, rather furry

  and the Mess bites him.

  He yanked back the duvet. And what do you think he found? Betty, his pet hamster – and she wasn’t alone. There were eight more hamsters with her.

  EIGHT?!

  What was she doing? Having a hamster sleepover?

  No, certainly not, because the eight other hamsters were so small it could only mean one thing. Betty had just given birth to EIGHT BABIES! Octupletsters!

  Pete came straight round to my house to tell me, still in his pyjamas.