Just shocking, p.8
Just Shocking, page 8
‘But what?’ says Mum, becoming impatient.
‘But you realise that they’re full of sugar,’ I say, without even knowing that I was going to say it. What a genius I am!
‘What are you trying to imply, Andy?’ says Mum.
‘Nothing!’ I say.
‘Yes, you are,’ says Mum. ‘Are you trying to tell me that I’m fat?’
‘No!’ I say.
Mr Bainbridge sucks in his breath disapprovingly. ‘If I’d talked to my mother like that, she would have come down on me like a tonne of bricks!’
‘Was she fat too?’ says Danny.
Oh no. That was DEFINITELY the wrong thing to say … for so many reasons.
‘I beg your pardon, young man?’ says Mr Bainbridge.
‘And what do you mean by “too”, Danny?’ says Mum. ‘Are you saying that I’m fat?’
I put my hand over Danny’s mouth before he can reply and make things any worse.
Mum picks up the last two cans and gives one to Mrs Bainbridge.
‘Hey,’ I say, out of sheer desperation, ‘who wants to play a game?’
‘A game?’ says Mr Bainbridge. ‘Why yes, I love games! Most people think that games are a waste of time, but research shows that they can increase workplace productivity by up to eighty per cent. What do you have in mind?’
‘Um,’ I say. ‘Last to open their can wins!’
‘That’s hardly fair, Andy,’ says Dad. ‘You and Danny have already opened your cans.’
‘Oh yeah,’ I say.
‘We should make it the first one to open their can,’ says Danny. ‘Then I’d be the winner!’
I give up. I’ve really got to find myself a new best friend. A smart one.
‘Congratulations, Danny,’ says Mum.
‘Let’s all have a drink to celebrate.’
They each raise their cans.
Time seems to slow down.
Their fingers slide under the ring-pulls.
Mum opens her can: pfffssst!
Mrs Bainbridge opens hers: pfffssst!
Dad opens his: pfffssst!
Mr Bainbridge opens his: Pfffsssssssssss
A lemonade fountain!
I should have known all along it would be Mr Bainbridge’s.
What I didn’t know was just how much lemonade could come out of one can.
Mr Bainbridge is absolutely drenched.
Lemonade drips from his hair, his golf shirt, his nose.
It’s even running off his ears.
Rolling down his arms.
Dripping off his fingers.
Forming puddles on the floor.
It’s all over the front of his pants.
He’s just blinking, spluttering, wiping his face clean.
Well, I guess that’s it.
That’s Dad’s job gone.
That’s my pocket money stopped.
Again.
But this time probably forever.
Dad glares at me. ‘Did you have anything to do with this?’
‘No,’ I say.
But Dad continues glaring. Mum joins him.
Glare.
Glare.
Glare.
Mrs Bainbridge is glaring as well. Now that’s REALLY scary. I crack under the pressure. Nobody’s that tough.
‘Maybe,’ I say.
‘Did you or did you not know that one of those cans was shaken?’ says Dad. ‘Yes or no?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But it wasn’t my idea, it was …’
I look around.
Danny’s nowhere to be seen. No use blaming him. Nothing left for me to do but to pack my bags and check myself into the nearest adoption agency. Perhaps I’ll be luckier the next time around.
I start to shuffle out of the room.
‘Where do you think you’re going, young man?’ says Mr Bainbridge, finally recovering from the sugary blast.
I shrug. ‘Not too sure,’ I say, ‘but I guess I’ll find somewhere … eventually … till then I figure I can sleep in bus shelters … under bridges … live off whatever I can scrounge from rubbish bins … maybe I’ll jump a train heading north, pick fruit … don’t worry about me, I’ll get by …’
‘Not so fast,’ he says, approaching me with his hand outstretched and a broad grin on his face.
Huh?
Mr Bainbridge shakes my hand vigorously. ‘I could use a young man like you,’ he says. ‘I thought your joke was very funny! Very, very funny!’
‘You did?’ I say.
Dad’s glare turns to a frown, then to shock and then to relief as he realises that not only is Mr Bainbridge not angry, but he appears to be offering me a job!
‘Yes!’ says Mr Bainbridge, still dripping. ‘It reminds me of a game we used to play as kids … good old-fashioned fun. Now, let me see, what was it called … so long ago, ah yes … that’s right … lemonade roulette!’
‘Really?’ I say. ‘You used to play lemonade roulette?’
‘Oh yes,’ says Mr Bainbridge. ‘Some of the happiest days of my life were spent playing lemonade roulette! We didn’t have much, but we were happy … in fact, that’s the trouble with young people today: they get too much …’
Mr Bainbridge is off again, but you know what?
For once I don’t mind a bit.
I take a sip of lemonade.
Ahhh.
Cool and refreshing.
Nothing like a cold lemonade on a hot day.
SHOCKING BEDTIME TALES Pty Ltd
presents
The
Exploding Butterfly
Story
Once upon a time there was nothing.
Nothing,
nothing,
nothing
and still more nothing.
Until, all of a sudden,
There was a big explosion
and out came the universe …
and the galaxy …
and the Sun
and the planets
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and the Earth
and every living creature on Earth,
including a very
pretty pink butterfly.
One day the
pretty pink butterfly was
fluttering in a sunny meadow
with lots of other
pretty pink
butterflies.
A beautiful little bluebird sang
sweetly in the willow tree.
Fluffy white lambs frolicked
in the soft green grass.
Then,
all of a sudden,
the pretty pink butterfly exploded.
Then another pretty pink
butterfly exploded.
Then all the pretty pink
butterflies exploded.
The bluebird exploded.
The willow tree exploded.
The fluffy white lambs stopped frolicking
and
exploded.
The soft
green grass
exploded.
The meadow
exploded.
A man walking past the
meadow exploded.
The man’s wife exploded.
Every living creature on Earth exploded.
Then the Earth exploded.
The Moon
and
the planets
and
the Sun exploded.
The galaxy exploded.
The universe exploded.
Then the explosion
exploded.
Then the explosion
of the explosion
exploded.
Then the explosion
of the explosion
of the explosion
exploded.
and that
was the
end because
all that was left
was nothing.
ANDY: Hey, Danny, I’ve been thinking, and you know what? I reckon we could have a lot of fun with a monster truck.
DANNY: Well, sure, but it depends on what sort of specifications you are talking about.
ANDY: Well, just the usual stuff. You know, something like a fibreglass pickup truck body with a 6.3 litre supercharged, alcohol-injected Chevy small block linked to a turbo 400 transmission with a manual reverse pattern valve body and a 4000 r.p.m. stall converter producing 1500 wheel-standing horsepower, ZF axles with internal wet brakes and planetaries, eight nitrogen-charged custom-designed shocks on 66-inch Firestone Flotation tyres each weighing over half a tonne. That sort of thing.
DANNY: I can definitely see how we could have some fun with that.
ANDY: Yeah! We could drive around and if other cars got in our way we could just run over them and crush them to bits.
DANNY: You bet. And if any buildings got in our way, we could just drive right over the top and crush them as well.
ANDY: Great idea! And if we came to a zoo, well, we could just drive right in and crush all the buildings AND the animals! How cool would that be? Just imagine driving around the elephant enclosure crushing elephants underneath our 66-inch Goodyear terras!
DANNY: I don’t know about that, Andy. I kind of like elephants.
ANDY: That’s okay. We could crush hippos instead. They probably deserve it more than elephants anyway. Did you know that hippos kill more humans than any other animal in Africa? You don’t want to mess with hippos. Not unless you’ve got a monster truck, that is.
DANNY: I’m not sure we should mess with hippos … whether we’ve got a monster truck or not.
ANDY: What are you, a hippo lover or something?
DANNY: No, but hippos have really bad tempers. What if the hippos got hippo rage and got a monster truck and came after us?
ANDY: That’s just stupid. Hippos can’t drive.
DANNY: I know, but what if they could?
ANDY: Well, it’s still stupid, because we would have already crushed all the hippos anyway.
DANNY: But what if some of the hippos were out visiting the elephants and while they were there they saw what we were doing to the other hippos and they went and got their hippo monster truck and then came after us looking for revenge? We couldn’t just drive over them, because they would have their own monster truck and the one thing that monster trucks definitely can’t drive over and crush is other monster trucks.
ANDY: Well, that all depends. Is the hippos’ monster truck as big as ours?
DANNY: Yes.
ANDY: Is it as powerful as ours?
DANNY: Yes.
ANDY: Does it have flame-throwing exhaust pipes?
DANNY: No.
ANDY: Well, that’s easy, then. If they were chasing us I’d let them catch up, and then when they were really close I’d let the flames rip and incinerate the hippos and their stupid monster truck, and that would be the end of that.
DANNY: It might be the end of their monster truck, but what if the hippos had flame-retardant suits on?
ANDY: Now you’re just being dumb. As if they would make flame-retardant suits to fit hippopotamuses! What would they even need them for?
DANNY: In case their swamp caught on fire … or somebody flamed their monster truck. How would I know? But that’s beside the point. The point is, what if they had them on and they survived the flaming and now they were REALLY mad because not only did we just kill all their friends and families, but we just destroyed their monster truck as well?
ANDY: What do you think I’d do? I’d just reverse over the top of them and crush them like bugs.
DANNY: Yeah, but what if they were wearing specially designed monster-truck resistant suits?
ANDY: Now you’re just creating problems for the sake of it! As if that’s EVER going to happen!
DANNY: But it MIGHT happen. You can’t be absolutely sure that it wouldn’t. I know it’s not likely, but it’s possible. And if it did happen, what would you do? That’s the question.
ANDY: No, the real question is—do you want to have fun in a monster truck with me or do you just want to go on and on about stupid hippos?
DANNY: Umm …
ANDY: Take your time. Don’t rush what could be the most important decision of your life.
DANNY: I want to have fun in a monster truck.
ANDY: Do you mean it?
DANNY: Of course!
ANDY: All right! You won’t regret it, Danny. I promise. THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST DAY EVER!
COMING IN 2008 FROM PAN MACMILLAN
Schooling Around
A wacky new four-book series by the bestselling author Andy Griffiths
There’s never a dull moment at Northwest Southeast Central School. The principal has a map that leads to buried treasure; the students all fear the Pencil of Doom; Northwest-west-west Central School is on the war path; and the robots are out of control! Join grade five students Henry McThrottle, Gretel Armstrong, Jack Japes, Jenny Friendly and Newton Hooton as they find hilarious ways to navigate the halls and make it through their crazy classes.
Book 1: TREASURE FEVER!
Book 2: PENCIL OF DOOM!
Book 3: SCHOOL WARS!
Book 4: ROBOT ATTACK!
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Andy Griffiths, Just Shocking
