Frankie Fish and the Tomb of Tomfoolery

by Peter Helliar

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1: HOW DID WE GET HERE?

  CHAPTER 2: TOTALLY BAZAAR TO SAY THE LEAST

  CHAPTER 3: CURSED

  CHAPTER 4: THERE ARE SOME PLACES YOU CAN'T GET HOME BY BUS

  CHAPTER 5: THAT'S NOT A KNIFE

  CHAPTER 6: THE RUN OF AXES

  CHAPTER 7: THE DANCE FLOOR OF DOOM

  CHAPTER 8: NO TIME FOR PERSONAL SPACE

  CHAPTER 9: FROM A MUMMY TO A DADDY

  CHAPTER 10: TUTU-KARMA

  HOW DID WE GET HERE?

  Frankie Fish felt hot.

  A bead of sweat trickled down his neck, then all the way down his back. It headed south on his right leg before plopping onto the ground next to his foot, where it sizzled like butter in a hot frying pan.

  Frankie felt hot for two reasons. First, because he’d dug himself into a huge hole of trouble. A hole that was bigger than a football field. Bigger than two football fields. It was as big as a time-warped sinkhole where he could end up trapped for eternity … because it was a time-warped sinkhole where he could end up trapped for eternity.

  And second, because he was standing on sand so hot it felt like it was melting.

  Usually, Frankie Fish loved the feeling of sand between his toes. In fact, he had spent many months looking forward to summer, when he would finally get to go on a beach holiday with his best and only friend, Drew Bird, and the entire Bird family. (They were supposed to go on that trip ages ago, but it had been cancelled after a certain prank and a certain time-travelling suitcase had changed their plans.)

  But today, the sand felt crunchy and horrible. And it appeared to be endless, as if they had arrived at a beach after the ocean had completely disappeared. What a nightmare!

  Luckily, like in most – if not all – of Frankie’s nightmares, Drew Bird was right next to him. Yep, Fish and Bird had time-travelled with their Sonic Suitcase once again. Frankie’s grandad had invented it a while ago. It was basically a really weird computer housed inside a – you guessed it – suitcase, and it could take people back in time. Frankie’s sister had added lots of cool functions to it, and Frankie and Drew used it as much as they could, which often led to all kinds of trouble.

  Right now, they were in more trouble than a mummified cat in a sarcophagus, which was ironic really because they had whirled their butts more than three thousand years earlier to Giza, in Ancient Egypt, landing near a marketplace in what seemed like a giant’s sandpit. And shortly after looking around the dusty, crowded bazaar, which was overshadowed by a recently built pyramid, they had managed to lose their most precious possession: the Sonic Suitcase.

  ‘When will we learn?’ groaned Frankie Fish as locals pushed past them, shouting and trading between market stalls.

  ‘It’s the Mosleys’ fault!’ protested Drew Bird over the hustle and bustle. ‘They have a way of crawling under my skin.’

  It seemed like only twenty minutes ago (because it actually was) that Frankie and Drew were in St Monica’s schoolyard during morning recess, arguing with one of the Mosley triplets about something so silly and stupid that they themselves felt silly and stupid for letting it lead to this.

  It had all started when the Mosley triplet in question (who knows which one?) declared staunchly that Ancient Egyptians walked in a bizarre sideways fashion, with their arms stabbing in opposite directions. He swore up and down that this fact was confirmed by his mother’s favourite song, ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ – a song by a very old band called the Bangles, whom he assumed were actually from Ancient Egypt (they were not). And because the library was closed for remodelling and phones were banned at school, no-one could get online or into the history books to prove it.

  Even Lisa Chadwick – teacher’s pet to some and pain in the bum to all – was on Frankie and Drew’s side, which proved there really is a first time for everything. She tried to explain that the song was just about how the Ancient Egyptians would draw themselves in hieroglyphics. (Then she explained that hieroglyphics were a way of writing things using symbols and pictures, just in case anyone had forgotten how smart she was.) But this Mosley triplet would not be convinced, and when his brothers backed him up, he felt even bolder.

  ‘Are you calling me a liar?’ he shouted.

  ‘Yeah,’ said one of the other triplets (the one who was planning on getting a face tattoo when he turned eighteen). ‘Are you calling our MUM a LIAR?’

  ‘ARE YOU?!’ yelled the third one (the one with a wild look in his eye).

  Frankie backed away a little. The last time he had seen this look on the Mosleys’ faces, things had ended with his shorts wedged so far up his butt crack he could still taste them at dinner.

  But Drew wasn’t going to back down. He was sick of being bullied by this fearsome threesome. ‘I’m not calling any of you liars,’ he announced as a crowd began to gather. ‘But you’re all as dumb as doorknobs on a brick wall if you think Ancient Egyptians actually walked like that!’ he roared defiantly.

  Miss Merryweather, who was passing by, rushed in to prevent the riot she knew was about to explode like a Mentos out of a Coke bottle. But she was too late. Mount Mosley had erupted.

  ‘WHAT DID YOU SAY?’ the Mosley triplets bellowed in perfect unison.

  ‘Everybody, back to class!’ screeched Miss Merryweather, manically blowing her whistle like an umpire having a nervous breakdown.

  Everyone ignored her.

  ‘Looks like you’re on your own,’ Lisa Chadwick said, quickly resuming her status as a mortal enemy of both Mr F Fish and Mr D Bird.

  All eyes were on Drew Bird as the Mosleys took a collective step closer.

  Drew glanced, a little nervously, at a VERY nervous Frankie Fish, who was feeling a familiar knot in his tummy. He knew exactly what his best friend was thinking, and he figured he may as well jump in. It was his time-travelling Sonic Suitcase, after all.

  Frankie threw his hands in the air. ‘Drew is right, and we can prove it!’

  And with those words, a new adventure was born.

  ‘Um, how are you going to do that?’ asked Lisa Chadwick snootily.

  ‘Yes, how indeed?’ asked a now-curious Miss Merryweather.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how –’ Frankie attempted.

  ‘But it does matter when,’ interrupted Mosley number two. ‘If you can’t prove that Ancient Egyptians DIDN’T walk sideways by lunchtime today, then …’

  Mosley number one jumped in. ‘Then you have to wear pink tutus for the entire day tomorrow!’

  ‘Is there another option?’ asked Drew quickly.

  ‘Yes, but you won’t like it,’ said the final Mosley triplet menacingly. ‘Unless you enjoy being thrown up a tree by your feet!’

  So that was that. And now was now. Frankie and Drew were in Ancient Egypt, and their precious Sonic Suitcase was nowhere to be seen. They were in one giant pickle (not literally).

  Here’s how it happened.

  TOTALLY BAZAAR TO SAY THE LEAST

  The plan couldn’t have been simpler if it had been dreamt up by Simple Simon from the Shire of Simpleton.

  1. Travel to Ancient Egypt. (This was super easy. All Frankie and Drew had to do was enter co-ordinates into the Sonic Suitcase, hold onto its handle and hurtle through time.)

  2. Film the Ancient Egyptians walking NORMALLY to prove that the Mosleys – and the Bangles – were totally wrong, so that …

  3. … Frankie and Drew wouldn’t have to flaunt pink tutus tomorrow at St Monica’s. Which no-one would ever let them forget.

  The boys had done just enough research (in other words, asked Frankie’s sister, Lou) to turn some T-shirts from Lost Property in
to the fashions of the day. Frankie had brought his Sonic Suitcase to school, like usual – just in case they needed to make a quick getaway (or in case they forgot their lunch and needed to visit 18th century Naples for pizza). So getting to Ancient Egypt – and blending in there – was a cinch.

  Not that Frankie and Drew were relaxed – quite the opposite. Time-travel always came with the knowledge that you could screw up the future of all known civilisation. BUT, it also came with some unique tourist opportunities, and soon after they’d arrived Frankie and Drew found themselves walking around a crowded bazaar in front of an actual pyramid.

  Frankie had wanted to visit the pyramids ever since he could remember and, now that he was standing near one, he could barely believe his eyes. It was way bigger than he’d ever imagined, and smoother, and grander, and just more … incredible-looking. As he stared all the way up the colossal tomb’s pale stone sides to its apex, he wondered if it actually touched the sky.

  Drew grinned at the awe on his best friend’s face. ‘Worth it already hey?’

  Frankie grinned. ‘Not bad!’

  Around them, the bazaar was buzzing with locals who were decidedly NOT walking like bizarre triangles. People selling grains and trinkets shouted excitedly and darted between stalls while a row of camels ferried baskets along the sandy market laneways. Frankie and Drew couldn’t help but stare in amazement.

  ‘Where do you think the falafel stalls are?’ Drew asked, his tummy rumbling like a tumble dryer full of soccer balls. His mouth was already watering at the thought of ticking something off his time-travelling culinary bucket list.

  ‘Hmm, it looks pretty busy over there,’ said Frankie, suddenly ravenous too. He wouldn’t say no to some authentic Egyptian shawarma. ‘Let’s find something to eat, and then we can sneak some footage of everyone walking normally and hightail it back home.’

  They darted around a corner of the enormous pyramid in the hopes of finding the food court – but were confronted with a very different scene. Six open coffins, or sarcophagi as the locals called them, were lined up in a row. People were queuing to pay their respects to the largest one.

  ‘This was not what I was expecting,’ whispered Frankie, suddenly losing his appetite. ‘Maybe we should just go home and wear those freaking tutus.’

  ‘Pink is not my colour, Frankie,’ Drew argued. ‘Light red, maybe, but never pink!’

  ‘I just don’t think this is a place for fooling around,’ Frankie whispered. ‘It looks pretty serious.’

  ‘Who said anything about fooling around?’ Drew protested. ‘We will respectfully wander around, and very discreetly film some Egyptians walking totally normally. It’s a win-win!’

  If everything went to plan, it would technically only be ONE win, but Frankie made like Frozen and let it go. ‘OK, I guess,’ he said. He kind of wished they’d just let the Mosley triplets believe the wrong thing about Ancient Egyptians, but oh well. Now that they were here, they may as well have an adventure!

  The boys’ plan was to film some locals using the camera that Frankie’s sister, Lou, had recently installed in the Sonic Suitcase. (Lou had ‘borrowed’ the camera from their dad’s old iPad, which Ron Fish hadn’t yet noticed but was sure to explode about when he did.) Then they’d slap some filters on their video, upload it to YouTube and Bob’s your uncle – Frankie and Drew would not have to spend a day prancing about in frilly tutus. It wasn’t exactly a foolproof plan – not least because, um, cameras didn’t exist in Ancient Egypt – but it’d be enough to fool the Mosleys, who were not the sharpest tools in the box.

  Drew fiddled with the buttons to start the camera filming, then hoisted the suitcase up and pointed it towards the mourners. They’d decided to film the Egyptians here as there were fewer people around, and the mourners were moving a bit slower than the people in the bazaar, so it was easier to get them on camera.

  ‘Keep a low profile, Drew,’ Frankie hissed as they began walking towards the sarcophagi. ‘If anyone notices what we’re doing, we’re goners.’ Drew obediently dropped the suitcase by his side, looking around to make sure no-one noticed.

  As they made their way closer to the crowd of people paying their respects, Frankie’s curiosity grew. The sarcophagi were carefully sculpted out of pale, high-quality stone, with rounded corners and detailed designs and symbols drawn all over them. Next to each coffin was its lid; Frankie could see a man painted on one lid, his open eyes freaking Frankie out just a little bit. And inside the sarcophagi, Frankie knew, there would be real-life – or real-dead – mummies.

  ‘Come on,’ whispered Drew excitedly. ‘If we get a mummy on camera, the Mosleys will know for sure that this is Ancient Egypt!’

  The boys joined the queue and tried to blend in, but it was hard not to appear too interested – either by the thought of seeing an actual mummy, or the thrill of conducting some pretty epic historic spy-work.

  Before they knew it, Frankie and Drew were at the front of the line. Nervously, they crept towards the biggest open coffin.

  Frankie felt a familiar frog in his throat, but also a giddying excitement combined with terror. This was what time-travelling was all about – thrills and fear, all mixed up! They were about to see a mummy minutes before it was sealed inside its coffin and put in an authentic Egyptian pyramid. Frankie worked hard to keep silent, but inside, his whole body was screaming.

  ‘Wow,’ Frankie murmured as he got his first glimpse inside the sarcophagus. He nudged Drew in the ribs. ‘A real mummy!’

  Frankie could barely believe his generally trustworthy eyes. In every scary movie he’d seen featuring mummies – and there were a lot of them – the mummies were wrapped in worn, bedraggled bandages, moaning and groaning while mindlessly walking around with their arms outstretched like they were sleepwalking. This mummy was doing none of that. This mummy was perfectly still, and its bandages were not scruffy at all – they were clean and carefully wrapped around its body.

  Maybe I should wrap myself up like that before bed so I don’t toss and turn so much, Frankie thought.

  The mummy didn’t smell as bad as he had imagined, either. Frankie could detect a slight whiff of musk and salt, a bit like Grandad smelt after a day of gardening.

  Drew carefully aimed the Sonic Suitcase around the ancient coffin to get more footage. The two boys could barely contain themselves.

  And that was when someone reached out from behind them and grabbed their shoulders.

  ‘Ahhhhhhhh!’ screamed Frankie and Drew.

  CURSED

  As Frankie and Drew screamed, a thousand thoughts flew through Frankie’s mind. None of them were good. He was convinced that the mummy had somehow grabbed them. He’d seen WAY too many movies about Ancient Egyptian curses to think otherwise, and OF COURSE it’d be just his luck to peer into the one cursed sarcophagus going around ...

  But then the hands on their shoulders tightened and both boys were quickly spun around to see someone who was decidedly NOT a mummy. The boys stopped screaming and, out of the corner of his eye, Frankie noticed Drew smoothly tucking the Sonic Suitcase behind him.

  Standing over the boys was a great hulking man who barked words at them without waiting for a response or even taking a breath. The Sonic Suitcase’s translating padlock whirred gently into action, translating the man’s words into English.

  ‘Who are you?’ the Large Man was screaming. ‘What are you doing here, you twerps?!’

  ‘We are just paying our respects, sir,’ Frankie stammered. The padlock, which was clipped to the suitcase’s handle, translated for him.

  The man was unconvinced. ‘Respects?’ he spat. ‘Respects to whom?’ He glared at the two scallywags in front of him, certain they were up to no good.

  Frankie and Drew looked at each other and then back at the sarcophagus, hoping to find a clue about the name of the bandaged body it contained. Sadly, there were no names that they could read. And – surprise, surprise – neither Frankie nor Drew were fluent in hieroglyphics. The cl
osest they had come was playing Pictionary together last school holidays, which had mostly turned out to involve drawing bums.

  ‘Roger,’ Drew blurted. ‘We are paying our respects to Roger.’

  ‘Why Roger?’ Frankie hissed with a panicked look.

  Drew shrugged. ‘I dunno! I think he looks like a Roger?’

  How anyone could possibly think that a body completely covered in bandages could look like a Roger – or a Susan for that matter – is difficult to understand. But, just like the Ancient Egyptians (or Current Egyptians, as it were) had their own writing system, Drew Bird had his own ‘thinking system’.

  The Shouty Man became shoutier and more irritable as he pointed behind Drew’s back. ‘What are you hiding there, you little brute?’ he shouted, spittle spurting from his mouth like a sad fireworks display. ‘Turn around!’

  ‘We’ve got nothing!’ Frankie shouted back, his fear rising.

  ‘Yeah, nothing!’ Drew agreed, shuffling the suitcase behind his back as he showed Shouty Man first one empty hand, and then the other. ‘Turning around would be a bad idea!’

  ‘A bad idea? WHY?’ the Shouty Spitty Man asked, now mad AND bewildered.

  ‘Because …’ stammered Drew, his confidence faltering.

  ‘Because …’ Frankie stuttered, before saying in a rush, ‘because Drew has a flatulence problem. He is known as the MASTER FARTER. He once farted so loudly that six sparrows fell out of the nearest tree. He once farted so hard on the oval at lunchtime that a worm actually caught fire. He once –’

  ‘OK, OK,’ interrupted the Master Farter himself, while Frankie tried very hard to suppress his own giggles. ‘I think he gets the point.’

  Unfortunately, the Shouty Spitty Man was not convinced. He grabbed Drew by the collar of his suspiciously yellow-stained Lost Property T-shirt and turned him around impatiently to reveal …