About the Book
A CRAZY collection of funny short stories from the WACKY mind of bestselling THAI-RIFFIC! author, Oliver P, featuring characters who are all finding a way to step up and be BRAVE.
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
The Boy with 1000 Names
Chess Nuts
Quaranteen
The First Dog on Mars
Sweet and Sour
The Ghost Writer
New International Day
Double Bed Dreams
The Man Who Lives on Slaughterhouse Road
Super-essential Thai-riffic!
Brain Freeze
Melted Chocolates
Brainstorming Brain Freeze
Oliver P’s Story Cube
About the Author
Books by Oliver Phommavanh
Imprint
Read more at Penguin Books Australia
To Mum and Dad for supporting my cHEwY journey for the last 10 years.
And to my sister, Anna, for her love and cheers for each milestone.
In the not-too-distant future, there was a boy named Joel.
But he didn’t know for how long.
He had no idea if Joel was going to be his name tomorrow.
Joel lived in a time where parents were allowed to change their kids’ names, and it was done with an app on their phone. It was installed by the National Naming Network on the birth of a child and the rules were simple. No rude words. No brands. You couldn’t use the same name twice. You could only change a name once a day.
It was quite rare for a kid to have just one name in their lifetime. Joel’s friends had had up to five names, though by the time they started school, their parents had settled on a final name.
But not for Joel.
His parents were particularly picky about his names. By the time Joel was eleven, he’d already had hundreds of names.
Yesterday his name had been Henrick.
The day before that, Braxton.
Last Monday, it had been Tumbawamba.
That was a gruesomely long day for Joel.
Then his parents got really creative on their phone’s keypad and called him #1 because he had the number 1 smile. But that name only made him more like #1. He worried his next name might also be his phone number.
At school, Joel found it easier to wear a sticker label with his name on it, so his teachers and friends would know what his name was that day.
On Saturday evening, Joel and his parents were having dinner and chatting about names. It was all they ever talked about. Joel’s dad was resting his elbows on an open book of names.
‘How about Thompson?’ Joel’s dad asked.
Joel’s mum stabbed her fork into a chicken piece. ‘I like half of that name,’ she said.
‘Which half?’ Joel’s dad asked.
‘The second half,’ Joel’s mum said. ‘Son . . .’
‘Because we have a son! I like that chain of thought.’ Joel’s dad clapped his hands. ‘Okay, how about Stevenson?’
‘Fennelson?’ Joel’s mum suggested.
‘Sunnyson?’
Joel thought about the hundreds of names that his parents had given him. Some of them were good names like Timmy or Neil. He liked Neil a lot. He thought he looked like a Neil.
Joel’s dad reached over to the kitchen bench and grabbed another book with colour names.
Joel winced. Colours were the worst. So far he’d had to endure Brown, Moss and Coal.
‘Mmmm,’ Joel’s dad said, flicking through the book. ‘How about Ivory?’
‘I-vo-ry, I-vo-ry, I-vo-ry,’ Mum chanted loudly, as though her son was a soccer star.
There was a knock on the door and everyone jumped.
‘Who could that be?’ Joel’s dad said, walking to the door.
‘It might be the neighbours complaining about Mum’s chanting,’ Joel muttered.
Joel’s dad opened the door to a small man in a grey trench coat.
‘Hello,’ the man said, his eyes looking a bit scary through his tiny diamond-shaped glasses. ‘I’m Agent Crown from the NNN.’
‘What?’ Joel’s dad asked.
Agent Crown took out his badge and flashed it around. ‘That’s the National Naming Network –’
‘Yes, yes, I know. You were the ones who gave us the app,’ Joel’s dad said. ‘I mean, what is this about? We’ve followed all the guidelines.’
‘This is about your son, Joel,’ Agent Crown said. ‘Did you know that this is his thousandth name?’
‘Oh wow!’ Joel’s dad yelled, jumping on the spot. ‘Do we get a medal?’
Agent Crown gave him a steely look. ‘Nobody has ever reached a thousand names. It is unacceptable.’ He took out a letter from the inside of his coat. ‘I’m afraid we have to suspend your naming licence. You will need to see a naming doctor at the NNN centre to get it back.’
With that, Agent Crown turned and left.
Joel’s parents were devastated.
For the first night in forever, Joel went to bed knowing what his name would be tomorrow. It was the best sleep he’d had in years.
On Monday afternoon, Joel’s parents took him along to the NNN centre, which was a large white building that could have been mistaken for the world’s largest washing machine.
Joel’s dad marched up to the receptionist’s desk. ‘We’d like to make an appointment with a naming doctor,’ he said.
‘Which one?’ the receptionist said.
Joel’s mum almost leapt over the counter. ‘Whoever is available now. It’s an emergency!’ She pointed to Joel. ‘My poor son is stuck with such a hideous name.’
Joel’s dad reeled her back in with his arm. ‘Honey, to be fair, we did pick his name.’
Joel was trying to hide in a corner of the waiting room, a magazine from the rack covering his face.
The receptionist checked her diary. ‘Dr Woods is free right now.’
‘We’ll take it!’ Joel’s mum said.
The receptionist beeped Dr Woods, who soon appeared.
‘Hello, Lai family?’ she asked.
Joel’s parents nodded and they all followed the doctor into her office. Dr Woods sat behind her desk, frowning and exclaiming as she read through the information on her computer screen.
‘You both need intensive training in name choosing,’ she said, staring at Joel. ‘Your child has had some terrible names.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Joel said.
Joel’s dad folded his arms. ‘Come on, we’re not that bad.’
Dr Woods glanced at her screen. ‘Two years ago, you gave him the name Mackyroo,’ she said.
Joel’s mum laughed. ‘Yes, I told my husband that name was silly.’
Dr Woods pointed at Joel’s mum. ‘You once gave your son the name Onion.’
‘I thought it was cute,’ Joel’s mum said. She nudged Joel in the ribs. ‘Besides, Joel has so many layers inside.’
Joel got teary. The day he was named Onion was also the first day of school camp. A few cheeky boys found some mouldy onions from the camp kitchen and hid them under his pillow. Even after Joel’s parents changed his name, the stench still hung around him like onion breath.
‘Let’s start with the basics,’ Dr Woods said, fetching a red bucket hat from a hook behind her. She flung the hat on the table. ‘I want you to give this hat a name.’
Joel’s mum scoffed. ‘You’re serious?’
‘I’m very serious, we’ll start with hats and then you can move onto cats,’ Dr Woods said, taking out her notebook.
Joel’s dad spun the hat on his finger. ‘I’d name this Fred, because it looks like my fishing hat.’
Dr Woods jotted down some notes.
‘You go fishing with a person named Fred?’ she asked.
Joel’s dad shook his head.
‘You went fishing in a place called Lake Fred?’ Joel asked.
‘No,’ Joel’s dad said.
‘Then why Fred?’ Dr Woods said, dropping her pen.
Joel’s dad shrugged. ‘It just popped into my head.’
‘I’ll have a go,’ Joel’s mum said, sniffing the hat. ‘How about Fish Guts?’
Joel’s dad yelped. ‘We can’t call our kid Fish Guts?’
‘I was talking about the hat.’
Joel raised his hand. ‘Can I have a go?’ he asked.
Dr Woods pushed the hat towards Joel.
Joel picked it up. ‘Mmmm, how about Rusty?’ he said.
Dr Woods smiled for the first time. ‘Well, it’s better than Fish Guts.’ She stood up. ‘Follow me.’
Dr Woods took them to the cat room, which was literally a room filled with cats. The National Naming Network liked to keep names simple, unlike Joel’s parents.
‘Wow, it’s like one of those cat cafes,’ Joel’s mum said. ‘The ones where you can drink coffee and hang out with cats.’
Dr Woods smiled. ‘Yes, these cats love being around people. I want you to walk up to a cat and give it a name.’ Dr Woods turned to Joel. ‘Do you want a go too?’
‘Why?’ Joel asked.
‘Because, your parents may have passed down their bad naming skills onto you,’ Dr Woods said with a wink. ‘I need to know for sure.’
Joel grinned and went in after his mum and dad.
Joel’s dad chased after a black and white cat. ‘Come here, Cookies and Cream.’
Dr Woods jotted in her notebook. ‘That’s a good start.’
Joel’s mum wandered over and picked up a cat and stroked its light brown coat. ‘Hello, Latte.’
Joel noticed a stray cat in the corner of the room, clawing at the wall. ‘What’s wrong?’ Joel said, as he bent down to pick him up. ‘I’m going to call you Wild Paws.’
Meanwhile, Joel’s parents were naming cats left, right and centre.
‘Hi, Cinnamon,’ Joel’s dad said.
‘Come over here, Expresso,’ Joel’s mum said.
‘Hey, Earl Grey.’
‘Frappe.’
‘Chai.’
Dr Woods called them over. ‘Thanks, Mr and Mrs Lai.’ She looked at Joel, who was still playing with Wild Paws. ‘Let’s go, Joel.’
Joel waved at Wild Paws. ‘Nice meeting you.’
Joel tugged at the doctor’s coat. ‘Where do you find all these cats?’
‘We get them from the animal shelter,’ Dr Woods said. She stared at Joel’s crinkled forehead. ‘Don’t worry, they’re well looked after here.’
‘I think we were on a roll,’ Joel’s dad said.
‘Yeah,’ Joel muttered. ‘You should have had a cat first.’
Dr Woods hissed at Joel’s parents. ‘You were naming those cats after drinks?’ she said.
Joel’s mum laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t drink a cat.’ She licked her lips. ‘I would kill for a coffee though.’
Dr Woods took them down to a cafe in the building’s foyer. Dr Woods sipped her coffee and put her notepad away.
‘Let me ask you something,’ she said. ‘Why do you keep changing Joel’s name?’
Joel’s mum played with the coffee froth along the mug’s rim. ‘We’re just looking for the perfect name,’ she said.
Joel’s dad chipped in. ‘We want our son to have the perfect name because we love him so much.’
Joel quickly looked down at his hot chocolate, trying to focus on the creamy sweetness, rather than the squirmy emotions he was feeling.
Dr Woods sighed. ‘I’m sorry. You both need more intensive work on your naming skills,’ she said. ‘I think I have to give the naming licence to someone else.’
Joel’s mum got teary. ‘Not a caretaker . . . I don’t want anyone to take Joel away.’
Joel’s dad put a hand on her shoulder. ‘They may take the name Joel, but we’ll still have our son,’ he said.
‘I’m not giving the naming rights to a caretaker,’ Dr Woods said. She looked at Joel. ‘Joel, you can choose your own name.’
‘Really?!’ Joel said, gulping down the last of his hot chocolate. ‘Is that allowed?’
‘Only in special circumstances,’ Dr Woods said, with a smile. ‘It’s obvious that your parents don’t know how to give you a name you like.’
Joel glanced across at his parents. They looked like a pair of deflated beachballs – like they’d failed a million spelling tests in a row. Well, they did fail a whole bunch of naming tests.
Joel closed his eyes for what felt like ages, but was only a few seconds. ‘I don’t want to choose my own name,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ Dr Woods asked. ‘You can finally choose something that you’re not ashamed of.’
Joel’s mind skipped across the list of dud names – Onion, Chunder, Synergy, #1 – like a pebble across the water. But when he opened his eyes, he said, ‘I’d rather have a bad name chosen by my parents than any I might choose for myself. I’m happy to wait until my parents get their licence back.’
Joel’s mum and dad both went in for a hug.
‘Are you sure, sweetie?’ Joel’s mum said. ‘We won’t be offended if you choose your own name.’
Joel’s dad sniffed. ‘Maybe it would be for the best,’ he said.
‘I want you guys to give me a name,’ Joel said. ‘And I’m okay with Joel.’
The doctor’s glasses suddenly got all foggy. ‘How about we meet again next month?’ she said. ‘I can reassess you both then.’
Over the next few weeks, Joel helped his parents with their naming skills. Every evening after dinner, as Joel was doing his homework, his parents would give names to things around the house. Joel checked their names to see if they were on the right track.
‘Dad, why did you name the toaster, George?’ Joel asked.
‘It reminds me of a guy back in school, he was wide as a toaster,’ Joel’s dad said.
Joel ticked it off his list. ‘Great, and Mum, would you like to introduce us to your pet ants?’
Mum tapped the plastic lunch box, which had three ants inside. ‘These little guys are Caroline, Lifty and Crawlie,’ she said. ‘Because they carry and lift things, plus they crawl around.’
‘Cool,’ Joel said. ‘Why Caroline though?’
‘It just sounded nice,’ Joel’s mum said. ‘Do you think that’s okay?’
Joel cleared his throat. ‘Caroline, Caroline, Caroline,’ he sang at the top of his lungs. ‘Yeah, that works.’
Joel’s mum squeezed him tight, before they sang out Caroline one more time.
A month later, Joel and his parents went back to see Dr Woods. She took Joel’s parents over to the dog room, a room filled with yappy puppies and small dogs. Joel’s parents took turns naming them all and Dr Woods beamed with pride. ‘Outstanding!’ she said.
They went back to the cafe, where Joel was waiting for them.
‘You’ll get your naming licence back soon. It should pop on your phone’s app in an hour,’ Dr Woods said.
That night, Joel’s parents went into Joel’s bedroom to tuck him in.
‘Thanks for all your help,’ Joel’s dad said.
Joel noticed the book of names under his arm. ‘I hope you choose a good name for me,’ he said.
‘We’re not changing your name anymore,’ Joel’s mum said.
‘The name Joel reminds us of the time you taught us how to name things properly,’ Joel’s dad said. ‘And not to take names for granted.’
‘Plus, for weeks I’ve been singing “Joel” whenever I’m in the car,’ Joel’s mum added.
Joel tapped the book. ‘What’s this for then?’
‘We’re thinking of getting a cat,’ he said. ‘So, we’re doing some research.’
‘I know a great place to get a cat, too,’ Joel said. He hoped that scraggy cat,
Wild Paws, was still at the cat room back at the NNN centre.
Joel wiggled his toes. ‘So, I’m going to be Joel forever?’
‘Yes,’ Joel’s mum said. ‘Is that okay?’
‘It may not be as good as Neil,’ Joel said. ‘But it’s mine and you both picked it, so it’s exactly the right fit.’
Joel dozed off and had the best sleep ever. It was the kind of sleep that kids with a forever name had.
The next week, Joel’s parents went to the NNN centre, where Dr Woods was more than pleased to see them adopt a cat. Joel wanted to name it Wild Paws but it didn’t quite fit anymore, so Joel’s mum decided to go for Nibbles. Well, it was Nibbles on that day. The following day, it was Ratchet, and then the day after, it was Gold Dust. Joel felt a bit sorry for his pet cat, but he was sure that his parents would get it right, eventually.
My dad loves his sports. On the weekends, he’s the kind of dad who goes crazy, cheering from the sidelines.
This Saturday morning is no different.
‘Come on, Danny,’ Dad screams. ‘Smash him, hit him harder, hit him harder.’
‘Shhhh,’ I say. ‘I’m playing chess here.’
I only joined the Chess Nuts six weeks ago, after Dad encouraged me to join a team sport. Chess was the last thing I expected to see on a list of sports. For Dad, chess didn’t even make his list. But the Chess Nuts were the only sporting team in Sterling that would take me in. Mum says she’s happy because chess isn’t a dangerous sport. The only thing that was hurt was Dad’s ego.
Every Saturday morning, he takes me to the chess games in the hall at Sterling High School. He stands on the sidelines and screams whenever I make a move.
I’m not talking about just chess moves either. One time I scratched my nose and Dad leapt out of his seat to pump his fist. I think Dad only wanted me to play a sport so he could do his second favourite thing in the world – cheering.
I wish I could give Dad a reason to cheer. But I suck at chess. Today’s opponent, Peri, is tearing me apart, piece by piece.
Brain Freeze Page 1