Rover and the Big Fat Baby
Page 5
The swimming teacher was the total eejit who would have to get the Treatment four times before he learned his lesson.
The Gigglers could hear him coming. He was wearing wet flip-flops. So they could hear his big feet going slap, slap, slap on the path. They really wanted to hear one of those big flippy-floppy feet smacking the poo.
But they had no poo and there was no sign of Rover.
‘We might have to look for another dog,’ said the biggest Giggler.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Every Short Cut Leads to Poo
Rover, Messi, Jimmy, Miriam and Robbie ran and cycled under a lot of Europe and the Mediterranean Sea.
It was dark all the way.
Except when they met a rabbit with a torch.
‘Merci, pal,’ said Rover when they passed the rabbit under Paris.
‘Mais groooovy!’ said the French rabbit, shining the torch for them.
Miriam, Robbie and Jimmy could feel the roofs of the tunnels right over their heads. Sometimes they could feel their hair rubbing the mucky ceiling. And they could feel the stones and roots under the wheels of their bikes. They knew that they might cycle into something big, and fall. But they didn’t slow down. They had to find the BFB.
Rover was tired.
He didn’t run a lot these days. But today – so far – he had run under the Irish Sea, England, the English Channel, France, Spain and the Mediterranean Sea.
And it was still the morning.
‘Look!’
There was the tunnel and there was light. And the light was where Rover wanted it, at the end of the tunnel.
‘Nearly there,’ said Rover.
He took a deep, deep breath – and ran.
The light got bigger and rounder.
‘Nearly . . . there . . .’
The light got a little bit bigger.
‘. . . nearly . . . . . . . . . . . . there.’
And bigger.
Then it seemed to get a bit smaller.
No, it didn’t.
It got bigger – until they could see that the roof above them was higher. The tunnel was wider too, and they could all see properly now, because the sunlight was coming in.
They charged out, into the middle of the Sahara Desert.
‘And here we are,’ said Rover.
‘Wow,’ said the three humans.
‘Oh,’ said Messi. ‘Oh.’
He stood looking at the sand.
All of the sand.
All over the place.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Miriam.
‘It’s messy,’ said Messi.
‘Calm down, Messi,’ said Rover.
‘We have to tidy it up, Uncle Rover,’ said Messi.
‘Not today, Messi.’
‘Hmmmmmm,’ said Messi.
‘We don’t have time,’ said Rover. ‘Besides, it’s a desert.’
‘It’s too sandy,’ said Messi.
‘It’s supposed to be sandy,’ said Rover.
‘Hmmmmmmmmm,’ said Messi.
‘There’s the airport!’ said Miriam.
She pointed at it, across the sand.
‘Come on!’
They started cycling over the sand. But it wasn’t easy. It was hard work. The muscles in their legs weren’t very happy.
But they kept going.
Messi cheered up when he saw a camel.
‘Camel poo, Uncle Rover,’ he said.
‘Good man, Messi,’ said Rover.
While the others charged towards Casablanca Airport, Messi ran up to the camel and scooped his poo into the bag with the cow poo.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Groovy,’ said the camel, who thought he was a rabbit.
Messi ran nearly as fast as he could and caught up with the others.
Just in time to see a white plane taking off.
‘Oh, no!’
‘Where’s that plane going, pal?’ Rover asked a Moroccan rabbit.
The rabbit pointed east.
They all tried to think of places east of Casablanca.
‘Algiers?’ said Jimmy.
The rabbit shook his head.
‘Tunis?’ said Miriam.
The rabbit shook his head.
‘Tripoli?’ said Robbie.
And the rabbit shook his head.
‘It must be Cairo then,’ said Rover.
But the rabbit shook his head.
Messi knew his geography.
‘Tel Aviv?’ he said.
The rabbit gave his head a shake.
‘Beirut?’
The rabbit shook his head.
‘Come on, come on,’ said Robbie. ‘We have to find Emily. Istanbul?’
‘Groovy,’ said the rabbit, and he nodded his head.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kayla and the BFB had been in BBFOSID for two whole hours.
‘Will we go home now, Emily?’ said Kayla.
‘Like, goop,’ said the BFB.
She liked being a student but she wanted to go home to her mammy and her dad and her granny and her granddad and the fridge.
‘Right,’ said Kayla. ‘We’ll go home. Bus or choo-choo?’
‘Goop-goop.’
‘Good choice,’ said Kayla.
She put the BFB into her bag. But she made sure the BFB had a good view. Her little head was sticking straight out of the bag, looking at the world go by.
‘Ah, look at the baby in the bag.’
‘Like, goop,’ said the BFB.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Is Sponsored by Bunny Tunnels
Rover, Messi and the others cycled and ran all the way under North Africa. Somewhere under Egypt, Rover asked Jimmy for a lift.
‘Getting a bit old for running, Rover?’ said Jimmy.
‘Yeah, yeah – whatever,’ said Rover.
He climbed up Jimmy’s leg and decided not to bite it. He sat on the crossbar of Jimmy’s bike. Jimmy had to cycle extra hard now because Rover was the only one who knew the way to Istanbul, so he had to stay at the front.
They came to a place where the tunnel divided into two tunnels.
‘Stay to the left,’ said Rover.
Soon they could see the light.
The light got bigger and brighter.
‘Istanbul here we come!’
They came to the end of the tunnel and ran and cycled out – and saw Rome.
‘Sorry, lads,’ said Rover. ‘I’m always mixing up my lefts and my rights.’
They turned and charged back in. This time they went down the other tunnel and five minutes later they came out, blinking, at Istanbul Airport – just in time to see a white plane taking off.
‘Oh, no!’
There was a rabbit sitting in the dry grass beside the runway.
‘Where’s that plane going, pal?’ Rover asked her.
The rabbit pointed west.
‘Sofia?’ said Robbie.
The rabbit shook her head.
‘Belgrade?’ said Miriam.
The rabbit shook her head.
‘Vienna?’ said Jimmy.
The rabbit shook her head.
‘Düsseldorf?’ said Messi.
And the rabbit shook her head.
‘OK,’ said Rover. ‘Amsterdam?’
But the rabbit shook her head.
‘London?’
The rabbit gave her head a shake.
‘What?’ said Rover. ‘Dublin?’
‘Groovy,’ said the rabbit.
‘All the way back to where we started!’
‘Come on!’ said Robbie, and he put his foot down on the pedal.
Messi was busy collecting poo. Some goat poo, sheep poo, wildcat poo, long-eared bat poo, handy rabbit poo and European mole poo went into the bag, beside the camel poo and the good old Irish cow poo.
The bag was heavy and on his back. But Messi was very happy with his poo collection. He could feel his tail starting to wag and he knew he had to stop it. If he didn’t, he’d fall over and he wouldn
’t be able to get up quickly again because the bag was so heavy.
But there was a problem.
He was running out of messy things to shout. He had gone through all the socks and towels and tea-bags and dirty dishes. But his tail was getting waggier and he’d have to shout something very soon or he’d fall over.
He thought of something.
‘Deserts!’ he shouted.
It worked. His tail slowed down but it didn’t stop.
Little messes seemed to work better.
He thought of another big one.
‘Volcanoes!’
This time his tail stopped wagging. Now he could run to Dublin.
He turned, just in time to see the back wheel of the last bike going back down the rabbit hole.
He ran after it.
A Very Short Chapter That Doesn’t Even Seem to Be Part of the Book But Is
Paddy O’Leary was hungry.
‘I think I’ll have some beans on toast,’ he said.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Is Probably the Last Chapter
Kayla and the BFB were sitting on the train. They were looking out at all the back gardens and garages and walls and sheds and lanes and volcanoes.
The train was slowing down.
‘Our stop next,’ Kayla told the BFB.
She was putting the BFB back into her bag, so they didn’t see the Gigglers hiding behind one of the walls that the train was slowly passing.
Rover, Messi and the others had nearly finished running under Europe. They were under the Irish Sea now, very close to Dublin Airport.
Rover saw it first, because he was at the front, on Jimmy’s crossbar.
‘The light!’ he shouted.
‘Earthquakes!’ shouted Messi.
Paddy O’Leary was looking for the can-opener.
Robbie had texted his parents. Catch BFB at airport. She’s in white plane. X.
That was where Billie Jean and Mister Mack were now. Waiting for the BFB. So far, they’d seen twenty-two white planes landing. The BFB was on none of them.
Because she was on a train.
Actually, she wasn’t on the train. Kayla had just got off, and the BFB was in Kayla’s bag.
But she wasn’t.
A little girl had seen the BFB’s head sticking out of the bag while she was getting off the train with her dad. She thought it was the best doll she’d ever seen. It could smile and blink. So, when she stepped off the train, she grabbed it.
She lifted the BFB out of Kayla’s bag.
‘My dolly!’
Rover and the gang all ran and cycled out of the tunnel and they were right beside the Dublin Airport runway.
There was a white plane right in front of them.
‘There it is!’
There was a white van driving away from the plane.
‘There it is!’
Paddy O’Leary found the can-opener. He put the bread in the toaster. Then he went to the fridge and took out the butter.
He left the fridge door open.
‘Now is our chance,’ said the evil green vegetables at the bottom of the fridge.
The little girl’s dad saw the little girl grab the BFB.
‘No, love,’ he said. ‘That’s not your dolly.’
The little girl had pulled the BFB from Kayla’s bag and now her dad pulled the BFB from the little girl’s hands. But her grip was tight and she wouldn’t let go.
‘My dolly!’ she said. Kayla turned just in time to see the BFB leave the little girl’s hands, fly through her dad’s hands, and head on up into the air. The little girl had let go suddenly and the dad’s hands didn’t hold tightly enough on to the BFB so she kept going up and up until she was right over everybody’s heads.
Van or plane? Plane or van? Van or plane?
Where was the BFB?
Robbie saw his parents running up to the white plane – and that decided him.
‘The van!’ he shouted.
His parents would be checking the plane. So he’d go after the white van.
‘Come on!’
‘Tsunamis!’ Messi shouted.
The poo was heavy. The poo was very, very heavy. But Messi hadn’t forgotten why he was carrying it. And neither had Rover.
He got down off Jimmy’s bike. He’d had his rest. He was ready to run again. And he didn’t want the Gigglers to think that he was getting lazy.
They charged after the white van.
A middle-aged seagull called Sam was flying over the train station. His eyesight wasn’t very good any more. In fact, he thought the train track below him was a river.
Then he saw the salmon. Leaping up, out of the river.
‘Happy days,’ said Sam. ‘Fish and chips for the dinner.’
He swooped down and grabbed the pink salmon by one of its shoulders.
‘Like, goop! said the BFB.
The crispie twins’ mam was coming home from her angry-yoga class. The Gigglers could hear her new green gym shoes on the path.
‘How long have we got?’ the biggest Giggler whispered.
‘SIX SECONDS,’ the tiny, tiny Giggler whispered back.
‘And no poo,’ the biggest Giggler whispered.
The white van had just gone past the train station. Rover, Messi, Miriam, Robbie and Jimmy were right behind it. They all saw the seagull.
‘What’s he got in his beak?’
‘It’s – ahhh!’
Sam the seagull had three thoughts as he tried to fly high above the station.
Here, in the correct order, are his thoughts:
1. This is the heaviest fish I have ever carried;
2. This fish’s pink shoulder is padded;
3. Fish don’t have shoulders.
Sam let go of the fish.
‘Like, goop!’ said the BFB. Sam had a fourth thought.
‘Why are girl babies always dressed up like salmon?’ he wondered as he flew back towards the sea.
Paddy O’Leary’s toast popped out of the toaster.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I forgot all about the beans.’
The BFB was falling.
Fast.
The BFB was falling.
Faster.
No one was sure where she’d land or where they should stand to catch her.
But Messi did. He knew where – and he knew how.
But his tail didn’t.
His tail was wagging.
The BFB was falling.
Messi’s tail was wagging like mad. He was going to fall over.
‘How far now?’
‘THREE SECONDS.’
Messi was toppling.
The BFB was falling.
He thought of one more.
‘Hurricanes!’
It was good – but not good enough. His tail slowed down but didn’t stop. He had to stop it or his plan wouldn’t work. He looked and saw the BFB coming straight down at him. He was wobbling. He couldn’t get the bag off his back.
Then he thought of it.
The biggest mess of all.
‘Life on earth!’ he shouted.
His tail stood still and Messi got the big bag down off his back and on to the ground just as the BFB fell . . .
Right on to the bag.
‘TWO SECONDS,’ whispered the tiny, tiny Giggler.
‘And still no—’
The BFB landed on cow, camel, goat, sheep, wildcat, rabbit, bat and mole . . .
‘Poo,’ said the biggest Giggler.
The bag didn’t burst.
And the BFB didn’t burst.
She bounced a metre back into the air, and into her mammy’s arms.
‘My baby!’ cried Miriam.
‘Like, goop,’ said the BFB.
So.
If they hadn’t run after the white van the second time, if Messi hadn’t collected the poo, if Rover hadn’t gone the wrong way – if, if, if, all the way back to the start of the story – Messi would not have been there at the exact right time to put the big poo bag in exactly
the right spot to make the BFB bounce into the arms of her mammy.
Rover climbed over the Giggler’s wall.
‘Have you poo for us, Rover?’ asked the biggest Giggler.
‘Camel, cow or long-eared bat?’ asked Rover.
‘Oooh! Camel, please.’
‘No sweat,’ said Rover, and he climbed back over the wall. ‘One lump or two?’
The twins’ mam had stopped to look at all the excitement.
‘Idiots,’ she said.
And she walked on, straight into a big hill of the best camel poo in Ireland.
‘Aaaah! My perfect shoes!’
The story was over—
Paddy O’Leary picked up the can-opener. But then he saw that the lid of the can had a ring-pull.
‘That’s very handy,’ said Paddy.
And he pulled back the lid.
The beans inside blinked.
And blinked.
Then they shouted.
‘Watch out, people! The vegetables are evil!’
And the vegetables galloped back into the fridge and shut the door behind them.
The world was safe.
Saved by the beans!
And so, the story ends. The BFB had been returned to her parents ASAP.
But what does it mean?!
Sorry, we have to finish.
OH NO – they’re back!
About the Author
Bestselling author Roddy Doyle is acclaimed across the world. He was born in Dublin in 1958 and still lives there today. He has won many awards for his writing, including the Booker Prize and a BAFTA for Best Screenplay.
He has also won the Irish Children’s Book of the Year and was shortlisted for the prestigious CILIP Carnegie Medal. His novel The Commitments was turned into a blockbuster film directed by Alan Parker and opened as a musical in 2013 to rave reviews.
Rover and the Big Fat Baby is his eighth novel for children and the fourth book in the series which began with The Giggler Treatment.
About the Illustrator
Chris Judge is an illustrator, artist and children’s picture-book author based in Dublin, Ireland.