Frankie Fish and the Viking Fiasco

by Peter Helliar

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘But what if the werewolf was also an awesome basketballer?’ suggested Frankie. ‘It’s from my dad’s favourite movie.’

  Drew looked completely baffled. ‘Yeah, but your dad only likes weird old movies from the 80s,’ he replied. ‘They’re practically prehistoric. Anyway,’ he added, taking a big swig of his thickshake, ‘to win this prize, we need to think outside of the scary square.’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Yeah, you’re right. Lisa Chadwick’s zombie Medusa costume was awesome last year. She scared me even more than she usually does.’

  There were rumours that this year Lisa was dressing up as a zombified version of her personal hero, former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher (who was nicknamed ‘the Iron Lady’, although she was no relation to Iron Man). Not only that, this zombified Margaret Thatcher was going to be hula-hooping. This was so typical of Lisa: to pick a nerdy costume that only the grown-ups would get, and show off with it too. It was like a mash-up on top of a mash-up. Frankie knew he’d have to come up with something truly spectacular to beat that.

  Something that was definitely not a ghost.

  Suddenly, Frankie remembered a doco he’d seen on the History Channel with his dad (well, Frankie had watched it – his dad had fallen asleep in front of it). Frankie could not take his eyes away from the screen, and barely even noticed Ron Fish snoring louder than a freight train roaring through a library. The show had featured the bloodiest, goriest, most TERRIFYING things Frankie had ever seen. Which were …

  ‘Vikings!’ Frankie exclaimed.

  ‘What – those dudes with the horned hats?’ asked Drew uncertainly.

  ‘Vikings are really scary!’ said Frankie. ‘Way scarier than vampires and zombies, way scarier even than ghosts and werewolves. Way scarier, because ...’ He drifted off, smiling at the straw bobbing in his thickshake like a tiny pogo stick.

  ‘Because why?’ Drew urged.

  As the straw slowly sunk out of view, Frankie looked up at Drew. ‘Vikings are scarier because they were real.’

  GULP.

  The two friends stared at each other for a second, then grinned.

  ‘I like it. Let’s do it,’ Drew yelled. ‘Let’s be the best-dressed Vikings ever!’ He rubbed his hands together gleefully. ‘This is going to be so great. Dad’s got some old rugs in the garage we can use as fake bear-skin cloaks, and I’ve got a couple of cricket bats for clubs –’

  Frankie stared at Drew Bird and then shook his head furiously. ‘No way! Uh-uh. Never!’

  ‘Why not? We will totally look like Vikings,’ protested Drew.

  ‘A piece of old carpet and a cricket bat will not win us Best Costume,’ insisted Frankie, going red in the face.

  ‘OK, OK,’ replied Drew, trying to calm down his best mate. ‘There’s a costume place in town, we’ll pool our pocket money, and if Lisa can buy hers then –’

  ‘No, no, no, no, no. NO!’

  Frankie took a big breath. He felt like he was about to explain the importance of eating vegetables to a four-year-old.

  ‘We have a time machine, Drew,’ he whispered. ‘If we really, REALLY want to win Best Costume, we don’t have to settle for old carpet and sports equipment. We can get the real deal … from the actual Viking era.’

  Drew leant in. ‘Are you crazy?’ he hissed. ‘You're the one who’s always going on about the rules of time travel!’

  ‘This is different,’ Frankie protested. ‘All we have to do is go back to the Viking age, borrow some authentic gear, win the competition and then we return it.’

  It was Drew’s turn to go red in the face. ‘But –’

  ‘We’ll return the stuff straight away,’ Frankie assured him. ‘This is the only way to win, Drew. And do I have to remind you that this is Lisa Chadwick we’re talking about? I’m not losing to her again. It's been four years!’

  A little voice in the back of Frankie’s head said: We could win without time travel, if we just put our minds to it. But then he pictured a zombie Margaret Thatcher hula-hooping her way to Best Costume for the fifth year in a row.

  Unless we do something different, Frankie thought firmly, Lisa Chadwick will be the centre of the hula hoop AND the centre of attention. It's the only choice we have!

  ‘Look, I know how dangerous these Vikings are,’ said Frankie as calmly and convincingly as he could. ‘They are BLOODTHIRSTY. They are BRUTAL. But –’

  Finally, Drew put his hands up. ‘Listen to me, Frankie,’ he interrupted. ‘You survived your face nearly melting off in 1952 in Scotland. We escaped a Chinese dungeon in 1642. And we’ve returned safely from all our extreme takeaway lunches. So if you really want to do this …’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘… Then I think we could manage ten minutes to borrow a fur and a club in Viking country – wherever that is.’ He waved a lazy hand in the air and shot his best mate his trademark grin.

  Frankie grinned back as excitement shot through his body. He knew it was a crazy plan, but the idea of beating Lisa Chadwick once and for all, with an AWESOME authentic Viking costume, was too tempting not to try.

  Frankie laughed out loud and slapped the table. ‘Looks like we’re going to Norway!’

  Frankie and Drew would have time-travelled to Norway right then and there if they could have (after stashing a few more giant choc-chip cookies in Drew’s backpack for the ride), but the Sonic Suitcase needed to be recharged before it could do any more impromptu getaways. And the boys had some preparation to do too.

  First, they used the last of Drew’s pocket money on some decoy plastic Viking helmets from a nearby Two-Dollar Shop (a bargain at only five dollars each). Drew assured Frankie that the plastic horned helmets would help them blend in with the locals until they could borrow some costumes from an actual Viking settlement. Then the boys headed off towards the Forbidden Shed at the back of Grandad and Nanna Fish’s house.

  The whole way there, Frankie and Drew tried to work out which would be sweeter: a lifetime’s supply of thickshakes and cookies, or seeing Lisa Chadwick’s face after she was defeated for the very first time by a couple of awesome-looking Vikings. As long as nothing went wrong in Norway, they had this year’s Best Costume competition TOTALLY NAILED.

  Frankie was pretty sure he wouldn’t even need to ask Grandad if they could use the suitcase again – he didn’t seem to mind them using it for extreme takeaways. In fact, despite time travelling causing all kinds of mayhem for everybody involved, Frankie’s grandad was surprisingly supportive of the boys’ escapades. Maybe it was because Grandad needed to keep them on side, just in case he ever needed rescuing from a historic prison (again).

  Or maybe it was so the boys would keep the Sonic Suitcase a secret, because if anyone told Frankie’s parents about it, there’d be hell to pay. Frankie also guessed (correctly) that their jaunts through history appealed to Grandad’s sense of adventure. After all, who invents a time-travelling suitcase and then bans time travel? No-one, that’s who.

  Whatever the reason, Grandad was so supportive that he even allowed the boys inside the Forbidden Shed. It wasn’t long ago that nobody but Grandad had been allowed inside (hence its name). Now, Frankie and Drew went there every couple of days to recharge the suitcase on the Charging Bench, so it certainly wasn’t unusual for them to walk straight in without even stopping by the house to say hello to Nanna Fish first. What was incredibly unusual was what they saw in the shed that afternoon.

  As soon as he swung open the door of the (formerly) Forbidden Shed, Frankie noticed something strange: the place was clean. The dust had been dusted, the shelves tidied, the trophies polished. There was even a vase of flowers near the Charging Bench.

  ‘Hmm, that’s weird,’ remarked Frankie, pointing at the flowers.

  ‘Maybe your nanna put them in here so it would smell less like your grandad?’ Drew offered, sniffing the flowers.

  ‘No. Nanna swore she would never set foot in the Forbidden Shed again after being thrown in jail in Imperial Chi
na,’ Frankie said, putting the suitcase on the Charging Bench. ‘Plus it still smells like farts in here.’

  ‘Well, maybe your grandad has a secret girlfriend that he goes travelling with instead,’ smirked Drew.

  ‘Don’t be gross,’ said Frankie, rolling his eyes. Grandad loved Nanna Fish better than anyone else in the entire world, so there was no way he’d get a girlfriend. Also, who’d want to date a grumpy old man like him?

  All the same, Frankie had to admit something odd was going on in the shed. There were bits of new equipment that he couldn’t quite place. The usual chaos had been replaced by organised rows. And some of Grandad’s recent suitcase modifications – like the rainbow light – had been a little weird.

  Frankie looked around doubtfully. ‘Is it possible that Grandad is turning into a neat-freak in his old age?’ he suggested.

  ‘Maybe,’ replied Drew. ‘You never know. Old age does funny things to people. I once saw a one-hundred-year-old woman skydiving on YouTube.’

  Just then, Grandad strolled into the shed, his hook glinting in the late afternoon sun.

  ‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t a Bird and a Fish messing about in me shed,’ Grandad growled, and for a moment Frankie couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking.

  The old man was wearing sunglasses that Frankie had never seen before. They were a strange-looking pair, with very dark lenses and octagon-shaped frames. He took them off and tossed them onto the Charging Bench. Beneath them, his eyes had a bit of a sparkle. That was new, too.

  ‘Have you lost weight, Mr Fish?’ asked Drew. ‘Or grown some more hair? You look great.’

  Grandad grinned a toothy grin, clearly chuffed. ‘Thanks, lad. I’ve been taking better care of meself lately. I used to be quite a handsome devil in me younger days, ye know. The ladies used to call me –’

  ‘Um, Grandad?’ Frankie interrupted. ‘We’re about to pop over to Norway to borrow some Viking costumes for the Halloween Parade. Anything new we need to know about the suitcase before we charge it and go?’

  ‘Actually, yes!’ said Grandad. ‘We have added a few new features recently.’

  ‘We?’ queried Drew, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

  Grandad went pink. ‘Well, firstly, as ye will’ve already noticed,’ he said, pretending he hadn’t heard Drew, or seen his eyebrows, which was impossible, ‘the case now emits a gentle rainbow-coloured glow when ye open it.’

  Frankie and Drew exchanged a look. Grandad was getting a bit forgetful in his old age, but even so – Frankie was sure Nanna wasn’t helping him work on the suitcase.

  Was it possible Grandad did have a girlfriend after all? That was not only gross, but a bit of a worry. The more people who knew about their time-travelling adventures, the greater the chances of someone spilling the beans to Frankie’s parents …

  But Frankie decided not to worry about it right now. They had bigger fish – or rather, Chadwicks – to fry. ‘Er, do the lights have a function, Grandad?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really,’ Grandad said. ‘They just look pretty. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’ he added, a little threateningly.

  Frankie and Drew shook their heads quickly.

  ‘There’s also the new Circle of Safety function,’ Grandad went on.

  ‘The what of what-what?’ asked Drew, screwing up his nose.

  ‘A Circle of Safety,’ repeated Grandad, unlooping what appeared to be an extra, extra, extra long belt from a hook on the wall. ‘When you’re ready to depart, you lay something like this on the ground in a circle. Anything within that circle will be transported when you travel. Saves a lot of faffing about with trying to set the protective force field when you want to leave in a hurry.’

  Frankie nodded. This new feature would’ve come in handy when they’d been escaping from the lion in ancient Rome earlier that day. He thought of the lion’s ferocious ROAR and shivered.

  ‘BUT!’ Grandad waggled a finger in the air. ‘Ye absolutely MUST make sure the circle is complete! If there’s a gap, there’s a danger that things outside the circle could get transported through time too.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Frankie, giving Grandad the thumbs up. ‘Drew, you’re in charge of the belt, OK?’

  ‘Roger that,’ said Drew, wrapping it around his waist several times.

  ‘Anything else?’ Frankie asked. He was positively itching to get going now.

  Grandad nodded. ‘Yes, one more. It’s still in the development phase so it’s not perfect yet, but it might come in handy.’ He fished what looked like a padlock out of his pocket.

  ‘Er, Grandad?’ said Frankie, slowly. ‘I’m pretty sure padlocks have already been invented. Quite a while ago, in fact.’

  ‘It’s not a bloomin’ padlock, ye idiot!’ spluttered Grandad indignantly. ‘It’s an instant voice translator. Ye can use it when ye don’t understand the local lingo.’ He turned a key that was sticking out of the bottom of the padlock (um, instant voice translator) and the object began to hum.

  Then, in his thickest, crankiest Scottish accent, Grandad said: ‘Do ye ken now, ye

  Instantly, a tinny voice floated out of the translator. Do you understand now, you little idiot?

  ‘That's very cool,’ said Drew.

  Frankie knew his grandad was a good inventor – he’d come up with the Sonic Suitcase, after all – but this was really good, especially given that Grandad’s memory was a bit unreliable these days.

  ‘Good one, Grandad,’ Frankie said. ‘We might get to use this in Norway!’ He took the translator padlock and clipped it onto the suitcase’s handle.

  Grandad’s expression suddenly changed. He looked a little nervous. ‘Eh, Frankie, me lad ... do ye have time for a little chat before ye go flying off to Viking land? There’s something I want to talk to ye about. It’s, ah, well … it’s on a personal subject.’

  ‘Um, we have to get going, sorry,’ Frankie said quickly. He definitely did not want to discuss personal subjects with his grandad. Especially if his grandad really did have a girlfriend! GROSS! ‘Maybe when we get back, OK? We’re in kind of a rush right now.’

  Drew glanced at his best friend, but backed him up. ‘That’s right, the Halloween Parade’s tomorrow night,’ he explained. ‘Nice flowers, though, Mr Fish – I like what you’ve done with the place.’

  ‘Oh you know, a feminine touch never hurts,’ murmured Grandad, vaguely.

  ‘OK, ew,’ said Frankie, out loud this time. ‘Come on Drew, let’s bust a move.’

  ‘Off you pop, boys,’ Grandad said. ‘Stay out of trouble and we’ll have a good chat when ye return.’

  ‘Us? Trouble? Never!’ scoffed Frankie, and giving Grandad one last suspicious look, he dragged the suitcase off the Charging Bench and fled outside with Drew.

  He decided to put Grandad and his possible secret girlfriend out of his mind for now, and focus on the very important mission in front of them. ‘OK, Drew,’ he said. ‘You ready for another adventure?’

  ‘I was born ready,’ replied Drew. Then he added, ‘Actually, I was born nude and covered in goop, but sure, I feel ready.’

  Frankie cracked up. ‘Good. Happy travels!’

  Smoke, mud and wet fur.

  Those were the three things Frankie Fish could smell as his nostrils took in the scents of his new surroundings.

  Lying flat on his back, he opened his eyes and found himself under a very gnarled old tree, surrounded by white rocks.

  Frankie shook his head and looked around. The Sonic Suitcase was at his feet and Drew Bird was not far away, face-planting in the muddiest patch of mud this side of Mud Town.

  Frankie got to his feet and picked up his plastic Viking helmet, excitement surging through him. ‘C’mon, Drew,’ he grinned. ‘In and out, no mucking about.’

  But just as Frankie crowned his head with the two-dollar-shop helmet, a terrifying sight confronted him.

  ‘Drew …?’ Frankie was standing very still. He was more frozen than the Paddle Pop lion would be if it had been
covered in ice and abandoned in a freezer.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you looking at what I’m looking at?’ asked Frankie, very quietly.

  ‘That depends,’ replied Drew, equally quietly. ‘Are you looking at an enormous bear?’

  ‘An enormous bear that’s licking its lips and looking straight at us?’

  ‘Yep, that’s the one.’

  The bear stared at the two boys and gave a low, rumbling GROWL. It seemed to be considering its options: eat now or eat later?

  Drew took a slow, careful step closer to Frankie. ‘Do you know if bears are vegetarian?’ he gulped.

  ‘Get your slingshot ready, Drew, just in case they’re not,’ Frankie suggested in a voice so low the words barely escaped his throat.

  Drew slowly sneaked a hand into his backpack and rummaged around for his slingshot and a handful of paintballs.

  The enormous brown bear watched the boys shaking in their non-Viking-approved sneakers. They looked like they might taste a bit funny, but then again, the bear did feel like a snack. It took a step closer, and its growl got a little deeper.

  ‘This isn’t good,’ whispered Frankie. ‘Not good at all. Can we PLEASE stop coming face-to-face with dangerous animals?’

  ‘Oh come on, we haven’t even come across a T-Rex yet,’ Drew joked nervously.

  ‘Well, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time,’ muttered Frankie darkly.

  Neither boy took their eyes off the bear, who had lifted an enormous paw in their direction and was now sniffing the air suspiciously. Frankie thought he saw the fur on its back bristling.

  ‘Hand me that belt Grandad gave us,’ Frankie whispered to Drew. ‘Time to try out the Circle of Safety.’

  Drew gulped and slowly unwound the long length of leather from around his waist.

  Keeping his eyes on the bear the whole time, Frankie carefully made a circle around himself and Drew with the belt, ensuring the buckle closed the circle completely.