“Oh, thank goodness you got rid of those.” Miranda laughed. “I hate pink now.”
She handed Bill an old can filled with cocoa and he tried to swallow it down.
As he spluttered, Miranda rubbed his ears and whispered, “If you love me, you’ll drink it all until the very last drop. That’s a good Bunnypie.”
“Aren’t you going to – bealgh – have some of this – oooffff – lovely – yeuoogh – cocoa yourself, my dear?” Bill managed to ask, his eyes watering.
Miranda whacked the back of his head with her paw and made his thoughts rattle. “Silly badgers get love taps on the back of their ninny noodles. I don’t drink cocoa – it would be bad for my delicate and slender figure.”
(Miranda was not especially delicate and slender. She was as solid as a post box and much the same shape.)
Bill tried not to say “Ow!” in case he upset his beloved’s feelings, and finished the last of the cocoa – which was mainly the worst slimy curdled bits.
Miranda smiled and then, before Bill could ask her what her favourite type of pancake was, or if she liked watching films, or liked him—
POOMFF.
Bill fell into a deep, dark sleep, full of wiggling ghosts and jiggling toasts and giggling roasts, which rhymed but was very unpleasant.
I don’t know about you, but I’m starting to dislike that Miranda Badger and I think there is something very bad in that SPESHUL COCOA…
SECTION SIXTEEN
In which there is planning for a real, live trip to the moon. Although I wish Uncle Shawn wouldn’t leave now that Pearlyclaws is back. But Uncle Shawn doesn’t know Pearlyclaws is back! Oh dear. Also in this section Bill gets called Silly Billy Bunnypie, which is very embarrassing.
Down at the bay, where the sky and the sea leaned against each other, the sun was setting in a big red line like jam and fire and golden things. Up above, the full moon was beginning to shine brightly, like the beautiful face of a Milky Moon Moth.
All the llamas were lined up on the darkening beach, waiting for Uncle Shawn and Sky and Sam to appear.
“I have not ever heard of anyone going to the moon without having a great big rocket and a spacesuit and space underpants and space boots,” said Carlos.
“What if everything goes wrong and they can’t get there and they just stay on the ground?” fretted Brian.
“Then they will still be on planet Earth where we live, you silly, silly llama,” snapped Guinevere. “Why are they going to the nasty, far away old moon, anyway?”
“What if everything goes wrong and they DO get to the moon, but then they can’t get back? And what will we do while they are away? And oooooooh…” Brian was now so worried he had run out of words.
Meanwhile, Ginalolobrigida Llama was thinking that none of this was as important as her nose spot, which was behaving very oddly and maybe turning into a boil. It was now almost big enough to be wearing its own hat. Before she could say this, two things happened at once.
Sam and Sky ran down to the beach wearing pullovers and thick trousers and woolly socks and hats because they had been told it was cold in outer space. Sky looked as if lots of winter clothes had decided to go on a trip to the seaside.
“Hooray!” all the llamas cried. “How brave you are! Or maybe very unwise! But hooray, anyway!”
From the opposite direction, a rather unsteady Badger Bill appeared, pulled along by Miranda (who was squishing his paw).
Bill’s poor badger brain was woozy from the Speshul Cocoa, which had sent him to sleep for most of the day. But he had felt more and more cheerful as he got nearer and nearer to the farm and smelled all its familiar scents. He had missed everyone. Then his sensitive badger ears heard everyone talking down at the bay and his sensitive badger nose smelled all his llama friends: Carlos, who smelled of peppermints and football boots and llama; Guinevere, who smelled of lavender and toffee and football boots and llama; Ginalolobrigida, who smelled of jasmine and roses and Lux Llama Powder Number 11; and Brian, who smelled of worry.
But the llamas were busy doing something exciting without him!
“Well done, Sam and Sky!” yelled Brian. “Although you will probably be lost in outer space!”
The llamas were too distracted by the thought of a moon trip to turn round and notice Bill. He somehow couldn’t help thinking that they hadn’t really cared when he went away. This wasn’t right at all, but it made him decide that he’d show them!
“Llamas!” Bill bellowed. “This is my new girlfriend who cares about me – unlike all of you!”
Sky and Sam and the llamas turned round when they heard this.
Bill kept on shouting. “This is Miranda. She is my soulmate. A llama or a human could never be a true friend to a badger like me. Miranda can – she is a badger like me. Well, not like me – she’s a girl, but you know what I mean.” And he folded his arms and felt very peculiar and cocoa-ish.
“But Bill, we are for sure all your friends very much so,” said Brian. “You are our mejor amigo best friend badger.”
Miranda jabbed Bill in the ribs and sneered, “Oh, don’t listen to him. What a feeble-looking llama – more like a tall goat. I bet his bandy legs are all covered in germs and about to collapse. And look at that boy – a very suspicious young human. I bet he licks other people’s toffees and then puts them back in the wrappers so that nobody knows until they’re sucking a slithery sweetie.”
Sky gasped at this because it was so extremely rude and nasty about her brother.
“Oh and don’t think I haven’t noticed you, young Miss Farts-Everywhere-and-Runs.” Miranda stared at the space where Sky’s invisible eyes were. “You’re going to be invisible and horrible for the rest of your life.”
Although Bill was extremely in love, he felt sad as Sky’s tears rained down like a sudden, tiny storm. “Miranda, dearest…” Bill began.
“Not now, Bunnypie. Boys who interrupt me end up with sore ears.” Miranda clouted Bill’s left ear so that it stung.
Bill tried to look brave, but inside his head half his ideas were going in one direction and the other half were crying in a corner – all except one terrific, shiny idea which was saying, “This is all sore and strange and sad, but Uncle Shawn could sort it out.”
Just at that moment, there was a loud “WOO-HAY” and Uncle Shawn slid down the sand dunes, past Sky and Sam and the llamas, standing on what looked like a big flat soup dish made out of metal.
“Here I am!” Uncle Shawn leaped off the dish as it surfed to a halt. “Hello, my best friend Bill.” Uncle Shawn smiled at Bill with one of the friendliest smiles the world has ever seen.
But before Bill could let Uncle Shawn pick him up and swing him round so that his fur whiffled in the breeze, Miranda shouted, “Buncle Shawn! You’re worse than that selfish bully Carlos, or that stupid bully Guinevere! Or that ugly Ginalolobrigida with her great big about-to-burst nose boil! You’re even worse than that silly coward Brian!”
The llamas huddled together for comfort in the face of so many insults. Uncle Shawn stared in shock as Miranda finished by growling, “You’re the worst human being in the world. You don’t care about anyone – only about having fun. Anything could happen to this badger and you wouldn’t notice, not one bit!” She held out her paw to Bill. “Come on, Bunnypie. You can sleep on the nice damp dirt floor of my cave tonight.”
Uncle Shawn was very sure that he didn’t like this new badger one bit, and he didn’t like the sound of anything she was saying. “But Bill,” he said quietly, “we are going to go to the moon tonight. I would like you to come with us. You have always wanted to be a badger explorer and maybe see a Milky Moon Moth. The llamas have promised to look after the farm and not to set fire to the kitchen. Wouldn’t you enjoy a moon trip?” Uncle Shawn gritted his teeth. “Perhaps your lady friend would like to come, too.” (He really hoped that Miranda was allergic to moons and wouldn’t come, because she would spoil anyone’s fun.) “I bet you would be the first badger in space.”
Bill’s fur ruffled all over and his blood galloped in his veins. The moon! He could be the first badger on the moon and young badgers would grow up sleeping under coverlets with his picture on them – maybe one of him tickling the furry back of a Milky Moon Moth.
“Of course he doesn’t want to do something so stupid and dangerous,” interrupted Miranda.
All Bill’s hopes stopped floating about happily and landed in his tummy with a bump.
But then Miranda softened her voice. “Oh, but Bunnypie. Shouldn’t you stay in the farmhouse and keep an eye on those hideous— I mean, delightful llamas?”
Bill was completely confused by now. “I suppose… But the moon…”
“I’m sure it’s nothing but dust and rocks. Why don’t you take me back to the farmhouse and you can cook us a delicious dinner. I will count all of the valuables and ornaments and items of furniture inside … in case you lose anything. Silly Billy Bunnypie.”
Bill felt himself blush as all his friends heard him being called Silly Billy Bunnypie. “I suppose we could do that… Couldn’t I watch them go?”
“No. I’m hungry. Now let’s get inside so that you can make me some tasty earthworm pie or fried nettles.”
And before he could say, “Have a nice moon trip, I wish I was going with you,” Bill was yanked away, with another clout to his ear for no reason at all. As if there could ever be a reason for clouting anyone on the ear – especially a kind and wonderful badger like Bill.
SECTION SEVENTEEN
In which there is important information about wishes that all sensible people (and animals) should know.
Everyone on the beach watched Miranda’s angry, flat feet pounding up the sand, her big bottom wiggling in her huge purple dress and Bill’s little paws scrambling after her.
“Dear me,” said Uncle Shawn. “If there wasn’t something wrong with the moon and Sky didn’t need to have her wish come true, I would stay here. But this will be a very simple trip with no problems or adventures. And I am sure nothing so terribly terrible will happen while we’re away. At least, I hope so…” He wrinkled his forehead and wiggled his hair. “Then again, when people are in love sometimes they can seem very strange for a while before they get used to it. I wouldn’t want to upset Bill if he is happy.” Uncle Shawn shoved his hands into his pockets full of sand and toffees. “But how can any badger be happy with clouted ears? Hmmmm…”
Brian had recovered enough to say, “She was a horrible, horrible badger – very antipático. Her and her big, purple bottom are no good. Maybe sometimes we llamas fight and bite each other, but that is just for fun. We are never, ever as rude and cruel as she was.”
The other llamas nodded and licked each other’s ears and nuzzled noses for comfort.
“I hope she gets a boil on her face that swells until it is bigger than her head and that people come every day to point and laugh at her and take photographs,” whispered Ginalolobrigida. This made her feel better, but only a tiny bit.
“My intelligent and wonderful and beautiful llama friends,” said Uncle Shawn, “please keep an eye on Bill and try to be kind to each other, because I know that you do really like each other. And Brian – be as brave as you can be. I know that you are brave, because you are standing on a beach, even though you are scared of sand and water and the sky and seagulls.”
“And seaweed.” Brian nodded. “But I will be brave.” And he smiled.
“Good.” Uncle Shawn clapped his hands. “So now we must go to the moon.”
“But why?” asked Sky. “I just want to stop being invisible. I don’t want to be an astronaut. And we don’t have any astronaut stuff. You’re just playing a game to take my mind off being very sad, but that won’t work because I’m not a little tiny girl any more!”
“Sky,” said Uncle Shawn, “we are going to the moon because the moon is in charge of wishes. Once we get there, we can ask if you can have one so you can go back to being a non-invisible little – I beg your pardon – very huge and grown-up girl.”
“But HOW?” asked the llamas, peering up at the moon along their four lovely llama noses and then peering back at Uncle Shawn as he stepped onto the big, round metal dish that clanged under his feet.
“How is the easy bit. The hard bit about going to the moon is making your mind up to try.” Uncle Shawn grinned. “Come and get into this iron dish Sky. Come on Sam. We will pretend we are soup in a gigantunormous soup dish.” He giggled. “We’ll be back almost before you notice we are gone,” he said to the llamas.
“I already have noticed very much that you have gone,” whispered Brian, but because he had promised to be brave he waved to Uncle Shawn and the twins and then he leaned a little bit against Ginalolobrigida for extra bravery.
Once Uncle Shawn and Sky and Sam were standing in the centre of the big iron dish – clang, clang, clung, clung, clong, clong – Uncle Shawn explained some more. “Everyone knows that the moon is the satellite of wishes – it catches all of the things people hope for during the night. Think of how many people look up and wish when they see the moon. That makes everyone who lives on the moon full of hopes and wish-helpfulness. If a wish can come true, they make it happen as soon as they are able. All we have to do to make you into a visible person is hop up there and ask them for help. Then I’m sure your wish will be granted.”
“Nobody lives on the moon,” objected Sam. “And why are we standing in a big iron soup dish?”
“Because a nice French man with a magnificent nose told me an easy way to do moon travel. He was very clever.”
Brian Llama shouted, “But the moon is so up there and you are so down here…”
Uncle Shawn smiled at Brian and winked a big, comforting wink. “Soon we will be on the moon sorting out whatever is wrong and then everyone’s wishes will become possible again. And even little girls who don’t want to be invisible any more can get their wish. Only, of course, Sky’s face will be older when we see it – she won’t be as little a girl as she was when anyone last saw her.”
“But how will we get there and why is the moon in charge of wishes and how do you know about any of this?” asked the twins.
Uncle Shawn just winked another big wink and grinned a huge grin. He really did know all about getting to the moon.
SECTION EIGHTEEN
In which we find Speshul Cocoa. So be very careful not to drink any of it.
Up at the farmhouse, Badger Bill was sitting in his rocking chair on the veranda, feeling very confused and sipping more of the funny-tasting Speshul Cocoa that Miranda had made for him. (She had carried a packet of Speshul powder from her cave in her handbag.)
Miranda was clumping about, counting the forks and the pictures with shiny frames and going through all of the cupboards and drawers in the farmhouse. Bill wasn’t very sure why.
“Miranda! Miranda dearest!”
Miranda stomped out on to the veranda, holding a big list written in very bad handwriting with lots of crossing out. “Yes, Bunnypie? My oogam-woogam…” She tickled him under the chin and smiled a big yellow smile.
This almost made Bill faint with happiness, but he tried to concentrate. “Miranda, what are you doing in there? Why are you counting everything that belongs to Uncle Shawn and all of us?”
Miranda slapped him on the nose, which made him blink. “Silly bunny – I have to count your valuables in case they get lost or stolen and then sold for money while I’m in charge.”
“In charge?” It seemed that she was in charge of Bill’s whole life now and maybe that was how love worked, but even so… “Why … why would you be in charge, dearest one?”
Miranda poked him playfully under the chin (which really hurt). “Oh, but my stripey sweetheart, I have to be in charge. Buncle, I mean Uncle Shawn is going away to the moon and you’re much too tired to do anything. Leave everything to me.”
“But I’m always in charge when Uncle Shawn goes away.” Saying this made Bill think again about how sad he was not to be going t
o the moon. “And the llamas know me and I make their lemonade just right.”
Miranda giggled and the giggle sparkled in Bill’s whiskers and made him feel sleepy. “Silly pinkie paws. I’ll see to them.”
“They’re very special, sensitive, wonderful llamas…”
Miranda swatted his left ear – which was beginning to get really sore. “What nonsense, Bunnypie. Now shut up and go to bed. I definitely won’t have a secret meeting with anyone terrifying at midnight when you’re all asleep.”
“Mmm?” mumbled Bill, feeling his eyelids getting heavier. Miranda kissed his battered ear and this made him even drowsier, so he stumbled up to his badger bed.
Far away at the back of Bill’s head, something was nagging at him and making him feel uncomfortable. But he ignored it and snuggled under his quilt covered in pictures of explorers (none of whom had gone to the moon) and slid into a wavery, cocoa-ish sleep.
SECTION NINETEEN
In which we go to the moon! Unless something goes wrong! I hope nothing goes wrong!
Uncle Shawn and the twins were standing on the giant iron dish. Uncle Shawn was rummaging in the great big pockets of his great big coat. “I’m sure I have it here somewhere. Rhubarb sandwiches? No… Ball of string? No… Piece of emergency cheese? Ah, here it is.”
He waved something about the size of a very big potato. It had a dull shine and the air around it seemed to shimmer the way it might on a very hot day. As Uncle Shawn moved the lump around, the iron dish shivered a little under their feet, as if it were a puppy that wanted to go for a run.
“This is the most powerful magnet in Scotland, maybe in the world.” Uncle Shawn smiled. “Be sure to hold on tight when the soup dish starts to fly.” He reached into his pockets again and brought out handfuls of rainbow-sparkling dust. “And keep hold of this – swallow it whenever you feel out of breath. It’s powdered air.”
Uncle Shawn and Bill and the Not One Tiny Bit Lovey-Dovey Moon Adventure Page 4