The 91-Storey Treehouse
Page 3
But it’s no use—the genie disappears.
‘You crazy lollipop-lickers,’ I say. ‘You wasted all our wishes on lollipops and we’re still stuck on the island!’
‘Look on the bright side, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘We might be stuck on an island but at least we’ve all got lollipops.’
‘I haven’t got a lollipop,’ I say.
‘Me neither,’ says Jill.
‘Never mind,’ says Terry, holding his lollipop out towards us, ‘you can have a turn of mine.’
‘Hey, is that another genie lamp?’ says Albert, pointing to something in the water.
‘No,’ I say, as it floats closer. ‘That’s just a bottle.’
‘That’s so sad,’ sighs Jill. ‘Here we are in the middle of nowhere and yet we still can’t get away from litter.’
‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘That’s no ordinary litter. That’s our way off this island.’
‘It is?’ says Jill.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We can put a message in a bottle! It’s what everybody who’s marooned on a desert island does!’
‘Did you say message in a bottle?’ says Terry. ‘I love message-in-a-bottle bottles!’
‘Me too,’ says Alice.
‘Me three!’ says Albert.
‘Me four,’ I say. I grab a piece of driftpaper and a driftpencil and start writing a driftletter.
Andy, Terry, Jill, Alice, Albert & the baby
Desert Island
The Ocean
The Middle of Nowhere
Dear Whoever You Are,
If you are like most of the people who find a bottle with a message inside it, you’re probably wondering what the message is a bout. Well, it contains a long and tragic story. Which is this: unfortunately me (Andy) and my friends (Terry & Jill) and the kids we are babysitting (Albert & Alice & the baby) have accidentally become marooned on a desert island. Could you please organise a rescue mission to come and rescue us as soon as possible?
Thank you (in advance).
Your pals,
Andy, Terry, Jill, Alice, Albert & the baby
I roll up the message, slide it into the bottle and hand it to Terry. He plugs the end with a driftcork and throws it as far out into the water as he can, and then we all immediately start waiting for a reply.
We wait …
and we wait …
and we wait …
until finally, after what seems like millions of pages but is in fact only one-and-a-half, we see a bottle floating towards us.
‘Hey, look!’ says Terry. ‘A message in a bottle!’
‘YAY!’ says Albert.
Terry runs into the water to retrieve it.
‘How exciting!’ says Jill. ‘Who do you think it’s from?’
‘From whoever found our message in a bottle, of course!’ I say. ‘It’s probably got all the details of how they’re going to rescue us.’
Terry uncorks the bottle and shakes the message free.
‘It’s from some people just like us,’ he says, ‘same names and everything—and they’re marooned on a desert island too!’
‘Terry,’ I say.
‘Hang on, Andy,’ he says, ‘I haven’t finished reading the letter. It says here they need help.’
‘I know,’ I say.
‘How?’
‘Because it’s us!’ I say. ‘It’s our bottle and our letter! It just floated away and then floated back again.’
‘Hmmm,’ says Jill. ‘And maybe the bottle just floated away and then came back because this desert island is your desert island?’
‘What do you mean our desert island?’ I say.
‘The new desert island level in your treehouse,’ says Jill.
‘Oh yeah,’ I say. ‘I forgot we had one.’
‘Well, there’s an easy way to find out if that’s where we are,’ says Jill. ‘We can climb that tree and look.’
So we climb to the top of the tree, and guess what?
It is our desert island! We’ve been in the treehouse the whole time!
Terry reaches up for a vine that is hanging above us. ‘Grab on to this,’ he says, ‘and we can all swing up to the next level.’
‘Wheeeeee!’ says Alice, as we swing through the air.
‘I love swinging!’ says Albert.
‘Goo-goo ga-ga!’ says the baby.
We land in the kitchen.
‘I’m glad we’re all safe again,’ says Jill. ‘I’ve got to go home now and feed my animals, but I’ll come back as soon as I can to help you with the babysitting. In the meantime, keep a close eye on Alice, Albert and the baby. And, whatever you do, don’t let them out of your sight!’
‘Don’t worry about that, Jill,’ I say. ‘We’ve learned our lesson: I’m going to draw up a babysitting roster so that one of us is watching them at all times.’
‘Great idea,’ says Jill. ‘See you later.’
‘What are we going to do while you do the roster?’ says Alice.
‘Here’s a colour-by-numbers colouring-in sheet I prepared earlier,’ says Terry.
‘Yay!’ says Albert. ‘I love colouring in!’
The kids start colouring in and Terry and I get started on our roster. (You can colour in the picture, too, readers, if you would like.)
‘I think we should take turns looking after the kids,’ I say. ‘How about I do the first five minutes and then I take a ten-minute break and while I’m on my break you watch them for ten minutes and then you take a five-minute break and then we just repeat that pattern until we’re done.’
‘But that’s not fair,’ says Terry. ‘You’re only working five minutes at a time and taking ten-minute breaks, and I’m working ten minutes at a time and only getting five-minute breaks.’
‘Oops,’ I say. ‘My mistake. What about we each work for five minutes and each take ten-minute breaks?’
‘It’s better—and fairer—than the first roster,’ says Terry, ‘but it means we won’t get to spend much time together.’
‘Hmmm,’ I say. ‘Let me see. I know! Perhaps we could do our first five minutes at the same time and then we can take our breaks together.’
‘Perfect!’ says Terry. ‘You’re really good at rosters, Andy.’
‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Let’s get started right away.’
‘Kids!’ says Terry. ‘Andy’s done a really good roster. We’re ready to start babysitting now … um … kids? Kids? Andy—they’re gone!’
‘Oh, no!’ I say. ‘Not again! If only they’d waited until we’d finished our roster this would never have happened! Let’s go straight to Madam Know-it-all and find out where they are before they get into trouble again.’
We climb the tree as fast as we can and burst into Madam Know-it-all’s tent.
‘Aha,’ she says, ‘I knew—’
‘There’s no time for that!’ I say. ‘Please tell us where the kids are—and if you could skip the cryptic rhyme we’d really appreciate it. We’re in kind of a hurry.’
‘I know,’ sighs Madam Know-it-all.
I know you don’t have time.
But I always do a rhyme.
So here’s your cryptic clue:
MARBAGE MUMP—pee-uw!
‘Barbage bump?’ I say.
‘Farbage frump?’ says Terry.
‘No,’ she says.
‘No,’ she says.
‘Zarbage zump?’ I say.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ says Madam Know-it-all. ‘It’s GARBAGE DUMP, you dumdums! The kids are at the garbage dump!’
CHAPTER 7
Banarnia
Terry and I hurry to the garbage dump and start climbing.
‘I love the dump,’ says Terry. ‘You never know what you’re going to find.’
‘Well, I hope we find Mr Big Nose’s grandchildren,’ I say. ‘That’s what we’re here for, remember?’
‘Oh yeah,’ says Terry. ‘I forgot. Hey, look what I found! It’s a medal! It says WORLD’S GREATEST DA.’
‘What’s a DA?’ I
say.
‘I don’t know,’ says Terry, putting it around his neck, ‘but whatever it is, I’m the greatest one in the world!’
‘Congratulations, Terry,’ I say, ‘but you’ll be a dead DA if we don’t find those kids.’
‘Good point, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘Alice! Albert! Where are you?’
I see a little face peering out of the garbage.
‘Terry!’ I call. ‘I’ve found the baby!’
I reach into the rubbish, grab hold of the baby and pull it towards me.
But it’s not the baby! It’s a telephone with a cute little face.
‘That’s not the baby!’ says Terry.
‘Well I know that now!’ I say. ‘But it looked like the baby when it was buried in rubbish and all I could see was its cute little face.’
‘Never mind,’ says Terry. ‘Look on the bright side: at least now you’ve got a telephone with a cute little face.’
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘and when you pull it along its eyes go up and down, see?’
‘That is SO cool!’ says Terry.
‘And listen to that,’ I say. ‘It rings too.’
‘I think you should answer it,’ says Terry.
I pick up the receiver.
‘Hello, is that Andy?’ says a voice.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Who is this?’
‘It’s Mrs Big Nose here,’ says the voice. ‘It’s half-time at the opera and I just thought I’d check in and see how the children are. Everything going well?’
‘Um … good,’ I say. ‘Really good. Really, really, really good.’
‘Can I talk to them?’ says Mrs Big Nose.
‘No?’ she says. ‘Why not?’
‘Well … er … um … no,’ I say. ‘Not right at the moment.’
‘Well … because … um … we’re sort of playing hide-and-seek and it’s their turn to hide.’
‘Oh, lovely,’ says Mrs Big Nose. ‘I won’t disturb them, then. I know how much they love their hide-and-seek. Sounds like you boys are doing a great job. Here’s a little hint for you—their favourite place to hide is in wardrobes. Goodbye.’
She hangs up.
‘Who was that?’ says Terry.
‘Mrs Big Nose,’ I say. ‘She was just calling to see how the kids were and she said their favourite place to hide is in wardrobes.’
‘Look!’ says Terry. ‘There’s a wardrobe at the top of the garbage pile. Come on!’
We scramble up to the top of the pile as fast as we can. There’s laughter coming from inside the wardrobe.
‘They’re definitely in there!’ says Terry.
‘Found you!’ I say, flinging the doors of the wardrobe wide open. Except we haven’t, because they’re not here. The wardrobe is empty.
‘I can’t see them,’ says Terry, ‘but I can still hear them. That’s weird.’
‘I think I know what’s going on here,’ I say. ‘This is no ordinary wardrobe. This is a storybook wardrobe. It’s most likely one of those portals to another world—like the wardrobe that leads to Narnia in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.’
‘I love portals!’ says Terry, climbing into the wardrobe. ‘Come on!’
I follow Terry into the storybook wardrobe, pulling my new phone with the cute little face behind me.
‘Wow, this place is bananas!’ says Terry.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘It’s not like Narnia at all. It’s more like BAnarnia!’
‘You’re right about that,’ says Terry. ‘There are flying toasters and walking cars. And, look, there’s Alice and Albert and the baby—they’re riding … well, I don’t know what they’re called … but they’re riding them.’
‘Come here!’ I yell. ‘And get off those whatever-they-ares. Terry and I will be in big trouble if anything happens to you!’
‘But we’re having fun!’ Alice yells back.
‘Yeah!’ calls Albert. ‘Try and catch us!’
‘Goo-goo ga-ga!’ says the baby, as they speed off into the distance.
Terry and I each grab a whatever-they’re-called and take off after them.
The kids are right. Riding these things is fun. Until we all come to the edge of a big cliff, that is.
Our whatever-you-call-thems stop … but we don’t. We are flung forward over the edge.
Uh-oh!
We all fall down …
and down …
and down …
CHAPTER 8
Stuck!
‘What are we going to do, Andy?’ says Terry.
‘Prepare for a crash landing,’ I say.
‘That sounds painful,’ says Terry.
‘Got any better ideas?’ I say.
‘Flap your arms,’ calls Albert.
‘Yes,’ says Alice. ‘Look, we can fly!’
I look up. It’s true—the kids are flying!
Terry and I start flapping our arms …
and soon we stop falling … and start flying too!
‘Flying is fun!’ says Alice. ‘You can see everything from up here!’
‘I can see a whatchamacallit!’ says Albert.
‘And there’s a thingummybob!’ says Terry.
‘I can see a whirly thing!’ I say. ‘It’s going round and round and round and it’s heading straight for us!’
‘Oh, goody,’ says Alice. ‘Whirly things are fun.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ I say. ‘Not all whirly things are fun. This looks like one of those dangerous sort of whirly things that knocks down trees, picks up houses, sucks people up and is called … um … I can’t remember what they’re called, but I think it starts with “t”.’
‘Tomato?’ says Terry.
‘Yes!’ I say. ‘A tomato! And it’s headed this way!’
‘It’s not a tomato,’ says Albert. ‘It’s a tornado!’
‘Phew!’ says Terry. ‘For a moment there I thought we were in trouble.’
‘We are in trouble,’ I say. ‘Serious trouble—this is going to get rough!’
The tomato sucks us all up and we are whirled and twirled and spun and then spat out. We fly through the air and land in a soft, springy net.
It’s a bit sticky, which makes it hard to move, but it’s much more relaxing than being whirled around in a tomato.
There’s a big black thing in the net with us. It’s got a lot of legs and is quite hairy. I’m pretty sure I know what this is called. It starts with ‘s’. It’s a … sss … a sss …
‘Spy cow!’ says Terry.
‘Where?!’ I say.
‘Over there!’ says Terry, pointing to the big black thing.
‘That’s not a spy cow,’ says Alice. ‘That’s a spider!’
‘That’s it! Spider!’ I say. ‘We’re stuck in a giant spider web!’
‘What are we going to do?’ says Terry.
‘Call Jill,’ says Albert. ‘That’s what you always do when you have problems—especially animal ones.’
‘Who’s Jill?’ I say.
‘She’s your friend,’ says Alice. ‘She lives next door.’
‘She does?’ I say. ‘Never heard of her.’
‘I can’t believe you don’t remember Jill,’ says Albert. ‘What about you, Terry? You remember her, don’t you?’
‘Terry?’ says Terry. ‘Who’s Terry?’
‘You are!’ says Alice. ‘You’re Terry. Andy’s friend.’
‘Who’s Andy?’ I say.
‘Uh-oh,’ says Alice. ‘I think I’d better call Jill.’
Alice picks up the phone and dials.
‘Hello, Jill?’ she says. ‘It’s Alice.’
‘Hello, Alice!’ says Jill. ‘How are you?’
‘Good, thanks!’ says Alice. ‘Well … except that we’re all stuck in a giant spider web.’
‘What?! Spider web?! What are you doing in a spider web?’
‘Well, we were playing on the garbage dump and then we went into an old wardrobe and we found a strange land where we could fly and then we were flying around and we got suc
ked up into a giant tornado and then we ended up here.’
‘Are Andy and Terry with you?’
‘Yes. But there’s something wrong with them. They’ve forgotten who they are. They’ve even forgotten whoyou are!’
‘Oh dear. What is wrong with those two? They’ve become so forgetful lately!’
‘I know! They can’t even remember what things are called. Andy called the tornado a tomato and Terry thought the spider was a spy cow!’