Horrible Horace and the Slug

by Gerrard Wllson

answered his last question correctly. The Horrible boy had answered correctly, so there was no getting out of it. Being old and ever so uppity, Mr Lowe thought, "For sure, it will be something small like having to do homework for the Horrible child. Yes," he thought again, "that must be it, and if it is not that, then he will surely want me to make him something, like a kite. The Horrible child is obsessed with the things."

  Addressing Horrible Horace, Mr Lowe, speaking quietly, mannerly, said, "Pray tell me, Master Horace, what is this forfeit you want me to do?"

  "So" Horrible Horace replied, feeling like Christmas had arrived early, "you are honouring your part of the bargain, the pact?"

  Affronted, the old man snapped, "Of course I am! We didn't defeat the Japanese by reneging on promises, you know!"

  Opening the flap of his satchel, the Horrible child peered inside...

  "No, not that!" said Tinkering Tommy, half in jest but entirely in earnest.

  "Yes!"said Barmy Bernard. "It is! The little tyke's going to do it, he really is!"

  "What are you talking about?" asked Lousy Linda, feeling quite out of the picture.

  "Walk the walk," said Horrible Horace, slowly, methodically, to the old man.

  "Pardon?" Mr Lowe asked, fearing the Horrible pupil was turning his words upon him.

  "I said, walk the walk," he replied. "That is what you said, was it not?"

  Mr Lowe nodded a yes.

  "Produce the goods," Horrible Horace continued. "You said people - and all too often - do not produce the goods."

  The old man nodded again, though totally confused as to where the conversation was heading, and what the forfeit might actually be.

  Reaching into his satchel, Horrible Horace located the slug secreted therein. Withdrawing his hand - and the slug - he held it high for everyone to see.

  "What is that?" gasped the old man, the instant he saw it.

  "It's a slug!" the children cried out. "The biggest, fattest, slimiest, ugliest slug we have ever laid eyes on!"

  "They are right," thought Mr Lowe. "It most certainly is the largest, fattest, slimiest, ugliest slug I have ever seen."

  Lowering his hand, Horrible Horace offered the slug to Mr Lowe, "There you are," he said.

  Leaning down, suspiciously, repulsively eying the creature, the old teacher asked, "What do you mean?"

  Holding the slug close to the old man's face, Horrible Horace said, "Witchetty Grub."

  "Witchetty Grub?"

  "Yes," he replied. "You being an expert on all things Australian should have no problem understanding what I am talking about."

  "I know what a Witchetty Grub is!" he snapped. "What I don't know, or understand, is why you are saying it while showing me that...that slug thing!"

  Smiling mischievously, Horrible Horace replied, "Because it's the nearest thing we have in this country to Witchetty Grubs."

  "And?" the old man asked, still as confused.

  Smiling even more, Horrible Horace said, "What do the aboriginals, in Australia, do with such delectable items?"

  The penny having finally dropped, Mr Lowe gulped hard, and he whispered, "They eat them."

  "Pardon?" said the Horrible child. "I don't think everyone heard what you said."

  "I didn't hear!" said Lousy Linda. Mr Lowe cut her a glance so sharp it would have cut butter. The Lousy pupil shrank low in her seat.

  Pushing the slug closer to the old man's face, Horrible Horace said, "That's what I want you to do with this slug - eat it!"

  Gulping hard, realising that he had finally met his match, Mr Lowe inspected the slug in fine detail. "Master Horace," he whispered. "You can't really want me to eat this, this poor creature?" He touched it with one of his fingers; the slug felt cold and clammy. Shivers, rivers of dread ran his spine.

  "I do," he replied Horribly. "And every last bit of it!"

  "He's going through with it, he really is!" said Barmy Bernard, excitedly nudging his neighbour.

  "I wouldn't like to be in Lowe's shoes!" said Tinkering Tommy. "He'll puke his guts up if he goes through with it!"

  Although Mr Lowe was an arrogant, stubborn, eccentric and boring old man, he knew when to call it a day, when to bite the bullet - or in this case the slug - and eat humble pie. "Okay," he said, "you win."

  The children gasped in revulsion when they heard him say this, because not even one of them would have agreed to do such a disgusting thing.

  "He's barmy," said Tinkering Tommy," more barmy than you, Bernard!"

  George Rupniak said, "I'll have to draw this. For sure, his face with turn green the moment he bites into it!"

  Another child, Kathy the Snitch, said, "When he eats it, I'll tell everyone what he has done! It will keep me going in gossip until Christmas!"

  After passing the slug to the old man, Horrible Horace wiped his hands, trying to remove the sticky, gooey, slimly cold substance left on them by the soon to be eaten creature, Reilly.

  Pardon? You want to read all the gory details, how Mr Lowe ate the slug? Nah! I cannot tell you that! This is a children's book! What? You won't buy any more of my books if I do not tell you? Okay, okay, keep your knickers on, I will tell you what happened, but I warn you it was horrible!

  Holding the slug up by its tail (yes, slugs really do have tails! If you find this hard to believe, inspect the next slug you happen to come by), Mr Lowe lifted it slowly, tentatively towards his mouth...

  No! No! No! I cannot tell you how Mr Lowe ate it - I cannot. It is more than my life is worth if my publisher finds out! What I will tell you, however, is that after finishing the disgusting deed, consuming the slug, the old teacher, Mr Lowe, never looked at these creatures in the same way again.

  THE END.

  What is it! I have finished the story! You really meant it? You will definitely not buy any more of my books if I do not tell you how Mr Lowe ate that slug? All right, if that is how you want it, I will tell you - but not here (my publisher is still listening, you know!). To find out how he did it, how Mr Lowe ate the slug, you will have to visit my website (www.crazymadwriter.com) and search for the secret, hidden page with all of the gory details.

  THE END

  Postscript;

  You want to know why I brought the Ringmaster and the Circus of Grotesques into this story, don't you? Hah, that is easy to explain, it was a teaser to my book Jimmy, the Glue Factory and Mad Mr Viscous.

  www.thecrazymadwriter.com

  True Blue

  I am a poor slug, it's true,

  I am searching for love, true blue,

  The slug of my dreams, a slug I can woo,

  Who will bear my offspring, a mere million or two.