Well, I guess I can’t be right all the time. Turned out this was a photo album from long ago. The couple in it, a Mills and Boon lovey-dovey couple, spent heaps of time standing in front of different views and buildings, smiling.
‘Oh, looking at my photos?’ She’d caught me. I had to play this very carefully.
‘Yes. Who are these two—’
I turned the page over as I spoke, while she sat beside me on the couch. And there, on the next page, was a photo of the man standing by a cliff, tangled up in all that torture gear that was under the house in the trunk! I shut the book. I tried to run. She grabbed my hand. I shut my eyes and sat back on the couch, waiting for the torture seat-belt things to descend over my head.
‘You are an odd one, Monster. Why do you act so silly with me?’
She opened the horror album again and stabbed her wrinkled finger at the photo.
‘That’s the man who was your Uncle Fred, my husband. He loved climbing,’ she sighed. ‘This is our honeymoon album. He even climbed on our honeymoon!’
Of course he was climbing. If escape meant having to climb that wall of rock behind him, he’d be up it like a possum up a power pole. She couldn’t fool me.
‘Your mother phoned while you were getting your hair done,’ she said. ‘Wants to come and pick you up herself, Sunday. I’ll make a special dinner.’
I ran upstairs to the thin, mean bed and lay down to plan a great welcome trick for Mum, a great horror trick for Aunt, and some general fun for my friends.
I missed out on dinner that night. I told Mildew I felt sick. I went to my room and attacked Sylvie’s pavlova, which I’d been holding out for all day. I fell asleep in a bed full of meringue flakes.
I was woken on Saturday morning by another scream and lukewarm tea pouring all over my face. Mildew was standing over me, quivering and moaning.
I reached up to wipe the tea off my head and nearly died of fright. I screamed, too: a horrible wail, it was.
My pillow was covered in black hair with burnt ends. I was almost completely bald.
11
With my cap jammed on my eggshell head, I raced to Brad’s hotel. I rushed into his room, pulled off my cap and said, ‘I can explain.’
He was moaning little popping noises and hums into the phone. He was talking to Princess.
‘It’s her fault,’ I said.
‘Nothing, absolutely nothing is her fault,’ he said, without looking at me.
I had to wait, sitting on his bed, for a whole hour while he finished his popping and humming and kissing conversation with Princess.
Then he looked at me. ‘You’re fired,’ he said. ‘No way, José, can you do the ad bald.’
‘But, Princess did this and—’
‘No way. Princess is perfect.’ He waved his hand towards the door.
I ran non-stop through the forest to Sylvie’s. I thought she should know that whatever talents her daughter had, hairdressing wasn’t one of them.
I hammered on her door.
‘Where’s your hair?’ Sylvie stood in the doorway, looking very pale.
‘It was Princess. She—’
‘Come in. I’m having lasagna for lunch, with pineapple upside-down cake for afters. We’d better talk.’
We ate, then talked. She said she was sure my hair would grow back. It would just take time. I negotiated compensation in the form of weekly cake deliveries by courier to my home. Sylvie was OK about that.
‘I just love baking,’ she said.
And I ordered her and Princess to come to Mildew’s house for a party on Sunday night, the night Mum would arrive.
‘Wonder what your aunt will cook for dinner?’
Then I said, ‘Of course the real tragedy is that I can’t do the $2000 vegetable commercial. They wanted some kid with wild hair.’
‘Have another slice of pineapple upside-down cake, or would you like lemon meringue pie? When I’m thinking I usually go for lemon meringue. Sharper taste.’
I nodded. We chewed and Sylvie thought. ‘I’ve got an idea!!!’
She reckoned I could do the commercial just as I was—bald. I could pretend to eat the vegetables and throw them to Bloat when the adult wasn’t looking. And the message would be that I was bald because I didn’t eat greens, and Bloat was covered in long, curly hair because he did.
‘Go on,’ she said, going back to the pineapple upside-down cake. ‘Phone him.’
I phoned. Brad bought the idea. The shoot was on. That afternoon! It meant just an hour to train Bloat to sit still and catch any vegetables thrown at him.
Sylvie and I trained him together. I had this idea of wrapping Brussels sprout leaves around delicious meatballs so they looked like sprouts but weren’t. Bloat cottoned on real fast. Soon, he could catch a disguised flying meatball and swallow it in one thump of his tail. It gave me an idea. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I asked Sylvie if she would make a whole plate of these un-Brussels sprouts for the party at Mildew’s.
‘Your wish is my command,’ she said. ‘What would you like in them?’
‘Chocolate.’
I rushed off for the shoot. Brad was depressed because Princess was refusing to go out with him.
‘I can fix that, mate.’
‘How?’
‘Well, she’s coming to my leaving party tomorrow. Why don’t you come, too?’
‘Fab! I’ll return the favour sometime.’
‘Great. Can I have some of that theatre fog stuff—’
‘Dry ice?’
‘Yeah. And I need the sound man to make me certain sound effects. And I need a computer with PowerPoint and—’
‘Look, man, whatever you want, eh? No worries.’
I felt like a king.
After that, doing the commercial was so simple. Bloat and I were perfect first take. And they put on a real good afternoon tea.
On my way back to Mildew’s, I found a choice slug crossing my path. I scooped it up into my pocket. When I feel on top of the world I like having my pockets full of fun things that might come in useful one day.
12
I got up early and rushed to Brad’s hotel. There, I collected a video camera with powerful lights, a laptop loaded with the various visuals and audio I’d asked for, a data projector, speakers and cables, and the dry ice. I also bought lots of toy mice at the shopping centre.
Brad put me and Bloat and all the stuff in a taxi, added four cases of wine, which was his contribution to the party, and sent me off in style.
When I got back, Mildew had gone shopping for that night’s special dinner. Great! I took Purple Nose’s drill under the house. I was going to be there a while, so I took a bag with some of Sylvie’s lemon meringue pie in it as well.
Even though Mildew was out, I still got scared under the house. What if Purple Nose was there, in the dark, trying to hide the evidence? He could easily leap on me from behind, where my torchlight didn’t reach.
I inched forward on my stomach, feeling around me with my one free hand in case I found any more evidence.
I reached the pile of bones. They gleamed horribly white in the torchlight. Something was different! There was an extra bone on top of the pile, still with red stuff on it! I felt majorly ill. Had Mildew killed Purple Nose? Was this all that was left of him? Where was the rest of him?
Even though my head was reeling and my stomach felt like a rough sea, I set up the lights, videoed the pile from all angles and then moved on, further under the huge house. I had to video the chest of torture tools.
Then I sat upright and finished the lemon meringue pie. It wasn’t very nice because my hands were filthy with dust, and this mixed with the pie and made it crunchy when it should have been smooth.
However, I’m tough. I put up with it.
Then I got the drill out of my bag and enlarged the hole in the dining-room floor. I moved along, counting beams, until I knew I was under the sitting room. I drilled two other holes, up through the floorboards and the carpet.
I left the dry ice under these two holes.
I slithered out from under the house with the video camera and its tell-tale evidence.
Mildew came home when I was showering. She thought I was being a ‘good boy, tidying yourself up for your mother’.
I went into my bedroom and spent an hour tying invisible fishing-line around the toy mice. The only other thing I had to do was place the mice around the dining room where Mildew wouldn’t see them, and unravel the fishing-lines so they all went down the hole under the table. It meant one more horrific crawl under the house, but I was brave enough.
Mum arrived in the late afternoon, which I’d expected.
‘Hello, creep.’ That was Sis. She’d come, too. I hadn’t expected that.
Mum flapped into the kitchen to peck Mildew. I took my cap off.
‘You look so nerdy,’ Sis said, and stomped off to the shopping centre.
Mum’s reaction was quite different. As soon as she saw me with my eggshell head she screamed, put her hand over her heart, and collapsed into a chair. Overcome. But that was only temporary.
She rose out of the chair angry as an erupting volcano. She wasn’t furious I’d had burnt hair that was greenish with reddish tips. She wasn’t interested I’d had scorched black hair. She was just furious I now had no hair. But the unique thing was that she wasn’t furious with me! She was furious with Mildew! Adults are so strange.
Mum erupted her way into the kitchen where Mildew was cooking roast turkey. Mildew looked around for an escape. There was none. I was standing in the doorway behind Mum, videoing the encounter.
‘I couldn’t control him. He ran absolutely wild. I didn’t want to bother you. I—’
‘You dingbat!’ screamed Mum. ‘What am I supposed to do with him now?’
Mildew rose to her full height, which was a bit taller than Mum, and opened her mouth. No words came out. She had a wooden spoon in her hand with gravy dripping off it. Thank goodness it wasn’t a pick-axe.
‘I sent him here for some firm handling, some discipline. You said you were expert at that!’
‘He was just too much for me,’ whimpered Mildew. ‘But I did get him to eat his Brussels sprouts—’
‘Who cares about Brussels sprouts!’ The lava spattered. The volcano roared. The room trembled. I got the whole lot, close-up, on video.
Well, you know what families are like. After the big row, Mum had a bath and a sulk. Mildew stayed in the kitchen. I knew she was planning revenge, though. I saw her get handfuls of Brussels sprouts out of a sack and fling them into boiling water. She’d decided to get her own back on Mum and me for the final time by giving us a dinner of fresh Brussels sprouts, probably poisoned. It didn’t worry me. I had a plan to scotch that one.
I went upstairs and pretended to be really upset about my bald head and about Mum’s shouting. I knew she’d feel guilty and then I’d be able to get what I wanted.
It all happened as I knew it would. When Mum was in her soppiest, weepiest state, sitting on the bed, stroking my head and saying ‘Poor, poor boy, how you must have suffered’, I dropped the big one on her.
‘Mum, Aunt Mildew—’
‘Mildred, dear.’
‘—is an axe murderer and poisoner. She murdered Uncle Fred.’
‘Monster. I’m tired. It’s been a long journey.’
It was a disappointing reaction.
I wandered into the kitchen and told Mildew that, by the way, I’d invited a TV producer, a princess and a witch to dinner as well. I said they were my protectors, and I said this looking straight into her electric-drill eyes.
She got all in a tizz for no reason at all, so I said, ‘Why don’t you invite that friend of yours?’
‘What friend?’
‘Mr Purple Nose.’
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about,’ she yelled.
Then Sis returned from the shopping centre, all excited because someone had told her that a TV producer was around, and she’d actually spoken to a girl in the bank who’d served him. Wow! I told her he just happened to be a mate of mine and that he had been grateful I’d agreed to let him direct my first feature film which we shot yesterday. That’s why I had to shave my head, for the role.
‘Sez who?’ she sneered.
‘He’s coming to dinner tonight, actually.’
She gave a little scream, said, ‘What shall I wear?’, and rushed up the stairs.
Later, when Mum was in her room and Sis had rushed back to the shopping centre for a trolley full of make-up, I heard Mildew on the phone inviting Purple Nose. I could tell it was him because her voice went up an octave and wobbled, like Bloat’s eyeballs when you threw him a disguised Brussels sprout.
The stage was all set now for my best trick ever.
13
It was dinner time. Mum and Mildew were rushing around as fast as atoms in a bomb, piling food onto tables. Sis was gazing out the window.
Sylvie arrived, with a freshly laundered mohair jersey that looked familiar.
‘Found it in the river. Knew it had to be Monster’s,’ she said. She gave it to Mum. I could tell they liked each other immediately. Princess sneaked in with a huge plate piled high with disguised Brussels sprouts. I hid them under the tablecloth-covered table for the moment. Then Princess and Sylvie between them produced one lemon meringue pie, one chocolate and cherry cake, one plate of tiny Mexican tacos, and a huge plate, as big as a gravestone, full of olives and salami and little tomatoes and cubes of cheese.
Sis gave a moan and hurled herself at the front door.
Brad arrived at the same time as Purple Nose. He said ‘Hi’, ignored Sis, and wandered off with two glasses of champagne. He found Princess lighting candles in the sitting room. Purple Nose hung around the kitchen. He was carrying a limp bundle of daffodils which he didn’t know what to do with.
‘Here,’ said Mildew, and whammed them into a jar. She didn’t introduce Purple Nose to anyone else. She was still in a simmer-not-stir mood from the fight in the afternoon.
We all sat around the table. All except Sis.
Sis went upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. I know this because before she went she bailed me up in a corner, banged my head against the wall, and told me I’d pay big for inviting someone who wasn’t even family to the dinner.
I don’t think she meant Purple Nose. I don’t think she meant Brad. I think she meant Princess.
‘I’ll get you,’ she snarled as she dragged herself up the stairs.
Mildew sliced the turkey viciously. Then she plonked a plate of sprouts down.
‘Those are for Monster,’ she said.
‘You like them things?’ asked Brad, amazed.
‘Monster won’t eat those,’ said Mum.
‘My favourite food in the universe. My aunt has taught me the evil of my non-green ways. I am now a born-again green-veggie eater.’
I had to create a diversion quickly. ‘Look, in the lane—looks just like Uncle Fred!’
Mildew and Mum rushed to the bow windows and I got under the table and hauled out Sylvie’s un-Brussels sprouts. Princess plonked them on the table and handed the Mildew sprouts to me under the table. I placed them near my feet. Brad looked confused, but Princess put one of her fingers over his lips and he shut up.
We all started eating. I chomped my way through the whole plate of disguised Brussels sprouts, the whole chocolatey lot. I told Mum what a marvellous cook Mildew was.
Mildew was smiling for a change. I knew why. She thought I’d been poisoned, that suddenly I’d fall over backwards with a black tongue sticking out of my face like a dagger.
So I acted as though I had been poisoned. With the filming yesterday I knew how to act. Crash!
Everyone was taken in, especially Mildew. She was shouting, ‘Water! Blankets!’ As everyone rushed out to get things, I disappeared. That makes it sound easy. In fact I had to run faster than I’ve ever run, outside to the door under the house.
I knew M
ildew would think I’d crawled away to die of poisoning some where. Everyone else looked in the downstairs rooms. No one thought of under the house.
Mum yelled, ‘Where is that boy?’
From up through the hole in the dining-room floor, a pre-recorded mystery voice croaked, ‘He’s crawled away to die.’
I heard Mum scream. Then I did the mouse trick. It was my way of getting them into the sitting room, which was bigger and had one large, white wall. From my hiding place under the house, I tugged the fishing lines and six mice whizzed across the dining-room floor and under the table. Chairs were scraped back. Mum screamed: she hates mice.
Bloat capered madly, barking his head off. Mildew was yelling for everyone to get out of the dining room. Princess fainted into Brad’s arms.
And that was only my first get-even trick.
When they went into the sitting room, I moved, under the house, to the two new holes.
First, I sent a few stink bombs wafting up through the holes.
Then, with the help of the laptop, my audience got to hear sound effects from real horror movies.
‘It’s Monster!’ I heard Mum say. ‘It must be.’
Mildew, I noticed, was quiet.
I had a mirror tilted at one hole. I started the dry ice.
When I knew the smoky stuff was billowing and snaking around the room, I turned on the data projector and projected onto the big white wall of the sitting room the outline of a man rising from a grave. Then a voice said, ‘I am the husband you murdered, Mildew.’
There was pandemonium. Mildew was screaming. Brad was laughing and clapping. Mum was turning into a volcano again. I could hear the hissing and rumbling. ‘Where is that Monster?’
Then I heard Purple Nose bleat, ‘He’ll be under the house. That’s where.’
The weakness in my plan was that there was only one door into and out of under the house. I was trapped.
Monstrosity Page 4