Barry Loser and the Curse of Terry Claus

by Jim Smith

  Sticking out of the corner was a very familikeels-looking box. ‘’Appy Christmas, Barry Warry!’ he growled, handing it to me, and I clawed it open.

  ‘My Future Ratboy costume!’ I gasped, even though it wasn’t mine, it was Bunky’s.

  ‘I’m glad you like it, Barry Warry,’ growled Terry as I held it up to myself, and I thought how he was sort of like my new mum and dad, except only half as many people, and twice as smelly.

  I wriggled into the costume and did my best Future Ratboy pose, feeling like the keelest little Barry Warry ever.

  And that’s when I felt something sidekickish behind me. I turned round and gasped and blew off at the same time. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Bunky.

  ‘Barry!’ yawned Bunky, rubbing his eyes and smiling. ‘Merry Keelmas!’ he said, looking at Terry and crinkling up his forehead. ‘Who’s that fat bloke?’

  ‘Bunky, meet Terry Claus, Santa’s evil brother from the Satsuma Fronkle advert,’ I said, and Terry waved.

  I looked down at Bunky’s ripped-open pressies lying all over the carpet and felt my mince pie butterfly flap its wings all guiltily inside my belly.

  ‘Keel to meet you,’ Bunky said to Terry, not even noticing the ripped-open pressies. He picked up a non-ripped-open one and smiled. ‘You might as well open this now Barry, seeing as you’re here,’ he said, handing it to me.

  ‘A pressie, for little old me?’ I gasped, feeling bad that I was getting a pressie from the person whose Future Ratboy costume I’d just nicked. ‘OH. MY. KEELNESS!’ I shouted, ripping it open anyway. ‘A real-life Not Bird!’

  The Not Bird jumped out of its box and flew up next to my head. ‘NOT!’ it screeched, right into my earhole.

  ‘I thought it’d go with your costume,’ said Bunky, then his face scrunched up like the wrapping paper all over the carpet. ‘Hang on a millikeels,’ he gasped, looking down at the floor. ‘Why in the unkeelness are all my pressies ripped open?’ he mumbled, and Terry clomped forward.

  ‘Nuffin for you to worry about, Bunky Wunky,’ he snarled, grabbing a bauble off the Christmas tree.

  Bunky stared at the ripped-open Future Ratboy costume box, then at me. ‘M-my Future Ratboy costume!’ he stuttered.

  ‘I-I can explain, Bunky . . .’ I said, as Terry threw his bauble straight at Bunky’s head.

  ‘NOOOO!!!’ I screamed, diving to catch the bauble, and for a millisecond I really was like Future Ratboy, flying through the air with Not Bird flapping his wings next to me.

  I caught the bauble and turned to face Terry. ‘Nobody throws a bauble at Future Ratbarry’s number one sidekick!’ I said, and Terry laughed.

  ‘’Ave you gone completely bonkoids, Barry Warry?’ he growled, snatching another bauble off the tree. ‘Come on, son, let’s grab his pressies and get the smell out of ’ere!’

  Maybe it was Bunky giving me a Not Bird for Christmas. Or maybe I was just getting bored of Terry pushing everyone around the whole time. All I knew was, I didn’t want to be his sidekick anymore.

  ‘I’m not your son, Terry,’ I shouted, spotting a roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape lying on the floor next to all the wrapped-up pressies.

  ‘No more pressie-nicking!’ I said, kicking the roll towards Bunky and giving him a nod. ‘You know what to do, Bunky!’

  ‘Huh?’ said Bunky, picking up the roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape and scratching his bum.

  ‘Remember the Satsuma Fronkle advert . . .?’ I said, and Bunky shrugged.

  ‘The one where Santa wraps Terry Claus up like a naughty pressie and throws him in the bin . . .’ I sighed, and Bunky grinned.

  ‘Oh, yeah!’ he cried, lassoing the Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape round Terry’s belly.

  ‘WAAAHHH!!!’ screamed Terry, trying to flap his arms, but he couldn’t. He was too busy being wrapped up like a naughty pressie.

  After that, we heaved Terry into the Feeko’s trolley and flew around looking for a rubbish bin. ‘I’ll get you for this, Future Ratbarry!’ he screamed, as we dropped him in an extra-large one outside a Chinese restaurant.

  ‘NOT!’ screeched Not Bird, giving me and Bunky a salute and flying off towards the sun, which was beginning to rise.

  I looked down at the costume I was wearing and immediwriggled out of it. ‘I’m sorry I nicked your pressie, Bunky,’ I said, folding it up really badly and handing it back to him.

  ‘That’s OK, Barry!’ said Bunky, zipping himself into it and doing the Future-Ratbunkiest smile ever. ‘Fanks for saving me from Terry Claus!’ he grinned.

  Next, we dropped Sharonella and Darren’s pressies off at their houses, then I took Bunky back to his. ‘See you tomozkeels!’ he shouted from his bedroom window, and I flew back towards my house.

  ‘Goodbyekeels, flying Feeko’s trolley!’ I said, jumping out of it and through my bedroom window. The trolley waggled its wobbly wheels and trundled off into the sky.

  ‘HO HO HO!’ it boomed, as it disappeared behind a cloud, or maybe it was Santa doing the booming.

  Actually, it probably definitely was Santa, seeing as the flying Feeko’s trolley couldn’t speak.

  Then I dived under my Future Ratboy duvet and must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, my mum was waking me up.

  ‘Barry!’ barked my mum. ‘Wake up, it’s Christmas Day.’ My eyes fluttered open like two stale mince pie butterflies, and I saw her face staring at me from half a centimetre away.

  ‘Oh, what a nighty-wighty-marey-poos I had, Mumsy Wumsy!’ I warbled, and my mum smiled, her bauble earrings swaying. ‘Wait a millikeels, what time is it?’ I said.

  ‘It’s lunchtime, Barry,’ she said. ‘You’ve slept right through.’

  I could tell she was half wanting to give me a Christmas cuddle, half still in a bit of a bad mood from our shouty-wout the night beforey-wore.

  ‘LUNCHY-WUNCH-TIME?’ I gasped, hearing voices downstairs. Bunky and his family had arrived and I hadn’t even opened my stocking yet!

  A clomping noise was making its way up the stairs, and I felt my legs waggle and my arms start to flap. ‘T-T-T-TERRY?!’ I wailed, as the door opened and my dad stuck his nose through.

  ‘Er, my name’s Kenneth, actually,’ he smiled, and I spotted Bunky standing behind him, dressed in his Future Ratboy costume. They shuffled in, my dad doing most of the shuffling, because he was carrying an enormous, familikeels-looking parcel.

  ‘I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, son . . .’ he said, and I held my hand up to stop him talking.

  ‘Mumsy, Dadsy, I’m sorry I was a naughty little poobum yesterkeels,’ I warbled, and my mum gave me her Christmas cuddle, which I immedikeely squirmed out of. I dived out of bed and started ripping the wrapping paper off my pressie.

  ‘Ha, ha! Bar-ry got a Not Bird cos-tume!’ laughed Bunky as I wriggled into it, sticking my nose through the beak hole, and I wobbled over to stand next to him.

  ‘Looks like I’m the sidekick after all!’ I smiled, happy to be anyone’s sidekick but Terry Claus’s. And that’s when I spotted a pressie sticking out of Bunky’s pocket. ‘What’s that?’ I said, pointing at it, even though I knew what it was. It was a pressie.

  Bunky pulled the pressie out and held it up to my face. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot . . . Merry Keelmas, Barry!’ he grinned, passing it to me, and I gasped and blew off all at the same time, which is never a good idea.

  ‘A pressie, for little old me?’ I said, tearing the wrapping paper at the corner, crossing my fingers it was a real-life Not Bird.

  At first all I could see was a bit of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape, sticking out from the tear I’d made at the corner of the wrapping paper. Then I saw another bit of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape, next to the first bit I’d seen.

  ‘A roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape!’ chuckled my mum, as I pulled out a half-used roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape, and Bunky did his Future Ratbunky grin.

  ‘It’s the weirdest thing. I foun
d it in the pocket of my Future Ratboy costume when I unwrapped it this morning . . .’ he said, and I gasped.

  How in the keelness had the roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape from my comperleeterly-made-up-in-my-head dreamypoos got into Bunky’s costume’s pocket?

  ‘Thought you might like it,’ cackled Bunky, thinking he was hilarious for giving me such a rubbish pressie, and I giggled, chucking it at the bin in the corner of my room.

  The roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape flew through the air like a roll of Feeko’s Extra-Sticky Sticky Tape, clunked off the side of the bin and rolled back, hitting me on the tip of my toe.

  I bent over and picked it up, blowing off at the same time, and thought of Terry, all wrapped up, head first in the bin outside the Chinese restaurant, and I sniggled to myself.

  ‘What’s so funny, Snookyflumps?’ smiled my mum, wobbling over like a Christmas tree and giving me a cuddle, and I opened my mouth to try and explain.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing!’ I said, closing it again, because everyone knows listening to other people’s dreamypoos is the boringest thing ever. Even if they maybe weren’t dreamypoos after all . . .

  Jim Smith is the keelest kids’ book story wrapper-upperer in the whole world amen.

  He graduated from art school with first class honours (the best you can get) and went on to create the branding for a sweet little chain of coffee shops.

  He also designs cards and gifts under the name Waldo Pancake.

  ‘That’s it!’ says Jim, wrapping up this blurb way too soon.