by Andy Stanton
‘Alan Taylor,’ said Friday as they rode. ‘How is my darling wife, Mrs Lovely?’
‘Fine, thanks,’ chuckled Mrs Lovely, popping her head out from inside the Christmas tree where she’d been hiding for a surprise. ‘I’m completely better, tra-la-la-la-la!’
‘THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE!’ shouted Friday happily. Mrs Lovely jumped into his arms, and everyone pretended not to look while they done a bit of kissing and that.
The rest of that night passed in a hazy crazy daze, with Jake woofing and yuffling endlessly through the white powdery snow. It was all down to that big bark-machine now, and he ran like no dog has ever run before or since! Actually, one dog has run like that before. His name was Mop Mop and it happened in Denmark in 1974. Mop Mop was chasing a florist through the streets of Copenhagen –
‘Who cares about Mop Mop?’ cried Polly. ‘Come on, Jakey! RUN!’
And so over the frozen fields big Jake ran, hardly even slipping on the icy bits. Through snowdrifts great and small, bounding over walls, he leapt a country stile and ran for miles and miles, while night time turned to day, he ran a long long way, in the jingle jangle morning he went slobbing along.
But is he a-slobbin’ along fast enough, that’s what I does want to know! thought Polly anxiously.
‘Have faith, child,’ the Spirit of the Rainbow reassured her, as if he could read her brains. ‘And if you can’t have faith, have a fruit chew.’
‘Hey, that reminds me,’ said Polly, fishing out the Fruit Chew of Babylon from her skirt pocket. ‘I still gots this Great Gift what you gave me.’
‘Patience, child,’ said the Spirit of the Rainbow. ‘The Fruit Chew of Babylon is powerful but it must be used at just the right moment. For as it is written in the stars, in special space-ink:
‘Whatever can that mean?’ wondered Polly – but the Spirit of the Rainbow would say no more. And on they rode in silence, racing desperately against time.
Overhead, morning was breaking as Jake rounded one last corner and a familiar sight met Polly’s eyes.
‘Boaster’s Hill!’ she exclaimed happily. ‘We’re back home where we belongs!’
But her happiness didn’t last long, because something strange was happening at the bottom of the hill. As the heroes watched, a huge load of soil went flying everywhere. And then, in the blink of a tramp’s eye, the goblins burst out from the hillside, spitting and dropping litter all over the place and designing cheap blocks of flats made of concrete. They had only been in Lamonic Bibber for about three seconds but already it was starting to look like Goblin City.
Chapter 12
The Fruit Chew of Babylon
‘I am the Head Beekeeper!’ yelled Mr Gum as he emerged from the tunnel. (This was just his way of saying ‘I am the best!’ for Mr Gum admired beekeepers tremendously. And why? Because beekeepers are in charge of bees, and can command them to sting anyone they fancy.)
‘Ha, ha, me old stilton! You know what’s really gonna be funty?’ said Billy William, laughing like a pair of scissors. ‘When this here Goblin Army attacks the sleepin’ townsfolk!’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Mr Gum, chuckling as Yak Triangle pushed a bench into the duck pond. ‘Cos who knows we’re comin’? No one! An’ that’s what a surprise attack’s all about!’
‘Wrong!’ said a pure clear voice from above, and the villains looked up in amazement to see the heroes a-standing on the hillside, the sun gleaming behind them to prove they were definitely the goodies.
‘This is what a surprise attack’s all about!’ said the Spirit of the Rainbow.
‘MEDDLERS!’ shouted Mr Gum in fury.
Burger Wizard!
Do that thing!
That thing with the burgers!
Goo goo g’j–
But even before Billy could reach for his first missile, Jake was upon him, knocking him flat to the icy ground. Billy’s appalling hamburgers spilled out harmlessly on the ground and the Spirit of the Rainbow swept them away with a broom made by a company called Forces of Good, Limited.
‘YEAH!’ shouted Polly in triumph. ‘Take that, Billy, you unholy lobster!’
‘Mr Gum’s getting away!’ warned Friday.
‘I don’t think so,’ chirruped Mrs Lovely, and she picked up Alan Taylor and swung him through the air towards that so-called Goblin King.
‘MAXIMUM GINGERBREAD STRENGTH!’ shouted the little biscuit, even though this didn’t really mean anything. He landed in Mr Gum’s disgraceful beard and gave a mighty kick at the emerald, sending it flying up into the air. Slowly, slowly it flew, turning lazily in the early morning sunlight, and dozens of little round goblin eyes watched it go. Without thinking, Polly reached out her hand and caught it. And dozens of little round goblin eyes turned in her direction.
‘Me emerald!’ moaned Mr Gum. ‘Me lovely emerald what’s rightfully mine, an’ what I definitely didn’t steal off a rich lady in London last year!’
‘SHINY FING!’ the goblins cried eagerly. ‘SHINY FINNNNG!’
‘Uh oh,’ said Polly.
‘Run, child!’ urged the Spirit of the Rainbow.
‘Where to?’ squeaked Polly.
‘Just run,’ replied the lad calmly. ‘And have faith. When the time is right you will know what to do.’
Well, all Polly knew was that a lot of scary goblins were coming after her, babbling ‘SHINY FING!’ So she turned tail and off she scooted.
At that exact same moment, there was a knock at Jonathan Ripples’ front door. He went to answer it and was astonished to find there was nobody there.
‘That’s strange,’ he frowned, but then –
‘Ooh!’ he remarked. ‘What’s this?’
He bent down to take a closer look. It was a mince pie, lying innocently on the doorstep. A moment later it was gone, just another poor victim of Jonathan Ripples’ unstoppable jaws. But then those jaws spotted another mince pie, a little further along. In fact, there was a whole trail of them. And soon Jonathan Ripples was on a wild pie chase, scoffing up the tasty little scallywags without a thought of where they might be taking him.
‘It’s like that dream I once had as a boy,’ he exclaimed happily as he munched. ‘The one about the pies.’
From behind the Ripple-izer 2000, Martin Launderette watched his plan unfolding.
‘Come on, come on,’ he mumbled excitedly. He’d hardly slept for days, his hair was all messed up and he was coated in engine oil and nonbiological washing powder.
‘I’ll show that fatty-come-lately who’s the boss once and for all!’ he gibbered insanely. ‘Come ON!’
Now Jonathan Ripples was three pies away.
Now two.
And now he spied the very last pie. It was the biggest one of all and it was perched right in the doorway of the washing machine.
As if in a trance, Jonathan Ripples waddled forward . . .
He reached for the pie . . .
And Martin Launderette crept up behind him, ready to Ripple-ize . . .
But just then Polly came rushing around the corner, the Goblin Army snapping at her heels.
‘I – can’t – goes – on – no – more,’ she panted. But then she saw the washing machine and for some reason she remembered the words that were written in the stars:
And suddenly Polly knew exactly what she had to do. With the last of her strength she raced for the washing machine, shoved Jonathan Ripples aside and chucked the emerald in through the round doorway. Well, those goblins didn’t think twice. They just piled straight in after it, desperate to get their grabby hands on the shiny green jewel.
‘Quick, Mr Ripples, sir! Shut the door!’ cried Polly. ‘It’s too heavy for me, I’m only nine!’
Brave, greedy Jonathan Ripples slammed the door shut and Polly started up the machine. Then she took the legendary Fruit Chew of Babylon from her skirt pocket and popped it into the powder hatch. There wasn’t even time to unwrap it.
‘I hopes I done it right,’ she prayed . . . And two seconds later –
The machine rattled up and down like a baby shaking a wasps’ nest. The water turned all the colours of the rainbow and the trapped goblins whizzed around and around in the bubbly liquid.
POP! Without warning a goblin shot out from the chute, somersaulted through the air and landed at Polly’s feet.
POP! Without warning, another one followed.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! That was another five.
POP! POP! POPPITY-POP-POP POP! That was absolutely loads of them.
Soon all the goblins had been spat out on to the pavement. There they sat, dazed and blinking in the sunlight.
But somehow they looks different, thought Polly. Where’s all their fins an’ spikes an’ claws?
Because the goblins were goblins no longer. They were children with rosy cheeks and happy laughing faces.
‘Thank you, Polly!’ laughed a boy called Terry, who had once been Captain Ankles. ‘You saved us!’
‘I used to be Livermonk, who burped ever so much,’ said a tiny girl called Caroline. ‘But now look at me – I’m back to good old Caroline. The Fruit Chew of Babylon has made everything all right!’
‘What the grapefruit’s a-goin’ on?’ said Polly in amazement, as the rest of the heroes rushed up, led by David Casserole, the Town Mayor.
‘Well done, Polly!’ he beamed. ‘You’ve found the three hundred children who ran away in September!’
Chapter 13
The Truth About It All
‘See,’ laughed Terry. ‘I’m not Captain Ankles at all. These fins and spikes and claws and things – they’re not real. They’re just costumes!’
‘But why did you behaves so bad an’ pretend to be goblins?’ asked Polly in confusion.
‘I’m ashamed to say it’s because we were horrible naughty children,’ said Caroline, stepping forward with a red face. ‘We didn’t like going to school one little bit!’
‘And one afternoon the teachers made us be in a pathetic school play called 300 Goblins Standing Around Doing Nothing,’ said Alex (who used to be the goblin known as Big Steve).
‘Only we didn’t want to,’ continued a tall girl called Vicky (previously Soupdog).
‘So we ran away to Goblin Mountain, still in our costumes,’ said Eric (Yak Triangle).
‘And we ran amuck and lived like savages, and we acted so wild that eventually we forgot we had ever been children at all,’ confessed Brian (Wippy).
‘And one day Mr Gum and Billy William spied us,’ said Veronica (Oink Balloon), ‘and they thought we really were goblins. And by then we had forgotten all our lessons or even how to speak properly. So we just joined their army for a spiteful laugh.’
‘But now the Fruit Chew of Babylon has made us understand how important school is,’ said Terry. ‘Otherwise we might end up like Mr Gum or Billy William, who never did learn better. But please don’t make us go back to our old school, it was just no good!’
‘Children,’ said Alan Taylor, who had been listening carefully. ‘Which school were you at?’
‘Doctor No-Fun’s School Of Boredom, of course,’ replied Alex.
‘Yes, I’ve heard about Doctor No-Fun’s,’ sighed Alan Taylor. ‘They’re very old-fashioned there. But at Saint Pterodactyl’s School For The Poor, we believe in teaching children about the natural world and letting them do paintings about how they’re really feeling inside.’
‘Oh, we’d like to go there ever so much!’ chorused the children.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Alan Taylor sadly. ‘There are no available places.’
The children’s faces fell.
‘Only joking!’ cried the gingerbread prankster, his electric muscles whirring merrily. ‘Come with me, you will be my first ever pupils!’ And away he jigged up the hill, the children skipping happily after him.
‘Look, children,’ Polly heard him say as they disappeared from view. ‘That tall brown thing is known as a “tree”.’
After that, everyone congratulated everyone else and all the townsfolk were full of joy and merriment. Well, nearly all of them.
‘You were going to put me in that machine, weren’t you?’ said Jonathan Ripples, tapping Martin Launderette on the shoulder with a chubby finger.
‘Yes I was,’ admitted Martin Launderette, trying to look ashamed. ‘But . . . um . . . now the Fruit Chew of Babylon has taught me the error of my ways –’
‘Forget it, skinny,’ said Jonathan Ripples sternly. ‘You are SO getting sat on.’
‘Everything’s back to normal,’ smiled Polly, looking on as Martin Launderette was squashed into oblivion. ‘But hold on – what abouts Mr Gum an’ Billy?’
‘Don’t you worry about them,’ said Friday, tapping his nose. ‘I left them at Boaster’s Hill. They promised to wait for me to come back with something to tie them up. And look,’ he said proudly. ‘I’ve just bought a nice strong rope – why, Polly, whatever’s wrong?’
‘Them two scruffers done tricked you,’ said Polly, shaking her head sadly. ‘I bets you anythin’ they’ve run off by now.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Friday confidently. ‘They’ll still be there. After all, Mr Gum and Billy William are very trustworthy men. They – oh,’ he said, realising he’d been fooled by master criminals. ‘Oops.’
‘Never mind, Friday,’ said Polly. ‘The important thing is, Lamonic Bibber’s OK and it’s time for a big pig blowout feast!’
So off they skipped to the town square, to find the feast already underway. And what a turnout! Nearly everyone was there – Old Granny, the little girl called Peter, Marvellous Marvin, the retired wrestler . . . Beany McLeany, who loved things that rhymed, was having a chat about a cat with a bloke in a hat, and Jake the dog was helping Mrs Lovely to make sweets by licking up the bits that fell on the floor. And when Mrs Lovely’s back was turned, he was helping by making bits fall on the floor on purpose.
‘But where’s the Spirit of the Rainbow?’ said Polly, looking around. ‘He should be here enjoyin’ the fun an’ showin’ everyone what a winner he is!’
‘That honest lad cares not for rewards and fame, little miss,’ nodded Friday wisely. ‘And that is why he is the Spirit of the Rainbow instead of a snooker player or something.’
Oh, well. I’ll tell you who did turn up, though. That rabbit from the mountainside. It hopped into Polly’s skirt pocket and there it sat for the rest of the day, drinking a carton of apple juice. Oh, and Alan Taylor came back down the hill with his new pupils. And they’d already done loads of amazing paintings showing how they really felt inside, and everyone clapped.
‘Good work, children,’ said Alan Taylor and he rewarded them all with tiny gold stars and ten ‘bonus Alan points’ each.
And from Polly’s skirt pocket the rabbit watched the whole happy affair. All’s well that ends well, its bright green eyes seemed to say. Mmm, this is nice apple juice.
And the laughter and the capering continued on, and none laughed louder or capered harder than Polly and her good friend, Friday O’Leary. For though their legs were tired from their long journey, their hearts were bursting like joyful apricots to be back where they belonged.
‘Look, Frides,’ exclaimed Polly at length. ‘The snow’s a-meltin’. An’ the sun’s comin’ out proud as you please an’ soon all the ice cream vans will come out of hibernation!’
‘I do believe you’re right,’ said Friday. ‘What an adventure it’s been. Tell you what,’ he nodded, getting out his blue guitar. ‘This calls for a song!’
‘You better hurry it up then,’ said Polly. ‘I gots a feelin’ we’re nearly out of time.’
‘Time, little miss?’ laughed Friday. ‘Why, we’ve got all the time in the
THE END
Hello again.
You know, Polly and Friday aren’t the only ones who have adventures in Lamonic Bibber. Old Granny, the oldest woman in town, has been known to get up to some pretty wild stuff too. And while all that goblin malarkey was going on, O.G. was having quite an adventure of her own . . .
Old Granny’s Cardigan Adventure
One cold winter’s day, Old Granny awoke in her big brass bed from before the War, had a little sip of sherry from the bottle she always kept by the bedside, and got up. She brushed her false teeth with her false toothbrush, and had a little sip of sherry from the bottle she kept in her bathroom cabinet from before the War. Then she went downstairs, had some cornflakes, and turned on her old TV from before the War. Actually, a lot of things in Old Granny’s house were from before the War, I think I’ll stop mentioning that now.
Then Old Granny had a sip of sherry from the bottle she always kept down the back of the armchair. Then she had a sip of sherry from a little bottle she always kept hidden in the first bottle.
Then she phoned her brother, Old Danny, on her huge old-fashioned black telephone.
‘Hello, Old Danny,’ said Old Granny. ‘How are you?’
‘Old,’ said Old Danny.
‘Me too,’ said Old Granny. ‘Great, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, and I’m always having adventures,’ replied Old Danny. ‘For instance, this morning I found a penny on the kitchen floor. And last week, I found a penny on the kitchen floor.’
‘Perhaps it was the same penny,’ said Old Granny.
‘Perhaps,’ laughed Old Danny. ‘What an exciting mystery it all is!’
‘I haven’t had an adventure for ages,’ said Old Granny wistfully. ‘The last proper adventure I had was in 1978 when I joined that punk rock band. Do you remember?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Old Danny. ‘Rancid Vomit. What a great band that was. I’ve got all your records, especially since I’m your brother.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Old Granny. ‘Well, I’d better go now, Old Danny, because you live in Australia, don’t you? And you’re asleep in bed.’