by Alan Brough
‘Ouch,’ I said.
‘Affirmative.’
Hils moved over to the small table next to where I was sitting. On it was a small, cube-like television. I knew Hils didn’t watch television so I suspected it must be a secret hiding place. Hils pressed a series of buttons on the television’s remote control and the screen of the TV came down like a drawbridge. She pulled a small blackboard, an equally small silver claw and a sticky blob of stuff from the innards of the television, fitted them all together and put the thing they made into her backpack.
‘Are you going to make me ask what that is?’
‘Affirmative.’
‘What is that?’
‘For reasons of operational security I am unable to tell you.’
‘Awwwww,’ I said.
‘It is called a Back Blackboard Brain Breaker,’ said Hils.
Hils may be impervious to pain but she is not impervious to me going ‘Awwwww’, when she won’t tell me something I really want to know.
‘The Back Blackboard Brain Breaker is a small blackboard with a sticky pad on the back. You stick it in the middle of an enemy combatant’s back – right in the very middle, the bit you can never reach no matter how hard you try. Once the blackboard is securely on the hostile’s back a small robot hand – fitted with super hard and sharp fingernails – starts scraping those fingernails up and down the blackboard, creating a noise that everyone in the world completely hates. The enemy can’t remove the Back Blackboard Brain Breaker from their back. The sound of robot fingernails on the blackboard starts to drive them crazy and so they completely forget about fighting you and concentrate on getting the Back Blackboard Brain Breaker off their back.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Affirmative.’
Hils then stepped back into the kitchen. She opened the tiny fridge, reached into the even tinier freezer part and pulled out a box of frozen party pies.
‘Yum,’ I said. ‘Let’s have a party pie.’
I had forgotten I wasn’t meant to be able to see through the blindfold.
‘I mean, what’s that you just got out of wherever you got it out of?’
‘It looks like a box of party pies,’ said Hils.
‘What’s inside it?’ I said.
‘Party pies,’ said Hils.
‘So it is a box of party pies?’ I said.
‘Negative and affirmative. It is a specially modified pack of party pies called the Party Pie Pack of Pain. This box of party pies is actually a tiny freezer that clips onto the outside of my backpack. On top of the box is a small but powerful catapult. Inside the tiny freezer are super-frozen party pies that have had their top edges sharpened. They are hard, sharp and deadly. When I deploy the Party Pie Pack of Pain the sharpened party pies are pushed up and out of the tiny freezer into the catapult and then fired at the enemy.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Affirmative.’
I don’t know if you have ever been to the toilet in a caravan but caravan toilets are strange.
Well, the toilet in Hils’s caravan is strange.
After you have used it you have to pump a pedal on the floor and then water fills the bowl and flushes away all your toilet business.
Hils took a small wooden box off a shelf and walked into the toilet.
She pushed the foot pedal on the floor to the left until the bowl made a loud clunking sound. Then she started pumping the foot pedal as fast as she could. Suddenly, out of the bowl, a small balloon popped up into the air. Hils caught it in the small wooden box. She kept pumping. Another balloon popped up and out of the bowl. Hils caught it in the box. More pumping. More popping. More catching.
‘What is that?’
‘Doom Balloons,’ said Hils. ‘One balloon is filled with dishwashing liquid. When you are being chased by a hostile you throw that balloon at their feet and they slip on the dishwashing liquid and fall over. You then throw the second balloon at them. The second balloon is filled with superglue. When they are covered in superglue, you throw the third and final balloon at them.’
‘What’s the third and final balloon full of?’
‘Live ants, spiders and mosquitos. These angry biting insects get stuck on your enemy and start giving them lots of angry bites which they can’t do anything about because the angry biting insects are superglued to them.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Affirmative.’
‘I’m glad we’re friends, Hils.’
‘Affirmative.’
‘You won’t ever be my enemy, will you?’ I said.
‘I can neither confirm nor deny that,’ said Hils.
I really, very, super hoped that was the army way of saying, ‘I promise I won’t ever be your enemy.’
64
THE WARM
Hils and I were standing across the road from a huge, old theatre. The front of the theatre was covered with a massive illuminated sign.
Next to that was another sign. It had reviews for the show on it.
This show will make you tap your toes so hard that all your toes will break off.
This show is so good that if you don’t have a ticket to this show but your mum does then you should whack your mum over the head with a cricket bat until she gives you her ticket.
If you don’t see this show then your life will suck forever.
The songs from this show are so catchy you will be singing them over and over until you lose all your friends because they are sick of you constantly singing the songs from this show.
After I saw this show I was hit by a bus and killed. I didn’t mind being killed because I had seen this amazing show.
‘It sounds like it’s a really good show,’ I said.
‘We have to find those two cockroaches before the Exterminator does,’ said Hils. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Ummm, yes,’ I said.
‘On my six,’ said Hils.
Army-talk = ‘Follow me’.
We walked down the side of the theatre into a dark, smelly alley at the back. A sign stuck out of the wall.
‘That is where all the theatre personnel enter the theatre,’ said Hils.
‘But there’s no door,’ I said.
The wide, heavy door that I guessed was normally the Stage Door was lying on the ground under the sign. It had been ripped off its hinges.
‘I think the hostile has beaten us to our objective,’ said Hils.
‘How did the Exterminator find out the cockroaches were coming here?’ I said.
‘On my six,’ said Hils.
‘On my six’ is also army-talk for, ‘Follow me and be quiet, I don’t know how the Exterminator found out the cockroaches were coming here.’
Hils and I walked through the twisted, broken doorframe up to a reception-type desk.
‘Hello?’ I said. ‘Hello?’
I peeked behind the desk. Mr Hamm-Rolle was hiding behind it.
‘Hello, Mr Hamm-Rolle. I didn’t know you had a part-time job at a theatre.’
Mr Hamm-Rolle didn’t say anything. He just kept hiding behind the desk.
‘On my six,’ said Hils as she walked past the desk and into the backstage area of the theatre.
This time ‘on my six’ just meant ‘follow me’ again.
65
THE BOOT
Hils and I were standing in a long corridor. All along the walls of the corridor were posters for shows that had been on at the theatre.
The end of the corridor formed a T. We could go either right or left.
‘Which way should –’ I tried to say to Hils.
‘ARE YOU HERE TO MASSAGE ME?’
‘That’s Pavaroachi,’ I said.
‘STOP! STOP! THAT IS NOT A MASSAGE!’
‘Oh no,’ I said.
Hils opened her backpack. She took out the Back Blackboard Brain Breaker and the Doom Balloons and handed them to me.
‘We have clearly entered enemy territory. We will encounter hostiles. Take this ordinance. You are cleared to deploy it.’
/> ‘Ordinance’ is the army way of saying ‘really, very, super cool weapons’.
‘Can I swap my blackboard one for the vacuum cleaner one that shoots poo?’ I said.
‘Negative.’
‘Awwwwww.’
‘Still negative.’
‘How am I going to carry all this stuff?’ I said.
Out of her big backpack Hils produced a smaller backpack. It was pink. With a My Little Pony on it.
‘Place your ordinance in here,’ said Hils.
‘Okay,’ I said.
No-kay, I thought.
That was a good reply. I wished I had said it out loud instead of thinking it. I would say it out loud.
‘No-kay,’ I said.
‘What?’ said Hils.
‘Okay.’
Next time I wouldn’t say it out loud.
I put on the tiny pink backpack.
‘Be careful with that backpack,’ said Hils. ‘It’s my favourite.’
Hils clipped the Party Pie Pack of Pain onto the top of her not-tiny-and-not-pink backpack and grabbed the Stinky Sandstorm.
‘On my six,’ said Hils.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to swap?’ I said.
‘Affirmative.’
Hils sprinted down the corridor and took a left turn.
I sprinted after her.
66
THE RHUMBA
I turned the corner and saw Hils standing at the bottom of a rickety wooden staircase.
Halfway up the staircase – where it took a sharp right turn – stood the Exterminator.
In his hand he was holding the biggest, heaviest, most-likely-to-squash-something-completely-flat mallet I had ever seen.
MALLETS
I am probably not the best person to judge whether a mallet is big, heavy or most-likely-to-squash-something-completely-flat because I have only ever used a mallet once. It was at a school holiday program. Somehow I lost control of the mallet. The boy standing next to me did make a complete recovery. However, the next day I was not allowed to participate in the tomahawk demonstration.
‘THAT IS NOT A MASSAGING MALLET,’ said Pavaroachi.
‘There’s Pavaroachi!’ I said to Hils.
The Exterminator had Pavaroachi cornered and was about to squash the singing cockroach with the big, heavy, most-likely-to-squash-something-completely-flat mallet.
‘DO NOT SQUASH PAVAROACHI. PAVAROACHI DOES NOT LIKE TO BE SQUASHED.’
said the Exterminator.
‘HEY, YOU!’ said Hils to the Exterminator. He turned around.
He was not happy.
He was not happy and holding a huge mallet.
‘EAT PIES!’ said Hils. ‘PIES OF PAIN.’
Hils dropped into a crouch. Sharpened, frozen party pies shot out of the Party Pie Pack of Pain attached to the top of her backpack. The Exterminator managed to stop a few with flicks of his huge mallet but there were too many party pies and they were coming too fast. He couldn’t stop them all.
One sharpened Party Pie of Pain nicked his ear.
‘AAAHHHHHHHHHHH,’ shouted the Exterminator.
Another hit his leg.
‘AAAHHHHHHHHHHH.’
Another hit his hand. The hand holding the mallet.
‘AAAHHHHHHHHHHH,’ shouted the Exterminator as he dropped his huge mallet.
‘AAAHHHHHHHHHHH,’ shouted the Exterminator as the huge mallet dropped onto his foot.
He instinctively tried to grab his injured foot, but instead lost his balance, tripped and tumbled down the stairs and landed at our feet.
Hils unclipped the Party Pie Pack of Pain from her backpack and threw it away.
‘Grab Pavaroachi and let’s evac before the Exterminator gets up,’ said Hils.
The Exterminator started to get up.
Hils and I ran up the stairs. I stopped and grabbed Pavaroachi.
‘HE WAS GOING TO EXTERMINATE PAVAROACHI. HOW CAN ANYONE EXPECT ME TO SING MY BEST WHEN I AM IN DANGER OF BEING EXTERMINATED,’ said Pavaroachi. ‘Hold me. Hold me. I need a hug.’
‘Where is Sister Roachetta?’ said Hils.
said the Exterminator as he grabbed his mallet and started up the stairs after us.
‘Where is Sister Roachetta?’ said Hils again.
‘Are you speaking to Pavaroachi?’ said Pavaroachi. ‘Are you asking Pavaroachi a question? I don’t answer questions. I don’t know anything. I am a singer, not someone who knows anything. Stop your questions. I STILL HAVEN’T HAD MY MASSAGE.’
‘If you don’t tell me where Sister Roachetta is, that angry Exterminator –’ Hils indicated the angry Exterminator who was charging up the steps after us waving his huge mallet, ‘– that angry Exterminator is going to squash you completely flat.’
‘Pavaroachi doesn’t know where she is. Pavaroachi doesn’t know anything. Pavaroachi just wants to sing. After I have had a massage.’
‘Be quiet about the massage!’ I said. ‘Where is Sister Roachetta?’
I was surprised and a bit upset that I had shouted at Pavaroachi. He had been going on about the massage a lot and he was clearly not going to get a massage any time soon unless he thought being squashed with a huge mallet was a massage. I don’t think anyone in the world thinks being squashed with a huge mallet is a massage. Actually, the world is a strange place. There is probably someone in the world who thinks being squashed with a mallet is a massage. I don’t want to meet them. Ever.
‘She went looking for someone to heal. That is all Pavaroachi knows.’
At the top of the stairs there was another corridor with lots of doors leading off it on either side.
The Exterminator was close behind us.
‘Where to now?’ I said to Hils.
We heard a loud cough coming from a room down the far end of the corridor.
Then we heard Sister Roachetta’s voice coming from the same room.
‘Let me take you to the river,’ said Sister Roachetta. ‘The river of song, child. The river of song.’
said the Exterminator, charging up the final few steps towards us.
‘He’s behind you,’ Hils said to him.
The Exterminator turned around. Hils ran behind me, grabbed the Back Blackboard Brain Breaker out of my tiny My Little Pony backpack and threw it onto the Exterminator’s back.
It hit him right between the shoulder blades and immediately started making a horrible scraping noise.
The Exterminator spun back around, searching for the source of the horrific scraping noise. When he realised it was coming from his back he tried desperately to grab the Back Blackboard Brain Breaker. But he couldn’t. Hils had thrown it onto exactly the right spot and he just couldn’t reach it.
Each time the Exterminator made a grab for the Back Blackboard Brain Breaker he spun around. As his grabs became more violent and frequent he started to spin, faster and faster.
Soon he was spinning as fast as a huge, angry, living top.
‘Let’s go,’ said Hils. ‘We need to rescue Sister Roachetta and evac ASAP.’
Hils, Pavaroachi and I ran down to the end of the corridor and into the room where we thought we had heard Sister Roachetta.
It was a large, green room. It had a really messy kitchen area, a table-tennis table and a lot of old couches. Really old, really uncomfortable-looking couches.
Sister Roachetta was standing on the arm of one of the couches.
‘Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,’ she said.
‘We need to leave,’ said Hils.
‘But, child –’
The door to the green room smashed open.
A very angry, very dizzy Exterminator stumbled into the room.
‘SAVE PAVAROACHI!’ said Pavaroachi.
‘Oh, mercy,’ said Sister Roachetta.
‘We’re in trouble,’ I said to Hils.
‘What ordinance do you have left?’
‘I have the Doom Balloons,’ I said as I pulled them out of my tiny, pink backpack.
‘I have th
e Stinky Sandstorm,’ said Hils, pulling that out of her backpack.
The Exterminator raised his mallet above his head and lunged towards us.
‘Charge!’ said Hils as she rushed at the Exterminator and pulled the trigger of the Stinky Sandstorm.
Turbo-charged cat box sand – smelling of pee and full of sharp fragments of old, dried cat poo – blew into the Exterminator’s face. Bits of old cat poo went up his nose, lodged in his ears and filled his mouth.
While he was frantically rubbing his eyes and trying to spit all the old cat poo out of his mouth, I threw the Doom Balloon full of dishwashing liquid at his feet.
The Exterminator slipped and fell on his back with a huge, lemon-scented whomp that sent bubbles flying up into the air. I threw the second balloon – the one full of superglue – and it burst all over his neck and face. Then I threw the balloon filled with live, angry ants, spiders and mosquitos. They stuck fast to the Exterminator and must have immediately started biting him because he immediately started to scream as he desperately tried to scrape them off with the hand he wasn’t using to try to get the dried cat poo out of his mouth.
‘I have Sister Roachetta,’ said Hils.
‘I have Pavaroachi,’ I said.
‘HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME,’ said Pavaroachi.
‘You have permission to use emergency evac protocol,’ said Hils.
‘You have permission to use emergency evac protocol’ is the army way of saying, ‘Run! Run! Run!’
67
THE RUN
We ran out of the green room.
We ran down the steps.
We ran out past the desk – where Mr Hamm-Rolle was still hiding – and across the street.
Well, I didn’t run across the street. Running across the street is not safe.
I stopped and looked both ways.