The 130-Storey Treehouse

by Andy Griffiths

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not just us they’re staring at,’ called Jill, who had climbed to the observation deck at the top of the tree. ‘Come up here and see.’

  We climbed up. There were domes all around us—each one containing a different species of alien and surrounded by crowds of staring eyeballs.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘This is terrible! We’re exhibits in an intergalactic zoo!’

  ‘I hate zoos!’ said Terry. ‘Some intergalactic space adventure this is turning out to be!’

  ‘I know it’s not great,’ said Jill, ‘but it could be worse. At least we’re not contestants in one of those intergalactic death battles.’

  ‘What intergalactic death battles?’ I said.

  ‘You know,’ said Jill, ‘those ones where some sort of evil aliens collect specimens from other planets and then make them fight each other … to the death.’

  ‘I thought that just happened in comic books,’ said Terry.

  ‘No, I’m pretty sure it’s a real thing,’ said Jill.

  ‘Well, let’s hope it’s not,’ I said. ‘Because some of those aliens look really mean. I think that one over there is a razor-toothed, blood-sucking Venusian worm man. I wouldn’t even want to be in a dance contest with him, let alone a battle to the death!’

  ABOVE: An artist’s impression of Andy and a razor-toothed, blood-sucking Venusian worm man having a dance contest.

  ‘Look,’ said Terry. ‘There’s an absolutely enormous eyeball up there. That’s the biggest one I’ve seen so far!’

  ‘Attention all specimens!’ said the giant eyeball.

  ‘Wow!’ said Terry. ‘A talking eyeball—cool!’

  ‘Congratulations!’ the eyeball continued. ‘You have been chosen to represent your planet in Eyeballia’s intergalactic death battle. The winner will receive an attractive trophy, and every participant will receive a commemorative participation medal. The battle will begin in five minutes. Good luck—and may the best species win!’

  CHAPTER 6

  INTERGALACTIC DEATH BATTLE

  ‘Did you hear that?’ said Terry.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We’re all going to die in an intergalactic death battle!’

  ‘No,’ said Terry, ‘not that bit. The bit about how we could win a trophy—or a medal!’

  ‘Unless we lose, that is,’ I said.

  ‘No, Andy,’ said Terry. ‘You don’t understand. Even if we lose, we still get a medal that says: If you had fun, you won!’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘You don’t understand. A death battle is a battle to the death. Only the winner survives: the losers—which is everybody else—will all die.’

  ‘Then we’d better make sure we win,’ said Terry.

  ‘But that would mean we have to kill all the other contestants,’ said Jill. ‘That’s awful!’

  ‘It’s less awful than being killed,’ said Terry. ‘And it’s not like we have a choice.’

  ‘But how could we win even if we wanted to?’ said Jill. ‘The other aliens look much more dangerous than us. We don’t stand a chance!’

  ‘You’re forgetting one very important thing,’ said Terry. ‘Well, two, actually. I have laser eyes.’

  ‘But you can’t even kill a fly with your laser eyes!’ I said. ‘How do you expect them to help us win an intergalactic death battle?’

  As we were speaking, thousands of flying eyeballs were filling the air around us.

  ‘Attention all aliens,’ boomed the giant flying eyeball. ‘In a moment your enclosures will be removed and the battle will begin. It will continue until only one species remains. Are there any questions?’

  ‘Yes,’ said a little green blob. ‘Please may I be excused from the battle? I need to go home.’

  ‘No,’ said the eyeball. ‘All contestants must fight. It’s the rules.’

  Then, without warning, the eyeball let out a loud, high-pitched noise and our enclosure shattered. In fact, all the enclosures did.

  We got such a fright, we fell out of the tree onto the soft spongy surface of Eyeballia with all the other aliens.

  It was terrifying being so close to so many dangerous aliens, but there was hardly any time to feel scared, because then the eyeball said:

  We all jumped up.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Jill. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Fight?’ said Terry.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Let’s hide! Quick! Behind the door!’

  ‘The Door of Doom?’ said Terry. ‘Are you crazy?’

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘The front door!’

  We all rushed inside—and not a moment too soon, because then …

  the battle began!

  ‘I don’t think I like intergalactic death battles very much,’ I said, as the battle raged around our tree.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Jill. ‘They’re quite violent.’

  ‘And they’re too loud,’ said Terry. ‘I wish we could go home.’

  ‘Unfortunately, that’s not an option,’ I said. ‘But let’s look on the bright side. Perhaps, with a bit of luck, they’ll all destroy each other without us having to do anything or hurt anyone, and then we can collect the trophy and get out of here.’

  ‘Not much hope of that,’ said Jill, pointing at a hideous bull-like alien that was charging towards the tree. ‘I think that one’s realised we’re in here.’

  ‘This would be a perfect time to use your laser eyes, Terry!’ I yelled. ‘Blast it!’

  ‘I can’t!’ he said. ‘I’m too scared. My eyes won’t even open!’

  At that moment, Mary Lollipoppins pushed past us, her hands full of enormous lollipops.

  ‘Never fear!’ she cried. ‘LOLLIPOPPINS is here!’

  The alien roared at Mary, but she just laughed and said, ‘My, what a big gob you have, Grandma—just the right size for these super-sticky, super-giant, all-day gob-stoppers!’ and as quick as a lollipop-shop robot, she shoved all four lollipops into the alien’s open mouth. It was too surprised to continue its attack and too busy sucking on the gob-stoppers to do us any harm at all.

  ‘Good work, Mary!’ shouted Jill. ‘But watch out behind you!’

  A razor-toothed, blood-sucking Venusian worm man was standing right behind Mary, about to bite her head off, when a scoop of hot ice-cream smashed into its face.

  ‘Never fear! SCOOPERHANDS is also here!’ yelled Edward Scooperhands from above as he launched scoopful after scoopful of sizzling hot ice-cream at the worm man.

  The razor-toothed, blood-sucking Venusian worm man reared back and howled in pain. Or was it pleasure? It was hard to tell. It could have been either—or both. Hot ice-cream is hot, sure, but it’s also delicious.

  So delicious, in fact, that all the other aliens stopped fighting the death battle …

  and started having a hot ice-cream party instead!

  CHAPTER 7

  INTERGALACTIC HOT ICE-CREAM PARTY

  The aliens weren’t the only ones enjoying the hot ice-cream party—Jill and Terry joined in as well. They were jumping around, trying to catch fresh scoops of hot ice-cream in their hands and mouths just as fast as Edward could throw them.

  ‘Attention all aliens!’ announced the giant eyeball. ‘May I remind you, this is an intergalactic death battle, not an intergalactic hot ice-cream party. Resume fighting immediately!’

  But the aliens took absolutely no notice—except for one, which looked up at the eyeball and spat hot ice-cream right at it.

  It was a direct hit—the hot ice-cream hit the eyeball right in the … well … right in the eyeball!

  It went all bloodshot and watery and was obviously in a lot of pain.

  That’s when I had an idea.

  It was possibly one of the greatest ideas I’ve ever had. Possibly one of the greatest ideas anybody has ever had in the history of people having great ideas!

  I rode the elevator to the soap bubble blaster level and ran to the control panel. I selected an EXTRA BIG, EXTRA SOAPY, EXTRA BUBBLY SOAP B
UBBLE BLIZZARD.

  The machine rumbled and grumbled …

  shuddered and shook …

  and blasted out a blinding blizzard of bubbles—thousands and millions and billions of bubbles.

  If you’ve ever had a bath (and I hope you have!), then you would know that soap bubbles and eyeballs are natural enemies. So now a new battle started: an intergalactic giant-flying-eyeballs versus soap-bubbles battle!

  And it was a battle the soap bubbles were clearly winning. The eyeballs—blinded and driven mad by the stinging—were just flying around, crashing into each other and bursting like huge bags of watery jelly (which is not surprising, really, because that’s exactly what giant eyeballs are).

  Meanwhile, the aliens took advantage of the mayhem and made a run for it.

  ‘Hey, Andy!’ said Terry when I returned to the battlefield. ‘You’ll never guess what just happened!’

  ‘Let me try,’ I said. ‘A soap bubble blizzard stung all the eyeballs and the aliens made a run for it?’

  ‘YES!’ said Terry. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because, while you and Jill were busy having a hot ice-cream party, it was me who started the blizzard!’

  ‘Great idea, Andy!’ said Jill.

  ‘I know!’ I said.

  ‘I’ve got a great idea, too,’ said Terry. ‘Let’s get out of here!’

  ‘I’d like nothing better than to leave this eyeball-infested planet,’ I said. ‘But how? Our tree is an amazing tree, but it’s not a rocket.’

  ‘If only I had my yo-yo,’ said Terry.

  ‘What possible use would a yo-yo be to us now?’ I said.

  ‘Well, it could help to pass the time for one thing,’ Terry said. ‘But, more importantly, the yo-yo I ordered on yoBay last week came with four free rocket boosters. We could have attached them to the tree and blasted off.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Terry. ‘That sounds like Bill the postman’s scooter horn.’

  ‘It does,’ I said. ‘But what would Bill be doing out here on Eyeballia?’

  ‘Delivering the mail, of course!’ called a voice that sounded just like Bill’s … and there was a good reason for that, and that’s because it was Bill’s.

  ‘I have a parcel for Terry, which I tried to deliver, but just as I arrived your tree took off. So I followed you.’

  ‘You followed us into space and all the way to Eyeballia?’ said Jill.

  ‘Well, I had no choice,’ said Bill. ‘When I became a postman I swore an oath to deliver the mail no matter where and no matter what.’

  Bill put a hand on his heart and began reciting his oath:

  No matter how near,

  No matter how far,

  Whether the house next door,

  Or the farthest star,

  No matter how high,

  No matter how low,

  Where the mail is addressed

  That’s where I go.

  Neither heat of day,

  Nor gloom of night,

  Neither birds that swoop,

  Nor dogs that bite,

  Neither cats that scratch,

  Nor scary ghost,

  Shall EVER prevent me

  From delivering the post.

  Neither snow nor rain,

  Nor cannon blast,

  Neither killer bees,

  Nor plaster cast,

  Neither yetis nor dragons,

  Nor storm of hail,

  Shall EVER prevent me

  From delivering the mail.

  Bill took his hand off his heart and wiped a tear from his eye. ‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘I take my job very seriously.’

  He reached into his mail bag and pulled out a small parcel. ‘Here’s the yo-yo you ordered, Terry.’

  ‘And here are your three bonus rocket boosters. There were four but I borrowed one to get here. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all,’ said Terry. ‘Thank you, Bill, you’re the greatest postman in the whole world!’

  ‘You mean the whole universe,’ said Jill.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ chuckled Bill. ‘Just doing my job.’

  It didn’t take long to strap the rocket boosters to the trunk of the tree. (We didn’t have straps so we used heavy duty toilet paper instead. Don’t worry, it was fireproof as well.)

  ‘Prepare for lift-off,’ I said.

  There was a massive whoosh as we shot up through Eyeballia’s atmosphere and out into space.

  ‘Goodbye, Eyeballia,’ I yelled above the roar of the rocket boosters.

  ‘And good riddance!’ yelled Jill.

  CHAPTER 8

  STOWAWAY!

  ‘Wait!’ said Terry. ‘Turn the tree around! We have to go back!’

  ‘Why?’ I said.

  ‘We didn’t get our participation medals!’

  ‘Yes, we did,’ said Jill. ‘I grabbed them as we left—one for each of us, including Edward Scooperhands and Mary Lollipoppins.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said Bill. ‘This has been quite an adventure but I’d better be getting along. This mail won’t deliver itself, you know.’

  ‘Why don’t you hitch a ride back to Earth with us?’ I said.

  ‘It’s very kind of you,’ said Bill, ‘but I’ve got a few letters addressed to the Andromeda Galaxy that I need to deliver before I head home.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘But be careful out there—and watch out for giant flying eyeballs!’

  ‘I will,’ shouted Bill over the roar of his rocket-boosted scooter as he soared off into space.

  ‘Well, I’m glad that’s over,’ said Terry. ‘I think I’ve had enough space adventure for one book.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘In fact, I’d be happy if I never saw another alien for as long as I live.’

  ‘Well, don’t look under the table then,’ said Jill.

  ‘Why not?’ I said.

  ‘Because there’s a little green blob hiding under there.’

  ‘Code green!’ I yelled. ‘Repeat: code green!’

  ‘What’s code green again?’ said Terry.

  ‘Alien stowaway!’ I yelled as the blob darted out from under the table. ‘Blast it, Terry—give it both eyes!’

  Terry focused, took aim and fired two deadly laser beams at the blob.

  There was no way he could miss from this close … and he didn’t. It was a direct hit!

  What we hadn’t counted on, though, was that the blob had the ability to change shape … and it did!

  No sooner had Terry fired than the blob transformed itself into a mirror and bounced the lasers right back at us!

  We all ducked, and just in time too—the laser beams were so close you could feel the heat coming off them as they shot over us!

  Terry stood up and faced the blob. ‘So you want to fight, do you?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ pleaded the blob, which had gone back to being a blob again. ‘I don’t want to fight!’

  ‘Well, you should have thought about that before you attacked us,’ said Terry.

  ‘I didn’t attack you!’ said the blob. ‘You started it. I was just protecting myself.’

  ‘It’s a fair point,’ said Jill. ‘Maybe we should give the blob the benefit of the doubt. We can’t be sure that it was trying to hurt us.’

  ‘And we can’t be sure it wasn’t,’ I said. ‘I say we catapult this slimy little shape-shifter into space right now!’

  ‘Not so fast, Andy,’ said Jill.

  She turned to the blob. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said. ‘Why did you stow away on our tree?’

  ‘I had to!’ said the blob. ‘I have to get back home to Blobdromeda. Everybody there is in terrible danger and it’s all my fault! I have to save them!’

  ‘Why?’ said Terry. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Well,’ said the little blob, ‘it’s a long story …’

  ‘Oh good,’ said Terry. ‘I love long stories!’

  We all sat down and the blob began.

  Once upon a time, on a small m
uddy planet called Blobdromeda, there lived a bunch of mud-loving blobs that were as happy as a bunch of mud-loving blobs could be. All day long they swam in mud …

  wrestled in mud …

  sang songs about mud …

  and made the muddiest and most delicious mud pies you could ever imagine!

  There was only one thing the blobs had to worry about: the great mud-sucking bog toad.

  The great mud-sucking bog toad lived in a bog and—as you can guess from its name—it also loved mud. It would have sucked up all the mud that the blobs lived in, if it weren’t for the fact that the only thing it loved more than sucking up mud was eating freshly made mud pies. Which is how an ancient tradition began …