My skin was all tingling. ‘I feel strong,’ I said. ‘I feel as if I can do anything.’ I went over to a park bench. It was a large concrete one. I lifted it up with one hand. I held it high over my head. I couldn’t believe it.
Pete just stood there with his mouth hanging open. He couldn’t believe it either. I felt great. I jumped for joy. I sailed high into the air. I went up three metres. ‘What a jump,’ yelled Pete.
My skin was still tingling. Especially under the underpants. ‘It’s the underpants,’ I said. ‘The underpants are giving me strength.’ I grinned. ‘They are not underpants. They are wunderpants.’
‘Super Jocks,’ said Pete. We both started cackling like a couple of hens. We laughed until our sides ached.
4
I told Pete not to tell anyone about the wunderpants. We decided to keep it a secret. Nothing much happened until the cross-country race that afternoon. All the boys went to the changing room to put on their running gear. Scrag Murphy was there. I tried to get into my shorts without him seeing my wunderpants, but it was no good. He noticed them as soon as I dropped my jeans.
‘Ah ha,’ he shouted. ‘Look at baby britches. Look at his fairy pants.’ Everyone looked. They all started to laugh. How embarrassing. They were all looking at the fairies on my wunderpants.
Scrag Murphy was a big, fat bloke. He was really tough. He came over and pulled the elastic on my wunderpants. Then he let it go. ‘Ouch,’ I said. ‘Cut that out. That hurts.’
‘What’s the matter, little Diddums?’ he said. ‘Can’t you take it?’ He shoved me roughly against the wall. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that, so I pushed him back – just a little push. He went flying across the room and crashed into the wall on the other side. I just didn’t know my own strength. That little push had sent him all that way. It was the wunderpants.
Scrag Murphy looked at me with shock and surprise that soon turned to a look of hate. But he didn’t say anything. No one said anything. They were all thinking I was going to get my block knocked off next time I saw Scrag Murphy.
About forty kids were running in the race. We had to run through the countryside, following markers that had been put out by the teachers. It was a hot day, so I decided to wear a pair of shorts but no top.
As soon as the starting gun went I was off like a flash. I had kept my wunderpants on and they were working really well. I went straight out to the front. I had never run so fast before. As I ran along the road I passed a man on a bike. He tried to keep up with me, but he couldn’t. Then I passed a car. This was really something. This was great.
I looked behind. None of the others was in sight – I was miles ahead. The trail turned off the road and into the bush. I was running along a narrow track in the forest. After a while I came to a small creek. I was hot so I decided to have a dip. After all, the others were a long way behind; I had plenty of time. I took off my shorts and running shoes, but I left the wunderpants on. I wasn’t going to part with them.
I dived into the cold water. It was refreshing. I lay on my back looking at the sky. Life was good. These wunderpants were terrific. I would never be scared of Scrag Murphy while I had them on.
Then something started to happen – something terrible. The wunderpants started to get tight. They hurt. They were shrinking. They were shrinking smaller and smaller. The pain was awful. I had to get them off. I struggled and wriggled; they were so tight they cut into my skin. In the end I got them off, and only just in time. They shrank so small that they would only just fit over my thumb. I had a narrow escape. I could have been killed by the shrinking wunderpants.
Just then I heard voices coming. It was the others in the race. I was trapped – I couldn’t get out to put on my shorts. There were girls in the race. I had to stay in the middle of the creek in the nude.
5
It took quite a while for all the others to run by. They were all spread out along the track. Every time I went to get out of the pool, someone else would come. After a while Pete stopped at the pool. ‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘Even super jocks won’t help you win from this far back.’
‘Keep going,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you about it later.’ I didn’t want to tell him that I was in the nude. Some girls were with him.
Pete and the girls took off along the track. A bit later the last runner arrived. It was Scrag Murphy. He couldn’t run fast – he was carrying too much weight. ‘Well, look at this,’ he said. ‘It’s little Fairy Pants. And what’s this we have here?’ He picked up my shorts and running shoes from the bank of the creek. Then he ran off with them.
‘Come back,’ I screamed. ‘Bring those back here.’ He didn’t take any notice. He just laughed and kept running.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a stitch of clothing. I didn’t even have any shoes. I was starting to feel cold; the water was freezing. I was covered in goose pimples and my teeth were chattering. In the end I had to get out. I would have frozen to death if I stayed in the water any longer.
I went and sat on a rock in the sun and tried to think of a way to get home without being seen. It was all right in the bush. I could always hide behind a tree if someone came. But once I reached the road I would be in trouble; I couldn’t just walk along the road in the nude.
Then I had an idea. I looked at the tiny underpants. I couldn’t put them on, but they still might work. I put them over my thumb and jumped. It was no good. It was just an ordinary small jump. I picked up a stone and threw it. It only went a short way, not much of a throw at all. The pants were too small, and I was my weak old self again.
I lay down on the rock in the sun. Ants started to crawl over me. Then the sun went behind a cloud. I started to get cold, but I couldn’t walk home – not in the raw. I felt miserable. I looked around for something to wear, but there was nothing. Just trees, bushes and grass.
I knew I would have to wait until dark. The others would all have gone home by now. Pete would think I had gone home, and my parents would think I was at his place. No one was going to come and help me.
I started to think about Scrag Murphy. He was going to pay for this. I would get him back somehow.
Time went slowly, but at last it started to grow dark. I made my way back along the track. I was in bare feet and I kept standing on stones. Branches reached out and scratched me in all sorts of painful places. Then I started to think about snakes. What if I stood on one?
There were all sorts of noises in the dark. The moon had gone in, and it was hard to see where I was going. I have to admit it: I was scared. Scared stiff. To cheer myself up I started to think about what I was going to do to Scrag Murphy. Boy, was he going to get it.
At last I came to the road. I was glad to be out of the bush. My feet were cut and bleeding and I hobbled along. Every time a car went by I had to dive into the bushes. I couldn’t let myself get caught in the headlights of the cars.
I wondered what I was going to do when I reached the town. There might be people around. I broke off a branch from a bush and held it in front of my ‘you know what’. It was prickly, but it was better than nothing.
By the time I reached the town it was late. There was no one around. But I had to be careful – someone might come out of a house at any minute. I ran from tree to tree and wall to wall, hiding in the shadows as I went. Lucky for me the moon was in and it was very dark.
Then I saw something that gave me an idea – a phone box. I opened the door and stepped inside. A dim light shone on my naked body. I hoped that no one was looking. I had no money, but Pete had told me that if you yell into the ear-piece they can hear you on the other end. It was worth a try. I dialled our home number. Dad answered. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘I’m in the nude,’ I shouted. ‘I’ve lost my clothes. Help. Help.’
‘Hello, hello. Who’s there?’ said Dad.
I shouted at the top of my voice, but Dad just kept saying ‘Hello’. He sounded cross. Then I heard him say to Mum, ‘It’s probably that
boy up to his tricks again.’ He hung up the phone.
I decided to make a run for it. It was the only way. I dropped my bush and started running. I went for my life. I reached our street without meeting a soul. I thought I was safe, but I was wrong. I crashed right into someone and sent them flying. It was old Mrs Jeeves from across the road.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Gee, I’m sorry.’ I helped her stand up. She was a bit short sighted and it was dark. She hadn’t noticed that I didn’t have any clothes on. Then the moon came out – the blazing moon. I tried to cover my nakedness with my hands, but it was no good.
‘Disgusting,’ she screeched. ‘Disgusting. I’ll tell your father about this.’
I ran home as fast I could. I went in the back door and jumped into bed. I tried to pretend that I was asleep. Downstairs I could hear Mrs Jeeves yelling at Dad; then the front door closed. I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs.
6
Well, I really copped it. I was in big trouble. Dad went on and on. ‘What are you thinking of, lad? Running around in the nude. Losing all your clothes. What will the neighbours think?’ He went on like that for about a week. I couldn’t tell him the truth – he wouldn’t believe it. No one would. The only ones who knew the whole story were Pete and I.
Dad grounded me for a month. I wasn’t allowed out of the house except to go to school. No pictures, no swimming, nothing. And no pocket money either.
It was a bad month. Very bad indeed. At school Scrag Murphy gave me a hard time. He called me ‘Fairy Pants’. Every one thought it was a great joke, and there was nothing I could do about it. He was just too big for me, and his mates were all tough guys.
‘This is serious,’ said Pete. ‘We have to put Scrag Murphy back in his box. They are starting to call me “Friend Of Fairy Pants” now. We have to get even.’
We thought and thought but we couldn’t come up with anything. Then I remembered the mouse race in Smith’s barn. ‘We will win the mouse race,’ I shouted. ‘It’s in a month’s time. We can use the next month to train my mouse.’
‘That’s it,’ said Pete. ‘The prize is fifty dollars. Scrag Murphy thinks he is going to win. It will really get up his nose if we take off the prize.’
I went and fetched Swift Sam. ‘He’s small,’ I said. ‘But he’s fast. I bet he can beat Murphy’s mouse. It’s called Mugger.’
We started to train Swift Sam. Every day after school we took him around a track in the back yard. We tied a piece of cheese on the end of a bit of string. Swift Sam chased after it as fast as he could. After six laps we gave him the piece of cheese to eat. At the start he could do six laps in ten minutes. By the end of the month he was down to three minutes.
‘Scrag Murphy, look out,’ said Pete with a grin. ‘We are really going to beat the pants off you this time.’
7
The day of the big race came at last. There were about one hundred kids in Smith’s barn. No adults knew about it – they would probably have stopped it if they knew. It cost fifty cents to get in. That’s where the prize money came from. A kid called Tiger Gleeson took up the money and gave out the prize at the end. He was the organiser of the whole thing.
Scrag Murphy was there, of course. ‘It’s in the bag,’ he swaggered. ‘Mugger can’t lose. I’ve fed him on a special diet. He is the fittest mouse in the country. He will eat Swift Sam, just you wait and see.’
I didn’t say anything. But I was very keen to see his mouse, Mugger. Scrag Murphy had it in a box. No one had seen it yet.
‘Right,’ said Tiger. ‘Get out your mice.’ I put Swift Sam down on the track. He looked very small. He started sniffing around. I hoped he would run as fast with the other mice there – he hadn’t had any match practice before. Then the others put their mice on the track. Everyone except Scrag Murphy. He still had Mugger in the box.
Scrag Murphy put his hand in the box and took out Mugger. He was the biggest mouse I had ever seen. He was at least ten times as big as Swift Sam. ‘Hey,’ said Pete. ‘That’s not a mouse. That’s a rat. You can’t race a rat. It’s not fair.’
‘It’s not a rat,’ said Scrag Murphy in a threatening voice. ‘It’s just a big mouse. I’ve been feeding it up.’ I looked at it again. It was a rat all right. It was starting to attack the mice.
‘We will take a vote,’ said Tiger. ‘All those that think it is a rat, put your hands up,’ He counted all the hands.
‘Fifty,’ he said. ‘Now all those who say that Mugger is a mouse put your hands up.’ He counted again.
‘Fifty-two. Mugger is a mouse.’
Scrag Murphy and his gang started to cheer. He had brought all his mates with him. It was a put-up job.
‘Right,’ said Tiger Gleeson. ‘Get ready to race.’
8
There were about ten mice in the race – or I should say nine mice and one rat. Two rats if you counted Scrag Murphy. All the owners took out their string and cheese. ‘Go,’ shouted Tiger Gleeson.
Mugger jumped straight on to a little mouse next to him and bit it on the neck. The poor thing fell over and lay still. ‘Boo,’ yelled some of the crowd.
Swift Sam ran to the front straight away. He was going really well. Then Mugger started to catch up. It was neck and neck for five laps. First Mugger would get in front, then Swift Sam. Everyone in the barn went crazy. They were yelling their heads off.
By the sixth lap Mugger started to fall behind. All the other mice were not in the race. They had been lapped twice by Mugger and Swift Sam. But Mugger couldn’t keep up with Swift Sam; he was about a tail behind. Suddenly something terrible happened. Mugger jumped onto Swift Sam’s tail and grabbed it in his teeth. The crowd started to boo. Even Scrag Murphy’s mates were booing.
But Swift Sam kept going. He didn’t stop for a second. He just pulled that great rat along after him. It rolled over and over behind the little mouse. Mugger held on for grim death, but he couldn’t stop Swift Sam. ‘What a mouse,’ screamed the crowd as Swift Sam crossed the finish line still towing Mugger behind him.
Scrag Murphy stormed off out of the barn. He didn’t even take Mugger with him. Tiger handed me the fifty dollars. Then he held up Swift Sam. ‘Swift Sam is the winner,’ he said. ‘The only mouse in the world with its own little pair of fairy underpants.’
About the Author
Paul Jennings is Australia’s multi-award-winning master of madness. The Paul Jennings phenomenon began with the publication of Unreal! in 1985. Since then, his stories have been devoured all around the world. The top-rating TV series Round the Twist and Driven Crazy are based on his enormously popular short-story collections.
Paul Jennings has written over one hundred stories and has been voted ‘favourite author’ by children in Australia over forty times winning every children’s choice award. In 1995 he was made a Member of the Order of Australia for services to children’s literature and was awarded the prestigious Dromkeen Medal in 2001. Paul has sold over 7.5 million books worldwide.
Unreal! Page 9