Unbelievable!

by Paul Jennings

  ‘Monty went over to the cage of a small rabbit and pressed a button. A red light flashed inside the cage and the rabbit poked its head out of a hole in the wire. The rabbit screwed up its nose and bared its teeth. Monty put some of the toothpaste on a brush and scrubbed away at them. I could tell that the toothpaste tasted terrible. When Monty had finished he threw a dirty old carrot to the rabbit but the poor thing couldn’t eat. It was too busy trying to get the nasty taste out of its mouth.

  ‘This was terrible. This was monstrous. How cruel. That mean old man was cleaning the teeth of animals with some foul-tasting toothpaste. He was trying it out on them to see if it was any good. I didn’t think of my own safety. I didn’t think of anything except those frightened creatures. I raced around to the front door and banged on it as hard as I could. “Let me in,” I screamed. “Let me in and let those animals go.” ’

  3

  ‘The door swung open and there stood Monty, grinning at me with his fusty green tooth. He seemed pleased to see me. “Just what I need,” he said. “A cheeky brat of a kid. Come in, boy, and welcome.”

  ‘I burst into the house and ran into the room where the animals were kept. “What are you doing?” I yelled. “Why are you cleaning these animals’ teeth?”

  ‘ “I am inventing One-shot Toothpaste,” grinned Monty. “And I am nearly there.”

  ‘ “What’s One-shot Toothpaste?” I shouted.

  ‘ “It’s toothpaste that you only use once in your life. One go and you never need to clean your teeth again. Everyone will buy it once it’s invented. All those brats who won’t clean their teeth. Their parents will all buy it and I will be rich. Every time I make a new batch I have to try it out. That’s why I have the animals.”

  ‘ “Let the animals go,” I said. “It’s cruel. Try your rotten old toothpaste out on yourself.”

  ‘ “I couldn’t do that,” said Monty. “It tastes horrible. But now I don’t need the animals any more. I have you.” He looked at me with a sneaky smile and pointed to an empty cage.

  ‘Before I had a chance to move he jumped on me and grabbed me with his skinny hands. He was thin but very strong. We rolled over and over on the floor and crashed into the cupboard. Hundreds of tubes of toothpaste fell out of the cupboard and showered all over us. As we struggled on the floor many of the tubes burst open and squirted long worms of toothpaste into the air. Soon we were both covered in every colour of toothpaste you could think of. They all got mixed up and the different types smeared into horrible, smelly puddles.

  ‘Monty grabbed the toothbrush and dipped it into the mixture. “See how you like this, boy,” he hissed as he tried to shove the brush into my mouth.

  ‘There was no way I was going to let him put mixed-up toothpastes on my teeth. I pushed Monty backwards and he fell against the wall with a grunt. He was winded and lay there gasping for breath. “Have a bit of your own medicine,” I said. I plunged the toothbrush into Monty’s mouth and brushed at his fusty old green tooth.’

  4

  ‘He didn’t like it. Not one bit. He rolled around on the floor screaming and yelling and holding his hands up to his neck. It must have tasted foul.

  ‘Then something happened I will never forget. Monty’s tooth started to grow. It swelled up and started to stick out of his mouth. Soon it was as big as his head. A whopping big green fusty tooth. And as it grew Monty started to shrink. It was just as if the tooth was sucking his innards out. Monty shrivelled up like a slowly collapsing balloon as the tooth grew bigger and bigger. Soon it was bigger than he was. It wasn’t Monty and a tooth. It was a tooth and Monty.

  ‘The tooth continued to feed on Monty until it was as big as a full-grown man and he was only the size of a pea on the end of it. Then there was a small “pop” and he was gone altogether. The super tooth lay there alone on the floor.

  ‘I was in a daze. I didn’t know what to do. I staggered over to the cages and let the animals out one at a time. Each one bounded out of the door in a panic.

  ‘The last to go was a big kangaroo. The poor thing was in such a fright that it knocked over the table with the candle on it. In a flash the curtains caught on fire and the room was alight. The animals had all fled into the night, so I grabbed the huge tooth and lugged it out onto the lawn. The house burned to the ground before the fire brigade could even get there.’

  5

  ‘And that,’ said the dentist to Antonio, ‘is the end of the story. And your filling is finished. It didn’t hurt much, now, did it?’

  ‘No,’ said Antonio, ‘I didn’t feel a thing. ‘But what happened to the giant tooth?’

  Mr Bin looked up at the large tooth swinging in the breeze outside with

  M. T. BIN

  DENTIST

  written on it and said, ‘That is a secret which I can’t tell even you.’

  Antonio walked outside and looked at the large tooth sign. It was painted white but on one corner the paint was peeling off. Underneath he could see that it was a fusty green colour. He turned round and walked home, shaking his head as he went.

  Mr Bin went back into his surgery. A small girl was sitting in the chair crying. ‘No needles, please,’ she whimpered.

  ‘What are you going to do for a job when you grow up?’ asked Mr Bin.

  ‘A ballet dancer,’ said the little girl.

  Mr Bin put down the needle with an amazed look on his face. ‘A ballet dancer. Did you say a ballet dancer? Now isn’t that funny? I always wanted to be a ballet dancer when I was a boy.’

  ‘Well, how come you ended up a dentist?’ the girl asked.

  Mr Bin looked around the room and then went over and shut the door. He spoke in a very soft voice. ‘If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you the story,’ he said as he picked up the needle.

  There’s No Such Thing

  Poor Grandad. They had taken him away and locked him up in a home. I knew he would hate it. He loved to be out in his garden digging the vegies or arguing with old Mrs Jingle next door. He wouldn’t like being locked away from the world.

  ‘I know it’s sad,’ said Mum. ‘But it’s the only thing to do. I’m afraid that Grandad has a sort of sickness that’s in the head. He doesn’t think right. He keeps seeing things that aren’t there. It sometimes happens to people when they get very old like Grandad.’

  I could feel tears springing into my eyes. ‘What sort of things?’ I shouted. ‘I don’t believe it. Grandad’s all right. I want to see him.’

  Mum had tears in her eyes too. She was just as upset as I was. After all, Grandad was her father. ‘You can see him on Monday, Chris,’ she said. ‘The nurse said you can visit Grandad after school.’

  On Monday I went to the nursing home where they kept Grandad. I had to wait for ages in this little room which had hard chairs and smelt of stuff you clean toilets with. The nurse in charge wore a badge which said, SISTER GRIBBLE. She had mean eyes. They looked like the slits on money boxes which take things in but never give anything back. She had her hair done up in a tight bun and her shoes were so clean you could see the reflection of her knobbly knees in them.

  ‘Follow me, lad,’ said the nurse after ages and ages. She led me down a corridor and into a small room. ‘Before you go in,’ she said, ‘I want you to know one thing. Whenever the old man talks about things that are not really there, you must say, “There’s no such thing.” You are not to pretend you believe him.’

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I did know one thing – she shouldn’t have called Grandad ‘the old man’. He had a name just like everyone else.

  We went into the room and there was Grandad, slumped in a bed between stiff white sheets. He was staring listlessly at a fly on the ceiling. He looked unhappy.

  As she went out of the room Nurse Gribble looked at Grandad and said, ‘None of your nonsense now. Remember, there’s no such thing.’ She sat on a chair just outside the door.

  2

  Grandad brightened up when he saw me. A bit of the o
ld twinkle came back into his eyes. ‘Ah, Chris,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. You’ve got to help me get out of this terrible place. My tomatoes will be dying. I’ve got to get out.’ He looked at the door and whispered. ‘She watches me like a hawk. You are my only chance.’

  He pulled something out from under the sheets and pushed it into my hands. It was a small camera with a built-in flash. ‘Get a photo,’ he said, ‘and then they will know it’s true. They will have to let me out if you get a photo.’

  His eyes were wild and flashing. I didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘Get a photo of what?’ I asked.

  ‘The dragon, Chris. The dragon in the drain. I never told you about it before because I didn’t want to scare you. But now you are my only hope. Even your mother thinks I have gone potty. She won’t believe me that there is a dragon. No one will.’

  A voice like broken glass came from the corridor outside. It said, ‘There’s no such thing as a dragon.’ It was Nurse Gribble. She was listening to our conversation.

  I didn’t know what to think. It was true then. Poor old Grandad was out of his mind. He thought there was such a thing as a dragon. I decided to go along with it. ‘Where is the dragon, Grandad?’ I whispered.

  ‘In Donovan’s Drain,’ he said softly, looking at the door as he spoke. ‘Behind my back fence. It’s a great horrible brute with green teeth and red eyes. It has scales and wings and a cruel, slashing tail. Its breath is foul and stinks of the grave.’

  ‘And you’ve seen it?’ I croaked.

  ‘Seen it, seen it. I’ve not only seen it, I’ve fought it. Man and beast, battling it out in the mouth of Donovan’s Drain. It tried to get Doo Dah. It eats dogs. And cats. It loves them. Crunches their bones. But I stopped it, I taught it a thing or two.’ Grandad jumped out of bed and grabbed a broom out of a cupboard. He started to battle an imaginary dragon, stabbing at it with the broom and then jumping backwards.

  He leapt up onto the bed. He was as fit as a lion. ‘Try to get Doo Dah, will you? Try to eat my dog? Take that, and that, you smelly fiend.’ He lunged at the dragon that wasn’t there, brandishing the broom like a spear. He looked like a small, wild pirate trying to stop the enemy from boarding his ship.

  Suddenly a cold, crisp voice cut across the room. ‘Get back in bed,’ it ordered. It was Nurse Gribble. Her mean eyes flashed. ‘Stop this nonsense at once,’ she snapped at Grandad. ‘There is no such thing as a dragon. It’s all in your head. You are a silly old man.’

  ‘He’s not,’ I shouted. ‘He’s not silly. He’s my grandad and he shouldn’t be in here. He wants to get out.’

  The nurse narrowed her eyes until they were as thin as needles. ‘You are upsetting him,’ she said to me. ‘I want you out of here in five minutes.’ Then she spun around and left the room.

  ‘I’ve got to escape,’ said Grandad as he climbed slowly back into his bed. ‘I’ve got to see the sun and the stars and feel the breeze on my face. I’ve got to touch trees and smell the salt air at the beach. And my tomato plants – they will die without me. This place is a jail. I would sooner be dead than live here.’ His bottom lip started to tremble. ‘Get a photo, Chris. Get a photo of the dragon. Then they will know it’s true. Then they will have to let me out. I’m not crazy – there really is a dragon.’

  He grabbed my arm and stared urgently into my eyes. ‘Please, Chris, please get a photo.’

  ‘Okay, Grandad,’ I told him. ‘I’ll get a photo of a dragon, even if I have to go to the end of the earth for it.’

  His eyes grew wilder. ‘Don’t go into the drain. Don’t go into the dragon’s lair. It’s too dangerous. He will munch your bones. Hide. Hide at the opening and when he comes out take his photo. Then run. Run like crazy.’

  ‘When does it come out?’

  ‘At midnight. Always at midnight. That’s why you need the flash on the camera.’

  ‘How long since you last saw the dragon, Grandad?’ I asked.

  ‘Two years,’ he said.

  ‘Two years,’ I echoed. ‘It might be dead by now.’

  ‘If it is dead,’ said Grandad, ‘Then I am as good as dead too.’ He looked gloomily around the sterile room.

  I heard an impatient sigh from outside. ‘Visiting time is over,’ said Nurse Gribble, in icy tones.

  I gave Grandad a kiss on his prickly cheek. ‘Don’t worry,’ I whispered in his ear. ‘If there is a dragon I will get his photo.’ The nurse was just about busting her ear-drums trying to hear what I said but it was too soft for her to make out the words.

  As she showed me out, Nurse Gribble spoke to me in her sucked-lemon voice. ‘Remember, boy, there’s no such thing as a dragon. If you humour the old man you will not be allowed back.’

  I shook my head as I walked home. Poor Grandad. He thought there was a dragon in Donovan’s Drain. I didn’t know what to do now. I didn’t believe in dragons but a promise is a promise. I would have to go to Donovan’s Drain at midnight at least once. I tried to think of some other way to get Grandad out of that terrible place but nothing came to my mind.

  3

  And that is how I came to find myself sitting outside the drain in the middle of the night. It was more like a tunnel than a drain. It disappeared into the black earth, from which came all manner of smells and noises. I shivered and waited but nothing happened. No dragon. After a while I walked down to the opening and peered in. I could hear the echo of pinging drips of water and strange gurglings. It was as black as the insides of a rat’s gizzards.

  In the end I went there five nights in a row. I didn’t see Grandad in that time because the nurse would only let me visit once a week. Each night I sat and sat outside the drain but not the slightest trace of a dragon appeared. It gave me time to think and I started to wonder if perhaps Grandad’s story could be true. What if he had seen a dragon? It could be asleep for the winter – hibernating. Perhaps dragons slept for years. It might not come out again for ten years. In the end I decided there was only one way to find out.

  I had to go in.

  The next night I crept out of the back door when Mum was asleep. I carried a torch and Grandad’s camera and I wore a parka and two jumpers. It was freezing.

  I walked carefully along the drain with one foot on either side of the small, smelly stream that ran down the middle. It was big enough for me to stand upright. I was scared, I will tell you that now. It was absolutely black in front of me. Behind me the dull night glow of the entrance grew smaller and smaller. I didn’t want to go but I forced myself to keep walking into the blackness. Finally I looked back and could no longer see the entrance.

  I was alone in the bowels of the earth in the middle of the night. I remembered Grandad’s words. ‘Don’t go into the dragon’s lair. It’s too dangerous. He will munch your bones.’

  I also remembered Nurse Gribble’s words. ‘There’s no such thing as a dragon.’ I almost wished she was right.

  The strong beam of the torch was my only consolation. I shone it in every crack and nook. Suddenly the idea of a dragon did not seem silly. In my mind I could see the horrible beast with red eyes and dribbling saliva, waiting there to clasp me in its cruel claws.

  I don’t know how I did it but I managed to walk on for a couple of hours. I had to try. I had to check out Grandad’s tale. I owed him that much.

  Finally the tunnel opened into a huge cavern. It was big enough to fit ten houses inside. Five tunnels opened into the cavern. Four of them were made out of concrete but the fifth was more like a cave that had been dug out by a giant rabbit. The earth sides were covered in a putrid green slime and deep scratch marks.

  I carefully made my way into the mouth of this cave. I wanted to turn and run. I wanted to scream. I half wished that a dragon would grab me and finish me off just to get it over and done with. Anything would be better than the terror that shook my jellied flesh.

  I stumbled and fell many times, as the floor was covered in the same slime as the walls. The tunnel twisted around and upwards
like a corkscrew. As I progressed a terrible smell became stronger and stronger. It was so bad that I had to tie my handkerchief over my mouth.

  Just as I was about to give up I stood on something that scrunched under my feet. It was a bone. I shone the torch on the floor and saw that small bones were scattered everywhere. There were bones of every shape and size – many of them were small skulls. On one I noticed a circle of leather with a brass tag attached. It said ‘Timmy’. I knew it was a dog’s collar.

  As I pushed on, the bones became deeper and deeper until at last they were like a current sweeping around my knees. My whole body was shaking with fear but still I pressed on. I had to get that photo. The only way to get Grandad out of that nursing home was to prove he wasn’t mad.

  Finally the tunnel opened up into another cavern that was so large my torch beam could not reach the roof. And in the middle, spread out across a mountain of treasure, was the dragon.

  4

  His cruel white jaws gaped at me and his empty eyes were pools of blackness. He made no movement and neither did I. I stood there with my knees banging together like jackhammers.

  The horrible creature did not jump up and crunch my bones. He couldn’t. He was dead.

  He was just a pile of bones with his wings stretched out in one last effort to protect his treasure. He had been huge and ugly. The dried-out bones of his wings were petrified in earthbound flight. His skull dripped with slime and leered at me as if he still sought to snap my tiny body in two.

  And the treasure that he sought to hoard? It was poor indeed. Piles of junk. Broken television sets, discarded transistor radios, dustbin lids, old car wheels, bottles, a broken pram, cracked mirrors and twisted picture frames. There was not a diamond or a gold sword to be seen. The dragon had been king of a junk heap. He had saved every piece of rubbish that had floated down the drain.