Danny Danger and the Cosmic Remote

by Adam Frost

  To Anna and Eliza

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1: PLAY

  2: REWIND

  3: FAST FORWARD

  4: RECORD

  5: STANDBY

  6: PAUSE

  7: STOP

  8: POWER OFF

  9: HELP

  10: POWER ON

  11: EJECT

  Read all about Danny’s next big adventure in

  Copyright

  1

  PLAY

  It was a Monday afternoon and Danny Danger was sitting quietly in a maths lesson, holding his cosmic remote control.

  Nobody else in the class could see it, because he held it flat against his leg, ready to slip it back into his pocket at any time.

  It was about half of the size of a normal remote with just seven buttons: On/Off, Play, Pause, Stop, Record, Fast Forward and Rewind. Above the buttons, there was a small LCD showing the current time:

  Instead of a battery compartment, there was a small amber crystal embedded in the back, which rotated slowly when the remote was active, glinting and sparkling and shimmering as it turned.

  The teacher stood at the front of the class, pointing to an equation on the whiteboard. His name was Mr Boswell. He had a big orange nose with three thick black bristles sticking out of each nostril. He wore thick square glasses that made his eyes look like tiny dots, although when he took his glasses off to mop his forehead, then his eyes were suddenly as big as fruit bowls. He was completely bald except for three long crinkled hairs that looked like they’d been drawn on his head with a biro.

  Mr Boswell was explaining how three fours were the same as four threes, and that three times three times four was the same as four times three times three.

  Danny stifled a yawn and his eyes swam. He looked round at his classmates, slumped forwards on their desks or staring vacantly out of the window. Mr Boswell jabbed the air with a marker pen while his other hand jingled loose change in his pocket. Danny’s thumb hovered over his cosmic remote and he pressed Fast Forward.

  Mr Boswell’s lips started moving very quickly and he scribbled on the board, then talked, then scribbled on the board five times faster than he normally would have done. His face suddenly turned red and sweaty as he lost his temper, then very quickly faded back to white again. The numbers on Danny’s remote spun round rapidly; the seconds were almost too quick to see

  Outside birds whipped past like bullets; clouds tumbled by like clothes in a washing machine.

  One of Danny’s friends whizzed out of the classroom to go to the toilet, then whizzed back in again and sat down.

  At that moment, Mr Boswell’s head snapped round. He was staring at Danny; he was speeding towards him with a furious expression on his face.

  Danny let go of Fast Forward and for a split second Mr Boswell was shouting: “Daniel Danger, I won’t ask you again—”

  Then Danny pressed Rewind and Mr Boswell walked backwards, stopped by the board and turned to face the class again.

  Danny let go of Rewind and life resumed its normal speed.

  “So let’s find out who’s been paying attention, shall we?” Mr Boswell was saying. “Daniel Danger, you’ve been very quiet. Why don’t we start with you?”

  Danny blinked and looked down at his desk.

  “Today we’ve been learning about multiplication, haven’t we?’ said Mr Boswell. “So I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me what five times five times five comes to.That’s right. Five times five times five.”

  Danny tried to form the numbers in his head. Five lots of five – five times. Fifty-five?

  Mr Boswell was walking towards Danny. “Daniel Danger, I won’t ask you again,” he huffed. “Five times five times five.”

  Danny imagined writing the numbers down, but he was distracted by the stains on Mr Boswell’s tie and the hair on Mr Boswell’s ears and Mr Boswell’s smelly breath and Mr Boswell’s wobbly double chin.

  “Daniel Danger!” roared Mr Boswell. “You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said.”

  Danny looked up at Mr Boswell’s bright-red face. He took a deep breath and pressed Pause on his cosmic remote. The crystal started to spin round and the time display flashed:

  Everything had frozen. Mr Boswell’s mouth was half open, his eyebrows were raised and his hands were hanging in mid-air.

  Danny’s classmates were still and silent. Some had been whispering, some had been scribbling in their exercise books, some had been scowling at Mr Boswell; now they were all as motionless as statues, unable to blink or breathe or move a muscle.

  Danny stood up and walked out of the classroom.

  Out in the corridor he saw Mrs Jenkins, the deputy head, frozen in mid-stride. She had a bundle of papers under her right arm and a mobile phone in her left. She had just sneezed so she had a funny expression on her face: eyes closed, cheeks puffed out and a shower of spit hovering in front of her nose.

  Danny squeezed past her and walked through the entrance hall towards the library.

  Outside on the school field Mr Chambers’s class had been halfway through a game of rounders. The ball was suspended two metres above the ground; one of the boys was halfway between second and third base; one of the girls was standing underneath the ball, steeling herself for a catch. Danny really wanted to press Play on his cosmic remote and see whether the boy would get his rounder, but he knew this would be a big mistake. He would suddenly vanish from Mr Boswell’s class, right in front of everyone’s eyes, and how would he explain that?

  He pushed open the door of the library and walked inside.

  It was completely empty except for the school cat, sleeping on a stool in a shaft of sunlight. Danny stroked the cat but she was as stiff as a board and didn’t purr and nuzzle his hand as she normally did.

  Danny spotted the cupboard he was looking for and walked towards it. He closed his eyes as he went to open it, thinking it would be locked, but the door swung open, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Inside there were rows of red boxes labelled DIGITAL CAMERA, MP3 PLAYERS, HEADPHONES and BLANK CDs. A loudhailer sat on top of a DVD player. On the bottom shelf he saw a box labelled CALCULATORS, which he slid out. He grabbed a calculator from the pile and typed in 5 x 5 x 5. The answer was 125.

  He whispered to himself, “One hundred and twenty-five, one hundred and twenty-five, one hundred and twenty-five,” until he was sure he remembered it.

  He tossed the calculator back in the box, closed the cupboard door and walked quickly out of the library.

  He ran back to his classroom, glancing down at the cosmic remote.

  He looked up just in time to see Mrs Jenkins. He swerved to avoid her but knocked the mobile phone out of her hand. It hit the floor and the back spun off. He fiddled with the phone for a few seconds until the back snapped into place again.Then he settled the phone back in her hand at what he hoped was the right angle.

  He rushed back into his classroom and sat back in his chair, staring up at Mr Boswell’s angry, menacing face. He pressed Play on his cosmic remote and everything came back to life.

  “One hundred and twenty-five,” said Danny.

  “What?” barked Mr Boswell.

  “One hundred and twenty-five. That’s the answer,” said Danny.

  “The answer to what?” spluttered Mr Boswell.

  “The sum. The sum you just gave me,” explained Danny.

  Mr Boswell started to speak, then stopped, then frowned, then stared at Danny.

  “Hmph,” he said.

  The rest of the class began to whisper and titter.

  “Silence!” shouted Mr Boswell and looked
at Danny suspiciously again.

  That afternoon Danny walked home with his best friend, Eric Taylor. Eric was in a different class with a different teacher.

  “How was Headcase?” asked Eric.

  Headcase was their nickname for Mr Boswell.

  “Same as usual. How was Stinkbomb?” asked Danny.

  Stinkbomb was their nickname for Eric’s teacher, Miss Beecham. She had nine cats and her clothes smelled a bit funny.

  “Same as usual,” said Eric. “Are you coming round later?”

  “Don’t know,” said Danny. “Mum and Dad aren’t letting me do anything at the moment.”

  “That’s a pain,” said Eric. “I got a new computer game off my Uncle Steve. Zombie Goblins II. In level 2, you can teleport and in level 3, you can become invisible.You’ve got to have a go!”

  “That sounds great!” said Danny.

  Eric didn’t know about Danny’s cosmic remote – nobody did. Danny had come close to telling Eric a few times because he knew how amazed and excited Eric would have been. But when he’d got the remote, he’d been warned to tell no one about it – unless there was an emergency.Today had been a bit of a drag, but not an emergency.

  Danny turned into the street where they both lived.

  “So I might see you later on,” said Eric.

  “Fingers crossed,” replied Danny.

  Eric walked up his driveway and Danny crossed the road and headed for his house. He went through the side gate and opened the back door.

  The kitchen seemed to be empty. It was a fairly big kitchen with lots of cupboards and a long dining table at one end of it.

  On every wall of the house, there were tea towels in frames with helpful mottos stitched on to them. In the kitchen, there was one hanging above the sink.

  There was another tea towel above the washing machine.

  Danny breathed a deep sigh, relieved that nobody else seemed to be home.

  Then Danny’s mum and dad walked into the kitchen, side by side. His big sister, Mia, was a few paces behind them, looking pleased with herself. Danny’s hand dived into his pocket and his thumb hovered over the Rewind button on his cosmic remote.

  Mrs Danger had a long thin face that was always red with anger. Mr Danger’s face was big and round like the moon with a wisp of grey hair on top like smoke coming out of a chimney. Danny’s sister Mia looked a bit like Danny, only her hair was long and straight and blonde rather than short and tufty and brown.

  “Daniel Patrick Danger,” declared Mrs Danger. “Your father would like a word with you.”

  “I certainly would,” said Mr Danger. “Tell him, darling.”

  “Your father would like to know why you haven’t tidied your room,” said Mrs Danger.

  “I did tidy my room!” Danny protested.

  “Moving everything into a big heap in the middle of the room isn’t the same as tidying,” squeaked Mrs Danger.

  “Isn’t it?” said Danny. “Why not?”

  “Your father has explained this to you many times,” said Mrs Danger. “Drawers not floors. Clean it like you mean it.”

  “I definitely said that,” said Mr Danger. “I remember it very clearly.”

  Mia’s head poked out from behind her father and she smirked.

  Mrs Danger let out a whoop of grief.

  “Are those grass stains on your elbows?” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe it! Hector, look at this!”

  Mr Danger bent over and squinted at Danny’s shirt.

  “Well, that’s coming out of your pocket money,” growled Mr Danger.

  “And is that a rip in your trousers?” spluttered Mrs Danger.

  Mr Danger leaned in again.

  “That’s coming out of your pocket money too,” he said.

  “You don’t give me any pocket money,” protested Danny. “You never have!”

  “Is it any wonder?” wailed Mrs Danger. “The amount we have to spend cleaning up after you!”

  “Mum, I smell dog poo,” said Mia. “I definitely smell dog poo.”

  Mrs Danger gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “And you’ve trodden it into the kitchen carpet!”

  “That wasn’t me!” cried Danny. He lifted up his left shoe and then his right shoe. There it was.

  “Take them off! Take them off!” gibbered Mrs Danger.

  Mia looked at Danny with a satisfied smile. Danny pulled his shoes off and they hit the floor with a thud.

  “You’re a disgrace to the Danger family name,” growled Mr Danger. “You should act like a Danger to everyone you meet.That’s what we all do!”

  “Now, go to your room before you do any more damage!” moaned Mrs Danger.

  Danny trudged slowly up the stairs, gripping his cosmic remote like a vice. He should press Pause and go back downstairs. He could slap his dad’s belly and twist his sister’s nose.

  Or he could scrape the dog poo off his shoes and transfer it on to his mother’s shoes. Then Rewind back to the moment when his sister smelled it. Then who’d have messed up the kitchen carpet?

  But Danny had had enough of his family for one afternoon. He just wanted to spend some time alone in his room, then climb out of the window and head for Eric’s house.

  He walked across the spotless landing and past his parents’ immaculate bedroom. He was nearly blinded by the glint of windows and mirrors and ornaments. He almost choked on the smell of air freshener and shoe polish and washing powder.

  Ten seconds later, he was in his room with the door closed. His whole body relaxed. There were the clothes in a mound on the floor, the books dropped on the bed, the pens and rulers and notepads spread out on the desk, the comics scattered on the windowsill and radiator and bedside table. Danny smiled, leaned against the door and slid down on to the floor.

  He thought about the evening ahead of him. If he was going to sneak over to Eric’s, it made sense to use his cosmic remote. His parents had told him to stay in his room; if he disobeyed, they’d make his life even more miserable.

  Danny placed the cosmic remote on the bed. He pointed it towards his desk and pressed Record.The crystal on the back turned red and started to spin round slowly. A cone of golden light shot out of the end of the remote and bathed the desk in a pale white glow. Danny stepped into the shaft of light and sat at the desk. He picked up a piece of paper and spent twenty minutes drawing a picture of a unicorn.

  Then he reached over to a pile of comics that was balanced precariously on the edge of the desk. He pulled a comic out from halfway down the pile and spent three quarters of an hour reading it. That was enough, he thought to himself. He walked out of the shaft of light, picked up his cosmic remote and pressed Stop.

  The crystal on the back of the remote began to flash red-orange red-orange. This meant that the recording had been successfully stored.

  Now would be a good time to go and see Eric.

  Playing back a section of time was one of the best things about having a cosmic remote, Danny thought. He pointed the remote at the desk again and used his forefinger to press the crystal down until he heard a click. Then at the same time he pressed Play with his thumb. An image seemed to leap out of the end of the remote and settle at the desk. It was Danny, just as he had been an hour ago, drawing a picture of a unicorn. The image flickered, blurred and then came into focus.

  The real Danny slipped the remote into his pocket and headed for the window. He looked at the recorded Danny sitting at the desk and gave it a big smile although he knew it would not be able to smile back.

  Now if his parents checked up on him, there he would be, sitting quietly in his room, and that would be that; they’d leave him alone for another hour or so.

  knocking on the window of Eric’s bedroom.

  His friend let him in.

  “Cool, you made it,” said Eric.

  “I’ve only got about an hour,” said Danny.

  “How come?” asked Eric.

  “Er … my parents … you know,” stammered Danny.

 
Danny really wanted to tell Eric the truth. He could tell him, then press Rewind, and erase the whole conversation from time. But it seemed a bit pointless – and unfair on Eric.

  “Shall we play on my computer?” exclaimed Eric. “Or I got this Build Your Own Robot kit from my Uncle Martin. I haven’t opened it yet!”

  “That sounds brilliant!” replied Danny.

  Eric slid the robot kit out from under his bed and opened the box. Danny had never seen so many coils and springs and wires and computer chips and bolts and plates of metal and light bulbs and pistons. It made him wonder what the inside of his cosmic remote looked like.

  Danny started on the robot’s right arm and Eric started on the left. You had to slot each finger into a small iron grid.

  At one point, Eric’s mum poked her head round the door.

  “Hello, Danny, I didn’t know you were here,” she said. “Do you boys want anything to eat?”

  “Chocolate!” exclaimed Eric.

  “Apart from chocolate,” said Eric’s mum, with a smile.

  “Chocolate spread on toast?” tried Eric.

  “How about peanut butter on toast?” replied Eric’s mum.

  “You’re on!” declared Eric.

  Eric’s mum smiled and shook her head.

  When the toast arrived, Danny and Eric were careful not to get any crumbs or blobs of peanut butter in the robot’s components.

  Then Danny looked up. “What’s the time?”

  Eric looked up too. “Don’t know.”

  Danny quickly pulled out the edge of his cosmic remote and glanced at the time:

  “Got to go,” blurted out Danny.

  He ran towards Eric’s window.

  “See you tomorrow at school,” he said.

  “But you left half your toast,” protested Eric.