“I don’t know,” the man replied. “Perhaps it’s the weather. We’ve had some funny weather lately, and it may be affecting the children.”
“Perhaps she’s doing it for health reasons,” said a sickly-looking goat. “Being upside down lets the blood into the brain, and that perks you up no end.”
A lion and a school inspector going home from the supermarket stopped to look on curiously. The lion said nothing, but the school inspector said, “It’s the parents’ fault. Parents let their children do anything these days. Now this poor child’s parents are most likely at home drinking tea and reading the paper and not looking after their girl. They don’t care that she’s gone all upside down out here.”
“Yes, that’s right!” called the mother of twins. “They don’t care at all. Now if my twins were to go all upside down like that, I’d smack them with the hairbrush. That’d bring them right way up again pretty quick, I can tell you.”
At this point, a boy called Ron, oldest of five, climbed up into the tree too and hung beside Anna.
“Look at that, now there’s two of them at it,” cried an excited voice, probably a hen. There were quite a few hens in the crowd.
“It’s catching, it’s catching,” shouted the thin woman in fluffy slippers, and the crowd moved back several steps nervously.
“I don’t want to go upside down,” whimpered a rich man. “All my money would fall out of my pockets.”
“Neither you shall!” said his pretty secretary, hurrying him away and looking angrily at Anna and Ron as she went.
“It’s the new craze,” said a folk-singing crocodile strumming on her guitar. Then she sang, showing long rows of well-kept teeth:
“Upside down — upside down —
The newest craze to hit the town …”
But at this point a little girl called Sally, wearing a tracksuit, climbed into the tree and hung by her knees next to Ron.
“I still say it’s the weather!” cried the man in the ridiculous hat.
“Now then,” said a policeman coming up. “What’s all this?”
“Look, look, the police have come,” twittered some excitable guinea pigs, and a small number of culprits and criminals slunk away to evade the eye of the law.
“These poor children, neglected by their parents, have gone all upside down,” said the School Inspector in an important voice.
“But perhaps,” suggested a Professor of Philosophy going by with a meat pie in a paper bag, “perhaps they are the right way up. Perhaps it is we who are upside down.”
This upset a lot of people. There was a resentful muttering and the sound of gritting teeth.
The policeman had to do something quickly. People and animals were all upset. He thought hard.
“Send for the fire brigade,” he commanded at last.
But the lion, who had been watching thoughtfully, said in a deep lion’s voice, “Ask them! Ask them why they are hanging upside down.”
The policeman came up to Anna. “Now then, young lady!” he said, “why are you upside down in that tree?”
“I learned to do this yesterday,” replied Anna, “I just wanted to see if I could still do it today.”
“It’s fun!” shouted Ron. “You all look funny upside down.”
And Sally shouted, “Upside down, frowns turn into smiles.”
Then Anna put up her hands and swung down from the branch, and so did Ron and Sally.
“Why are you doing that?” asked the man in the ridiculous hat.
“Well, the bend of my knees is starting to hurt a bit,” Anna said. “And not only that, it’s dinner time and hanging upside down makes you hungry. Are you coming?”
And then all three walked away, leaving the first branch of the second tree to the right of the supermarket absolutely empty.
‘Why Anna Hung Upside Down’ was first published by Random House New Zealand in 30 New Zealand Stories for Children in October 2000.
Leila’s Lunch
Jane Buxton
Leila didn’t even bother to unwrap her sandwiches at lunchtime. She knew they’d be peanut butter again. She was sick of telling Mum not to give her peanut butter.
“Peanut butter sandwiches again!” she said to Sam.
“Yum,” said Sam. “I love peanut butter. We never have it.”
“Swap you, then,” Leila said.
“Sure,” said Sam happily. “You can have my tuna sandwiches.” He took Leila’s sandwiches and skipped away.
“What is tuna?” asked Leila, unwrapping Sam’s sandwiches. She had a sniff. “Pooh! It’s fish! Hey, Amber, do you like tuna sandwiches?”
“Delicious!” said Amber. “Can I have one?”
“You can have them all,” Leila said, pulling a face.
“But then you’ll be hungry,” Amber said. “Here, you’d better have my cake.”
“Ooh! Thanks, Amber,” said Leila. But when she unwrapped it, she found it was carrot cake. “Boring old carrot cake,” she sighed. “Mum makes that all the time.”
Jeremy heard her. “Carrot cake!” he exclaimed. “That’s my favourite!”
“What will you swap me for it?” Leila asked.
“I’ll give you some sandwiches,” said Jeremy, pulling a face. “I got them from Sam. They’re so weird! You’ll never guess what’s in them.” He held the sandwiches out to Leila. “Ook puke! Marmite and banana!”
“Marmite and banana!” cried Leila. “My favourite! Thanks, Jeremy!”
The sandwiches were delicious. Leila ate every bit of them, even the crusts.
When she got home after school, Leila said, “Mum! Guess what I had for lunch today! Marmite and banana sandwiches!”
“I thought you’d be pleased,” said Mum. “I knew you were sick of peanut butter.”
Leila stared at Mum. “But … you gave me peanut butter sandwiches. I swapped my carrot cake for the marmite and banana ones.”
“No, dear,” said Mum. “I didn’t give you any carrot cake today.”
Leila shook her head. “No! I mean Amber swapped me the cake for Sam’s tuna sandwiches.”
“I see …” said Mum, as if she didn’t see at all. “And what did you give Sam?”
“My peanut butter sandwiches,” said Leila. “Oh! But they weren’t …?”
“No,” Mum said. “They weren’t peanut butter sandwiches — they were …”
“Marmite and banana!” laughed Leila and Mum together.
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them,” said Mum. “I’ve got plenty of bananas, so you can have marmite and banana sandwiches every day this week. OK?”
“Choice!” said Leila.
‘Leila’s Lunch’ was first published by Random House New Zealand in 30 New Zealand Stories for Children in October 2000.
The Earth Moving Business
Fleur Beale
I’m in the earth moving business. I’ve got trucks with trailers and trucks that tip. I’ve got diggers and bulldozers. I’ve got dump trucks and loaders. But I’ve got a bit of a problem. I don’t have much earth to move.
On Saturday morning I got out my digger. I drove it around the side of our house and into the driveway. Wow! There was a big pile of dirt. It was in the middle of Mrs Mannaby’s driveway.
I had a funny feeling about that big pile of dirt. I felt that Mrs Mannaby might not want it in the middle of her driveway.
I had to hurry. I ran and banged on Mike’s door. “Bring your machines. We’ve got dirt at Mrs Mannaby’s.”
In next to no time, Mike and I were bulldozing roads. We were digging. We were dumping. We were trucking loads from one side of the big pile of dirt to the other.
Then Mrs Mannaby came out. I was right. She didn’t want dirt in her driveway. “That useless tip truck driver!” she yelled. “I told him to tip it in the garden!”
She said to Mike and me, “Does this driveway look like a garden to you?”
“No,” Mike said.
“Not at all,” I said.
She
got out her phone and rang the driver.
She talked on the phone and kicked the dirt. She said, “I want the dirt in my garden. I don’t want it in my driveway.” She stopped and listened. Then she yelled, “But you have to come and fix it! It’s going to rain! There’ll be a terrible mess.”
She got off the phone and said to Mike and me, “He’s not coming.” Wow! We could play in the dirt forever. But then she said, “What’ll I do? I can’t move all this dirt before the rain starts. If it gets wet there’ll be mud, mud and more mud.”
That sounded good to me and Mike. But we could tell she was upset. “We’ll move it for you,” I said. After all, we were in the earth moving business.
It was a big offer. But she went on being upset. “You won’t be able to do it before the rain starts.”
“We’ll get help,” I said. We ran down the road.
“Come and help move Mrs Mannaby’s dirt pile,” I told Cassie.
“Come and help move Mrs Mannaby’s dirt pile,” Mike told Jason.
“No,” said Jason.
“Cassie’s coming,” I said. Jason went and got a shovel and a wheelbarrow. Mum came to help. Dad came to help. Two people from down the road came to help.
Mrs Mannaby smiled again. “We might get it done before the rain comes,” she said.
Mike and I hitched our machines together. We hitched the tip truck to the articulated truck. Then we hitched on the trailer. Then we hitched the dump truck to the trailer.
We filled up each truck. We used the digger and the bulldozer. People kept getting in our way.
“Watch out, you two,” said Dad.
“Out of my way,” said Jason.
Well! It was our idea in the first place.
“We have to change our equipment,” I said to Mike. “We have to move with the times.”
“Like how?” he asked. He doesn’t always have too many ideas.
“Get your skateboard,” I said. I got mine. I got rope. I got the washing basket. I put a big plastic bag inside it. I tied it onto the two skateboards. I made a handle.
“Cool!” said Mike. “It’s a basket cart.”
“No,” I said. “It’s an earth transporter.” See what I mean about Mike? He doesn’t always have too many ideas.
The dirt pile was getting smaller. We filled our earth transporter with dirt. We pulled it down the drive. We tipped the dirt onto the garden.
Jason tipped his wheelbarrow full of dirt out beside us. He laughed at our earth transporter. Cassie came with her bucket full of dirt. “What a great invention!” she said.
“I wish I’d thought of that.” She gave me a hug.
Jason looked sick.
Mrs Mannaby said, “Wonderful! Wonderful! We might get done before the rain comes.”
Dad said, “My son the inventor!” He patted my head.
Mum said, “I hope you wash that basket when you’ve finished with it.” Sometimes my mother just can’t see the big picture.
We worked. We dug the dirt. We filled the earth transporter. We pulled it. We tipped it. We got tired but we kept going.
The sky got darker. Some fat drops of rain fell. The dirt pile got smaller. The sky got darker still. We dug faster. We ran faster. We tipped faster. The sky got darker still. The dirt pile got smaller. Our shovels scraped on the driveway. More fat drops of rain fell.
“We’ve nearly finished,” said Mrs Mannaby.
Mike and I tipped our last load. The rain came down. It fell hard and fast.
“That’s okay,” said Mrs Mannaby. “It’ll wash the driveway clean.” She gave us hot drinks and apple cake.
Mike and I took our machinery home. “I wish we had a dirt pile of our own,” I said.
The next fine day, Mrs Mannaby knocked on our door. “Come with me,” she said.
She walked to the garden behind her house. “See that corner?” she said.
I saw it. It had good dirt in it. It would be the best place to use my earth moving machinery. “That’s for you and Mike,” she said. “I don’t need all this garden. I don’t need all this dirt.” She patted my head.
I gave her a huge hug. Then I ran and banged on Mike’s door. “Bring your machines. We’ve got dirt at Mrs Mannaby’s!”
‘The Earth Moving Business’ was first published by Random House New Zealand in Another 30 New Zealand Stories for Children in October 2002.
How Hugo Wart Hog Found True Happiness
Roger Hall
Hugo Wart Hog did some push-ups. Then he did sit-ups. Then he went for a trot along the banks of the river. He got home and gazed at himself in the mirror.
“No doubt about it,” he thought, “that is a neat wart hog body!” Then he thought, “So why aren’t the girl wart hogs crazy for me?”
But he knew the reason. He had no warts.
“It’ll happen,” said his mother. “One day you’ll wake up and there they are. You’ll be a grown-up wart hog.”
“Pimples would do,” he said, “at least for the time being.” He ate lots of chocolate and wouldn’t drink water and refused his greens.
Each morning he would peer into the mirror at his face. “Yuk!” he said. “Not a single spot.”
Each day he had to walk past Max’s Water Hole, where all the young girl wart hogs used to hang around. They giggled about him.
“No warts at all,” they would say. “Just a kid wart hog.”
In despair, he went to The Wart Hog Beauty Salon. He spoke to the nice young assistant. Politely he told her what the trouble was. She knew the answer.
“Here,” she whispered. “Stick-on warts.”
She helped place a lot of warts all over Hugo’s face and body.
“There!” she said. “Look at yourself.” He looked terrific.
Hugo went straight away towards Max’s Water Hole. The girl wart hogs saw him coming, but didn’t realise it was Hugo.
“Woweeee!” said Wilma. “Look at that cool wart hog!”
“Hey baby,” shouted all the girl wart hogs. “Sling some mud with me!”
He refused politely but asked Wilma to accompany him to the Wart Hog Wallow on Saturday night.
“You bet,” she said.
On Saturday night, he stuck on a few more warts and then collected Wilma from her swamp.
Soon they were happily squelching, wallowing and mud-throwing to the beat of Harry Wart Hog and The Trotters. Suddenly Hugo realised Wilma was staring at him.
“Your warts,” she gasped. “They’re … they’re gone!”
And so they were.
And so was Wilma.
Hugo went home and stayed in bed for three days. Then he got up and went to the Wart Hog Beauty Salon. He went up to the assistant.
“All my warts fell off,” he said.
“They do that sometimes,” she said. “I’m sorry. Would you like your money back?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said sadly.
“Well,” she said, “I do have two tickets for the special showing tonight of the new movie, An American Wart Hog in Space. Would you like to come with me?”
“Oh yes please!” said Hugo. “But … but I have no warts.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m asking you because you were polite to me the first time you came here. Today you weren’t angry. You’re a nice wart hog.”
They went to the movie that night and when it got frightening they held trotters.
Three weeks later, when Hugo woke up, he realised he had warts all over him. Just as his mother had said.
Mother wart hogs are always right.
‘How Hugo Wart Hog Found True Happiness’ was first published by Random House New Zealand in Another 30 New Zealand Stories for Children in October 2002.
Bone Growing
Janice Marriott
Dog and Cat were in the garden, watching their pet human planting seeds. Cat was bored — so bored that she started talking to Dog. “What are you eating?”
Dog replied, “A teeny weeny bone. It�
��s all I’ve got. Our pet human is too busy gardening to feed me properly.”
They both stretched and turned in the sun, to get a better look at their mysterious pet human.
Cat complained, “All that working he’s doing is making me tired.”
Dog agreed. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he was doing something useful. What is he doing, do you think?”
“He’s burying teeny weeny seeds in the soil and then he’s patting the soil and stroking it,” said Cat, staring hard at their pet human.
Dog dropped his bone. “Now, why would he want to do that?”
Cat washed herself with long lazy strokes. “You don’t understand much, do you?” she said.
Dog looked sad. “I understand how to crunch bones, and how to sniff for other dogs’ pee mails and —”
“You don’t understand gardening,” announced Cat. “See. Those teeny weeny seeds are hard and dry —”
“Just like my bone!” interrupted Dog, wagging his tail.
Cat continued. “He buries them to soften them and —”
“I do that! I do that!” barked Dog.
“They grow and —”
Dog howled, “They grow! Really! That’s amazing!”
Cat looked down her nose at Dog who was rolling on the grass and waggling his legs in the air.
“Yes,” she continued. “When the seeds get wet from the rain in the soil, they grow bigger and bigger until —”
“Wooof! Until what? What?” Dog was jumping up and down. Thrashing his tail from side to side.
“I’m not telling you any more if you keep interrupting me,” said Cat, settling into a tight ball shape, with her tail wrapped over her head. Dog pawed the ground.
“Go on!” he barked.
Cat pretended to be reluctant. In fact she loved the sound of her own voice, and she loved getting Dog overexcited.
“Until they become huge,” she said softly.
“Huge? What?” woofed Dog. “Hu-ooo-ge? You mean the bones? Wow!” He chased his tail because he couldn’t stay still. “Huge, huge bones! No! That would be a dream come true!”
Cat smirked. “Yes,” she purred. “Some of the seeds get huge under the ground, like potatoes. And some get big and juicy above ground, like tomatoes. And then —” She stopped to clean her tail, very slowly.
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