Horrid Henry Wakes the Dead

by Francesca Simon

  Horrid Henry’s hand shot up. “I nominate…me!” he shrieked.

  “You?” said Mrs. Oddbod coldly.

  “Me,” said Horrid Henry.

  “I second it,” shouted Rude Ralph.

  Henry beamed at Ralph. He’d make Ralph his grand vizier. Or maybe Lord High Executioner.

  “Any more nominations?” said Mrs. Oddbod. She looked unhappy. “Come on, Bert, what would you do to improve the school?”

  “I dunno,” said Bert.

  “Clare?” said Mrs. Oddbod.

  “More fractions!” said Clare.

  Horrid Henry caught Ralph’s eye.

  “Boo!” yelled Ralph. “Down with Clare!”

  “Yeah, boo!” yelled Dizzy Dave.

  “Boo!” hissed Horrid Henry.

  “Last chance to nominate anyone else,” said Mrs. Oddbod desperately.

  Silence.

  “All right,” said Mrs. Oddbod, “you have two candidates for president. Posters can be displayed beginning tomorrow. Speeches the day after tomorrow. Good luck to both candidates.”

  Horrid Henry glared at Moody Margaret.

  Moody Margaret glared at Horrid Henry.

  I’ll beat that grumpface frog if it’s the last thing I do, thought Horrid Henry.

  I’ll beat that pongy pants pimple if it’s the last thing I do, thought Moody Margaret.

  “Vote Margaret! Margaret for president!” trilled Sour Susan the next day, as she and Margaret handed out leaflets during playtime.

  “Ha ha, Henry, I’m going to win, and you’re not!” chanted Margaret, sticking out her tongue.

  “Yeah Henry, Margaret’s going to win,” said Sour Susan.

  “Oh yeah?” said Henry. Wait till she saw his fantastic campaign posters with the big picture of King Henry the Horrible.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Horrid Henry.

  He’d better start campaigning at once. Now, whose votes could he count on?

  Ralph’s for sure. And, uh…um…uhmmmm…Ralph.

  Toby might vote for him but he’d probably have to beg. Hmmm. Two votes were not enough to win. He’d have to get more support. Well, no time like the present to remind everyone what a great guy he was.

  Zippy Zoe zipped past. Horrid Henry smiled at her. Zoe stopped dead.

  “Why are you smiling at me, Henry?” said Zippy Zoe. She checked to see if she’d come to school wearing pajamas or if her jumper had a big hole.

  “Just because it’s so nice to see you,” said Horrid Henry. “Will you vote for me for president?”

  Zoe stared at him. “Margaret gave me a pencil with her name on it,” said Zoe. “And a sticker. What will you give me?”

  Give? Give? Horrid Henry liked getting. He did not like giving. So Margaret was bribing people, was she? Well, two could play at that game. He’d bring tons of candy into school tomorrow and hand them out to everyone who promised to vote for him. That would guarantee victory! And he’d make sure that everyone had to give him candy after he’d won.

  Anxious Andrew walked by wearing a “Margaret for President’ sticker.

  “Oooh, Andrew, I wouldn’t vote for her,” said Henry. “Do you know what she’s planning to do?” Henry whispered in Andrew’s ear. Andrew gasped.

  “No,” said Andrew.

  “Yes,” said Henry. “And ban chips, too. You know what an old bossyboots Margaret is.”

  Henry handed him a leaflet.

  Andrew looked uncertain.

  “Vote for me and I’ll make you Vice-Chairman of the Presidential Snacks Subcommittee.”

  “Oooh,” said Andrew.

  Henry promised the same job to Dizzy Dave, Jolly Josh, and Weepy William.

  He promised Needy Neil his mom could sit with him in class. He promised Singing Soraya she could sing every day in assembly. He promised Greedy Graham there’d be ice cream every day for lunch.

  The election is in the bag, thought Horrid Henry gleefully. He fingered the magic marker in his pocket. Tee-hee. Just wait till Margaret saw how he was planning to graffiti her poster! And wasn’t it lucky that it was impossible to graffiti his name or change it to something rude. Shame, thought Horrid Henry, that Peter wasn’t running for president. If you crossed out the t and the r you’d get “Vote for Pee.”

  Horrid Henry strolled over to the wall where the campaign posters were displayed.

  Huh?

  What?

  A terrible sight met his eyes. His “Vote for Henry’ posters had been defaced. Instead of his crowned head, a horrible picture of a chicken’s head had been glued on top of his body. And the ry of his name had been crossed out.

  Beneath it was written:

  “Cluck cluck yuck! Vote for a Hen? No way!”

  What a dirty trick, thought Horrid Henry indignantly. How dare Margaret deface his posters! Just because he’d handed out leaflets showing Margaret with a frog’s face. Margaret was a frog-face. The school needed to know the truth about her.

  Well, no more Mr. Nice Guy. This was war.

  Moody Margaret entered the playground. A terrible sight met her eyes. All her “Vote Margaret’ posters had been defaced. Huge beards and mustaches had been drawn on every one. Beneath the picture, instead of “Be on target! Vote Margaret!” the words now read:

  The next poster read:

  How dare Henry graffiti over her posters! I’ll get you Henry, thought Margaret. Just wait until tomorrow.

  The next day was campaign speech day. Horrid Henry sat on the stage with Moody Margaret in front of the entire school. He was armed and ready. Margaret would be blasted from the race. As Margaret rose to speak, Henry made a horrible, gagging face.

  “We face a great danger,” said Moody Margaret. “Do you want a leader like me? Or a loser like Henry? Do you want someone who will make you proud of this school? Or someone like Henry who will make you ashamed? I will be the best president ever. I’m already captain of the soccer team. I know how to tell people what to do. This school will be heaven with me in charge. Remember, a vote for me will brighten every school day.”

  “Go Margaret!” yelled Sour Susan as Margaret sat down.

  Horrid Henry rose to speak.

  “When I’m president,” said Horrid Henry, “I promise a Goo-Shooter Day! I promise a Gross-Out Day! With my best friend Marvin the Maniac presenting the prize. School will start at lunchtime and end after playtime. Gobble and Go will run the school cafeteria. I promise no homework! I promise skateboarding in the hall! I promise ice cream! And candy!

  “If you vote for Margaret, you’ll get a dictator. And how do I know this? Because I have discovered her top-secret plans!” Horrid Henry pulled out a piece of paper covered in writing and showed it to the hall. “Just listen to what she wrote:

  “I never wrote that!” screeched Margaret.

  “She would say that, wouldn’t she?” said Henry smoothly. “But the voters need to know the truth.”

  “He’s lying!” shouted Margaret.

  “Don’t be fooled, everyone! Margaret will ban candy! Margaret will ban chips! Margaret will make you do lots more homework. Margaret wants to have school seven days a week.

  “So vote Henry if you want to stop this evil fiend! Vote Henry for tons of candy! Vote Henry for tons of fun! Vote Henry for president!”

  “Henry! Henry! Henry!” shouted Ralph, as Henry sat down to rapturous applause.

  He’d done it! He’d won! And by a landslide. Yes!! He was President Lord High Master of the Universe! Just wait till he started bossing everyone around! Margaret had been defeated—at last!

  Mrs. Oddbod glared at Henry as they sat in her office after the results had been announced. She looked gray. “As president, you will call the school council meeting to order. You will organize the bathroom tidy rotation. You will lead the litter collection every playtime.”

  Horrid Henry’s knees felt weak.

  Bathroom…tidy…rotation? Litter? What?? That was his job? That’s why he’d schemed
and bribed and fought and campaigned and given away all that candy?

  Where was his throne? His title? His power?

  NOOO!

  “I resign!” said Horrid Henry.

  Ding dong.

  “I’ll get it!” shrieked Horrid Henry. He jumped off the sofa, pushed past Peter, ran to the door, and flung it open.

  “Hi, Grandma,” said Horrid Henry. He looked at her hopefully. Yes! She was holding a huge carrier bag. Something lumpy and bumpy bulged inside. But not just any old something, like knitting or a spare sweater. Something big. Something ginormous. That meant…that meant…yippee!

  Horrid Henry loved it when Grandma visited, because she often brought him a present. Mom and Dad gave really boring presents, like socks and dictionaries and games like Virtual Classroom and Name that Vegetable.

  Grandma gave really great presents, like fire engines with wailing sirens, shrieking zombies with flashing lights, and once, even the Snappy Zappy Critters that Mom and Dad had said he couldn’t have even if he begged for a million years.

  “Where’s my present?” said Horrid Henry, lunging for Grandma’s bag. “Gimme my present!”

  “Don’t be horrid, Henry,” said Mom, grabbing him and holding him back.

  “I’m not being horrid, I just want my present,” said Henry, scowling. Why should he wait a second longer when it was obvious Grandma had some fantastic gift for him?

  “Hi, Grandma,” said Peter. “You know you don’t need to bring me a present when you come to visit. You’re the present.”

  Horrid Henry’s foot longed to kick Peter into the next room.

  “Wait till after you get your present,” hissed his head.

  “Good thinking,” said his foot.

  “Thank you, Peter,” said Grandma. “Now, have you been good boys?”

  “I’ve been perfect,” said Peter. “But Henry’s been horrid.”

  “Have not,” said Henry.

  “Have too,” said Peter. “Henry took all my crayons and melted them on the radiator.”

  “That was an accident,” said Henry. “How was I supposed to know they would melt? And next time get out of the hammock when you’re told.”

  “But it was my turn,” said Peter.

  “Was not.”

  “Was too, you wormy worm toad—”

  “Right,” said Grandma. She reached into the bag and pulled out two gigantic dinosaurs. One Tyrannosaurus Rex was purple, the other was green.

  “RAAAAAAAA,” roared one dinosaur, rearing and bucking and stretching out his bloodred claws.

  “FEED ME!” bellowed the other,

  shaking his head and gnashing his teeth.

  Horrid Henry’s heart stopped. His jaw dropped. His mouth opened to speak, but no sound came out.

  Two Tyrannosaur Dinosaur Roars! Only the greatest toy ever in the history of the universe! Everyone wanted one. How had Grandma found them? They’d been sold out for weeks. Moody Margaret would die of jealousy when she saw Henry’s T-Rex and heard it roaring and bellowing and stomping around the yard.

  “Wow,” said Horrid Henry.

  “Wow,” said Perfect Peter.

  Grandma smiled. “Who wants the purple one, and who wants the green one?”

  That was a thought. Which one should he choose? Which T-Rex was the best?

  Horrid Henry looked at the purple dinosaur.

  Hmmm, thought Henry, I do love the color purple.

  Perfect Peter looked at the purple dinosaur.

  Hmmm, thought Peter, those claws are a bit scary.

  Horrid Henry looked at the green dinosaur.

  Oooh, thought Henry. I like those red eyes.

  Perfect Peter looked at the green dinosaur.

  Oooh, thought Peter, those eyes are awfully red.

  Horrid Henry sneaked a peek at Peter to see which dinosaur he wanted.

  Perfect Peter sneaked a peek at Henry to see which dinosaur he wanted.

  Then they pounced.

  “I want the purple one,” said Henry, snatching it out of Grandma’s hand. “Purple rules.”

  “I want the purple one,” said Peter.

  “I said it first,” said Henry. He clutched the Tyrannosaurus tightly. How could he have hesitated for a moment? What was he thinking? The purple one was best. The green one was horrible. Who ever heard of a green T-Rex anyway?

  Perfect Peter didn’t know what to say. Henry had said it first. But the purple Tyrannosaurus was so obviously better than the green. Its teeth were pointier. Its scales were scalier. Its big clumpy feet were so much clumpier.

  “I thought it first,” whimpered Peter.

  Henry snorted. “I thought it first, and I said it first. The purple one’s mine,” he said. Just wait until he showed it to the Purple Hand Gang. What a guard it would make.

  Perfect Peter looked at the purple dinosaur.

  Perfect Peter looked at the green dinosaur.

  Couldn’t he be perfect and accept the green one? The one Henry didn’t want?

  “But I’m obviously the best,” hissed the purple T-Rex. “Who’d want the boring old green one? Blecccchhhh.”

  “It’s true, I’m not as good as the purple one,” sobbed the green dinosaur. “The purple is for big boys, the green is for babies.”

  “I want the purple one!” wailed Peter. He started to cry.

  “But they’re exactly the same,” said Mom. “They’re just different colors.”

  “I want the purple one!” screamed Henry and Peter.

  “Oh dear,“ said Grandma.

  “Henry, you’re the oldest, let Peter have the purple one,” said Dad.

  WHAT?

  “NO!” said Horrid Henry. “It’s mine.” He clutched it tightly.

  “He’s only little,” said Mom.

  “So?” said Horrid Henry. “It’s not fair. I want the purple one!”

  “Give it to him, Henry,” said Dad.

  “NOOOOOOO!” screamed Henry. “NOOOOOO!”

  “I’m counting, Henry,” said Mom. “No TV tonight…no TV tomorrow…no TV…”

  “NOOOO!” screamed Horrid Henry. Then he hurled the purple dinosaur at Peter.

  Henry could hardly believe what had just happened. Just because he was the oldest, he had to take the bad present? It was totally and utterly and completely unfair.

  “I want the purple one!”

  “You know that ‘I want doesn’t get,’” said Peter. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”

  “It certainly is,” said Mom.

  Horrid Henry pounced. He was a ginormous crocodile chomping on a very chewy child.

  “AAAIIIEEEEE!” screamed Peter. “Henry bit me.”

  “Don’t be horrid, Henry!” shouted Mom. “Poor Peter.”

  “Serves him right!” shrieked Horrid Henry. “You’re the meanest parents in the world and I hate you.”

  “Go to your room!” shouted Dad.

  “No allowance for a week!” shouted Mom.

  “Fine!” screamed Horrid Henry.

  Horrid Henry sat in his bedroom. He glared at the snot-green dinosaur scowling at him from where he’d thrown it on the floor and stomped on it. He hated the color green. He loved the color purple. The leader of the Purple Hand Gang deserved the purple Dinosaur Roar.

  He’d make Peter swap dinosaurs if it was the last thing he did. And if Peter wouldn’t swap, he’d be sorry he was born. Henry would…Henry could…

  And then suddenly Horrid Henry had a wonderful, wicked idea. Why had he never thought of this before?

  Perfect Peter sat in his bedroom. He smiled at the purple dinosaur as it lurched, roaring around the room.

  “RRRRAAAAAAAAA! RAAAAAAAAA! FEED ME!” bellowed the dinosaur.

  How lucky he was to have the purple dinosaur. Purple was much better than green. It was only fair that Peter got the purple dinosaur, and Henry got the yucky green one. After all, Peter was perfect and Henry was horrid. Peter deserved the purple one.

  Suddenly Horrid Henry burst into his bed
room.

  “Mom said to stay in your room,” squealed Peter, shoving the dinosaur under his desk and standing guard in front of it. Henry would have to drag him away kicking and screaming before he got his hands on Peter’s T-Rex.

  “So?” said Henry.

  “I’m telling on you,” said Peter.

  “Go ahead,” said Henry. “I’m telling on you, wibble pants.”

  Tell on him? Tell what?

  “There’s nothing to tell,” said Perfect Peter.

  “Oh yes there is,” said Henry. “I’m going to tell everyone what a mean, horrid, wormy toad you are, stealing the purple dinosaur when I said I wanted it first.”

  Perfect Peter gasped. Horrid? Him?

  “I didn’t steal it,” said Peter. “And I’m not horrid.”

  “Are too.”

  “Am not. I’m perfect.”

  “No you’re not. If you were really perfect, you wouldn’t be so selfish,” said Henry.

  “I’m not selfish,” whimpered Peter.

  But was he being selfish keeping the purple dinosaur, when Henry wanted it so badly?

  “Mom and Dad said I could have it,” said Peter weakly.

  “That’s ’cause they knew you’d just start crying,” said Henry. “Actually, they’re disappointed in you. I heard them.”

  “What did they say?” gasped Peter.

  “That you were a crybaby,” said Henry.

  “I’m not a crybaby,” said Peter.

  “Then why are you acting like one, crybaby?”

  Could Henry be telling the truth? Mom and Dad…disappointed in him…thinking he was a baby? A selfish baby? A horrid, selfish baby?

  Oh no, thought Peter. Could Henry be right? Was he being horrid?

  “Go on, Peter,” urged his angel. “Give Henry the purple one. After all, they’re exactly the same, just different colors.”

  “Don’t do it!” urged his devil. “Why should you always be perfect? Be horrid for once.”

  “Umm, umm,” said Peter.