The Shocking Trouble on the Planet of Shobble

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The Shocking Trouble on the Planet of Shobble Page 9

by L. M. Moriarty


  ‘Is it that shrub talking?’ whispered Shimlara. She pointed at a short, stout snow-encrusted shrub in the corner of their clearing.

  Nicola gasped as it started walking towards them. Talking, walking plants!

  ‘Would you look at all your faces!’ the shrub said. ‘Am I really so old I’ve started looking like greenery?’

  And suddenly it wasn’t a shrub at all.

  It was a very, very, very old Shobbling man.

  He seemed to be dressed in a long coat with an ancient black scarf around his neck, but he was covered in such a thick layer of snow you could hardly tell his clothes were clothes. Even his eyelashes were white with snow. He was hunched over, leaning on a stick, and his face was a mass of wrinkles like a withered old apple.

  ‘My name is Horatio Banks,’ he said. ‘And it looks to me like I’m about to meet my first Earthlings. How interesting! Just when I thought life might have stopped being interesting, it gets interesting again. You know, I’ve always been fascinated by your planet, although I’ve never had the privilege of visiting.’ His eyes fell on Shimlara. ‘But if I’m not mistaken, you seem a little tall to be an Earthling. Let me guess – a Globagaskarian, am I right? I once travelled there for business. A very get-up-and-go sort of planet.’

  ‘We like to think so,’ said Shimlara.

  ‘I’m sorry if we’ve taken your campsite – I mean, kitchen,’ said Nicola. ‘Is this where you live?’ She hoped the poor man didn’t have to sleep in the snow.

  Horatio settled himself comfortably on the mossy log. ‘This has been my home for the last thirty years,’ he said. ‘This log is my armchair during the day and it doubles up nicely as a bed at night. A few newspapers make lovely crispy blankets.’

  Everyone winced.

  ‘Have a hot drink,’ said Sean, pouring him a cup.

  ‘And a hot pastry,’ added Tyler. ‘Actually have two. Have three!’

  Horatio looked amused as the boys fussed about him like grandmas.

  ‘We’re the Space Brigade,’ said Nicola, and introduced each of them.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you all,’ said Horatio. ‘Mmmm, I’d quite forgotten the glorious sensation of eating and drinking hot food.’ He took a long sip of his hot chocolate, smacked his lips and said, ‘And tell me, what are you all doing in the Valley of High Hopes?’

  ‘We’re on our way –’ began Nicola. ‘We’re here because –’

  She hesitated, remembering Joy’s warning that Enrico’s spies would be everywhere. There was too much snow crusted on Horatio’s head to see if he had the little ‘t’ mark that meant he was a Topaz supporter. Then again, it seemed like he’d been living in this valley for so long he might not even know that Topaz existed.

  ‘We’re on a mission for the Commander-in-Chief of Shobble,’ she said carefully.

  ‘Ah, and who might that be?’ asked Horatio. ‘I’m a few decades behind on my current affairs.’

  ‘His name is Enrico Aloisio,’ said Greta.

  Horatio clapped his hands together and burst out laughing. ‘Not Naughty Enrico!’

  ‘Do you know him?’ asked Shimlara.

  ‘I was his teacher. He was a sweet child except for when things didn’t go his way. He used to throw the most remarkable tantrums, lying on the floor, kicking and screaming.’

  ‘I can imagine him doing that,’ said Sean.

  ‘And the poor child suffered from terrible phobias,’ said Horatio. ‘He had xanthophobia and –’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Nicola.

  ‘Fear of the colour yellow,’ explained Horatio. ‘We had to hide the yellow paints or he’d end up dribbling in the corner. He also had koumpounophobia. That’s a fear of buttons. He was terrified of them! Let’s see, what else? Oh, yes, he had melophobia. That’s a fear of music. When he threw his tantrums I’d just threaten to sing a song and that would shut him up, quick smart! And there was one more thing . . .’

  Horatio frowned at the sandwich Shimlara had just given him and then he snapped his fingers. ‘He had arachibutyrophobia. That’s a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. Tell me, does he still suffer from all those phobias?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Nicola. ‘He is quite . . . strange.’

  ‘I always told him that he needed to stop letting his phobias rule his life but he wouldn’t listen. And now the little scamp is in charge of Shobble, eh? Does he do a good job?’ Horatio took a massive bite of the sandwich.

  ‘Well,’ said Nicola. ‘We’re from another planet so we don’t really know, but the thing is, the marshmallow miners and chocolate drillers don’t get paid for their work.’

  ‘They don’t need any money,’ said Horatio cheerfully. ‘They just go along to the Department of Free Goods and Services for anything they need – clothing, building materials, medicine, food other than chocolate . . . It’s an enormous building. You just wheel your trolley about and help yourself. Wonderful place.’

  Nicola thought back to the building they’d passed when they first arrived in Shobble.

  ‘I think Enrico closed it,’ said Nicola.

  ‘Oh.’ Horatio’s bushy eyebrows drew together to form a ‘v’ shape. ‘But then what does he do with all the money from the sales of ShobbleChoc?’

  ‘He spends it on himself and his family and other hairities,’ said Greta.

  ‘What’s a hairity?’ asked Horatio.

  ‘It’s someone with long straight brown hair,’ explained Nicola. ‘They’re like celebrities on this planet. People take photos of them.’

  Horatio clapped his hands together. ‘What a turn up for the books! Once upon a time children would make fun of people with long brown hair just because they were unusual. Enrico, for example, was teased terribly at school because of his hair. He used to get very upset.’ Horatio paused. He seemed to be thinking. ‘Perhaps that’s what this is all about. Naughty Enrico is taking revenge on all those people who teased him at school.’

  ‘I thought Shobble people were the nicest people in the galaxy,’ said Shimlara. ‘Why did the other children tease him?’

  ‘Well, I must admit that’s something of a myth we do like to encourage. While we are extremely nice, easygoing people, there are exceptions to every rule,’ said Horatio. ‘But tell me, why are the people of Shobble putting up with this shabby treatment by Naughty Enrico?’

  ‘It’s not that easy to get rid of a Commander-in-Chief,’ said Nicola, thinking of Enrico’s huge Security Thugs.

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t think it would be that much trouble,’ said Horatio airily.

  The members of the Space Brigade exchanged looks that meant, Huh, what does he know!

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Horatio. ‘You’re thinking, He’s just an old man, what would he know?’

  ‘Oh, no, not at all!’ they protested.

  ‘Well I actually know quite a lot,’ said Horatio. ‘My great-grandmother was one of the people who helped draft Shobble’s Constitution. I know every word of the Constitution off by heart. You might be interested in clause 367-AAB-38479579034554. Shall I recite it to you?’

  ‘All right,’ said Nicola, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. They really needed to get going soon.

  ‘“If enough Shobble people sign a petition on a length of rose-coloured parchment, calling politely and respectfully for the removal of a Commander-in-Chief, and that parchment is long enough to stretch the length of a Shobble rainbow, then the Commander must resign gracefully and immediately, whereupon an election must be held for a new Commander. An attractive thank-you card should be sent to the resigning Commander within fourteen days.”’

  The Space Brigade stared at Horatio. Surely it couldn’t be that easy.

  ‘My great-grandmother was a stickler for good manners,’ said Horatio. ‘That’s why there is all that stuff about “politely” and “respectfully”.’

  ‘But Enrico would just ignore the Constitution,’ said Sean. ‘Or maybe he’s even changed that rule a
lready.’

  ‘Nobody can change the Constitution,’ said Horatio. ‘That’s clause number 1739-ZZZZ-1749237937432798489, which says, “The Constitution is perfect, thanks very much, and cannot and shall not ever be changed.” And the Constitution certainly cannot be ignored, even by Naughty Enrico. The little rogue!’

  ‘Well,’ said Nicola doubtfully. She could so easily imagine Enrico curling his lip and saying he was far too important for the Constitution to apply to him. ‘But why hasn’t anyone thought of this before?’

  ‘I expect because the Constitution takes up over two thousand volumes and nobody can be bothered to read it all,’ said Horatio.

  Suddenly Nicola was filled with hope. This will solve everything. This mission will be as easy as pie! We’ll just arrange for a petition as long as a rainbow calling for Enrico’s resignation!

  She shook herself. ‘Why does this valley make you feel so hopeful?’ she asked Horatio.

  ‘They say that it’s this particular species of tree.’ Horatio pointed out a gnarled old tree with fat purple leaves. ‘It’s called the Hope Tree. Apparently it releases a particular chemical that triggers a feeling of hopefulness.’

  ‘So it’s not real,’ said Greta, looking disappointed.

  ‘Oh, hopes are always real,’ said Horatio. ‘It’s just that most of the time we try to squish them down. In the valley, our hopes are allowed to grow and flourish – like they should!’

  As they were packing up their picnic, Shimlara said to Horatio, ‘May I ask you a question, Horatio?’

  ‘Certainly.’

  ‘Why do you live here in the valley all alone? Don’t you have a family?’

  ‘I had a falling out with my family many years ago,’ said Horatio. ‘There was a terrible argument over the merits of milk chocolate versus dark chocolate. Unforgivable things were said – mostly by me. I stormed off in a huff one stormy night and ended up here.’

  Horatio’s face filled with despair as he recalled that night. Then suddenly it cleared as though the sun had come out. ‘But I know that one day my family will forgive me. Just when I least expect it, they’ll turn up and tell me it’s time to come home.’

  ‘But Horatio, wouldn’t it be better if you went and said sorry to your family?’ said Nicola. ‘They might not even know where you are!’

  ‘Oh, if they’d forgiven me they would have found me by now.’ Horatio settled himself back down on his log. ‘I’m sure they’ll be along any minute. Don’t worry about me.’

  Nicola couldn’t think of anything further to say. She looked around at the others, who were climbing up on to their well-rested ShobGobbles. They shrugged slightly.

  Quicksilver pawed at the ground. It was time for their journey to continue.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Nicola said.

  20

  Nobody in the Space Brigade said anything as they once again followed the paved path through the Valley of High Hopes.

  Ridiculously hopeful thoughts continued to creep into Nicola’s head.

  I expect I’ll win a trip to Disneyland soon. Maybe in a raffle. Or I might find the winning ticket in a cereal box.

  I bet they stop teaching maths in school soon. It’s not as if anybody LIKES it – except for the people who are good at it, and they don’t need to learn it anyway!

  ‘I think we must have reached the bottom of the valley,’ called out Tyler. ‘We seem to be heading up again.’

  He was right. Nicola could feel it was more of an effort for Quicksilver as the path ahead became steeper. She stroked the creature’s feathery mane to show her appreciation.

  An hour passed and the light was becoming brighter.

  ‘I can smell chocolate again,’ said Sean, sniffing deeply.

  Nicola saw an archway ahead with a sign. As they got closer, she read:

  THANK YOU FOR VISITING THE VALLEY OF HIGH HOPES

  May your HOPES continue to fly high . . . COME AGAIN!

  The ShobGobbles trotted under the archway and suddenly the Space Brigade were all squinting, blinking and reaching for their sunglasses as they came out into the sunlight and the blinding colours of the rainbows.

  Nicola’s sunglasses were looking a bit out-of-date compared to Greta’s oversized movie-star pair. I’ll have to get some new ones before I compete in the Olympic Games, she thought. After all, I’ll have all those television cameras – wait a second! Suddenly she realised there was no way in the world she was going to be an Olympic athlete. She smiled at herself, as all those crazy hopes drifted away, but their memory lingered, like the taste of something delicious.

  ‘Let me check the map,’ she called out to the others.

  Everyone pulled up their ShobGobbles, and Nicola took out the map.

  ‘Next we cross the Raging River at the Safe Hands Bridge,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t see any sign for the Raging River,’ said Shimlara.

  ‘Neither can I,’ said Nicola. ‘I guess we’ll just have to head west. So that would be, um . . .’ She looked up helplessly at the rainbows arching over them. Which way was west? She had absolutely no idea.

  ‘We need a compass,’ said Tyler.

  ‘Ahem,’ said Greta. They all turned to look at her. She was holding her compass up high. ‘Luckily some of us packed something useful.’

  ‘Oh, well done,’ said Nicola, wishing she’d been the one to bring a compass.

  ‘Don’t worry, Nic,’ said Sean. ‘I’m sure your jar of turmeric will come in useful soon.’

  Nicola made a face at him.

  Greta studied the compass for ages with a deadly serious expression on her face, until Sean said, ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ snapped Greta. ‘Unlike Nicola, I have brilliant navigational skills.’ She looked up from the compass and pointed to her left. ‘That way.’

  ‘Good,’ said Nicola. She looked at her watch. ‘We’ll try and go a bit faster. We don’t want to be crossing the river in the dark.’

  Nicola saw Sean give her a grin of understanding.

  ‘Will you be all right going a bit faster, Greta?’ Nicola asked innocently.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said Greta grimly.

  Nicola tapped her feather hard and Quicksilver responded by breaking into such a fast gallop Nicola was sure she would fall. That would make Greta completely unbearable.

  After a few seconds she managed to get her rhythm back and start to enjoy the sensation of pelting across a snowy field, the air rushing against her face. They passed another marshmallow mine, a village and a ramshackle old school.

  A few minutes later, she saw a sign saying RAGING RIVER, with an arrow pointing straight ahead. They pounded along, going up a small hill, and Nicola caught a glimpse of a frozen sea in the distance before they plunged down again, following a winding track in and out of huge grey tree trunks that soared as high as the arches of the rainbows.

  There was a sound of rushing water.

  ‘Whoa!’ She pulled on Quicksilver’s reins. ‘I think we’re here.’

  Nicola looked with fascination at the river in front of her. She’d never seen such angry, powerful water. It frothed and boiled and bubbled like water bursting from a fireman’s hose. There was no way you could swim in it – it would toss you about and tear you to pieces.

  The river was so wide Nicola couldn’t see the other shore. She looked around for the Safe Hands Bridge. There it was – a thin, rickety bridge that seemed to be held up by string.

  ‘It doesn’t look like you’d be in especially safe hands crossing that,’ commented Shimlara as she and Sean pulled up on either side of Nicola.

  ‘Let’s just fly the ShobGobbles across,’ said Sean.

  Nicola noticed Quicksilver tense up and flatten his ears.

  ‘I think it’s too far for them,’ she said, and Quicksilver relaxed.

  Tyler arrived next. ‘You wouldn’t want to fall in,’ he said, looking at the river nervously. He wasn’t a confident swimmer and always stayed at
the shallow end of the pool.

  They all turned around to look for Greta. She pulled up beside them a minute later, her face bright red. ‘I’m sure we didn’t really need to go that fast,’ she said.

  As they headed towards the bridge they came across a bearded, toothless man sitting in a picnic chair with his feet up on a long table in front of him.

  ‘Shock-Sticks! Shock-Sticks! We’ve got the best-quality Shock-Sticks on Shobble!’ chanted the man when he saw them.

  ‘What are Shock-Sticks?’ asked Sean.

  ‘Well, they’re to protect yourselves from the Biters, of course, young fella,’ said the man. ‘The river is full of them.’

  ‘What’s a Biter?’ asked Nicola.

  The man chuckled. ‘Oh, come on now, don’t you be pretending a smart-looking girl like you has never heard of a Biter. I won’t be falling for that.’

  ‘We really don’t know,’ said Nicola. ‘We come from another planet.’

  ‘Well, if you really want to know, go and read that sign over there.’ The man gestured at a small wooden sign near the bridge. He peered up at her. ‘Hey, do I know you from somewhere?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Nicola.

  ‘Biters,’ said Sean, as they rode their ShobGobbles towards the sign. ‘I wonder if they’re like mosquitoes.’

  When they got to the sign, they all read it silently together.

  WARNING!

  THIS RIVER IS HOME TO THE NATIVE BITER. BITERS ARE RIVER-DWELLING CREATURES ABLE TO GROW TO SIX METRES IN LENGTH. AN ADULT BITER HAS OVER TWO THOUSAND RAZOR-SHARP TEETH AND IS ABLE TO LEAP OVER THIRTY METRES IN THE AIR. ALTHOUGH THEY ARE HERBIVORES, BITERS ENJOY ATTACKING HUMANS OF ALL SHAPES AND SIZES. THEY TAKE LARGE BITES AND THEN IMMEDIATELY SPIT OUT THE BLOODY FLESH (ALMOST WITH DISGUST). AS THE NORMAL HABITAT OF THE BITER IS DARK, MURKY AND UNDERWATER, THEY ARE EXTREMELY SURPRISED WHEN A WHITE LIGHT IS SHONE IN THEIR EYES. THIS HAS LED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ‘SHOCK-STICK’ – AN EFFECTIVE FORM OF PROTECTION AGAINST THE BITER. TO AVOID UPSETTING FATALITIES, ANYONE CROSSING THE SAFE HANDS BRIDGE SHOULD CARRY A SHOCK-STICK AT ALL TIMES.

  ‘They don’t sound much like mosquitoes,’ said Sean.

 

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