My Brother's Famous Bottom Takes Off!

by Jeremy Strong

  ‘I can see another hellybopper!’ Cheese was pointing across the field.

  ‘’Nother hellybopper,’ echoed Tomato.

  Cassie climbed into the pilot’s seat.

  ‘You can fly copters AND spacecraft?’ asked Mum. ‘They never taught me that at school.’

  Cassie laughed. ‘Nor me! But, you know, joining the air force and then coming to work with the space agency is like being given one enormous play area to run about in. I used to dream about this as a child and now I’m doing it, living my dream. I’m very lucky. OK, guys, time for lift-off.’

  Cassie began flicking switches and pressing buttons. I glanced over her shoulder. I had never seen so many knobs and dials and buttons and levers. Little lights showed up on some of the panels and dials flickered into life. The rotors began to turn, so slowly at first, and then the swoosh turned to a clatter and the clatter became a roar. With a jerk and a jump, we lifted into the air.

  It was so different from being in a big plane. First of all, you could feel every tiny move and little bump, every breath of wind as we rose higher and higher. The helicopter seemed to vibrate from one end to the other and we all vibrated with it. The view was amazing! We could see right out to the Atlantic Ocean.

  The nose of the chopper dipped a fraction and we went charging forward, swooping over Cape Canaveral and then up to the Kennedy Space Center itself. Cassie circled round so we had a bird’s-eye view of everything. It was stupendous! She gave us a non-stop description of what we were looking at before heading back inland to skim over Orlando so that we could look down on the skyscrapers, lakes and all the theme parks that seemed to stretch for miles.

  ‘And now for your hotel,’ Cassie announced as we dipped down to the city, where the evening lights were just beginning to flicker into life.

  Guess where we landed? Only on the hotel roof! Amazing! We waited until the rotor blades had stopped turning and then jumped out. We crossed over to a lift and zipped down to the hotel reception before we went whizzing back up to the fifteenth floor and another miniature indoor house, with three bedrooms and a kitchen and living area, bathroom and so on. All the bedrooms were bigger than any of our rooms at home! The bathroom had two showers and two baths in it. Maybe the hotel wanted to make sure their guests were VERY clean. Not only that, but there was an outside balcony with – guess what? A barbecue! We had our own outdoor barbecue on the fifteenth floor!

  We settled in and raided the fridge for snacks and drinks while Cheese and Tomato went racing round from one room to another.

  Mum lounged back on the huge sofa and looked across at Dad, who was staring out of the window at the rest of Orlando.

  ‘You’ve been very quiet for a while,’ said Mum. ‘Ever since Cassie got the measure of you, you’ve hardly said a word.’

  ‘Cassie? What are you talking about?’ Dad blustered.

  ‘You know perfectly well. All that stuff she said about being a joker in the pack and suggesting you were behaving like a child.’

  ‘She didn’t say that.’

  ‘You’re right, Ron, she didn’t say it. But you and I know that’s what she meant.’

  Dad sighed and his shoulders seemed to slump. ‘The thing is, you can’t joke with someone who doesn’t have a sense of humour,’ he complained.

  Mum shook her head. ‘Cassie does have a sense of humour. It’s just different from yours. You crack jokes that make our children laugh. You can’t expect grown-ups to find the same things funny. And she’s right – there is a bit of the child in you.’

  Mum smiled, got up, went across to Dad and put her arms round him. ‘Don’t fret,’ she told him. ‘Cassie flies spacecraft, for heaven’s sake! That’s serious stuff. You can’t expect her to laugh at your silly jokes. But don’t worry – I shall. You make me laugh, Ron, and the children and I love that part of you, so stop worrying. Just be yourself and give me a kiss.’

  Cheese and Tomato looked at me in alarm. Tomato shouted out, ‘One, two, three –’

  And I joined in too.

  ‘URRRRRGH!!’

  8. Which Way Do Rockets Go?

  Dad’s his old self today. I think it was the size of the hotel breakfast. As soon as he saw it, his face exploded into the most enormous grin. He got himself a plate with two fried eggs, three slices of bacon, three hash browns, four sausages, a pile of mushrooms, a heap of tomatoes, a mountain of beans, four slices of toast and a large green gherkin.

  Mum looked at his plate and shuddered. ‘A gherkin? For breakfast?’

  ‘I like gherkins,’ said Dad.

  Mum shuddered again and then tried to look angelic. ‘I’ve got some fresh fruit and yoghurt. When I’ve eaten my fresh fruit and yoghurt I shall feel fresh and –’

  ‘Yoghurty,’ Dad jumped in. ‘You’ll feel yoghurty, which is a horribly sloppy and disgustingly sludgy sensation.’

  ‘Not at all. I shall be as fresh and light as a feather on a baby duck, whereas you will be ten kilograms heavier and look like the back end of a large buffalo, because that’s what you’ve just eaten.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Dad echoed. ‘I shall be fuelled up for the day with all that protein, whereas you will stutter and putter along for about five minutes before fainting from weakness and complaining that you need something proper to eat, like a plate of steak and chips.’

  Mum scowled, took another spoonful of yoghurt and muttered something dark about gherkins while Dad whistled a jaunty tune and cut up his sausages.

  So things were back to normal!

  As soon as breakfast was over, we were collected by Cassie.

  ‘Hey, hi! How are you guys this morning? Lots to do at the Center today. I hope you’re fighting fit?’

  ‘I’m tip-top,’ said Dad.

  Cassie grinned. ‘You British have such a funny way of saying things.’ She dipped her head slightly and repeated, ‘Tip-top! That’s so cute.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dad. ‘I’m fine, but I’m afraid my wife might collapse at any moment.’

  Alarm flooded Cassie’s face. ‘But she looks OK.’

  ‘I know,’ said Dad. ‘She does now, but she only had some fruit and yoghurt for breakfast so I don’t expect her to last long.’

  Cassie shook her head. ‘There really is no stopping you, is there?’

  Dad grinned. ‘Nope!’

  ‘Come on,’ sighed Cassie. ‘Let’s head for the stars.’

  There was no helicopter this time, just a big SUV. We piled in and drove out to the Space Center.

  IT IS HUMONGOUSLY HUGE!

  (In other words – big!!)

  The buildings were big. The rockets were big. The crowds were big. Even the queues at the main attractions were big, but we were VIPs. (That means Very Important Persons!) Once we were parked up, Cassie took us straight to the front of every queue. It was bliss! Plus, all the people in the queue would stare at us, wondering who we were, like we were film stars or something, and it was all because of Cheese’s bottom!

  Inside we just stood there, our eyes on stalks. Right in front of us, hanging in mid-air as if it was flying, was a full-sized space shuttle. It wasn’t a model. It was a REAL SPACE SHUTTLE, one that had actually flown all the way up there in space. Cool!

  ‘OK,’ said Cassie. ‘Here we are at the Space Training Experience. First up is rocket building. You’re going to learn how to build an air-powered rocket and we’ll see who makes the most powerful one.’

  Dad’s eyes started to glow. He loves that kind of competition – and so do I! We looked at each other. Our eyes locked. Our brows knitted. Our chins jutted. We gritted our teeth. It was Dad versus me!

  We got down to it. Building the rocket was pretty straightforward. We had a long, thin piece of plastic tubing sealed at the top end. We stuck fins round the bottom so what we had made was basically like a fat, hollow arrow. A helper came round, giving us advice and handing over equipment. We were given a fat cork with a hole through the middle. That plugged into the bottom of the missile. A long piece of r
ubber tubing went through the hole into the body of the rocket. The other end was attached to a large air pump.

  All around us other families were building their rockets. Some people had started launching and every so often there’d be a pop and a whoosh as a rocket took off and arced across the room. I was sure I could get higher than any of them. So was Dad!

  He looked at me. I looked at Dad. We were ready.

  ‘You go first,’ he said.

  I started pumping. It was harder than I thought. I was beginning to wonder if my rocket would ever take off and then suddenly –

  My rocket was brilliant! It went really high, almost reaching the roof before it came clattering back down.

  It was Dad’s turn. He rolled up his sleeves. He jogged on the spot. He swung his arms round and round. He got down on the floor and did ten press-ups. He went across to his rocket, bowed before it and declared in a loud voice: ‘I name this rocket THE WINNER!’

  Dad started pumping. He pumped and he pumped. He pumped until his face was scarlet and his eyes were bulging and his beard was on fire. (Well, not the beard bit – but he did go very red!)

  Dad’s rocket went shooting off sideways, crazily zigzagging through the air just above the heads of some of the other rocket builders, making them duck in fear of their heads being taken off. It suddenly veered sideways and up, clanged against the space shuttle, making it tremble, and all the audience went ‘OOOH!’ and ‘AHHH!’ until eventually it buried itself in an astronaut’s suit that was hanging on a display stand. Very slowly, the stand began to topple backwards, gaining momentum, and then KERRUMPPPP! the whole thing fell to the ground.

  Now everyone was staring at the rocket. Then they turned to gawp just as hard at Dad. He was beaming from ear to ear and punching the air with both fists.

  ‘I won! I won!’ he crowed.

  ‘No, Dad, I won. My rocket went higher than yours.’

  ‘No, Nicky, no. I won. My rocket went much further.’

  ‘But, Dad, yours went sideways!’

  ‘So? I still win. It went further sideways!’

  ‘But rockets are supposed to go UP, not SIDEWAYS!’ I protested. ‘If your rocket had been a moon shot, the astronauts would never have got there. They would just have landed in the next-door garden. Your rocket was rubbish.’

  Mum looked at all the other families. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t take them anywhere.’

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ said one man. ‘I think the dad’s right. Technically speaking, his rocket did travel further.’

  ‘That’s so not fair,’ a little girl cried. ‘The boy’s rocket went up to the roof. That’s a long way. The boy won. The boy won!’ She was almost in tears.

  Then they all weighed in. Soon everyone was shouting and there were even a few people pushing and shoving each other as they argued.

  ‘The boy’s the winner!’

  ‘Are you crazy? The old man won, hands down!’

  Suddenly there was a loud crackle as a loudspeaker system came on.

  ‘Would you all just settle down?! This is a space centre, not a zoo! You’re lucky you won’t all be arrested for damaging a multimillion-dollar space shuttle, not to mention a display of spacesuits.’

  For three seconds the crowd was silent. Then they turned on Dad.

  ‘BUT HE DID IT!’ everyone shouted. ‘It wasn’t us. It was him!’ A hundred fingers pointed at Dad, who put his hands in his pockets and started whistling innocently.

  ‘IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO DID IT!’ roared the speakers and I was pretty sure I recognized Commander Cassie’s voice. ‘Please go back to your own rocket at once. The Famous Bottom Family, please go straight through to the Education Center next door.’

  The loudspeakers crackled off and people began asking each other who had a famous bottom. It wasn’t long before they were getting upset again.

  ‘How dare you ask me about my bottom!’

  ‘I wasn’t! I just wanna know who’s got a famous one.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly not mine, so stop looking! What I do with my bottom is none of your business.’

  Meanwhile, we crept quietly away to the Education Center where Commander Cassie was waiting for us. She did not look happy.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘All I did was follow the instructions and make a rocket,’ Dad protested. ‘I don’t know why it went sideways and I didn’t ask anyone to start arguing on my behalf. And, I might add,’ he went on rather wickedly, ‘I wasn’t the one who mentioned famous bottoms.’

  All of which was quite true. Dad was right. He hadn’t meant to start anything. It had just happened, out of nowhere, like a magician’s trick. The sort of magician you definitely wouldn’t invite to a children’s party.

  ‘OK,’ sighed Cassie, calming down a little. ‘We’ll take a lunch break and then this afternoon we’ll be on the Gravity Swing. Do try and keep things relaxed and easy, hey?’

  ‘We can try,’ agreed Mum. But she didn’t sound very hopeful.

  9. Mum Ties Herself Up

  The Gravity Swing was sensational. It was meant to imitate the gravity you find on the moon. Have you ever seen those films of astronauts walking on the moon? If you have you’ll know that they don’t take footsteps at all. They take foot-bounces!

  ‘Gravity on the moon isn’t the same as that on Earth. Our gravity is about six times more powerful than gravity on the moon. So here’s a little test for you guys. If you build a rocket –’ Cassie broke off at that point and fixed Dad with her laser eyes – ‘if you build a rocket and it flies one hundred metres on Earth, how far will it fly on the moon?’

  ‘Six hundred metres,’ I answered, very proud of myself.

  ‘Right, at least in theory,’ said Cassie. ‘In fact, it would travel even further than that because there is very little atmosphere on the moon to slow it down. But six hundred metres is near enough. What the Gravity Swing does is recreate what you would experience on the moon. It does this using elastic webbing and a system of weights and pulleys in the roof. Just get yourselves strapped into the harness and off you go. You will be walking on the moon.’

  It was brilliant! I went first. A man helped me to strap the belt round my waist and told me to hold on to the straps that went up to the roof, and I was off. It felt really weird at first and very funny, because it was like you were a balloon bouncing around. There was a moon-like surface to cross and every time you took the smallest step you would take off. If you tried to take an ordinary step you almost ended up on the other side of the room! It took very little effort to move and, once you were used to it, it felt almost calm and peaceful. What a lovely way to go for a walk. Jumping was even more brilliant. It was like being able to leap over trees!

  ‘I want a go!’ Cheese shouted.

  ‘I want a go!’ Tomato echoed.

  A security man stepped forward. ‘Sorry. Children under ten years old are not allowed on this equipment.’

  Cheese stared up at the guard. His lower lip began to quiver. ‘I want a go,’ he repeated very quietly.

  Tomato clutched at the man’s leg. ‘Want a go,’ she whispered and they both stared up at him with wet, doggy eyes.

  But the guard didn’t like dogs and he was unmoved. Cheese could see there was no chance. He held Tomato’s hand and pulled her away. He murmured something in her left ear. Tomato glanced at the guard and grinned. A determined look quickly replaced the grin and suddenly the twins were off, racing at high speed towards the Gravity Swing.

  ‘Stop!’ yelled the guard, hotfooting it after them in his big boots. The twins didn’t get far. The guard overtook them and swept them up, one tucked under each arm. He turned to Mum and Dad.

  ‘Your children,’ he scowled.

  ‘Well, you seem to have them nicely under control,’ Dad remarked. ‘I have to say it’s remarkable you don’t have a separate Gravity Swing for small children. It’s obvious that every child will want to have a go, not just those
over ten. Everybody likes a good bounce.’

  The guard gritted his teeth and growled. ‘I never bounce,’ he declared. ‘I’m an adult.’

  ‘I know,’ sighed Dad. ‘And that’s where the problem lies. Come on,’ he added, turning to Mum. ‘Your turn next, while this kind man looks after the twins.’

  Dad helped Mum into the harness while the twins watched and whimpered and wriggled in the guard’s grasp.

  ‘This is wonderful!’ Mum cried, bouncing up and down. ‘It reminds me of when I used to go trampolining as a child. I won a medal, you know, when I was ten. It was for the best mid-air somersaults. I bet I can still do them too.’

  Mum took a few small steps and then jumped up into the air, tried to do a forward somersault and ended up with both arms and one leg caught up in the webbing. She began to bounce up and down pointlessly, struggling all the while to get herself out of the knot she was in.

  ‘I just need to do a backward somersault to untie myself,’ she panted. ‘If I can just get one foot on the ground to give myself a bit of a boost –’

  Mum did get one foot on the ground. She pushed as hard as she could, went zooming up into the air, tried to do a backward somersault and ended up completely, hopelessly knotted, with all her arms and legs now bound up with elastic and her head poking out from somewhere below, in a lopsided kind of way.

  ‘Help,’ she managed to squeak.

  I ran across to Cassie, who was busy talking to a family that had just arrived.