My Brother's Famous Bottom Takes Off!
Page 6
Dad grunted back, ‘Ask her.’
The presidential couple came to the podium steps and made their way up. I took a deep breath. This was it. There was no escape. I took another deep breath. I heard Cassie start speaking.
‘Good afternoon, Mr President, Mrs President. I’m Commander Cassie Anders and it’s my pleasure and privilege to introduce you to the Famous Bottom Family from Britain.’
And suddenly there we were, Mr and Mrs Famous Bottom and their children, shaking hands with the President of the United States, and Mum said: ‘I like your hair.’
The president beamed back at her. ‘Why, thank you, ma’am. I’m sure that the good people of America will be happy to know that their president has a good barber!’
Mum turned scarlet. ‘Oh!’ she moaned. ‘I meant to say that to your wife!’
‘That’s OK, ma’am,’ the president went on. ‘My wife has a fine hairdo too!’
The president and his wife looked at each other and suddenly everyone was laughing and Tomato pushed herself forward, pulled at Mrs President’s leg and piped up, ‘I can be a tortoise!’
‘Really?’ said Mrs President. ‘I would love to see that!’ So Tomato showed everyone.
‘You have lovely children,’ Mrs President said after Tomato had poked her head back out from her T-shirt.
‘I know,’ said Mum, smiling at us. ‘It’s my husband I worry about.’
‘Oh, me too,’ agreed the president’s wife. ‘I never know what he’s going to do next!’
‘Mine brought home a sheep last week.’
‘A sheep? You were lucky. I was given an army tank! It was a gift from some country or other. He comes home with this tank and he says: “Honey, can you put this somewhere for me?” And I say: “Sure, I’ll put it in the tank cupboard with all the others!”’ They burst out laughing again.
Meanwhile, my dad was having a very interesting conversation with the president, who looked rather thoughtful.
‘Yep, I can see your problem,’ nodded Mr President. ‘Do you think it would be easier if you cooked the spaghetti first and then tried joining it together while it’s all floppy?’
‘I’ll try that,’ said Dad. ‘That’s good advice. Now is there anything I can help you with?’
But at that moment someone from the Space Agency came up and interrupted, so Dad’s chance to solve some of the world’s problems vanished.
‘Excuse me, Mr President, sir, it’s almost time to launch. We only have a window of a few seconds to get the right trajectory. Could you all please move over to the launch desk? You’ll hear the countdown from twenty and this is the button here.’
‘The red one?’
‘That’s correct, sir.’
The president got us into a huddle and made sure that we all had a hand on top of his. There was the president’s hand hovering over the button. On top of that was Mrs President’s hand, then Mum’s, Dad’s, mine, then Cheese’s and Tomato’s. The countdown began over the loudspeaker. When we got to ten the crowd joined in.
‘Five, four, three, two, one, BLAST-OFF!’
‘We have ignition,’ went the loudspeaker as a mighty roar and vast plumes of smoke and steam billowed out from beneath the rocket and then it was moving. ‘We have lift-off!’
It was in the air and racing up into the sky, faster and faster, leaving a huge, white, glorious trail. Cheese’s bottom was heading for outer space and the longest journey that it would ever make.
We watched in silence until the rocket became a speck and finally disappeared forever.
Cheese tugged at Mum’s hand.
‘Can I be a dipplypokus now?’
12. A Shocking Arrival
The next day Cassie said goodbye to us in the airport hall. We were all a bit quiet. We didn’t really want to leave, especially as we now knew we had a long, boring flight back home.
‘I shall miss you all,’ Cassie said, rather surprised at herself.
‘More likely you’ll be glad to see the back of us,’ Mum hinted, but the commander shook her head.
‘It’s sure been a blast having you around. I mean, OK, so there have been some ups and downs –’
‘Especially on the Gravity Swing,’ Dad put in.
‘Especially that,’ agreed Cassie. ‘And then there was the brawl over the rockets, but you certainly made a difference to my routine. I would have been doing the usual day-to-day stuff, but you guys have been sheer entertainment from start to finish. Thank you.’
A loud announcement boomed round the hall.
‘Sounds like your plane has been called,’ said Cassie. ‘Time to say goodbye.’ She gave Mum a big hug and then me and the twins, even Dad.
Dad grinned at her. ‘Tip-top!’ he said. ‘Toodle-pip!’
‘You big kook!’ laughed Cassie and she reached up and kissed his cheek.
‘URRRGH!’ chorused the twins, while Dad turned crimson with delight.
He took hold of the luggage trolley and we set off for our plane.
I won’t bore you with the journey because it bored me to sleep. All I will say is that when we landed back in Britain there was a bit of a shock waiting for us.
Everything was fine until we got to passport control. Mum was waved through. The twins were waved through. I was waved through. Dad was stopped. What now?
‘Please step aside, sir,’ ordered the customs officer.
‘Sorry? Why? What’s up?’ Dad was confused.
‘Just step over here, sir. Thank you. Can you confirm that you are the person shown on this passport and that this is your passport?’
‘Of course I can.’ Dad gave a nervous laugh. ‘What’s going on?’
At first the customs officer didn’t answer. Instead, he called over two policemen standing nearby. By this time everyone queueing up to go through passport control was staring at us. The policemen stood either side of Dad. The customs officer waved Dad’s passport at him.
‘There’s a warrant out for your arrest, sir,’ said the officer.
‘WHAT?!’ Dad’s shout went off like a hand grenade. ‘You’ve got to be joking! I haven’t done anything. What on earth are you arresting me for?’
‘Sheep rustling, sir.’
‘SHEEP RUSTLING?’
The penny dropped. I think we all understood at the same time just what had happened.
Dad was starting to boil. ‘It’s that mealy-mouthed Martian, Mr Tugg, isn’t it?!’ he roared.
‘Just come with us, sir,’ said one of the policemen. ‘It’s best if you come quietly. There are some questions you need to answer.’ He turned to Mum. ‘There’s a room where you and the children can wait. If you could please follow us while we escort this gentleman to the holding room.’
So we did. We all trailed behind Dad as he was led away, with everyone in the customs hall watching us until we disappeared. We were settled in the waiting room and another policeman brought us some drinks.
Meanwhile, we could hear the faint drone of voices from the room next door where Dad was being questioned. It took two hours, two whole boring hours. When Dad came out he was still seething.
‘You won’t believe this. I have been accused of stealing Elvis.’
Mum’s hands flew to her face. ‘No!’
‘Yes. I have to report to our local police station tomorrow morning, where I shall probably be officially charged. I could be sent to prison.’
‘No!’ said Mum again.
‘Oh yes. And you know who’s behind this? Mr Tugg. But, before you say anything, get this – it’s not Mr Tugg. At least it’s not Mr Tugg our neighbour. It’s his cousin, who is also called Mr Tugg and is A FARMER! The farmer who lost a sheep!’
Mum’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry! I knew there was something I meant to do before we left. You remember I rang round all the farmers, asking them if they’d lost a sheep, and there was one who just wouldn’t answer? I was going to get back to him, but with all the excitement of winning the WhoTube competition a
nd going to America and trying to get you unstuck from a million bits of spaghetti I forgot all about it! Oh, it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry!’
Mum and Dad stared at each other for several moments until Dad walked across to her, flung his arms round her and gave Mum a huge hug. Then he began laughing. My dad is so weird sometimes! He had just been arrested for sheep stealing and he was laughing!
‘It’s all completely bonkers!’ he cried. ‘The whole world is bonkers!’
At last he calmed down and wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Come on, kids, let’s get home. I’m dying to have a word with the Martian AND his Martian cousin.’
The car was loaded up with all our luggage and we headed home. Granny and Lancelot were standing at our front door and as soon as Dad got out of the car Granny began weeping.
‘My son,’ she sobbed. ‘A common criminal!’
‘Mother, I am not a common criminal. I’m a very UN-common criminal and I’ll tell you why – because I’m a criminal that hasn’t done anything. It’s all that idiot Martian’s fault – him and his idiot cousin.’
Dad went straight round to Mr Tugg’s house and knocked loudly on the front door. Well, that made a change for a start. It was usually Mr Tugg who came round to our house to protest. Now it was Dad doing the complaining.
The door opened and Mr Tugg popped out his bald head and glared at Dad.
‘Hah!’ snapped Mr Tugg. ‘Now the whole world can see what you’re really like, you, you sheep robber!’
‘And now the whole world can see what YOU’RE really like!’ shouted Dad. ‘You bone-headed, bumbling, banana-brained, bug-eyed, bad-tempered, big-mouth, blockheaded, bat-faced, barking bogey-bum! I told you before and I’ll tell you again. That sheep of your cousin’s followed me home. It’s not my fault if it’s as stupid as you and your cousin. It followed me home and I have looked after it ever since. What’s more, my wife tried to contact your cousin before we went away, but he wasn’t answering his phone – probably because he was out being Little Bo Peep looking for his sheep. Tomorrow morning I shall report to the local police station and tell them the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth and you and your cousin will look like the pair of pointless, interfering nobodies you are. Good night!’
Goodness, Dad really was upset. In fact, he had done exactly what Mr Tugg does most of the time. He had erupted like a volcano, thundered like a hurricane and swept Mr Tugg away like a tsunami. By the time Dad got back to our house Mr Tugg was still standing in his doorway, rocking backwards and forwards, wondering what had hit him.
I saw Mrs Tugg go to her husband and take him by the arm. ‘Come inside and have a cup of tea, dear. I did warn you. I did say that Ron would never do such a thing.’ She pulled Mr Tugg back inside and the front door was closed.
It was great to be back home and since Granny and Lancelot had heard Dad ranting and raving at Mr Tugg they now knew the truth of the matter as well. Actually, I guess the whole street had heard Dad protesting his innocence.
Anyhow, we spent the rest of the day telling Granny and Lancelot about all our adventures in America and soon everything seemed as if it was back to normal. Well, as normal as it ever is in our house.
Lancelot had recorded the news on TV, which showed us meeting the president and his wife and then the launch. It’s pretty weird seeing yourself like that, actually on-screen. So now the whole family has been watched by millions, not just Cheese and his famous bottom!
Dad went to the police station the next morning and explained everything very carefully. Mum went with him. The police made a few checks and it was obvious that Dad wasn’t making anything up so they tore up the charge sheet and let him go.
Of course Dad made the whole thing into a huge drama that he told his friends and it kept them laughing for about a week. As for poor Mr Tugg, he and his farmer cousin actually came round to the house and apologized. (I thought that was pretty brave and amazing. Mr Tugg must have swallowed an awfully big lump of pride in order to do that.)
Dad accepted the apology with good grace, but he did hand Farmer Tugg an envelope at the same time.
‘What’s this?’ barked Farmer Tugg, opening the envelope and pulling out a single folded sheet of paper.
Farmer Tugg read it, glared at my dad, turned purple, began to splutter, suddenly snapped his mouth shut, gritted his teeth, pulled out his cheque book and wrote a cheque for the full amount. Then he grabbed his cousin by the arm and the two of them left.
Dad looked at the cheque in his hand and smiled.
‘Come on, everyone,’ he said. ‘We’re all going out to eat tonight. Mr and Mr Tugg have just paid for a lovely dinner! Whoopee!’ And he began singing. ‘Food, glorious food …!’
‘Stop him!’ cried Mum. ‘Somebody stop him!’
We all crowded round Dad, trying to get a hand over his mouth.
‘Help!’ cried Dad. ‘Someone save me!’
‘SILLY DADDY!’ shouted Cheese and Tomato.
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First published 2015
Text copyright © Jeremy Strong, 2015
Illustrations copyright © Rowan Clifford, 2015
Cover illustration by Nick Sharratt
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
ISBN: 978-0-141-35793-5