To the real Uncle Jing,
who lives in Cumbria with his flying machine
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Meet the savages
Map of the Lost Desert
Crocodile Tails
Fun and Danger
Tomatoes, Stones and Scorpions
The Fire Lands
The Smoking Tree
The Little Lizard
A Big Fat Lie
The Punch Pit
Here Comes Mummy!
The Longest Tail in the Desert
A Little Thank You
Welcome Home
The Last Sneeze
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Copyright
Crocodile Tails
It was early morning in the Lost Desert. The vultures were snoozing in their nests, the scorpions were tucked up in their rock holes and even the rattlesnakes hadn’t started to rattle. They were curled up underneath the cactuses, having lovely dreams about biting big animals and watching them fall over and die.
The sunlight broke over the mountains, and lit up a dusty patch of ground known as Golgarth Basin. The basin was surrounded by dark caves where all the different savages lived, and some strange noises were coming from one of them.
WAKKA-WAKKA CHOP CHOP SPLOTCH!
Borgon the Axeboy tucked his axe into his belt and hurried to the back of the cave, where his mum and dad were still asleep.
‘Wake up!’ he said. ‘I’ve got a lovely surprise for you.’
‘Eh? What?’ came a sleepy voice.
‘Come on! Get up! Come and see.’
Borgon’s parents crawled out from underneath their mammoth-skin blanket. His mum was called Fulma. She was very tall, very skinny and had dark red spiky hair. Nobody else in the desert looked anything like her, especially not Borgon’s dad. He was called Fulgut and he had a big head, a big nose, big arms, big ears … in fact everything about him was big.
Fulma and Fulgut were a special type of savage called barbarians. Barbarians were the toughest and scariest savages in the Lost Desert, but it didn’t matter how tough and scary Borgon’s mum and dad were supposed to be, they still got a shock when they saw what was waiting for them in the main part of the cave. The floor was covered with fresh bones and bits of green skin, and on the table was a huge dripping pile of raw meat.
‘Borgon! What’s this supposed to be?’ asked Fulma.
‘It’s breakfast!’ said Borgon proudly.
Fulma picked up a lump of meat. It was long and fat and still twitching.
‘Borgon … this looks like a crocodile tail …’ said Fulma.
‘That’s right!’ said Borgon. ‘You’re always telling me that we’re the last barbarians in the Lost Desert. We’re supposed to be tougher and scarier than the other savages, so for once I’ve made us all a real barbarian breakfast.’
Fulma dropped the tail back on to the table.
SPLOTT!
‘Sorry, Borgon,’ she said. ‘But I can’t eat that.’
‘Why?’ asked Borgon. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’
‘Yes, it’s VERY lovely,’ sighed Fulma. ‘But I’m having my teeth sharpened today. I can’t eat tough things like tails on teeth-sharpening day.’
‘What?’ gasped Borgon. ‘After all my hard work?’
‘Go on, dear,’ said Fulgut. ‘Have a try.’
Fulma picked up a tiny piece of loose meat. She tried to chew it but had to spit it out.
‘It’s no good,’ she said. ‘You and your dad will just have to eat it all between you.’
Borgon and Fulgut both did little bounces of joy. If there’s one thing barbarians LOVE, it’s having extra breakfast.
‘YARGHHHHHH!’ they cheered, then they both opened their mouths and dived in, teeth first.
Fulma stood back and watched as the pile of tails started to disappear.
‘It’s a good breakfast, son,’ said Fulgut with his mouth full. ‘You’re going to make a great barbarian one day.’
‘But I’m a barbarian now!’ said Borgon. ‘I’m one of the maddest, baddest savages in the Lost Desert. YARGHHHH!’
Fulma shook her head. ‘If you want to be a real barbarian, you need to be more like your father,’ she said.
MUNCH SLOBBER BOILK CHOMP! agreed Fulgut.
The old savage tipped back his big head and swallowed what was left of the tail in one big GULP. Then he gave off a whopping great BURP.
Fulma smiled. ‘You see, Borgon? Now you try.’
Borgon grabbed another crocodile tail. It was as big as his own leg, so he picked up a long rusty dagger and started to cut off a slice.
Fulma shook her head.
‘NO NO NO!’ she said. ‘You’re not a baby any more. If you need to cut it, use your axe!’
‘Even when we’re sitting at the table?’ said Borgon.
‘Absolutely!’ grinned Fulgut. ‘That’s what your Uncle Jing always did, and he was the maddest barbarian ever.’
Borgon leaped to his feet excitedly. He pulled his axe from his belt, raised it high above his head, then whacked it down into the crocodile tail as hard as he could.
SPLUTCH!
‘Well done,’ laughed Fulgut. ‘An axe always turns a meal into a party.’
Borgon chewed away on a lump of tail.
GOBBLE BLONCH SLOOP!
‘That’s it!’ said Fulgut. ‘Barbarians always eat loudly. It makes all the other savages jealous.’
‘Don’t forget to burp …’ said Fulma.
BURP! went Borgon.
‘… and wipe your hands on your hair.’
‘Or better still,’ said Fulgut, ‘wipe your hands on somebody else’s hair! That’s what I always used to do.’
‘Didn’t anyone complain?’ asked Borgon.
‘No one dared!’ laughed Fulma. ‘Your dad was the fiercest savage the Lost Desert has ever known.’
The old savage smiled, then did a big yawn.
‘That was a long time ago,’ admitted Fulgut. ‘That was when your mum was the SCARIEST savage the Lost Desert has ever known. They used to call her Freaky Fulma.’
‘Dad, did you ever wipe your hands on Mum’s hair?’ asked Borgon.
Oh dear! Fulma did NOT think that was funny. She hissed through her teeth, her eyes narrowed to tiny slits and her dark red hair stuck out even more.
‘We don’t talk about that,’ said Fulgut hurriedly.
‘It must have been great being you two in the old days,’ sighed Borgon. ‘What about that time when you ambushed the Evil Snake People and tied all their tails together? Or when you went tightrope walking over that volcano crater? And, Dad, is it true you once drove off a whole gang of wild desert bandits with a teaspoon?’
‘It’s not quite true,’ chuckled Fulgut.
‘He had a fork as well,’ said Fulma.
‘It served them right for trying to attack me at dinner time,’ said Fulgut.
‘Lucky you,’ said Borgon. ‘Barbarians used to have loads of fights and excitement, but I don’t. All I ever get to do is eat and burp.’
‘Don’t give up hope, son,’ said Fulgut. ‘You never know when something extremely nasty and ridiculously dangerous might crop up.’
‘Right, you two, I’m off,’ said Fulma. She went over to the mouth of the cave and gave a sharp whistle. A dark red horse trotted across the sandy basin to meet her. (That’s right, Fulma had dark red hair and also a dark red horse. Matching hair and horse was the top fashion for lady savages.)
‘But, Mum! You haven’t had any of the breakfast I made,’ said Borgon.
‘
I know,’ said Fulma. ‘But like I said, I can’t eat tails right now. I’ll have to get something when I’m back.’
And with that, Fulgut lifted her up on to her horse and she galloped away.
Fun and Danger
There was only one crocodile tail left on the table.
‘Shall we save it for Mum to have later?’ asked Borgon.
‘She won’t want it,’ said Fulgut. ‘Why don’t you make her something else?’
‘But I want to make her a real barbarian breakfast, Dad,’ said Borgon.
‘That’s easy enough,’ chuckled Fulgut. ‘Anything can be a barbarian breakfast. It just needs two special ingredients.’
‘Like what?’
‘It’s got to be FUN and it’s got to be DANGEROUS.’
Borgon grinned. He liked the sound of that!
‘Go on then, Dad,’ he said. ‘Give me some ideas.’
‘Well, your Uncle Jing used to make rattlesnake pie,’ said Fulgut.
‘With live rattlesnakes?’ said Borgon.
‘Of course!’ said Fulgut. ‘Otherwise where’s the fun? He did a really nice roast elephant too.’
‘Roast elephant?’ said Borgon. ‘Why was that dangerous?’
‘The elephant didn’t want to get in the oven,’ laughed Fulgut. ‘It went crazy!’
Borgon’s eyes were popping with excitement. ‘That must have been the most dangerous breakfast ever!’
‘Not quite,’ said Fulgut. ‘I made a special breakfast to celebrate the first time your mum had her teeth sharpened. Now that was really dangerous.’
‘Wow!’ said Borgon excitedly. ‘What was it?’
‘I’m not telling you,’ said Fulgut. ‘It was far too dangerous.’
‘Oh, Dad!’ moaned Borgon. ‘We’re supposed to be barbarians! There’s no such thing as TOO dangerous.’
‘Oh yes there is,’ said Fulgut.
‘No there isn’t!’ said Borgon. ‘So tell me.’
Fulgut checked to see that no one was listening, then he bent down to whisper in Borgon’s ear.
Borgon’s jaw dropped open in amazement. ‘Wow, Dad!’ he said. ‘Is that true? Did you really make that for Mum’s breakfast?’
‘Yes,’ nodded Fulgut proudly. ‘It was the Best Barbarian Breakfast Ever, and your mum LOVED it.’
‘Then I’m going to make it too,’ said Borgon. ‘I’m a barbarian, and Mum said I should be more like you!’
‘No no NO!’ said Fulgut, but it was too late.
Borgon was already charging around the cave. He grabbed a triple-headed spear, a mighty sword, a battle mallet, a steel net, his axe and a whole bag of extra bits.
‘Don’t do this, Borgon!’ pleaded Fulgut. ‘Your mum will go mad if she finds out I told you about that breakfast.’
‘Then don’t tell her,’ said Borgon. ‘Besides, I want it to be a nice surprise for her.’
‘But you could end up DEAD,’ said Fulgut. ‘What do I say to her then?’
‘That’s your problem!’ laughed Borgon. ‘Because if I’m dead I won’t be here, will I? I’ll be in heaven with all the barbarian gods and Uncle Jing. YARGHHHH!’
Tomatoes, Stones and Scorpions
Borgon ran outside to his horse, clutching all his weapons. He leaped up with a mighty leap, but the horse stepped forwards with a mighty step so Borgon hit the ground with a mighty CRUNCH!
‘Hey, Borgon!’ shouted a cheeky voice. ‘You’re supposed to sit ON the horse, not underneath it!’
Borgon groaned. It was Grizzy, the nosey girl who lived over on the far side of Golgarth Basin. She was sitting outside her cave, eating her own breakfast out of a bowl.
‘GRRRR!’ growled Borgon and he waved his axe.
Grizzy just pulled a face and giggled.
Borgon stamped his foot crossly. Grizzy never treated him with any respect. It wasn’t right. Grizzy was supposed to be scared of him! After all, he wasn’t just a normal boring savage like she was. He was a barbarian.
‘HEY, EVERYBODY!’ shouted Grizzy. ‘Borgon’s forgotten how to get on a horse. Ha ha ha!’
By this time two other savages had come out to see what was going on, but if Grizzy thought they were going to laugh, she was wrong. Mungoid and Hunjah were Borgon’s best friends. Mungoid went to help Borgon up while Hunjah held the horse.
‘What are you up to, Borgon?’ asked Mungoid, who was big and chunky, with a head like a brick.
‘I’m going to make the Best Barbarian Breakfast Ever,’ said Borgon.
‘Looks like it’s going to be fun!’ said Mungoid. He picked up the axe and tossed it over to the young barbarian.
‘Of course it’s going to be fun!’ cheered Borgon. He swished the axe around his head a few times. ‘YARGHHHH!’
‘Why do you need all those weapons? Can’t you just use a spoon?’ asked Hunjah.
Hunjah was the skinny one who always wore a big straw hat because his mum told him to.
‘Because this breakfast is DANGEROUS!’ said Borgon. ‘In fact, it’s so dangerous, the only person who has ever made it before is my dad.’
‘Big deal!’ said Grizzy. ‘The nearest thing you barbarians get to danger is tripping over your own shadows.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I was making,’ said Borgon.
‘So what are you making?’ asked Grizzy.
‘It’s a secret,’ said Borgon. ‘All you need to know is that it’s the most dangerous breakfast ever.’
Grizzy scowled, and the others laughed. If there was one thing Grizzy HATED, it was secrets that she didn’t know.
‘Ha ha!’ laughed Hunjah. ‘We know a secret and you don’t. Ha ha!’
Actually … we don’t know either,’ said Mungoid.
‘Oh,’ said Hunjah, and he stopped laughing.
Grizzy picked up Borgon’s bag of extra bits which had landed at her feet.
‘So what’s in here?’ she asked.
‘Give me that!’ said Borgon, and he snatched it from her before she could look inside.
‘Oooh!’ said Grizzy. ‘You’re a bit touchy today.’
‘It’s all part of the secret,’ replied Borgon.
‘You don’t fool me,’ said Grizzy. ‘I bet my breakfast is a whole load more dangerous than yours. Look!’ She showed them her bowl. It was full of grey lumpy stuff with black spiky bits sticking out of it. ‘Scorpion porridge,’ she said.
She stuck her spoon in and gulped down a big mouthful. The boys all looked horrified.
‘What’s the matter?’ grinned Grizzy. ‘Are you scared of a few scorpions?’
‘Scorpions are fine,’ said Mungoid. ‘But porridge?’
‘BLURGH!’ laughed the boys, pretending to be sick.
‘Your breakfast isn’t dangerous, Grizzy, it’s just gross,’ said Borgon.
‘So what’s a dangerous breakfast, then?’ asked Grizzy crossly.
‘I once had a tomato without washing it first,’ said Hunjah.
‘HA HA HA!’ laughed the others. Although Hunjah was their friend, he really was the most pathetic savage in the Lost Desert.
‘Well, you’re braver than me,’ said Mungoid. ‘I daren’t eat tomatoes at all.’
‘Why not?’ asked Grizzy.
‘Soft food’s too dangerous!’ said the chunky savage. ‘My mouth gets confused. I end up chewing my own tongue.’
‘Then what do you eat?’ asked Grizzy.
Mungoid reached into a pouch hanging from his belt and pulled out a handful of coloured pebbles. ‘These,’ he said. ‘Do you want one?’
‘They’re stones, you weirdo!’ said Grizzy, pulling a face.
‘They’re not just any old stones,’ explained Mungoid. ‘These ones are pink marble.’
*
He popped one of the pebbles into his mouth and bit down on it with his huge teeth.
CERR-ACK!
Mungoid smiled happily as he crunched away.
‘Hey, Borgon!’ said Hunjah, suddenly sounding worried. ‘Can you hurry u
p and go?’
Borgon saw that his horse was merrily chewing away at Hunjah’s big straw hat. ‘Hold him steady! Here I come!’
He leaped up on to his horse, then steered it around to face the open desert.
‘Are you sure you can’t tell us anything about this breakfast?’ asked Mungoid.
‘Sorry,’ said Borgon. ‘I want it to be a surprise for my mum.’
‘Ok,’ said Mungoid. ‘But you have to promise you’ll tell us about it when you get back.’
‘No,’ said Borgon. ‘I’ll tell you if I get back!’
The Fire Lands
It was the middle of the morning and the desert rocks were starting to creak in the heat of the sun. The vultures circled overhead, the snakes hissed from underneath the cactus leaves and an old yak collapsed and died on the stone plains of the Lost Desert. It was a lovely day for a dangerous adventure.
There was just one little thing spoiling it. As Borgon rode along, he heard a little clip-clopping noise behind him. He pretended that he couldn’t hear it. With any luck the clip-clopping noise would give up and turn back, leaving him to go on alone.
Eventually, Borgon reached an old wooden sign where the path divided into two. The sign had an arrow at one end and some squiggles drawn on it, but Borgon had no idea what it meant. He scratched his head in confusion. He wanted to go to the Fire Lands where all the nastiest creatures in the Lost Desert lived, but which way was it?
‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed a voice behind him. ‘You barbarians are pathetic. Ha ha ha!’
Borgon swung round to face Grizzy who had been following him all the way on her little grey horse.
‘GO HOME!’ he shouted.
‘You can’t make me,’ said Grizzy. ‘Besides, I’ve come to see this barbarian breakfast.’
‘But it’s too dangerous for ordinary savages like you! Did you tell your mum you were coming?’
‘I didn’t bother,’ said Grizzy. ‘Because I know it won’t be dangerous at all.’
Borgon the Axeboy and the Dangerous Breakfast Page 1