The 26-Story Treehouse (The Treehouse Books)
Page 3
“Sorry,” I say. “Members only!”
“Now, come on, Andy,” says Captain Woodenhead. “Let me and my crew in. I promise nothing bad will happen. Forgive and forget, that’s my motto.”
“But what about that stuff you said on the beach about ‘making us pay’ and how you were going to claim our treehouse for yourself?”
Captain Woodenhead roars with laughter. “Oh, don’t take any notice of that!” he says. “That was just silly pirate talk! All we want is to come in, take off our boots, rest our weary, waterlogged bones for a couple of days, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Sorry,” I say, “but I’m afraid the answer is still no.”
“All right, then you leave me no option—we’re going to blast our way in!” says Captain Woodenhead, suddenly turning nasty again. “Men, prepare the cannon!”
“Oh no!” says Terry. “What are we going to do?”
“Let them in,” I say.
“Are you crazy?” says Jill. “You’re just going to let them in?”
“Yes,” I say. “I know it sounds crazy, but I just had an idea. Do you remember that nursery rhyme where all the pirates get killed one at a time?”
“Of course!” says Jill. “Ten Unlucky Pirates is one of my favorites. But how is a nursery rhyme going to help us now, even if it does have ten pirates in it?”
“Well,” I say, “even the craziest nursery rhymes have a grain of truth in them. Take Hey Diddle Diddle for instance. Everybody thinks it’s just a made-up story about a cow jumping over the moon, but in 1864 in Dorset, England, a cow really did jump over the moon.”
“Really?” says Terry.
“Yes!” I say. “And in Rock-a-Bye Baby, there is a baby in a cradle in the treetops and when the wind blows, the cradle falls down. Well, scientific studies show that if you put a baby in a cradle in the treetops and the wind blows, the cradle—and baby—really will fall down.”
“That’s incredible!” says Terry. “Who would ever have thought that?”
“And, of course, you know Little Miss Muffet—”
“That actually happened to me!” says Jill. “I was sitting there on my tuffet eating my breakfast when along came a spider that sat down beside me and frightened me away!”
“But I thought you loved all animals,” says Terry.
“Not spiders,” says Jill. “Nobody likes spiders. Not even spiders like spiders.”
“Well, anyway,” I say, “the point is, if I’m right, then Ten Unlucky Pirates suggests that ten pirates and our treehouse are going to be a bad combination.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Andy,” says Terry.
“Me, too,” I say.
“I’ll give you one last chance to surrender peacefully,” bellows Captain Woodenhead. “Otherwise, I’ll blast you and your treehouse to pieces in a very non-peaceful way!”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say. “We’ve had a quick meeting and decided to allow you and your crew free membership with access to all treehouse facilities, including unlimited use of the marshmallow machine, the lemonade fountain, and the ice-cream parlor.”
“Well, that’s more like it!” says the captain amid rousing cheers from his crew.
I climb down, open the door, and the pirates barge in excitedly. Within moments, they’ve climbed the ladder and made it up to the main level.
“Well, I must say,” says Captain Woodenhead, looking around the treehouse, “you’ve made yourselves quite a palace out of the pieces of my boat. I think my crew and I are going to be very happy here. Very happy indeed. Especially with you three as our slaves!”
“Slaves?” says Terry. “But I thought you said if we let you in, nothing bad would happen to us.”
“There are plenty of things worse than being a pirate slave, my lad,” says Captain Woodenhead. “There’s having your head bitten off by a huge fish that stinks like moldy old cheese—that’s pretty bad. And then there’s being swallowed by a huge fish that stinks like moldy old cheese—that’s not particularly pleasant, either. Also, having your ship wrecked in a storm and the pieces stolen by thieves isn’t much fun either, in case you were wondering.…”
“Hey, Captain!” yells one of the pirates. “Look at this vine! Come and have a swing with us!”
Captain Woodenhead’s crew are standing at the edge of the deck, clinging to a vine.
“I swear by my ex-wooden head, that is a mighty fine vine!” says the captain. Then he turns back to us. “You three stay here. I’m just going to have a quick swing and then I’ll be back to tell you how things are going to be around here from now on.”
The captain runs across and, with a mighty leap, joins his crew on the vine. They push off and go swinging out wide from the treehouse.
“Well, so far so good,” I say.
“What are you talking about?” says Terry. “The pirates have taken over the treehouse and we’re back to being pirate slaves again!”
“Yes, but not for long,” I say. “The first verse of Ten Unlucky Pirates is:
Ten unlucky pirates
swinging on a vine …
One fell off
and then there were nine.
And look what’s happening: Ten pirates swinging on a vine! See what I mean about nursery rhymes containing the truth? All we have to do is wait.”
“I have to admit, it does look pretty dangerous,” says Terry. “There are ten pirates on what is clearly only a nine-pirate vine.”
“Well, it can’t be that dangerous,” says Jill, as we watch them swing up toward the ice-skating pond. “Nobody’s fallen off yet.”
“No, not yet,” I say, crossing the fingers on both of my hands, “but any moment now…”
There’s a bloodcurdling scream as one of the pirates loses his grip and goes plummeting downward.
We peer over the edge at the pirate-shaped hole in the ground below.
“You were right!” says Terry. “But what about the others?”
“Well, they’re at the ice-skating pond,” I say, “which is exactly where the rhyme predicts they would be.”
Nine unlucky pirates
learning how to skate …
“If my calculations are correct, any moment now, we should be hearing a loud crack…”
“Like that?” says Terry.
“Exactly like that,” I say. “I think we can safely let the rhyme take it from here.”
Nine unlucky pirates
learning how to skate …
One cracked through the ice
and then there were eight.
Eight unlucky pirates
riding the mechanical bull Kevin …
One got bucked off
and then there were seven.
Seven unlucky pirates
making a rockin’ pirate mix …
One got electrocuted
and then there were six.
Six unlucky pirates
doing a synchronized dive …
One missed the swimming pool
and then there were five.
Five unlucky pirates
eating ice cream galore …
One got brain-freeze
and then there were four.
Four unlucky pirates
playing in a tree …
One sat in the catapult
and then there were three.
Three unlucky pirates
each getting a tattoo …
The ATM* malfunctioned
and then there were two.
Two unlucky pirates
mud-fighting in the sun …
One got baked hard
and then there was one.
“That’s amazing, Andy!” says Terry. “Everything happened just like it does in the rhyme—there’s only one pirate left!”
“Yes,” says Jill, “but unfortunately, it’s the worst one—Captain Woodenhead! And here he comes!”
“Don’t panic,” I say, “there’s still one more verse.”
One
unlucky pirate
with a cutlass and a gun.
He got lost in the Maze of Doom
and then there were none.
“Well, it’s kind of right,” says Terry. “He’s got a cutlass and a gun, but he’s not lost in the Maze of Doom. He’s not even in the Maze of Doom!”
“No, not yet,” I say, “but he soon will be. Let’s go!”
“Where?” says Terry.
“Into the Maze of Doom!”
“But it’s dangerous,” says Terry. “Look at the signs.”
“I know what the signs say, but Captain Woodenhead is even more dangerous! He’s got a cutlass and a gun, remember?”
“Oh yeah, good point,” says Terry. “Let’s go!”
CHAPTER 12
THE MAZE OF DOOM
We run into the maze.
Captain Woodenhead runs after us. Exactly as I’d hoped he would.
We turn left.
We turn right.
We turn left again.
Then right …
left …
left …
right …
left …
right …
right …
left …
right …
right …
and left …
until we hit a dead end.
We’re all bent over double, panting.
“I think we lost him,” I say.
“Yes, but now we’re lost, too!” says Jill.
“No we’re not,” I say. “All we have to do is what we just did, but in reverse.”
“But I’m not that good at running backward,” says Terry.
“I don’t mean that,” I say. “It’s a simple matter of retracing our steps. Just follow me.”
We turn right …
then left …
left …
then right …
left …
left …
right …
left …
right …
right …
left …
right …
left …
“Unless I’m very much mistaken,” I say, “we should see the entrance around the next right.”
But we don’t.
All we see is another dead end. And I do mean dead—there is a skeleton wearing a mailman’s cap slumped against the wall.
“Isn’t that Bill the mailman’s hat?” says Jill.
“So that’s why we haven’t been getting any mail!” says Terry.
“That’s so sad!” says Jill.
“I know,” says Terry, “because I really like getting mail.”
“No, I mean about Bill. I was quite fond of him.”
“So was I,” I say, “but it’s not our fault. The warning signs are clearly posted. It’s not called the Maze of Doom for nothing, you know.”
“But we entered,” says Jill.
“That’s because it was an emergency.”
“So how do we get out?” says Jill.
“We don’t know,” says Terry.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You built it, didn’t you? Where are the emergency exits?”
“There aren’t any,” I say.
“But all mazes have emergency exits,” says Jill.
“This is the Maze of Doom,” I explain. “It doesn’t have emergency exits. That would be cheating!”
“Oh, no!” says Terry. “We’re going to end up as skeletons … just like Bill the mailman!”
“Not necessarily,” says Jill, looking skyward. “Listen.”
“To what?” says Terry.
“That soft fluttering sound,” says Jill. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s the sound of Silky and her friends!”
“Silky’s going to save us!” says Jill. “All we have to do is follow her.”
And, sure enough, Jill’s right. Before long, we are making our way out of the maze …
and back into the safety of the treehouse.
“Thanks, Silky,” says Terry. “You’re an even better guide than Superfinger.”
“That’s because Silky is real,” says Jill. “Superfinger is just a character you and Andy made up for your last book, remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” says Terry.
“Speaking of books,” I say, “let’s get back to finishing this one. I don’t think Captain Woodenhead will be giving us any more trouble. He’ll never make it out of there alive.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” says Terry, pointing behind me.
I turn to see Captain Woodenhead emerging from the maze. “But how could you possibly find your way out of there?” I gasp, as we retreat across the deck. “That’s the most complicated maze in the world! It’s the Maze of Doom!”
“A couple of lucky guesses, I suppose,” says Captain Woodenhead, advancing toward us, slicing and dicing the air with his cutlass. “Well … lucky for me, that is—not so lucky for you.”
He’s right about that.
This time, there’s no escape.
We’re right at the edge of the deck.
Below us is the shark tank.
“You’ve ruined everything!” says Captain Woodenhead. “My wooden head, two of my ships, and now, you’ve destroyed my crew as well! But I’ll have my revenge. Prepare to die!”
Captain Woodenhead raises his arm high into the air, his cutlass flashing in the sun.
“Get ready to jump,” I say.
“Don’t even think about it,” says Jill. “Those sharks are not to be disturbed.”
“Quiet, you two,” says Terry, looking up. “Listen.”
“To what?” says Jill.
“That weird noise. Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s the sound of a fish head that has been blasted off its body, has gone into orbit, and is now falling back down to Earth!”
We hear a whooshing sound and look up to see the terrifying head of Gorgonzola rushing straight toward us.
Terry grabs me and Jill and pulls us clear.
Gorgonzola’s head lands right on top of Captain Woodenhead!
He staggers around …
loses his footing …
and falls off the deck …
right into the shark tank.
There’s a wild frenzy of flashing fins and teeth, and then all is quiet.
“Looks like the sharks are feeling better,” says Terry.
“Yes,” I say. “They’ve definitely got their appetite back.”
“I just hope his underpants were clean,” says Jill.
CHAPTER 13
THE LAST CHAPTER
You know, there’s nothing like a session in the antigravity chamber to really help you relax after a stressful couple of days like the ones we’ve just been through.
“Uh-oh,” says Terry. “That’s the video phone. It must be Mr. Big Nose!”
He’s right. I’d better go answer it.
“What took you so long?” says Mr. Big Nose. “I’m a busy man, you know!”
“Sorry,” I say. “I was relaxing in the antigravity chamber.”
“Relaxing? What about the new book?”
“It’s all done,” I say.
“Then why isn’t it on my desk?”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “I’ll get it to you very soon, but it’s been a bit hectic around here. You see—”
“Spare me the details,” says Mr. Big Nose. “I don’t pay you for excuses, I pay you for books, and if the new one isn’t on my desk in the next five minutes, then I won’t be paying you at all and you can find yourself a new publisher!”
“But I thought we had until next Friday,” I say.
“You did, but the schedule changed,” says Mr. Big Nose. “Five minutes … or else.”
The screen goes blank.
“What’s the matter, Andy?” says Jill.
“It’s the new book,” I say. “The schedule has been changed. Instead of being due next week, now it’s due in five minutes.”
“I hate Mr. Big Nose,�
�� says Terry.
“Be quiet,” I say. “He might hear you!”
“What new book are you talking about?” says Jill.
“This one!” I say. “It’s about how me and Terry met. You’re in it as well.”
“Really?” says Jill. “Can I see it?”
“Sure.”