Mr Pifflewhiskers stared back at her. ‘You do?’
Linda nodded. ‘We do,’ she said.
Mr Pifflewhiskers shook his head. ‘How did you find out? I was so careful.’
‘It was the gold sports car,’ said Linda. ‘And the yacht. And the motorbike. What teacher can afford a gold sports
car? It was obvious—you had to be the wombat poacher!’
Mr Pifflewhiskers stared at her. ‘Me? The wombat poacher? You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not a wombat poacher.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said TJ, glaring at Mr Pifflewhiskers. ‘What are you, then?’
‘I’m a customs officer! I’m the one hunting the poachers!’ Mr Pifflewhiskers gulped and looked anxiously up at the edge of the hole. ‘And let me tell you, kid, they could be along any moment!’
CHAPTER 14
The Elephant
‘I don’t believe you!’ cried TJ.
‘It’s true!’ Mr Pifflewhiskers said and took another bite of banana cake.
‘But what about the gold sports car? I bet customs officers don’t make enough money to buy a gold sports car.’
‘That’s not my sports car. The motorbike isn’t mine either.’
‘Whose are they then?’
‘My brother’s a second-hand car dealer. I do up cars and motorbikes for him in my spare time.’
‘What about the yacht? And the new computer?’ asked Linda.
‘I live in the yacht—it’s cheaper than a house. And the new computer is a birthday present for my fiancée!’
‘Oh,’ said TJ. He shook his head. ‘But if you’re not the poacher, who is? There aren’t any other strangers in Gobbledegook. The only other newcomers are…’ He stopped.
‘Geek,’ said Gran softly.
TJ looked at Linda. ‘Your family only arrived last week,’ he whispered. ‘And you won’t say where they came from, or what your parents do for a living.’
Linda glared at him. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a poacher!’
‘What about your parents then? Or,’ TJ added, inspired, ‘what about your grandpop? And you said there was no elephant!’
‘There isn’t any elephant,’ said Linda ‘How many times do I have to tell you? There never was any elephant! The only elephant is in your head!’
‘Geek,’ said Gran.
‘Why do you keep going on about elephants?’ Linda continued. ‘Elephant tracks, elephant droppings…’
‘Geek geek geek!’
‘You even think I smell like an elephant! Well, I’ll tell
you what you smell like, you smell like slug vomit! And you look like a slug too! Always going on about elephants, elephants, elephants…’
‘Geeeeek!’ cried Gran.
‘For the last and final time!’ shrieked Linda. ‘There are no elephants!’
‘Geek,’ said Gran. She pointed.
Something long and grey had poked down into the hole. Something wrinkled, with a moist pink tip. It twisted inquisitively back and forth.
Then a large grey head blocked the light from the hole. It had two giant ears that flapped on either side, and two small eyes, and a mouth with giant yellow tusks that opened wide and trumpeted.
‘It’s…it’s an elephant,’ whispered TJ.
Linda gulped. Then she stood up straighter, and put out her chin. ‘No it’s not,’ she said.
‘But it’s got a trunk! And tusks! And…and…’ said TJ.
‘It’s not an elephant,’ whispered Linda again. ‘I mean it’s not just an elephant.’
‘What is it then?’ asked TJ.
Linda sniffed. ‘It’s my pop!’ And with that she burst into tears.
TJ wasn’t really sure what happened after that. Suddenly Gran was comforting Linda, and the elephant was hooting and checking Linda over with his wrinkled grey trunk, and Mr Pifflewhiskers was trying to remind everyone that the poachers might be back any minute and they had to get out of there, and Egbert was waving his antennae to say would they all please keep quiet because he was trying to take a nap…
…and suddenly TJ felt the elephant’s trunk about his waist.
‘Help!’ he screamed, as the elephant lifted him out of the wombat trap.
‘Oh, stop fussing!’ cried Linda, wiping her eyes. ‘He’s just rescuing us. Aren’t you, Pop?’
‘Huuuruuurrruuuu!’ trumpeted Pop, so loudly that TJ felt his head was about to blow off. He smelt of hay and old leather and something that was just…elephant.
Pop plonked TJ down on the ground and reached his trunk down for Gran.
‘Geek,’ said Gran thankfully, as Pop set her down next to TJ. She gazed at him for a moment, and Pop gazed at her too with his tiny bright eyes. Then Pop reached down for Mr Pifflewhiskers.
Then it was Linda’s turn. But to TJ’s amazement, this time Pop’s trunk didn’t wrap around Linda waist. Instead it reached down beside her. Linda stepped onto the tip of the trunk daintily, holding onto the top of the trunk for balance.
Higher and higher the trunk rose, till it was way above Pop’s head. Then suddenly Linda did a double somersault in the air. She landed on Pop’s back, her arms held up above her. One more double somersault and she was on the ground again, light as a meringue.
‘But…but…but…’ began TJ. He couldn’t think what to say next.
Linda glared at him. ‘No, I am not a wombat poacher,’ she said with her hands on her hips. ‘And neither is anyone in my family! We used to work in a circus, but Pop was getting too old to perform every day.’
Linda stroked the elephant’s trunk and Pop rumbled softly in her ear. ‘Elephants aren’t allowed to live with ordinary families. Pop would have to go to a zoo and…and…I know they are really nice zoos nowadays, but he’s part of our family. And we’re the only family he has too. So we came here and tried to keep him secret.’ Linda gulped, and she started to cry. ‘But it’s been so lonely and Pop has been lonely too. And now you all know about him and they’ll take Pop away and we’ll never see him again except in a zoo!’ Linda began to cry really loudly.
‘But Linda!’ said TJ. ‘I’d never tell! Really! I understand.’
‘No you don’t,’ sobbed Linda. ‘No-one understands. How could anyone else possibly understand having a Pop who’s an elephant?’
‘Geek,’ said Gran. She patted Linda’s shoulder. Then slowly, very slowly, Gran took off her hat.
‘Gran!’ cried TJ. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Geek!’ said Gran. She took off her wig too.
Linda stared. So did Mr Pifflewhiskers and so did Pop.
‘Huuuruuurrruuuu!’ trumpeted Pop.
TJ nodded. ‘That’s right. My Gran is a…’ he gulped. ‘A gorilla!’
‘My word,’ said Mr Pifflewhiskers faintly.
And that’s when the poachers arrived.
CHAPTER 15
The Poachers
First there was a sound like a million birds all chattering together. Then the wind began to blow. TJ looked up, just as something wide and grey began to float around them.
It was a net! A net dropped from a helicopter!
Suddenly it all made sense. No wonder the only tracks about had been Pop’s. The poachers came in a helicopter. And that meant they didn’t have to be staying nearby either. They were probably poaching wombats from lots of forests, TJ realised. And now…
TJ tried to run. But it was too late. The net settled around his head, his arms, his body.
‘Gran!’ he yelled. ‘You’ve got to escape! Hurry!’
But it was too late. Beside him Gran struggled but even she wasn’t strong enough to break the net. Pop thrashed at the net with his trunk.
But the net held firm.
The helicopter landed a little distance away. The door opened and two men got out. They wore camouflage gear, just like on TV. One poacher had a droopy
moustache, and the other had a droopy beard. And they both carried guns at their side.
‘Don’t shoot!’ screamed TJ.
&n
bsp; ‘Damn!’ cried Droopy Beard. ‘A bloke and couple of kids. Just what we don’t need.’
Droopy Moustache laughed. ‘Forget about them! Do you see what I see?’
His mate’s eyes gleamed. ‘A blinking elephant! And a gorilla! And to think we only planned to get a few wombats!’
‘Wombats sell for high prices if you can smuggle them to zoos overseas,’ said Droopy Moustache. ‘But nowhere near as much as an elephant and a gorilla. We’ll be rich! But what about the kids and the bloke? Should we shoot them?’
‘May as well,’ said his mate.
‘You can’t kill us!’ yelled Linda. ‘That’s murder!’
‘Geek!’ agreed Gran. Beside her, Pop trumpeted in anger, and thrashed fruitlessly at the net.
‘Murder? No way,’ said Droopy Moustache. He patted his firearm. ‘This is a tranquiliser gun, kid. If we shoot you, you’ll wake up again. But by then we’ll be long gone. And so will the elephant and the gorilla.’
‘You won’t get away with this,’ said Mr Pifflewhiskers.
Droopy Moustache grinned at him, showing teeth that were as yellow as Gran’s, but much longer. ‘But we are getting away with it! There’s nothing you can do now! That net has got you tight!’ He held up his gun. ‘One trank each for you and the girl and the boy. Then two tranks for the gorilla and three for the elephant and when you wake up they’ll be far, far away—and so will we!’
‘No!’ cried Linda. ‘You can’t put my Pop in a zoo!
‘Or my Gran!’ yelled TJ.
‘Gran? Pop?’ Droopy Moustache shook his head. ‘The kids are raving! Right…’ He raised his tranquiliser gun.
Something stirred at TJ’s feet. It was his school-bag. A small slimy head emerged, and stared at the poachers.
The poachers took no notice. Droopy Moustache’s finger tightened on the trigger.
‘Distract them!’ signed Egbert.
TJ blinked. Distract the poachers? How? Why? What could a slug—even a Giant Skateboarding Slug—do about two poachers? Egbert might have the heart of a lion and the bad temper of a hyena on steroids, but he was still just a slug.
But it was worth a try.
TJ took a deep breath. ‘No!’ he called.
‘No use pleading, kid,’ said Droopy Beard.
‘I…I’m not pleading. Um…I’d like to join you!’
Droopy Moustache put down his pistol. ‘Join us?’ he said and hooted. ‘You hear that? The dopey looking kid wants to join us!’
‘Er…Yes!’ said TJ, ignoring Gran’s stare and Linda’s gasp of horror. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a poacher when I leave school. Being a poacher sounds really exciting. Maybe…Maybe I can come and do work experience with you next school holidays.’ Out of the corner of his eye he could see Egbert slowly ooze out of his school-bag.
‘Work experience?’ Droopy Moustache laughed. ‘What could a kid do for us for work experience?’
‘I could…er…mend your net. Or track wombats for you. I’m really good at communicating with wombats.’
Egbert was oozing under the net now. That slug could ooze, thought TJ in admiration.
‘Chat to the little wombats, can you?’ chortled Droopy Moustache. ‘Just what we need. A dopey kid who thinks he can talk to wombats! Right kid, the first trank is for you.’
Zing! Egbert zapped across the ground in a blur of slime and skateboard.
‘What the…’ Droopy Moustache stared. ‘What is that?’
‘It’s…It’s a slug!’ Droopy Beard blinked, then grinned. ‘It’s just a slug! Hey kid, is that your pet slug? A dumb pet for a dumb kid. Eh?’
TJ bit his lip. How could Egbert possibly help?
Droopy Moustache raised his pistol and aimed it at Egbert. Bang! But Egbert—and his skateboard—were too fast for him.
Zoop! With one flick of his skateboard Egbert zoomed up Droopy Beard’s legs, squirting out a shower of…of…TJ blinked. What was that stuff?
‘Slime,’ breathed Linda. ‘Egbert is squirting out a shower of slime.’
‘It’s his secret weapon!’ cried TJ. ‘Egbert said he had a secret weapon. And I didn’t believe him.’
‘Errrk!’ yelled Droopy Beard. ‘Get it off me! Eeerk!’
Zing! Egbert’s skateboard jumped from Droopy Beard’s head onto Droopy Moustache’s.
‘Ugh! Yuk! Help!’ yelled Droopy Moustache. ‘It’s squirted yuk all over me.’
TJ felt a giggle bubbling up inside him. They looked so stupid. But it was only slime, he realised.
Slime might feel yuk, but it couldn’t stop them now.
Could it?
Suddenly TJ realised the men were silent. And not just silent. They were totally still as well.
Zing! Egbert flipped his skateboard ninety degrees and landed by the net. ‘That fixed them!’ he signed.
‘But Egbert!’ cried TJ. ‘What did you do?’
‘Me told you me had secret weapon,’ signed Egbert. ‘Me don’t have fangs. Me don’t have hands. But me have secret weapon slime that turns to concrete in the open air!’
‘You’ve gummed them up!’ cried TJ. ‘Egbert, you hero!’
‘Geek!’ agreed Gran.
‘Huuuruuurrruuuu!’ trumpeted Pop, draping his trunk round Gran’s shoulders.
‘That’s all very well,’ said Mr Pifflewhiskers. ‘But how are we going to get out of this net?’
‘Geek,’ said Gran happily. She held up two sticks.
TJ shook his head. ‘But Gran! How can two sticks help us?’
‘Geek,’ said Gran again. She knelt down and began to rub the sticks together.
CHAPTER 16
Rescue
The Gobbledegook Volunteer Bushfire Brigade arrived just twelve minutes after Gran started the fire.
‘Saw the smoke!’ gasped Very Big Sean, leaping out of the fire truck. ‘Don’t you know there’s a total fire ban? Do you want to start a bushfire?’ Very Big Sean stared, first at the fire, then at the net, then at Gran and Pop and the helicopter, then at the two poachers frozen in mid-yell.
‘What on earth is going on?’ he cried, as the rest of the fire crew scrambled out of the truck.
‘Wombat poachers,’ said Mr Pifflewhiskers crisply.
‘Wombat poachers!’ Big Marge picked up the poachers by their collars. ‘One peep out of you two and I’ll sit on you,’ she said.
‘I don’t think they can peep,’ said TJ. ‘They’re gummed up with slug slime.’
‘Slug slime is too good for wombat poachers,’ said Big Marge. She eyed Pop thoughtfully. ‘That’s a fine figure of an elephant,’ she added.
‘Geek,’ said Gran jealously. She moved closer to Pop, and he put his trunk around her shoulders.
‘Hey! Is that banana cake?’ Big Marge lost interest in Pop.
‘Geek!’ nodded Gran, holding up the plate of cake under the net.
‘It’s been years since I had a nice bit of banana cake,’ said Big Marge.
‘Well, if you’d just remove this net I’m sure this good, er, lady will give you all the banana cake you want,’ said Mr Pifflewhiskers. ‘And then I can call my headquarters. I work for the Australian Customs Service,’ he added. ‘And we’ve been tracking these villains for months.’
‘Um…is your name really Mr Pifflewhiskers?’ asked Linda, as the Gobbledegook Volunteer Bushfire Brigade lifted the net from them and draped it over the silent poachers instead.
‘No, of course not,’ said Mr Pifflewhiskers, taking a slice of banana cake before Big Marge ate it all. ‘That’s a codename, in case anyone recognised me as coming from the Customs Service.’
‘I thought so,’ said Linda triumphantly. ‘No-one could be called Pifflewhiskers!’
‘You’re absolutely right. My name is really Mr Pootleshanks,’ said Mr Pootleshanks. He rubbed his hands happily. ‘So, it’s all turned out pretty well, hasn’t it?’
‘Too right!’ said Big Marge. She had been investigating the helicopter while she finished off the banana cake. ‘Hey, did you kn
ow this helicopter is full of wombats?’
Big Marge and the rest of the Gobbledegook Volunteer Bushfire Brigade watched in amazement as a dozen wombats trundled out of the helicopter, blinked at the strange smells, and made a dash for the nearest wombat hole.
Big Marge patted the helicopter door. ‘You know what I think? I think the Gobbledegook Volunteer Bushfire Brigade needs to adopt this poor lonely helicopter. It’s just what we need for spotting bushfires.’
‘Great idea,’ agreed Very Big Sean. ‘Yep, it’s all ended happily all right.’
TJ gulped. ‘No it hasn’t!’ he cried. ‘Now everyone knows about Gran…and Pop! It’s the worst ending that could possibly happen!’
Very Big Sean stared at him. ‘What do you mean, TJ?’ he asked.
TJ swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Now you know my gran’s a gorilla.’
‘Gorilla?’ said Very Big Sean innocently. ‘I don’t see any gorilla. Any of you lot see a gorilla?’
The Gobbledegook Volunteer Bushfire Brigade all shook their heads. ‘No,’ they chorused. ‘We don’t see any gorillas either.’
‘Don’t think I’d notice a gorilla even if I tripped over one,’ said Big Marge innocently. ‘Any more of that banana cake?’
‘Not if they’re local gorillas anyway,’ said Very Big Sean. ‘Look TJ, we’ve all known that your gran was a gorilla since five minutes after you got here. Not that she is a gorilla, of course. Just a local with a bit more hair than most.’ Very Big Sean patted his bald spot. ‘You can’t keep anything a secret in Gobbledegook. Around here it doesn’t matter if you’ve got fur all over you or pink spots on your bottom. Or a trunk,’ he added to Pop. ’Just as long as you’re there when there’s a bushfire or your mates need you.’
Wonderfully Wacky Families Page 11