Contents
SECTION ONE
SECTION TWO
SECTION THREE
SECTION FOUR
SECTION FIVE
SECTION SIX
SECTION SEVEN
SECTION EIGHT
SECTION NINE
SECTION TEN
SECTION ELEVEN
SECTION TWELVE
SECTION THIRTEEN
SECTION FOURTEEN
SECTION FIFTEEN
SECTION SIXTEEN
SECTION SEVENTEEN
SECTION EIGHTEEN
SECTION NINETEEN
SECTION TWENTY
SECTION TWENTY-ONE
SECTION TWENTY-TWO
SECTION TWENTY-THREE
SECTION TWENTY-FOUR
SECTION TWENTY-FIVE
SECTION TWENTY-SIX
SECTION TWENTY-SEVEN
SECTION TWENTY-EIGHT
SECTION TWENTY-NINE
SECTION THIRTY
SECTION THIRTY-ONE
SECTION THIRTY-TWO
SECTION THIRTY-THREE
For VDB
SECTION ONE
In which everyone on Uncle Shawn’s llama farm, way up on the sunny side of Scotland, is so happy their toes feel ticklish. It really couldn’t be a better day for everyone. We wouldn’t expect a dangerous and terrible adventure to start happening all over the place on a day as nice as this. Or would we…?
Brian Llama had just eaten six pints of blueberry jam and was lying in the warm grass of his meadow feeling a bit full. He was just burping a blueberry-flavoured burp when he heard a slippery kind of voice saying, “We can’t have that. Llamas in Scotland. That’s definitely Unusual.”
Brian raised his head and saw a stranger peering over the hedge. The stranger was wearing a perfectly white suit and perfectly shiny black shoes and had perfectly polished fingernails that glittered in the sun as he wrote something down with a silvery pencil into a tiny, clean notebook.
The strange man stared at Brian as if he was some kind of horrible mistake, like a trampoline covered in squirrels. He spoke again and wrote down another note. “And a llama with bright blue nose fur. Unusual. Perhaps the beast has a terrible disease. Everyone knows Unusualness leads to terrible disease.”
Now Brian was a very brave llama. He had to be, because he was very scared most of the time. Tall shadows and Tuesdays and long sums and swamp monsters … lots of things scared Brian Llama. And having a terrible disease! That sounded really frightening. And having blue nose fur – that must be the worst disease ever!
“Oh no,” thought Brian. “What will I do?” And his fur puffed out with fright so that he looked like a chocolate-coloured cloud with hooves and big, scared llama eyes.
The stranger smiled a smile that was as white as polar bear bottoms and almost too wide for his head.
This made Brian run away shouting “Waaaaah! EMERGENCIA!” Which is Spanish for “Waaaaah! EMERGENCY!”
Only then he remembered that his nose fur was blue because it was covered with blueberry jam and so he probably wasn’t ill. He just had delicious jam to lick off his nose – and whiskers and chin – as far as his clever llama tongue could reach. (One of the best things about being a llama is how much jam you can have left on your nose to eat later.) The jam tasted so wonderful that Brian forgot about the shiny stranger.
Later, Carlos Llama was playing snap with Guinevere Llama and drinking lemonade. They didn’t even notice the shiny stranger peeking at them through the hedge. The stranger scratched his ears and his teeth glimmered while he made notes.
And later than that, Ginalolobrigida Llama was arranging her new selection of mascaras in her llama barn. Knowing that she had more mascara than any other llama on earth always made Ginalolobrigida especially happy. She was putting so much effort into looking dainty and lovely that she didn’t notice the shiny stranger climbing a tree to stare at her and make even more notes while his big white teeth gleamed the way angry plates would.
The stranger had a handkerchief over his head.
In case there were spiders.
SECTION TWO
In which – well – maybe not everyone on the farm is feeling very happy after all. And where on earth is Uncle Shawn? He’s really good at rescuing people and adventures. Maybe we’ll need him soon.
Badger Bill wanted to play with Uncle Shawn, who was his best friend in the whole wide world. Uncle Shawn was friendly and funny and kind, with his flappy clothes and his floppy arms and his wibbly hair. And he had large, blue, clever eyes that could stare straight through you and find out just what you were like. His eyes were also good at winking.
Uncle Shawn’s pockets were full of sandy, fluffy toffee that tasted of honey and Saturday afternoons. And Uncle Shawn told Bill jokes like “What happens if you sleep on a corduroy pillow?”
Bill knew the answer to that one: “You make headlines!”
Bill told Uncle Shawn jokes like “What isn’t red and doesn’t make a noise?”
“NO TOMATOES!” Uncle Shawn always knew the answers to jokes.
If Uncle Shawn and Bill were by the sea that whispered and tickled along the bay below the farm, they would just snuggle their bare feet in the warm sand, or paddle in the shallows, and Uncle Shawn would put shells (and sand) into his pockets (and onto his toffees). The two friends didn’t swim, because Bill hadn’t learned how yet. Uncle Shawn was going to teach him, because Bill sometimes wanted to be a pirate and sail the nineteen seas, as counted carefully by Captain Bartholomew Badger. (Captain Bartholomew was the first badger to carve a sailing ship out of soap. It sank as soon as he launched it, but when he had swum back to land, everyone agreed that he looked much cleaner.) Bill thought pirates should probably know how to swim.
But earlier today when Bill had seen Uncle Shawn by the llama barns and asked him to play, Uncle Shawn shook his head and called, “I can’t play now, Bill. I’m very busy.” While he said this, he was hopping on one big mahogany shoe – plack, plack, plack – and sprinkling sugar on the paths and making clicking noises with his tongue against his teeth. He sounded like someone knitting far away. This seemed an Unusual thing to do.
Later, Bill had seen Uncle Shawn in Fingle Wood. Uncle Shawn was hanging upside down from a tree branch by his knees and counting, “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.” When Bill came near, Uncle Shawn shook his head and called, “I can’t play now, Bill. I’m very busy.” This also seemed Unusual to Bill.
Then Bill had seen Uncle Shawn by the seashore, up to his trouser knees in the water. He was staring at the waves and patting them. While he did this he let out long noises that sounded a bit like, “BooWOOoooAAAhbWahWupWup. BoioioioioioioioiWoahOOP.” Then Uncle Shawn shook his head and called, “I can’t play now, Bill. I’m very busy.”
This made Bill feel a bit sad. He thought to himself, “Unusual hopping… Unusual swinging from trees… Unusual patting of waves… That’s all… Unusual.”
He wriggled his whiskers and thought, “I wonder if Uncle Shawn is Too Unusual?” And then Badger Bill adjusted his small pirate hat, which he was wearing because he wanted to feel like a small pirate.
While these thoughts passed the whole way through Bill’s head, through the part of the brain that likes toasted cheese and the part that likes tickles and the Area of Sneezes and onwards, the shiny stranger was watching him from under a small bush.
The stranger took out his notebook and wrote: Small badger. Looks as if he is wearing pirate hat. Completely Unusual!!!
SECTION THREE
In which we find out more about t
he shiny stranger – which is a bit frightening. In fact, I have a very bad feeling about this man and his perfectly clean clothes and his glistening teeth.
Later that day, the stranger was walking towards the village of Pandrumdroochit, a few miles north of the llama farm. He was hitting the hedges and bushes with a branch he had found so that he could scare away any animals and birds. He didn’t like animals and birds.
The stranger had silky hair that lay very flat on his head, almost as if it were paint and not hair at all, and he had glittery dark purple eyes and a crimson waistcoat, a spotless white jacket and spotless white trousers. His shoes were so shiny it would hurt you to look at them (which is why he kept them like that). While he walked, he smiled a smile that was the size of a polished bathroom sink.
When he saw a small boy called Hughie bouncy-space-walking about with a cardboard box on his head, the stranger’s teeth seemed to get even bigger, and you could hear a sort of skreeee skreeee noise as they ground against each other.
“What are you doing, horrible boy?” said the stranger.
Hughie looked up at the man through the hole he had cut in the front of the box. “I am a spaceman. I am on the planet Floop and I am wearing my space helmet.” Hughie was surprised that the man couldn’t have worked this out for himself.
The stranger made a note in his book. “The last horrible small boy I met who thought he was a spaceman is now a patient in my Institution for Maximum Security and Unusualness Curing.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t suit me.” said Hughie. “I’m a very busy spaceman and Mum says I never have any patients.”
“She means patience,” said the stranger.
“Yes. Patients,” said Hughie. And he began to bouncy-space-walk up the road as fast as he could, waving his arms to keep away space goblins.
SECTION FOUR
In which we find out what the squeaky-clean stranger who doesn’t like anything has been doing in Pandrumdroochit. And what he has been building, hidden away behind the hills. I really hope that Uncle Shawn will be here soon. We’ll feel less worried then. I wonder where he is?
The shiny stranger was now in Pandrumdroochit village. As he had done every morning since he arrived, he walked along the High Street with neat steps, handing out leaflets. Today’s leaflets said:
Because that’s what the shiny stranger called himself – Dr P’Klawz.
(In fact his real name was Sylvester Pearlyclaws. But he was in hiding because he had done so many terrible things that every police force on Earth was looking for him.)
And if anyone said the doctor had an Unusual name, which sounded like trying to put a crow into a sleeping bag, he would stare very hard at them until they cried.
As he went around the village, P’Klawz made sure to worry everyone he met and make them scared of Unusualness.
P’Klawz asked the postman, “Have you been bitten by any Unusual cats?” The postman said that he had never been bitten by any cats, although he had started to worry about it. Dr P’Klawz warned him about cat bites every time they met. P’Klawz told him, “You should worry all the time. Unusual cats can hide in bread bins, or under your bed, or anywhere. BUT FEAR NOT!” He yelled this last bit, so that the postman – who was a nervous person – jumped and dropped his postbag. “I, Doctor P’Klawz, the Unusualness expert, will assist you! Take a leaflet.”
“I have a leaflet.”
“TAKE ANOTHER! YOU MIGHT LOSE IT!”
The postman ran home to his own ginger cat, who was called Jemima. “Oh, Jemima…” the postman whispered, “I hope you don’t get Unusual. I don’t think you’d fit in the bread bin.”
Jemima was a rather large cat. This was because her two hobbies were sleeping and eating the postman’s butter when he forgot to put the lid back on the butter dish. The postman had never noticed.
Next, P’Klawz gave Hughie’s mother a (very big) business card that listed various types of Unusualness for anyone silly enough to read it.
This made Hughie’s mum wonder if maybe Hughie saying that he was a spaceman was a sign of Unusualness.
After that, Dr P’Klawz made the Pandrumdroochit School headmaster worry that his wig might turn Unusual and start waving signals to the naughty boys at the back of the class. (This was almost true – the headmaster’s wig did wave a little bit in strong winds and this made the naughty boys giggle.)
Once he had made lots of people less happy, P’Klawz went back to the little office he was renting beside the Pandrumdroochit Fire Station and stepped inside. Then he went and stood in front of his big mirror.
He practised his smiling.
He never did seem to be able to make himself smile as if he was happy. This was because Dr P’Klawz hated even the idea of being happy. Happiness made his teeth grind against each other and make a skreee noise, which hurt his ears and made his brain wriggle.
Then he practised looking like a real doctor. (He wasn’t a real doctor.)
This made him look frightening.
Then he practised looking like Dr P’Klawz. (Which, of course, wasn’t his name.)
That made his face so scary we won’t even think about it.
Away behind the Droochit Hills, Dr P’Klawz had bought an old flour mill – which had once made lots of people happy, because you can make all kinds cakes and scones out of flour. P’Klawz had paid people (not very much) to build a long, high fence all around the mill and then fill the place with maximum-security dormitories holding rattly metal beds to give people bad dreams. And even worse than this, he paid guards to paint the walls of the mill with these words: THE P’KLAWZ INSTITUTION FOR MAXIMUM SECURITY AND UNUSUALNESS CURING.
And P’Klawz had filled the big, nasty building with inmates – that was what he called all the people he had persuaded to come and be cured of Unusualness, and the people who had been sent by their friends and relatives after P’Klawz had persuaded them. He was a horrible person.
P’Klawz also made the guards sweep every corner of every room in the Institution so that spiders could never build their webs there. He was afraid of spiders – he thought that having eight legs was Too Unusual. And he didn’t like their webs, because they were Unusually Beautiful.
And in his waistcoat pocket, P’Klawz kept a shiny broken pocket watch that he could twirl and twirl and make people do whatever he wanted.
He wanted them to be unhappy.
SECTION FIVE
In which there is some lemonade and a leaflet. There is also some handy information about how important it is for llamas to have pretty fur if they would like to. And where is Uncle Shawn? Because there are some Highly Unusual things happening.
Back on the farm, Bill carried a fresh bucket of lemonade over to the llama’s drinking trough all by himself. At least, he thought he was by himself.
There was no one to be seen.
But Bill was certain he could hear two little feet tiptoeing whenever he took a step. It was almost as if he was being followed by Someone Invisible.
“Unusual…” thought Bill.
Bill had been thinking about Unusualness a lot lately, because of all the leaflets about it that came through the farmhouse letterbox. And now he was hearing invisible people. “The leaflets said Unusualness spreads faster than raindrops down weasels,” Bill thought. “And Guinevere Llama will only eat square food – even though her favourite food is grapes and cheese balls and pancakes.” Bill liked cooking and baking. But he didn’t like cooking and baking all the time with no one to help him, especially when he had to make everything square.
“And Brian Llama wakes me up at night and says he can hear swamp monsters, or giant hungry owls, or extremely suspicious silences. And Carlos Llama makes fun of my legs sometimes and says they are short and fat – when they are elegant and just right for a badger who enjoys dancing.” Bill loved dancing – especially to “This Badger’s Gotta Move”. He was shy, though, so he only danced in his bedroom where no one could watch.
“And Ginalolobrigida needs whole
cupboards full of special combs and brushes and straighteners and curlers to make her fur absolutely perfect.” It was extremely important for Ginalolobrigida Llama to look perfect.
Bill had asked her, “Why do you need straighteners and curlers? How can you tell which bits of fur should be straight and which bits of fur should be curly? Aren’t the straight bits straight and the curly bits curly already?”
Ginalolobrigida made an unimpressed llama type of huff noise down her nose. “In the first place, I do not have bits of fur. And, of course, I cannot just leave it alone because I DO NOT WANT TO LOOK LIKE AN ANIMAL. I must look perfect.”
Bill was beginning to think this was all Highly Unusual.
SECTION SIX
In which – finally! – Uncle Shawn is here! Also in this section are some firemen and jam sandwiches. But there is also an amount of Unusualness. Oh dear… This is quite a sad section.
Uncle Shawn was running up Pandrumdroochit High Street, throwing jam sandwiches and waving his arms like long socks in a washing machine, and shouting, “Left a bit! Up a bit! Sideways a bit! Get ready, everyone!”
Uncle Shawn’s big mahogany shoes clattered on the pavement and his strange wiggly hair danced about, as if it were listening to music – possibly “This Badger’s Gotta Move”, which is exactly the sort of tune to make anyone’s hair dance.
The people in the village were used to Uncle Shawn acting in ways they didn’t expect. Usually, they would have waved, or stood in their doorways and called, “Hello, Uncle Shawn! Isn’t this a perfect day to be doing whatever peculiar thing it is that you’re doing!”
Uncle Shawn and Bill and the Pajimminy-Crimminy Unusual Adventure Page 1