But everyone in the village was worrying about Unusualness now. Nobody quite knew when they might look in their broom cupboard, or their garden shed, or their bathroom and see Dr P’Klawz standing there with a new leaflet about Unusualness, or a lecture about how they might be Unusual themselves. The village school was very quiet because lots of the schoolchildren had seemed Unusual. (Children are full of all kinds of marvellous things, including Unusualness.) Most of them had been sent to P’Klawz’s Institution. Some of their parents and uncles and cousins had gone there, too.
When the villagers saw Uncle Shawn throwing jam sandwiches and running about and shouting and laughing a lot, this seemed Extremely Unusual. So as Uncle Shawn passed by, everyone pretended he wasn’t there.
Uncle Shawn, whose clever blue eyes never missed anything, said to himself, “Hmm. The shop that sells toffee has a CLOSED sign on the front door, even though it should be OPEN. And Mrs McGuddlekiddy is watching me through her letterbox, as if I am a tiger… Something has happened to make everyone afraid.” His hair wiggled, as if it was thinking.
The firemen of Pandrumdroochit weren’t afraid. They hadn’t read any leaflets, or listened as P’Klawz lectured them. They’d been busy doing firemen things and practising so that they would be very fast and strong when anybody needed helping.
When Fire Chief Strachan heard the clatter of Uncle Shawn’s big mahogany shoes, he cried, “It’s Uncle Shawn!” and everybody ran to the fire station windows. The firemen all waved and cheered, “Hello, Uncle Shawn! How are you?” This was much more like the fun Uncle Shawn was used to having in Pandrumdroochit. Uncle Shawn threw some sandwiches in through the windows and the firemen caught them. Jam sandwiches were exactly the right things to go with their mugs of tea after a hard morning spent getting Reverend Peabody’s head unstuck from between some railings. “Hurray! Thank you, Uncle Shawn!”
Next door, the man who was calling himself Dr P’Klawz (but who was fibbing) was gritting his big gleaming teeth. Ever since he was a child, he had felt sick if anyone giggled and got itchy skin if someone was playing hopscotch and really enjoying it. As he had grown older, he had become allergic to happiness, so he had decided to devote his life to removing it from everyone he met. He had learned that if he made his voice sound smooth and strong, people would let him make them unhappy and steal the Unusualness inside them, which was there to make them just exactly themselves. And if he called himself Professor, or Captain, or Doctor, people trusted P’Klawz even more.
P’Klawz peered out of his window, just as Uncle Shawn dashed by and threw another sandwich. It was an especially sticky sandwich made with bramble jam and when it hit the window’s glass, it stuck and then slowly slid downwards, leaving a wide, brambly smear. Just for a moment, before he galloped past, Uncle Shawn saw a furious face staring at him through the stickiness and heard the sound of teeth squeaking.
Skreeeeee.
They squeaked like a cinema full of mice complaining about a very bad film with not enough adventures in it and no cheese.
In that moment, Uncle Shawn felt as if he might be afraid. “Hmmm… Someone with a face that angry and teeth that loud might be a person who could frighten a whole village,” he thought. “And that wouldn’t be right at all.”
SECTION SEVEN
In which some Extremely Unusual things happen on Uncle Shawn’s farm. And Brian has to be brave again – and doesn’t exactly manage. And Carlos and Guinevere meet a pirate who isn’t really a pirate. If you are nervous, you can read this bit holding someone’s hand. As long as their hand is not mysterious.
Brian Llama was standing in a corner of his barn and feeling scared all over. The particular patch of thin air he was staring at had just sneezed. Before that, he had heard a pair of feet walking – pat, pat, pat – across the soft sawdust on the barn’s floor, exactly as if Someone Invisible was inside the barn with him.
“Hello? Hello? Hola??” said Brian. “Are you a ghost? Please don’t be a ghost. Ghosts are the worst. Except for swamp monsters.” Brian couldn’t help imagining the scariest things. “Or are you a giant invisible owl that wants to eat me?”
There was no answer.
Brian stood ever so still for a long time; almost long enough for him to forget why. He even started to think that he might go to find Bill and ask him for some sultana scones with jam on top and some hot chocolate. It was exhausting being terrified, so he was really hungry.
“Maybe I was only imagining things.” He waited a little bit longer. “I am glad there is not a giant invisible owl standing beside me, or an invisible swamp monster getting ready to eat me,” said Brian to himself. “I’m glad no one with invisible arms is going to reach out for me with invisible fingers and—”
Brian didn’t get the chance to finish saying “and touch me,” because right then invisible tickly fingers did reach up and touch one of his ears very gently, as if they were saying hello.
“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” yelled Brian. “EMERGENCIA!!!” And he kept on yelling while he ran out of the barn even faster than Augusto Llama, the famous Peruvian Champion Llama Sprinter.
“EMERGENCIAAAAAAGH!!!”
Brian went on galloping until he was on the veranda of the farmhouse and then inside the farmhouse, up the stairs and in Bill’s bedroom, hiding under Bill’s bed.
Llamas don’t really fit under beds. Brian knew that his legs were sticking out and that Someone Invisible might tickle his hooves at any time. So he decided to borrow Badger Bill’s coverlet with the pictures of famous badger explorers on it and put it over himself and stand very still, pretending to be a table with four llama-looking legs.
But a table in a bedroom would seem suspicious. So Brian went downstairs and hid in the living room and tried to look exactly like furniture and stop his knees from trembling.
This was Unusual.
Back in the llama barn, there was the sound of another sneeze – schffew – just as if Someone Invisible had got sawdust tickling his or her nose. Then there was a little sigh, just as if Someone Invisible had stroked a nice llama called Brian’s ear to say hello, but then he had just yelled and run away.
Then there was the sound of Someone Invisible sitting down and sighing again.
I’m sure you will agree this was Unusual.
Meanwhile, Carlos Llama and Guinevere Llama were out in the llama meadow by the woods. Unfortunately, Guinevere had just nibbled a large and very delicious flower that Carlos thought was his favourite. This meant they were now having a llama argument. Llamas are quite fond of arguing – they do it instead of skipping or climbing trees, because they are not good at twirling skipping ropes with their hooves and because a llama in a tree would look Highly Unusual.
“That was my flower!” shouted Carlos.
“Mmm-nnn-gngn,” said Guinevere, eating the flower right the way down to the ground so that there was nothing left. “Yum.”
“It was MINE!”
“It was delicious.” Guinevere grinned. She liked teasing Carlos.
“It was called Juan and it was my favourite, and now you have eaten Juan all up, YOU GREEDY, FAT LLAMA!”
No one should ever tell a llama they are fat.
“FAT! Who are you calling fat, you horrible, cross-eyed, bandy-hooved bag of stupid fur!?!” shouted Guinevere, outraged.
You also should never say any of that to any llama. It will hurt their feelings.
“You’ve eaten my flower because you are THE WORST LLAMA IN THE WORLD. I HATE YOU!” yelled Carlos.
At this point Guinevere was about to tell Carlos that he was even uglier than Ugly Count Mefisto Llama, the very hideous and wicked llama that clever llama mothers made up to frighten llama children who aren’t behaving themselves.
But Guinevere didn’t say anything, because at that very moment, swinging down from a tree, came a small person wearing raggedy shorts and a raggedy shirt, a tweed mask and a pirate hat made out of newspaper. “Halt!” The small person commanded. “Stand your gr
ound and I shall fight thee! Avast and shiver my timbers!”
“A vast what?” asked Guinevere, confused.
“A vast llama with a huge, wobbly bottom,” muttered Carlos.
At this, the small person drew out of his belt a sword made from two bits of stick tied together with bootlaces. “Unhand that wonderful maiden, sir!”
“Wonderful maiden. Phaw!” sniggered Carlos.Guinevere kicked him in the leg. “Ow!”
“Fear not, pretty damsel. I will protect thee!” bellowed the little person from behind his mask.
“She is not a damsel, she is a llama,” replied Carlos. “And who are you?”
“Yes, who are you?” asked Guinevere. “Because I really don’t need you to defend me.” She kicked Carlos again when he wasn’t looking. “Although you must be a very clever person, because you have realized that I am wonderful.” She smiled at the small person and his odd mask, which didn’t fit his face very well and was patched together out of different bits of scratchy tweed cloth.
“I am the Famous Tweed-Faced Boy!” announced the small person, waggling his sword about so wildly that he twanged Guinevere’s nose with it.
“Ouch!” said Guinevere. “I have never heard of you, so you can’t be famous. Please stop waving your pretend bootlaces sword.”
At this, the small boy – because he was a small boy behind his mask and under his newspaper hat – said, more quietly, “When I grow up, I am going to be a famous pirate. And then I will get a real pirate hat that isn’t made of newspaper and a real pirate ship and I will fill it with treasure and then—”
Carlos made a huff noise down his long llama nose and said, “You are far too tiny to be a pirate, and that mask and that hat make you look like an idiot.”
But then the Tweed-Faced Boy started to cry. And while he snuffled, he shouted, “I’m big for my age and I’m brave, and I have to get treasure and a ship because I need to find my sister and you don’t understand anything!”
Before either of the llamas could stop him, he ran back into the woods, climbed up into a tree and swung away along the branches until he was out of sight.
“What an Unusual person,” said Carlos.
“Yes,” said Guinevere. “He is perhaps full of the Unusualness that is mentioned in those silly leaflets we keep finding nailed to our barn door. Perhaps we should wash our hooves in case we catch Unusualness.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” agreed Carlos. And as they walked towards the llama-bathing barn, he said, “What were we fighting about?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Oh well. We can be friends again,” said Carlos. As they walked, he noticed a flower growing. “Ah, there is my favourite flower.” He trotted over and sniffed a tall flower growing out of the grass and looking proud of itself. “He’s called Juan.”
“I thought the one I just ate was called Juan.”
“You just ate Juan!?!”
“You don’t even know which flower is Juan!”
“This one is Juan!”
“One is one? Which one is Juan?” Guinevere sniggered.
“Oh, you are an annoying llama!”
“I am sure Juan doesn’t like having your big, wet nose hoovering up all his scent.”
“If anyone has a big nose, it’s you – BIG NOSE!” yelled Carlos.
And within seconds, they were busy fighting each other and had forgotten about the Tweed-faced Boy and his quest to find his sister.
SECTION EIGHT
In which Bill meets some new Unusualness. And then he decides to visit somewhere that he really, really shouldn’t and no matter how loudly we shout at this book, he won’t hear us saying that he should just go home and have some bread and honey instead. If only Uncle Shawn could help… But will he be able to? Will defeating P’Klawz be too much for him? We can hardly bear to think about it.
While all this Unusualness was happening to the llamas, Badger Bill was walking along the seashore. He really wanted to tell someone a joke, but Uncle Shawn was nowhere to be seen. So Bill said out loud to the breeze, “What’s the difference between a piano and a fish?”
There was no answer.
Bill asked the sand the same question, but the sand didn’t say anything, either.
Then he walked down to the very edge of the water, near where Uncle Shawn had been making his Unusual noises and patting the water. Bill asked again, “What’s the difference between a piano and a fish?”
There was no reply. But just as Bill turned round to begin walking back to the farmhouse, he heard a very deep, bubbly, watery voice say, very slowly, “YOOOU CAAAN TUUUNE A PIANOOO. BUT YOOOU CAAAN’T TUUUNAAA FIIISH.”
Bill looked down at the water and caught sight of two very enormous and clever eyes peering up at him. One of the eyes winked.
While he ran away as fast as a badger with short but elegant dancer’s legs can run, Bill thought to himself, “I really am a very brave badger. But eyes in the sea – that’s Too Unusual for me!”
And he kept on running.
By the time Bill stopped, he realized that he was in the village of Pandrumdroochit.
“I wonder if Uncle Shawn patting the sea has made it Unusual?” thought Bill. “Oh no – that means he might be suffering from really bad Unusualness… What shall I do?”
And then Bill noticed the shiny sign that Dr P’Klawz (who wasn’t really called P’Klawz and wasn’t really a doctor and who was just a big fibber with a nice suit) had put outside his office.
It said:
Bill couldn’t remember seeing the sign before. But maybe if the famous Dr P’Klawz was right here, he could help Bill find out if everyone at the llama farm was suffering from Unusualness.
Bill put out his paw and opened the door…
Elsewhere in the village of Pandrumdroochit, Uncle Shawn was in Mrs MacDonald’s garden, crunching a toffee. (It was covered in sand from his pocket.) He was sitting in an apple tree, next to Mrs MacDonald’s cat, Bob. Mrs MacDonald looked up at them both. “He knows how to climb down, he just doesn’t want to,” she said.
“Yes.” Uncle Shawn nodded, tickling the cat’s tummy. “He likes company and he especially likes firemen, don’t you, Bob? That’s why you pretend to be stuck, so the firemen have to come and rescue you.” Bob purred but admitted nothing. Uncle Shawn waved a jam sandwich at Mrs MacDonald happily. “Would you like half of my last sandwich?”
“No, no. I’ll go and call the firemen. Would you like some tea with that?”
“Yes, please,” said Uncle Shawn. He swung his feet in the air and enjoyed the view. From up here, he could see all the way to the sea and the llama farm.
At that moment, P’Klawz popped up from behind a rose bush. (He had sneaked all the way there from his office.) “There is no time for tea! Behold! I am the world-famous Unusualness doctor! I am Doctor P’Klawz!”
“You’re Doctor Pickles?” asked Mrs MacDonald – she’d never met him before, because she didn’t go out much. “I don’t really like pickles, they disagree with me.”
“Not Pickles!” snapped Dr P’Klawz. Then he remembered he was trying to seem nice and he smiled like sunbeams rattling around in a freshly scrubbed toilet. “I am Doctor P’Klawz. Allow me to show you the leaflet I pushed through your letterbox earlier. I think you will find that you didn’t read it carefully enough.”
“I didn’t read it at all. There are leaflets coming through my letterbox all the time just now. I use them to light the fire.”
“Do realize how dangerous that might be?”
“No, I’m very good at lighting fires. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“I mean it is dangerous not to read my leaflets!”
“Well, I have been quite busy.”
“PANDRUMDROOCHIT IS TURNING UNUSUAL!”
“Pandrumdroochit is a very happy village,” said Mrs MacDonald. “Sometimes visitors come to our tea room and fall asleep before they can have their tea because it’s so peaceful.”
P’Klawz made hi
s voice sound as soothing as honey and lemon. “You are a busy lady and have no time to think, so I will think for you. Up in your tree, you have a cat who will not obey you. That is Unusual.”
“No, it’s not,” called Uncle Shawn, who was studying Dr P’Klawz very carefully with his clever blue eyes. He grinned. “Cats never obey people, because they have plans that human people don’t know about.”
“Then how do you know? You’re people,” said Dr P’Klawz, being very sly. But he started to scratch his ears and elbows and bottom, because Uncle Shawn’s happiness was making his skin itch. P’Klawz murmured to Mrs MacDonald, “You have an Unusual man talking to your Unusual cat. No one should ever talk to cats, because they cannot answer. And that man—”
“They answer if you listen. I’m Uncle Shawn. Hello, Mr Pickles.”
“It’s P’Klawz. Doctor P’Klawz,” Dr P’Klawz lied. Then he smiled like a whole warehouse full of lavatories and threw Uncle Shawn a shiny white card that said: DR P’KLAWZ – CALL AT ONCE IN CASE OF UNUSUALNESS.
P’Klawz gave Mrs MacDonald a card, too, and said sneakily to her, “That Uncle Shawn is sitting in a tree. Grown-ups must never sit in trees. It is far too Unusual.”
“But it’s fun,” said Uncle Shawn. “And I am not a grown-up. I decided when I was a boy that I would never turn into a grown-up and I never have. I am just a tall human person.” Uncle Shawn swung his feet in his big mahogany shoes in front of Dr P’Klawz’s grinding teeth.
“You’re meant to be grown-up and miserable! You are not supposed to throw jam sandwiches at people’s windows!” shouted P’Klawz. “You are not supposed to climb trees or have fun! YOU ARE COMPLETELY UNUSUAL!”
“Thank you.” Uncle Shawn smiled. “I try my best.” And he stared at Dr P’Klawz as if he was thinking that his jam sandwich was more likely to be a real doctor than P’Klawz. Uncle Shawn was very clever at knowing people.
Uncle Shawn and Bill and the Pajimminy-Crimminy Unusual Adventure Page 2