Bumageddon: The Final Pongflict

by Andy Griffiths

  Zack and Eleanor both stared at the figure in the doorway. It was bright and their eyes were having trouble adjusting to the light, but as they did they saw, to their surprise, that it was Ned Smelly.

  ‘Ned?’ said Zack, wondering why he was dressed in a pair of farmer’s overalls instead of his traditional bum-fighting armour.

  ‘Ned?!’ said Ned, walking over to the middle of the bales as Eleanor and Zack climbed down. ‘Who’s Ned?’

  Zack looked at Ned and grinned.

  ‘Why, you of course!’ he said. ‘You’re Ned. Ned Smelly!’

  ‘Right, that does it!’ said Ned, his face turning crimson with anger. ‘I’ve had enough of you two! Get out of here and don’t even think about coming back again until you’ve learnt some respect!’

  Zack and Eleanor stood there, too surprised by Ned’s outburst to move.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What are you waiting for? Git!’

  He waved his pitchfork and moved towards them threateningly, but Zack and Eleanor didn’t need any more encouragement to leave.

  They ran.

  CHAPTER 82

  ED

  Zack and Eleanor ran out of the barn, past a smoking bonfire and down a long dirt driveway.

  They didn’t stop running until they came to a gate. They clambered over it and stood on the other side trying to catch their breath.

  ‘What was all that about?’ said Eleanor. ‘Why do you think Ned was upset?’

  Zack was holding on to a letterbox as he panted, and noticed a small painted sign hanging from the bottom.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Zack. ‘But I think it might have something to do with the fact that his name is not Ned Smelly.’

  ‘Huh?’ said Eleanor, standing up with her hands on her hips, looking back up the driveway in case Ned Smelly was coming after them. ‘Of course that was Ned. Wasn’t it?’

  ‘Not according to this sign here,’ said Zack.

  Eleanor bent down and studied it carefully. ‘Ed . . . Kelly . . .’ she said, reading aloud. ‘Ed Kelly?’

  ‘Ed Kelly,’ said Zack, nodding.

  After she had stared at it for a long while, Eleanor rose up slowly. ‘Zack,’ she said. ‘Something’s happened. Something big.’

  ‘I know,’ said Zack, nodding. ‘But what exactly . . . and why are you staring at my bum?’

  ‘Because it’s where it’s supposed to be, Zack,’ said Eleanor, patting her rear. ‘And so is mine!’

  Zack reached around and patted his bum. Of all the strange things that had happened in the last few minutes, this was the strangest of all. His bum had been running around by itself for so long that he could hardly remember when it was last attached.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said.

  But there was no reply.

  ‘Hey!’ said Zack. ‘Say something!’

  He knew it was a dangerous command to give to his bum, but it remained silent.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Zack to Eleanor. ‘Something’s horribly wrong. I’m worried.’

  ‘I didn’t say something’s horribly wrong,’ said Eleanor. ‘In fact, I think it might be the other way around. I think that—for a change—something might have gone horribly right.’

  ‘Eleanor,’ said Zack, ‘you must still be suffering methane madness—or at least you’ve inhaled too much of that bonfire smoke! Ned Smelly thinks he’s somebody called Ed Kelly? And my bum isn’t running around being a smart-arse? How can you call that “horribly right”?’

  ‘Because it’s exactly what we wanted, you idiot!’ said Eleanor.

  ‘But I thought “Ned Smelly” was a good name,’ said Zack.

  ‘Not that,’ said Eleanor, ‘though that’s part of it. No, what I mean is that we’ve succeeded in creating a future where bums are just bums. The Great White Bum has been destroyed and the world has evolved exactly as it would have if he hadn’t been encouraging bums to rebel against their owners for so many thousands of years!’

  CHAPTER 83

  BUM-FREE!

  Zack thought carefully.

  Perhaps Eleanor was right.

  If she was, it would certainly help to make sense of the Blind Bum-feeler’s predictions: ‘Zack Freeman . . . saviour of free men everywhere . . . past, present and future . . .’ Here they were in the future and men were now, apparently, free. But it still didn’t make sense, thought Zack.

  ‘You’re forgetting one thing, Eleanor,’ said Zack, frowning. ‘We were directly underneath that arseteroid. Whether or not we succeeded, we shouldn’t be in the future. We shouldn’t be anything apart from a couple of fossils at the centre of the Earth.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Zack,’ said Eleanor. ‘We weren’t directly underneath the arseteroid. Don’t you remember? We were underneath the Great White Bum and Robobum.’

  ‘You think we were protected from the force of that arseteroid by a couple of bums?’ said Zack.

  ‘Not just ANY couple of bums,’ said Eleanor. ‘The combination of the Great White Bum’s blubber and the fully riveted reinforced steel cheeks of Robobum may have been enough to shield us from the worst of it.’

  ‘But even if that’s true, how did we end up here?’ said Zack. ‘Why aren’t we just sitting around on the smoking shell of a dying Earth? The impact of that thing would have been incredible, inconceivably violent—nobody could have survived it. Not even us!’

  ‘Nobody’s supposed to have been able to travel through a brown hole and survive, either,’ said Eleanor. ‘But we did.’

  ‘Maybe we were just lucky,’ said Zack.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Eleanor. ‘And then again, maybe not. Brown holes are the result of an extraordinary amount of force. It’s possible that at the moment of the arseteroid’s impact the force was so great that a temporary brown hole was created. A hole through time and space lasting only a mere instant—but long enough to suck us back to the future and spit us out in the present.’

  ‘But,’ said Zack, ‘that means the Great White Bum might have survived the blast and been sucked back here as well!’

  ‘No,’ said Eleanor, shaking her head. ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ said Zack.

  ‘Because if he had been, our bums wouldn’t be so much a part of us. They’d be running free. No, he—and Robobum—were destroyed in the blast. We were transported back. Evolution has been able to develop the rest of the world without the interference of the Great White Bum. Give or take a few minor details, of course.’

  Zack pondered Eleanor’s words.

  ‘So we’re the only survivors . . .’ he said. ‘Just us and Ned . . . I mean, Ed . . .’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Eleanor, her eyes widening. ‘And maybe not. Did you hear what Ned—I mean Ed—said? He said, “Your mothers will kill me.” Mothers, Zack. He said mothers!’

  CHAPTER 84

  HOMECOMING

  Zack could see exactly where Eleanor was leading.

  ‘Come on, Zack,’ she said excitedly. ‘Let’s go home!’

  ‘Wait!’ said Zack, grabbing her shoulders and making her face him.

  ‘What?’ said Eleanor, impatiently. ‘Don’t you see, Zack? In a Great White Bum-free world there was no Great White Bum to kill my mother . . . my mother is still alive! I’ve got to see her!’

  ‘Be careful, Eleanor,’ said Zack. ‘If everything you’ve said is right then, yes, she could be alive. But she might not be the same as you remember her.’

  ‘I hardly remember her at all anyway,’ said Eleanor. ‘I was only four when she died.’

  ‘I’m just saying don’t get your hopes up too high,’ said Zack. ‘That’s all.’

  Eleanor nodded. ‘All right, Mr Gloomy,’ she said. ‘Can we go now?’

  ‘Wait,’ said Zack. ‘One more thing. We’d better not tell anybody about what we’ve been through. If you’re right, and there’s no such thing as runaway bums and bum-fighters in this world, then they’ll think we’ve gone insane.’

  But Eleanor was already running. />
  Zack took off after her.

  CHAPTER 85

  MARBLETON

  Zack and Eleanor ran all the way from Ed Kelly’s farm into Mabeltown. But as they passed the Mabeltown sign they were in for another surprise. It didn’t say Mabeltown. It said: Marbleton.

  Even so, the change didn’t faze them too much. Not after their run-in with Ed Kelly. They were starting to get the hang of the new world. Everything was the same, just slightly different. Or was it that everything was different, but just slightly the same?

  Neither Zack nor Eleanor particularly cared as they ran through the streets of Marbleton, which Zack was relieved to see was exactly the same as Mabeltown except that it bore no evidence of the devastating bum attacks that he had witnessed the last few times he was there.

  There weren’t even any skidmarks on the road, except for those left by cars.

  ‘Not like that!’ yelled a familiar voice, as they hurried past the local football oval. A large, brawny football coach wearing a footy jumper with black-and-white stripes and cut-off sleeves was showing a group of kids how to kick a football.

  Zack smiled and pointed him out to Eleanor.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘It’s the Kicker!’

  Eleanor nodded and smiled too, as the Kicker dropped the ball onto his boot and kicked it clear out of the oval.

  ‘That’s how you kick a ball,’ he yelled at the terrified children.

  ‘Same old Kicker!’ said Zack.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eleanor. ‘Some things never change.’

  They turned the corner into the main street. As they passed the local bakery, they heard a series of sharp cracks. The sign on the window read S. McKerr’s Bakery. They could see a large woman brutally kneading and smacking a lump of dough into submission.

  ‘The Smacker!’ said Zack. ‘I’ve really missed that sound!’

  Suddenly Eleanor clutched Zack’s arm. ‘Zack!’ she said, pointing at a shop across the road. ‘Look! Captain Sterne’s Fishing Supplies!’

  Zack’s eyes grew wide. The window was full of fishing rods, tackle boxes, nets, gumboots, full-body wetsuits and a range of lethal-looking spear guns. One of the larger spear guns looked just like the bum-harpoon that Zack had used to shoot the Great White Bum.

  ‘Do you think . . . ?’ he said.

  ‘Yes!’ said Eleanor, walking even faster.

  ‘Look over there!’ said Zack, as they approached a small used-car lot that was surrounded by strings of coloured flags.

  A well-dressed man with a moustache and slicked-back hair was standing outside watching them as they passed. Zack stared at him. It was the Kisser!

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he called. ‘Either of you interested in a car? I have some great bargains . . . how about a fun-mobile?’ he said, pointing to a little dune buggy.

  ‘Cool,’ said Zack. ‘But I’m not old enough to drive.’

  ‘Pity,’ said the used-car salesman, looking at Zack with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I think it would really suit you. Come back when you’re old enough. I’ll do a very special deal. Trust me!’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Zack, winking at Eleanor. The Kisser sure looked a lot better than when they’d last seen him, but he was still up to his old tricks.

  ‘See?’ said Eleanor, when they were well past. ‘The details might be different but the people underneath are still the same.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Zack, with butterflies in his stomach.

  They were approaching his grandmother’s street.

  ‘I hope you’re right . . .’ he said. ‘I really do.’

  CHAPTER 86

  ALIVE!

  As they walked down his gran’s street, Zack was startled by a cat jumping out from behind a tree. It rolled on its back in playful recognition of him.

  ‘Mittens!’ said Zack, overjoyed to see it alive again. He knelt down and patted her head. As he did so, he imagined that he felt his bum twitch. His bum and Mittens had never gotten on very well.

  ‘It’s not Mittens, Zack!’ said his gran’s voice. ‘It’s Muffin.’

  Zack looked over the fence into his gran’s front yard. There, bent over a bed of pink snapdragons, was his gran. She was pulling weeds out of the ground with the strong fingers that had made her famous as the Pincher.

  ‘Leave the boy alone, Mabel,’ said an old man who was balanced on top of a small stepladder, washing the front window of the house. He was wiping the glass dry with a large handful of newspaper. ‘Mittens, Muffin . . . what’s the difference? It’s all the same to a cat. How are you, Zack?’

  Zack was too stunned to speak.

  It was one thing to see your grandmother who died 65 million years ago alive again, but to discover that your long-dead grandfather who you’d never even met was still very much alive was another thing entirely. It was Percy. Percy Freeman. The Wiper!

  ‘Hi, Grandpa,’ said Zack, his voice sounding very far away to him, as if speaking in a dream. ‘It’s a great honour to meet you.’ His grandpa gave Zack a strange look. ‘I mean, see you,’ said Zack, flustered as he realised his mistake. ‘It’s good to see you again!’

  ‘It’s good to see you again, too, Zack,’ said his grandpa, chuckling. ‘Even though you’ve only been gone since this morning.’

  Zack looked at Eleanor and frowned. ‘I have?’ said Zack.

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Zack?’ said Gran.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zack quickly. ‘I’m fine. Are . . . are . . . Mum and Dad home?’

  ‘They’re over at Eleanor’s house,’ said his gran.

  Zack turned to Eleanor. ‘They’re alive!’ he said.

  ‘Of course they’re alive, you silly boy!’ said Gran, peering closely at Zack. ‘I think you must have been out in the sun too long today.’

  ‘No,’ said Zack. ‘I just forgot.’

  Gran shook her head and laughed. ‘You forgot your parents were alive?’ she said. ‘You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on!’

  ‘It’s not Zack’s head that’s the problem,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s his bum.’

  ‘Language, young lady!’ said Gran.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Eleanor.

  Grandpa winked at Zack and Eleanor, trying to suppress a grin.

  Zack smiled. The details were different, but the important things hadn’t changed. She was still the same old Gran.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘you two had better be getting on to Eleanor’s house. You’re having dinner there tonight—or had you forgotten that as well? They’ll be wondering where you are.’

  Even as she spoke, Eleanor and Zack heard a voice calling to them from across the street. They looked and saw two men sitting on the verandah at the front of the house.

  ‘Eleanor! Zack!’ boomed a deep voice. ‘Dinner’s almost ready!’

  ‘That’s my dad,’ said Eleanor, her eyes shining.

  ‘You’d better go,’ said Zack’s grandpa.

  ‘See you later,’ said Zack, as he ran to catch up with Eleanor, who was already halfway across the street. ‘Have a good night.’

  ‘You too,’ called Gran. ‘And don’t forget to wash your hands!’

  CHAPTER 87

  STORIES

  Zack stared as he approached the house. His father was sitting next to Silas Sterne.

  ‘They are alive!’ said Zack as he drew level with Eleanor.

  ‘Yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘But what about our mothers? Where are they?’

  ‘Probably inside,’ said Zack.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ said Eleanor, biting her lip.

  The two bum-fighters—or to be more accurate, ex-bum-fighters—walked up the front steps. Smoke filled the air.

  ‘. . . but you know, Jim,’ said Eleanor’s father, a red glow coming from the end of his pipe, ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound that the Great White Whale made when I hit it with the harpoon. I think it will haunt me to the end of my days.’

  ‘In a strange way, I know exactly what you mean, Captain,’ said Jim Freeman.
‘I’ve never been whale-hunting, of course, but once in the middle of a symphony my bassoon made a noise very similar to that of a whale in distress. An interesting sound, to be sure, but definitely not appropriate for that passage. The conductor never forgave me. I think that sound will haunt me to the end of my days as well.’

  ‘So you really do play a wind instrument,’ said Zack, shaking his head in wonder. ‘In an orchestra!’

  ‘Of course I do!’ said Jim. ‘You know that!’

  ‘About time you two showed up,’ said Captain Sterne, turning his attention to Eleanor. He opened his arms wide. ‘You were supposed to be home an hour ago!’

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ said Eleanor, embracing her father.

  ‘You two haven’t been playing in Ed Kelly’s barn again, have you?’ said Captain Sterne, pulling a bit of straw out of Eleanor’s hair.

  ‘No,’ said Eleanor, straining to see into the kitchen through the flywire screen door. ‘Is Mum inside?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Captain. ‘She’s with Judi.’

  ‘I’ll just go and tell her that we’re okay,’ Eleanor said, rushing inside.

  The screen door banged shut behind her.

  ‘Always on a mission, that girl,’ said Captain Sterne.

  ‘Just like her father,’ chuckled Jim.

  The Captain fixed Zack with a glittering eye as he packed a new pipe. ‘I was just telling your dad about my time aboard a whaling ship.’

  ‘You were a whale hunter?’ said Zack.

  ‘A whale hunter, yes,’ said the Captain. ‘I never actually caught one. I came close, of course, but the Great White is a slippery beast . . .’

  Zack nodded distractedly. He was more interested in the sight of Eleanor hugging her mother. And the sight of his own mother standing next to them.

  ‘Have you ever read Moby Dick, Zack?’ said Silas.

  ‘No,’ said Zack, desperately trying to hear what Eleanor was saying to her mother above the Captain’s ramblings.

  ‘I had to rescue Zack from a drain . . . and then we got lost in the desert . . . Brown Forest . . . Sea of Bums . . . bumcano . . . zombie bums . . . maggots . . . brown hole . . . Uranus . . . dawn of life . . . bumosaurs . . . bumantula . . . bumodactyl nest . . . Stink Kong . . . Crack of Doom . . . Great White Bum . . .’