“Who’s Dragon?”
“It’s your mum. I mean Sheila.”
So Dad had Sheila in his phone as Dragon. Zoe smiled for the first time in ages.
Then Zoe had a horrible thought. Burt could be with her!
“Don’t answer it!” she implored.
“What do you mean ‘don’t answer it’? I will be in so much trouble if I don’t!” He pressed the answer button on his phone.
“Yes, love?” said Dad in an unconvincingly affectionate tone. “Your stepdaughter?”
The little girl shook her head violently at her dad.
“No, no, I haven’t seen her…” lied Dad. Zoe breathed a sigh of relief.
“Why?” he asked.
Dad listened for a moment, and then put his hand over the receiver so what he was about to say could not be heard. “There’s a pest control man there at the flat, he is looking for you. Said he is returning your pet rat to you unharmed. Wants to give it to you personally. Just to be safe.”
“It’s a trap,” whispered Zoe. “He’s the one who tried to kill me.”
“If I see her, I will call you straight away, my love. Bub-bye!”
Zoe could hear her stepmother screaming on the other end of the phone as Dad ended the call.
“Dad, we need to go to his warehouse right now. If we run we might just beat him to it, and save Armitage.”
“Armitage?”
“He is my pet rat.”
“Oh, right.” Dad thought for a minute. “Why is he called that?”
“It’s a long story. Come on, Dad, let’s go. There is no time to lose…”
oe led her father out of the pub, round the Rottweiler and on to the street. Dad stood there swaying under the orange streetlight for a moment. He looked into his daughter’s eyes. There was a long stretch of silence. Then: “I’m frightened, love,” said Dad.
“I am too.” Zoe reached out her hand and held her father’s tenderly. It was the first time they had held hands in months, maybe years. Dad used to give her the best cuddles, but after Mum died he had retreated to the back of his eyes, and never came out any more.
“But we can do this together,” said Zoe. “I know we can.”
Dad looked down at his daughter’s hand, so small in his, and a tear formed in his eye. Zoe smiled supportively at her dad.
“Come on…” she said.
Soon they were running through the lit streets, the intervals of dark and light going by faster and faster.
“So this nutter makes rats out of burgers?” Dad said breathlessly.
“No, Dad, it’s the other way round.”
“Oh yes, of course. Sorry.”
“And he has this enormous warehouse on this industrial estate on the outskirts of town,” panted Zoe, tugging her father along by his hand.
“That’s where I used to work in the ice-cream factory!” exclaimed Dad.
“It’s miles away.”
“It’s not. I used to take a short cut when I was late, we just need to cut through here. Follow me.”
Dad took his daughter by the hand and led her through a hole in a fence. Zoe couldn’t help but smile at the excitement of it all.
Then her excitement faded a bit when she realised they were entering a rubbish dump.
Soon, Dad was knee-deep and Zoe was waist-deep, wading through trash. Zoe stumbled, so Dad lifted up his daughter and put her on his shoulders like he used to when they went for a walk in the park when she was very little. His hands held her legs tight.
Together they made their way through the sea of bin bags. Soon the warehouses were in sight. A titanic graveyard of empty buildings, bathed in the harshest of light.
“That’s the one I used to work at,” said Dad, pointing to one of the warehouses. A beaten old sign on the side of it read ‘THE DELICIOUS ICE CREAM COM ANY’.
“Comany?” asked Zoe.
“Someone’s taken the ‘P’!” replied Dad, and they both chuckled. “Gosh, it’s been years since I have been down here,” said Dad.
Zoe pointed out the warehouse that now had a van-shaped hole in the wall. “That’s Burt’s one!”
“Right.”
“Come on. We need to save Armitage.”
Father and daughter skirted around the outside edge towards the giant hole in the wall. They stepped inside, and peered at the cavernous warehouse. The huge building appeared empty, except for the thousands of rats. The poor creatures were all still piled up in cages, awaiting their grisly fate as a fast-food snack.
Burt was nowhere to be seen – he must still be at the flat with Zoe’s wicked stepmother, waiting to trap Zoe when she came home. No doubt salivating at the idea of turning her into a burger, albeit a particularly large one.
With trepidation, Zoe and Dad stepped inside, and Zoe showed her father the terrifying pulverisation machine.
“He goes up this ladder and drops the rats into this giant funnel, and the poor little things are rolled flat here before being formed into patties.”
“Oh my word!” said Dad. “So it is true.”
“What did I tell you?” replied Zoe.
“Which one of these poor little blighters is Armitage?” asked Dad, gazing at the thousands of terrified rodents squashed high into the mountain of cages.
“I don’t know,” she said, scouring all the little frightened faces, peering out from the cages, which had been stacked on top of each other. Seeing them all there, squashed in together in a big tower of rats, made her think of the block she and Dad and Sheila lived in.
Still, thought Zoe. The rats had it worse. What with the getting minced up into burgers.
“Now where is he?” she said. “He’s got a very cute little pink nose.”
“Sorry, love, they all look the same to me,” said Dad, desperately trying to spot one with a particularly pink nose.
“Armitage? ARMITAGE!” called Zoe.
All the rats eeked. Every single one of them wanted to escape.
“We’ll just have to set them all free,” said Zoe.
“Good plan,” replied Dad. “Right, you climb on my shoulders, and unlock the top one.”
Dad lifted his little daughter up and sat her on his shoulders. She then held on to his head, and slowly stood up.
Zoe started unwinding the pieces of metal wire that kept the cages locked. I say cages – they were really old deep-fat fryers.
“How are you getting on?” said Dad.
“I’m trying, Dad, nearly got the first one open.”
“Good girl!” called up Dad encouragingly.
However, before Zoe could open the first cage, Burt’s van, looking decidedly the worse for wear, came thundering into the warehouse, smashing the huge metal sliding door into the air as it did so…
CCCCRRRRR RRAAAAAASSSSSSSS SSHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
…before screeching to a halt.
RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRRRR
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Dad and Zoe were in deep deep trouble…
ow I’ve got you!” wheezed Burt, as he leaped down from the driving seat. “Who’s that with you, little girl?”
Dad looked up at his daughter nervously. “No one!” he said.
“It’s me useless git of a husband!” announced Sheila, as she plopped down from the other side of the van.
“Sheila?” said Dad, aghast. “What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t want to tell you, Dad,” said Zoe, stepping down from her father’s shoulders to the ground. “But I heard him and Sheila being all lovey-dovey…!”
“No!” said Dad.
Sheila smiled smugly at the pair. “Yeah, the little weasel’s right. I am goin’ to run away wiv Burt in ’is van.”
The woman strutted over to the rat catcher, and took his hand. “We share a deep love of each other.”
“And pulverising rats,” added Burt.
“Oh yeah, we love to kill a rodent or two!”
With that the pair shared a stomach-churning kiss. It was enough to make Zoe want to hurl.
“I fancied ya more with the moustache though, Burt,” said the stupendously thick woman. “Will you grow it back?”
“You two are disgusting!” shouted Dad. “How could you enjoy killing all those poor creatures!”
“Oh, shut yer face, ya idiot!” hollered Sheila. “Those rats deserve to die, disgustin’ little fings!” Then she paused for a moment and looked at her stepdaughter. “That’s why I murdered your ’amster.”
“You killed Gingernut?” screamed Zoe, tears in her eyes. “I knew it!”
“You evil cow!” shouted Dad.
Sheila and Burt shared a sickening laugh, united by cruelty.
“Yes, I didn’t want that dirty little fing in me flat. So I mixed some rat poison in wiv his food. Ha ha!” added the repulsive woman.
“How could you do that?” shouted Dad.
“Oh, shut ya face. It was only an ’amster. I always ’ated it!” replied Sheila.
“Rat poison. Mmm. A nice lingering death!” added Burt with a breathy laugh. “They just taste a bit funny afterwards, is all.”
Zoe hurled herself at the pair – she wanted to tear them both to pieces. Dad pulled her back.
“Zoe, no! You don’t know what they’ll do.” Dad had to use all his strength to stop his daughter from attacking them. “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” he pleaded. “Just hand over my Zoe’s pet rat. Now. And we’ll go.”
“Never!” wheezed Burt. “The baby ones are the most succulent. I was saving him for our little date, Sheila. Mmm…”
Slowly, Burt reached towards the filthy pocket of his apron.
“In fact,” he said, “I have your precious Armitage right here…”
Then he pulled the little rat out by the tail. Zoe’s pet rat had been in there all along, and not in the cages after all! Burt had tied Armitage’s little hands and feet tightly together with metal wire so he could not escape. He looked like a little rat escapologist.
“Nooooo!” shouted Zoe when she saw him like that.
“He is going to make a very tasty little burger!” said Burt, licking his lips.
Sheila studied the poor little thing dangling in the air, and then turned to Burt. “Ya can eat him, my one true love,” she said. “I might just stick to the prawn cocktail crisps, if ya don’t mind.”
“Whatever you like, my angel sent from heaven.”
The blind man stumbled towards the pulverisation machine, and turned the lever. A terrible grinding sound echoed through the warehouse. Slowly Burt began to climb the stepladder to the top of the funnel.
“Put down that rat!” shouted Dad.
“As if anyone ever paid the least bit of attention to ya! You’re a joke!” laughed Sheila.
Zoe struggled free of her father’s grip, and ran after Burt. She had to save Armitage! However, by this time the malevolent man was halfway up the stepladder, and poor little Armitage was wriggling his little body as much as he could and squeaking in terror. Zoe grabbed at Burt’s leg, but he shook his foot violently to shake her off. Burt then kicked her in the nose with the heel of his boot. She was knocked down hard on to the concrete floor below.
“AAAAAAH HHHHHHHH!!!!! !!!!!!!!”screamed Zoe.
Dad sprinted over to the ladder and pursued the rat killer up on to it. Soon the two men were standing precariously on the top step, the ladder swaying side to side under their combined weight. Dad grabbed Burt’s wrist, and pushed it down to force him to release his grip on the little rat.
“Drop me husband in the burger machine while you’re at it!” jeered Sheila.
Dad’s elbow brushed up against Burt’s face and knocked the rat catcher’s glasses off his head. Coming face to face with the dark pools where the man’s eyes should have been, Dad was so horrified he stepped back and lost his footing. His foot slipped backwards off the top of the stepladder towards the funnel.
He began to slide down into the pulverisation machine. Dad desperately grabbed on to Burt’s apron for survival, but it was so greasy he was instantly losing his grip.
“Please please,” said Dad. “Help me up.”
“No. I am going to feed you to the children,” rasped Burt, his laugh rattling around his throat, prising Dad’s fingers one by one off his apron. “And your daughter is next!”
“Yeah! Throw her in as well!” cheered on Sheila.
Badly winded, Zoe rose unsteadily to her hands and feet, and crawled over to the stepladder to help her father. Sheila desperately tried to stop her, grabbing the little girl brutally by the hair and yanking her back. Then she swung her stepdaughter around by the hair and flung her into the air.
Up, up, up…
And then down.
Hard.
Zoe screamed in agony as she hit the ground for the second time.
“Aaaaaaaaah hhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! !!!!!!!!”
Despite her thick frizzy hair, the impact dazed Zoe for a moment.
“Burt? Stay there and I’ll ’elp ya finish ’im off!” called Sheila to the two men still fighting over the top of the burger machine. Slowly, the grotesquely large lady made her way up the steps, the ladder creaking under her considerable weight.
Still dizzy, Zoe opened her eyes, to see her stepmother wobbling at the top of the ladder. The woman was trying to prise Dad’s fingers off Burt’s greasy apron. One by one she was bending them back, laughing as she forced her husband closer and closer to being turned into a burger.
However, Sheila was so heavy that as she bent to one side to prise off the poor man’s final little finger, her weight made the whole ladder topple over to the side.
CCCCRRRRRA AAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSS HHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Burt and Sheila fell forwards, headfirst into the pulverisation machine…
…Dad just managed to grab on to the side of the funnel with one hand…
…Armitage was falling into the machine with the cruel rat catcher. Nothing could stop the baby rat being pulverised…
ust then, as Burt tumbled through the air, Armitage bit the monster’s finger and, squealing, Burt flicked the rat off his hand and up into the air.
Up, up, up…
…and into Dad’s outstretched hand.
“Got him!” called Dad. Now he was hanging on by one hand to the lip of the funnel, and clutching Armitage with the other. Armitage was squeaking like crazy.
At that moment there was a gurgling sound and the gruesome twosome passed through the machine.
It clunked and groaned like never before, as they passed through the rollers. Finally two very large burgers trundled out.
In one, Burt’s shattered wraparound shades poked out. In another, Sheila’s pink furry slippers were clearly visible. They were two distinctly unappetising-looking burgers.
“HELP!” yelled Dad. He was moments from being a burger himself…
Zoe’s attention shot back to the funnel.
Her father was still holding on to the side of the pulverisation machine with one greasy hand, gripping Armitage in the other.
Dad’s feet were still dangling over the grinders below, scuffing the tips of his shoes with a noise like a piece of paper being lowered into a desk fan.
Zoe could see that he was sliding. The grease on his hand from Burt’s apron meant that slowly but surely he was losing his grip.
Any moment now, he was going to breathe his last breath.
And then come out of the machine as another rather large burger.
Her head still spinning from its collision with the floor, Zoe crawled over the cold wet concrete floor of the warehouse to the machine.
“Turn it off!” shouted Dad.
Zoe rushed over to the lever on the side. But try as she might, she couldn’t get it to budge.
“It’s stuck!” she called up.
“Grab the ladder, then!” called Dad.
Zoe looked: the
stepladder was lying on its side on the ground where it had fallen.
“QUICK!” shouted Dad.
“EEK!” shouted Armitage, wrapping his little tail as tight as he could round Dad’s free hand.
“OK, OK, I’m coming!” said Zoe.
With all her strength, the little girl righted the ladder, and ran up the steps. At the top she peered down into the huge machine. It was like looking down into the mouth of a monster. The metal grinders were like giant teeth that would chomp you to bits.
“Here!” said Dad. “Take Armitage.”
Zoe reached down to take the little rat from her father’s hand. Dad passed Armitage up, his legs and feet still bound together by metal wire. She hugged him close to her chest, and kissed him on the nose. “Armitage? Armitage? Are you all right?”
Dad looked up at this moving reunion and rolled his eyes.
“Never mind about him. What about me?” he yelled.
“Oh, yes, sorry, Dad!” said Zoe. She put Armitage into her inside breast pocket and then crouched down on the ladder and offered her hands to help pull her father out. However, Dad was heavy and Zoe wobbled precariously at the top of the ladder, nearly falling headfirst into the machine.
“Careful, Zoe!” said Dad. “I don’t want to drag you in too!”
Zoe took a couple of steps back down the ladder, and curled her feet around a step to form an anchor. Then she reached out her arms, and Dad held on to them, and finally pulled himself up to safety.
After climbing down the ladder, Dad yanked on the lever, turned off the machine, and lay exhausted on the floor.
“Are you OK, Dad?” asked Zoe, standing over him.
“A few cuts and bruises,” he said, “but I will live. Come here. Your old dad needs a cuddle. I do love you, you know…”
“I always knew, and I love you too…”
Zoe lay down next to her father, and he put his long arms around her. As he did so, she took Armitage out of her pocket, and carefully untied his legs. Together, they had a big family cuddle.
Just then Armitage interrupted. “Eek eek!” he said, before doing a little dance to draw Zoe’s gaze up – up to the tower of rats still squashed so cruelly into cages.
Ratburger Page 9