Tom dressed hurriedly and cleaned his teeth twice to get rid of the taste of tiger bum. He poured the tiger wee out of his sneakers and left them on the window sill to dry. The rest of the family were already at the breakfast table when he came down.
Mum looked tired. There was a blood stain on her Tooth Fairy uniform—some kids had forgotten to wash their teeth before they put them under their pillows—and her wings drooped. Dad still looked miffed and Uncle Gus still looked gloomy.
‘Hi, everyone!’ said Tom, a bit too brightly.
‘Hello,’ said Uncle Gus, even more gloomily. He bent his head over his porridge.
Tom picked up his spoon. Dad made the best breakfasts. Freshly squeezed orange juice, then porridge with sultanas and…
Tom peered more closely at the porridge. They were sultanas, weren’t they? Not bat droppings again? Surely Dad couldn’t make the same mistake twice, even with a bad luck spell hanging over the house.
No, they really were sultanas. Tom took a mouthful and then another. He was hungry after last night’s peanut butter sandwich dinner, not to mention being smothered by a sabre-toothed tiger’s bum before breakfast.
After porridge there were scrambled eggs on crispy multigrain toast, then more toast with Dad’s special raspberry jam (Tom smelt it before he ate it, but it really was raspberry jam, not ink or blood).
When breakfast was finished Mum and Dad went up to bed, to get some sleep for the night’s work ahead of them, while Uncle Gus had his second cup of tea. Finally he stretched. ‘Well, I’d best be off to work. Don’t want to be late. It’s old Mrs Martin’s day today and she frets about the smallest little thing.’ Uncle Gus frowned. ‘Well, she used to fret. She’s been quite happy lately.’ He gave Tom a hug as he passed.
‘I’ll be off in a minute too,’ said Tom, enduring the hug. ‘See you tonight, Uncle Gus.’
Tom hauled his old joggers out of the hall cupboard—they were too small but better than damp sneakers that smelt of sabre-toothed tiger’s end products. He grabbed his school bag and headed out the door. It had been a great breakfast and nothing had gone wrong!
Maybe Grizella’s mum’s spell only lasted till midnight, he thought hopefully. No, that couldn’t be right, because he’d woken up with Kitty-Kat on his face. Well, maybe the spell lasted only till breakfast time, he tried to convince himself.
There might not even be any more bad luck at all now, thought Tom, feeling his step get lighter, as he shut the garden gate carefully behind him. Well, hopefully not…
Tom stopped. He sniffed, then sniffed again.
There was a smell…
A sort of cat-like smell…
A big cat-like smell…
Tom looked down at his joggers. One was white and blue. The other one was brown—very brown and squidgy, too—and it stank.
Oh no! thought Tom dismally. He’d trodden in sabre-toothed tiger droppings!
Tom trudged back into the house to clean up.
CHAPTER 11
Tom Apologises
It was late when Tom got to Mog’s place.
‘You late,’ boomed Mog, slinging his school bag up onto his hairy back.
‘Yeah,’ grunted Mog’s mum, peering out of their cave. ‘You very late!’
Mog’s mum was even taller than Mog. She was hairier too, and wore a necklace of little skulls around her throat. Tom had never asked whose skulls they were. They might be monkey skulls…
Something screamed in the shrubbery. Tom shivered. He was never sure what animals lurked in Mog’s garden.
‘You have big good time at school,’ grunted Mog’s mum, handing Mog a bloody leg of lamb. At least Tom hoped it was a leg of lamb. Mog only ate raw meat, but the school tuck shop refused to serve it, so Mog had to take his own.
‘It nice and maggoty,’ grunted Mog’s mum, nodding at the leg of lamb. ‘You eat all up!’
‘Yes, Mum,’ promised Mog.
‘How your bad luck, hmmm?’ demanded Mog, as they walked down the street.
‘Terrible!’ groaned Tom. ‘Dad nearly ate my mutant worm project, and now I have to do it all over again. Mum’s pliers got rusty, Uncle Gus is gloomy and I was attacked by a sabre-toothed tiger in bed.’
Mog looked Tom up and down. ‘You attacked by Kitty-Kat?’
‘Well, not attacked exactly. She sat on my face. But it tasted yuck.’
Mog nodded. ‘Tiger bum do taste yuck. Leopard bum better. With tomato sauce.’
‘Why tomato sauce?’
‘You ever taste leopard bum without tomato sauce?’
‘No,’ said Tom. ‘Fra suggested something that might get Grizella to take the spell off,’ he added, changing the subject.
Mog listened as Tom told him Fra’s plan. Mog shook his furry head. ‘Sound like chick stuff.’
‘Yeah,’ said Tom. ‘That’s why Fra thinks it’ll work. She says Grizella won’t be able to resist it.’
‘Hmmmmm,’ was all Mog said.
The school magic carpet had just dropped its load of kids as Tom and Mog walked through the school gates.
‘There Grizella,’ whispered Mog, though Mog’s whisper was as loud as a volcano at full strength.
Tom nodded. Grizella sat in her usual seat under the paddiewhack tree. (The paddiewhack tree had been a Year 12 magic assignment four years ago. It bore cherries, watermelons and slug and banana sandwiches all at the same time. The slug and banana sandwiches were a mistake—they’d meant to make them toenail and jellybean.)
As usual, a host of boys were gathered around Grizella, trying to pretend they didn’t really care if she spoke to them or not.
Tom shook his head. ‘I just don’t get it! Grizella could go to the dance with any other boy in school.’
‘Not me,’ rumbled Mog.
‘Well, not you,’ agreed Tom, tactfully not mentioning that Mog wasn’t really a boy. Tom took a deep breath. He really, really wished no one was watching him do this. But it had to be done! ‘Wish me luck!’ he muttered.
‘Good luck,’ boomed Mog.
Tom strode over to Grizella’s seat. He knelt down beside her, ignoring her glare and reached into his school bag. Yes, here it was…
Tom held the bunch of roses and sweet peas out to Grizella. He’d picked them from next door’s garden on the way to school. (Luckily Kitty-Kat had been sleeping after her adventure that morning.) No girl could resist a bunch of sweet peas, Fra had told him. Tom gazed at Grizella anxiously. Would it work?
Grizella stared at the roses and sweet peas. Then she stared at Tom. Then she gazed at the flowers again.
Grizella smiled. ‘They are soooooo pretty!’ she cooed.
Tom let out a breath of relief. It was working! Now what had Fra told him to say?
‘Um…pray accept these and my most humble apologies!’ he recited. It all sounded really yuck to him.
Grizella’s smile grew even wider, showing all her cute white teeth. ‘Oh, Tom!’
Wow! thought Tom. Maybe Fra was right!
‘Um…do you accept my, um…heartfelt apologies?’ asked Tom anxiously.
‘Of course!’ cried Grizella, casting a quick look around the playground to make sure that everyone had seen Tom on his knees with the bunch of flowers.
Tom stood up. ‘Great!’ he said. ‘See you in class, Grizella.’
‘See you in class,’ agreed Grizella. ‘The genie will pick you up at six on Friday.’
Tom stopped. ‘What genie?’ he asked anxiously.
Grizella’s smile slipped a bit. ‘My genie on the magic carpet who will take us to the dance, stupid,’ she snapped.
‘But I can’t take you to the dance!’ wailed Tom.
‘That’s why I apologised!’
Grizella’s eyes narrowed. ‘Just why can’t you take me to the dance, zombie zits?’ she snarled.
‘Um.’ Tom tried to think fast. ‘I’ve got a sore knee,’ he said. ‘I can’t dance at the moment.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Grizella sweetly. ‘We don�
��t have to dance.’
‘Er…’ Tom’s mind worked frantically. Uncle Gus’s birthday? He had to take his pet vampire bat to the vet? But Grizella might check to see if he really had a vampire bat…
‘Please,’ Tom pleaded. ‘I’m really, really sorry, Grizella. Please just accept my apology.’
‘You know what I think of your apology?’ said Grizella sweetly. ‘And your flowers?’
‘Um, no,’ muttered Tom, his mouth dropped.
‘Eat sweet peas, buster!’ yelled Grizella. She stuffed the flowers into Tom’s open mouth and stalked off.
Tom spat out a mouthful of sweet peas just as the school bell rang.
CHAPTER 12
A Tyrannosaurus Mouse
‘So!’ Dr Maniac grinned insanely at the class. ‘Here is a mouse, yes?’ Dr Maniac held it up. It was a very small mouse, all brown and wriggly. ‘So what brain do we put in our mouse? Who has done their homework?’
Grizella’s hand shot into the air.
‘Yes, Grizella?’ beamed Dr Maniac.
‘A baby rat’s brain, sir. Even though rats are bigger than mice a baby rat’s brain would fit.’
‘Hehehe! Excellent answer,’ agreed Dr Maniac with a mad chuckle. ‘Who else has a suggestion? Tom?’
Fra had given Tom all sorts of ideas last night. ‘How about a lizard brain, sir? Or a snake’s brain or a frog’s brain?’
‘Well done!’ chuckled Dr Maniac. ‘Hehehe, we will have some fun here! Now, we will try the frog brain first and…’ Dr Maniac blinked. ‘Mog? Have you got a suggestion too?’
Tom stared. Mog never had ideas.
‘Me ask my mum,’ rumbled Mog proudly.
Dr Maniac looked so surprised he forgot to laugh insanely. ‘Well, tell us your suggestion, Mog!’
‘A tyrannosaurus-rex brain, sir,’ boomed Mog.
Grizella snorted. The rest of the class giggled. Tom blushed for his friend.
‘I’m sorry, Mog. A tyrannosaurus brain just wouldn’t fit…’ began Dr Maniac.
‘Yes it do, sir!’ objected Mog. ‘My mum, she do it.’ Mog held up his ten fingers. ‘More than that many times! She show me how.’
‘But…’ began Dr Maniac.
Mog reached into his desk and drew something out. It was his mum’s skull necklace, Tom realised, or one just like it. Mog held it up.
‘Oompa ommpa bigga bot,’ Mog intoned. ‘Make this mouse a bigga lot!’
Zap! The tiny brown mouse fell out of Dr Maniac’s hand. As Tom watched it grew bigger, and bigger still.
‘That how you fit tyrannosaurus brain into mouse!’ said Mog triumphantly. ‘Then you get tyrannosaurus brain and…’
Zap! A wet and slimy tyrannosaurus brain hovered in the air by the giant mouse. Zap! The brain disappeared.
The tyrannosaurus mouse blinked. It twitched its whiskers, and then its ears. Then it opened its mouth.
‘Groooaaaaar!’ roared the mouse.
Tom stared in horror. So did Dr Maniac and the rest of the class.
‘Mog!’ muttered Tom. ‘Turn it back before…’
‘Grrrrrooooaaaar!’ The tyrannosaurus mouse lunged across the classroom.
Tom blinked. It was heading right for him! He tried to climb under the desk just as the mouse grabbed him in its giant pink-lipped mouth.
‘Arrrgh!’ screamed Tom, as the mouse lifted him high into the air. ‘Mog, do something.’
‘Hmmm,’ rumbled Mog. ‘Mum no tell me how to take brain out.’
‘Then…help!’ yelled Tom as the tyrannosaurus mouse began to bound over the desks and out into the playground, with Tom dangling from its jaws.
Over the netball court, past the library. ‘Gloop! Gloop! Gloop!’ cried Tom. He wanted to call ‘help’ but his mouth was full of mouse dribble. What did the tyrannosaurus mouse plan to do with him? Eat him? Mice liked cheese, didn’t they? he thought desperately. But this mouse thought it was a tyrannosaurus! Why me? Tom thought frantically. But deep down he knew. It was the bad luck spell!
Past the hall, down to the oval. The mouse was galloping even faster now. Something thundered behind them. Something that moved like a mountain of legs.
Whump! Something tackled the tyrannosaurus mouse, grabbing it by the hind leg. Something held on as the tyrannosaurus mouse wriggled and squirmed, and twisted round to bite its attacker.
Free! Tom scrambled out as soon as the giant mouth opened. Behind him Mog and the tyrannosaurus mouse struggled on the oval.
Then it was all over. The tyrannosaurus mouse lay still, blinking up at Mog, as Mog stood tall and proud beside it.
‘Grolarollarah!!’ hollered Mog, triumphantly beating his chest. Then he bent down and grabbed one of the tyrannosaurus mouse’s hind legs.
‘Better get back to class,’ he rumbled.
‘I think the class is here!’ said Tom, still in shock, gesturing at all the faces staring at them from the sidelines. ‘Thank you for rescuing me!’
‘My fault,’ boomed Mog sadly.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ said Tom. ‘That mouse made straight for me! It’s Grizella’s fault—it’s that bad luck spell.’ He looked down at the tyrannosaurus mouse, still looking up worshipfully at Mog. ‘Um, what are you going to do with the mouse?’
‘Him know who boss now,’ said Mog confidently. ‘Him can wait in class and give us ride home.’
‘Eeek!’ squeaked the tyrannosaurus mouse adoringly, as Mog dragged it back to the classroom.
CHAPTER 13
Mog Plans a Kidnap
‘Me got idea,’ said Mog indistinctly, tearing at a maggoty leg of lamb with his giant teeth.
It was lunchtime. The tyrannosaurus mouse was happily rummaging in the garbage bins for scraps to eat, while keeping a sharp eye on Mog in case he had any orders for it.
Tom unwrapped his sandwiches. Cheese and salad, his favourite. ‘What idea?’ he asked warily.
Mog swallowed his mouthful of meat and maggots. ‘We kidnap Grizella.’
‘What! You’re crazy!’
‘Me no crazy,’ said Mog reproachfully. ‘Me have good idea! We kidnap Grizella, Grizella’s mum say, you give Grizella back, I take spell off you.’
‘But we can’t go round kidnapping people! It’s wrong!’ cried Tom.
‘Putting spell on people wrong too,’ Mog pointed out.
‘I don’t care! I won’t do it!’ Tom took a bite of his cheese and salad sandwich. ‘Errrrk!’ He spat the mouthful out onto the ground.
‘What wrong?’
‘This isn’t cheese and salad! It’s soap and salad! Dad’s mixed up the yellow cheese with the yellow soap!’ Tom tried to spit the rest of the taste out.
‘Bad luck spell, hmmm?’ said Mog helpfully.
‘Yes.’ Tom glanced across the playground to where Grizella sat. She looked at the spat out sandwich and smiled nastily, then turned back to her admirers.
‘That’s it!’ roared Tom. The tyrannosaurus mouse looked up to see what the fuss was about. ‘I’ve been sat on by a sabre-toothed tiger, carried off by a tyrannosaurus mouse, had bat droppings in my muffin and soap in my lunch! I’ve had it!’
Mog grinned. A single maggot wriggled between his giant bloodstained teeth. ‘Good,’ he rumbled. ‘Now we make plan.’
‘Eeek!’ said the tyrannosaurus mouse, as it scampered over and began to eat Tom’s spat out soap and salad sandwich.
CHAPTER 14
Something Goes Wrong
It was a simple plan.
‘Me grab Grizella’s genie,’ rumbled Mog. ‘No genie, magic carpet no fly. You say to Grizella, me walk you home. Me dump genie, grab Grizella as you walk, you do ransom note. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Tom reluctantly. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that this wasn’t a good idea. But he had to do something! The bad luck spell was spreading!
The afternoon dragged along. Finally, two minutes before the bell, Mog put up his hand. ‘Me need to go dunny, sir,’ he said.
Dr Maniac nodded impatiently. ‘Off you
go then. And take the mouse with you!’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Mog.
‘Eeek!’ said the tyrannosaurus mouse. It stopped chewing the leg off Dr Maniac’s desk and scampered after Mog.
‘So,’ said Dr Maniac, ‘we have three dead cats. You take the tail off one, the head off another and the body off the third,’ he wriggled his eyebrows in the accepted evil genius fashion. ‘We sew them together but we need a lightning strike to make the body come alive. Will this lightning come up from the ground or down from the sky?’
Grizella’s hand shot up. ‘It depends, sir! Sometimes…’
Tom counted down under his breath. Five, four, three, two, one…the bell rang!
‘Now for homework tonight,’ gurgled Dr Maniac. ‘I want an essay on the beauties of a dark and stormy night! Class dismissed!’
Tom ran out of the room and grabbed his school bag.
Yes, there was Grizella’s magic carpet, lying forlorn by the side of the road. Mog had done it!
Tom lurked by the classroom till he saw Grizella look around for her genie, then sigh and sit on the carpet to wait.
‘Hey, Grizella!’ called Tom.
Grizella glared at him. ‘What do you want?’ She smiled nastily. ‘Had any good accidents lately?’ she added.
‘Yes, I have,’ said Tom honestly. ‘Um, Grizella, as your genie’s not around I wonder if you’d like me to walk you home.’
‘Why?’ said Grizella rudely.
‘Well…’ began Tom.
‘Because if you think I’m going to change my mind about the bad luck spell you can think again.’
‘Um, no, really, I just thought…’ stumbled Tom. ‘Hey, what’s that mouse doing?’
One Big Wacky Family Page 20