by Jim Smith
‘THAT’LL TEACH YOU TO MESS WITH MR X!’ boomed Mr X, as the stream of Hedgehog Cola splurted straight into Wheelie.
The ground started to rumble and the windows shook.
‘X SERVANTS, DESTROY THESE INVADERS!’ boomed Mr X, and Dr Smell, the hover-cap man, the old lady in the hover-wheelchair and Splorg started marching towards us, their arms stretched out in front of them like actual real-life zombies.
‘BUUURRRPPPP!!!’ croaked a noise from inside Wheelie’s belly, and I dived under a table, pulling Twoface and Jamjar with me.
Wheelie’s lid flipped shut, then opened wide again. ‘I DO APOLOGISE, SIR. MUST’VE BEEN SOMETHING I ATE,’ he bleeped, as the Nom Nom Queen splurged out of his belly into mid air and exploded into a billikeels stinking pieces.
Seven hundred and eighty twelve billion zillion Nom Noms stopped dead in their tracks, twitched their noses, then burst into smitherkeels.
‘YIPPEE-KEEL-KAYAY!’ I cried, hugging Jamjar and Twoface as Nom Nom dust fell like the snow in Harry No-hands’s plastic globe.
Wheelie was lying on his side, his lid flapping in my direction. ‘RATBOY . . . IS THAT YOU?’ he bleeped, and Jamjar pointed her Triangulator at him.
‘The explosion must’ve reset his wiring!’ she smiled.
Mr X glared through the window of X BURGER from inside his scorpion and wailed. He pulled a lever on his dashboard and the scorpion reared up on its back legs. Its tail sniffed the air, stopping dead when its laser-hole spied our table.
Splorg and the other zombie-customers had stopped marching and were blinking slowly, rubbing the ends of their noses like they’d woken up from a very big bad dream.
‘Is it just me or can you taste cardboard?’ said Dr Smell, and the hover-cap man nodded.
Mr X hovered his finger above a big scary-looking button. ‘AND NOW YOU WILL ALL BE CARDBOARD!’ he boomed.
‘Eh? What does that mean?’ said Twoface.
‘It means get the keelness out of here!’ I cried, forward-rolling over to Wheelie and pulling him towards the door by the handle.
‘NOT!’ screeched Not Bird as the floor started to shake.
Jamjar held on to the Floaty Note 6000 and grabbed Twoface’s and Splorg’s hands. ‘GIDDY UP, FLOATY!’ she screamed, floating after me.
‘IT’S GREEN ZAPPY LASER TIME!’ cackled Mr X as we tumbled on to the pavement outside X BURGER.
‘RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT!’ bleeped Wheelie, wriggling free from my grip and pulling himself up one of Mr X’s giant metal scorpion’s legs with his yellow washing up gloves.
‘Wheelie, come back!’ I cried, and I looked over at Jamjar. ‘I thought you said the explosion had reset his wiring!’
‘It must’ve been a temporary blip,’ said Jamjar. ‘Leave him Ratboy, let’s GO!’ she shouted, running off down Tinderbox Alley with Twoface and Splorg in the direction of Bunny Deli.
‘But I can’t!’ I wailed. ‘Wheelie’s my only hope for getting home!’
Wheelie had reached the scorpion’s cockpit and was banging one of his fists on its window. ‘LET ME IN, MASTER X!’ he bleeped.
‘THERE’S A GOOD WHEELIE!’ smiled Mr X, taking his finger off the scary-looking button and pressing a less scary-looking one. The cockpit window whooshed open and Wheelie flapped his lid.
‘BUUUURRRRRPPPPP!!!!’ he burped, straight into Mr X’s face.
‘GAAAAHHHH!!!!’ screamed Mr X as a cloud of bin breath seeped into the scorpion’s cockpit. ‘MY CONTROL PANEL! THE BIN BREATH IS MELTING ITS CIRCUIT BOARDS!’ he boomed.
Wheelie slid back down the scorpion’s leg and wheeled up to me. ‘ANYTHING ELSE I CAN DO FOR YOU TODAY, MR RATBOY, SIR?’ he bleeped.
‘Wheelie, you’re the keelest!’ I cried, giving him a hug.
Mr X turned round in his scorpion and scuttled off down the street. ‘THIS ISN’T THE LAST YOU’VE SEEN OF ME, RATBOY!’ he cackled, disappearing round the corner.
Me, Wheelie and Not Bird caught up with Jamjar, Twoface, Splorg and Floaty, and we all strolled back to Bunny Deli as a storm cloud floated in front of the two suns.
‘What in the unkeelness have you lot been up to? And what IS that powdery stuff ?’ said Bunny when we walked in half an hour later, all of us covered in Nom Nom dust.
‘Oh not much,’ said Splorg, sitting down at our table and peering at Malcolm the Smellnu. ‘Cor, I could murder a cheesebleurgher!’ he grinned, and a Cheesebleurgher Meal Deal fizzled to life in front of his nostrils.
He bit into his burger and looked up. ‘Sorry about that zombie stuff by the way . . .’ he said, and Wheelie flapped his lid.
‘ME TOO, CHAPS. I DON’T KNOW WHAT CAME OVER ME,’ he bleeped, and I Future-Ratboy-chuckled to myself, imagining what my mum, dad and little sister would think when I turned up back home with a talking bin.
‘That’s OK,’ said Jamjar, putting two of her arms round them both. ‘It’s just good to have you back!’
Dennis, the official Bunny Deli bin, floated over and sniffed Wheelie’s bum like a dog.
‘HEE HEE, HELLO LITTLE FELLOW!’ said Wheelie, patting him on the lid as the door to Bunny Deli whooshed open.
Dr Smell tiptoed in all sheepishly. He was followed by the hover-cap man and the old lady in the hover-wheelchair. ‘Only us!’ smiled Dr Smell. ‘Not too late for a cheesebleurger is it, Bunny?’
‘NOT!’ squawked Not Bird, and Bunny grinned, which made us all smile too.
‘Come in, come in!’ she said, and she sat them down at a table together, which was awkward for them, seeing as they didn’t actukeely know each other that well.
Twoface nicked one of Splorg’s zigzaggedy chips and slotted it into his mouth. ‘Spose you’ll be off home soon then, Ratboy,’ he said. ‘All you need now is some lightning . . .’
I peered over at Wheelie. ‘What d’you reckon?’ I said, glancing through the window. ‘Looks like there’s a storm coming!’
Wheelie scratched his lid. ‘ABOUT THAT, SIR,’ he said. ‘THERE’S AN AWFUL LOT OF NOM NOM DUST TO CLEAR UP, AND I DO SO HATE TO LEAVE A MESS.’ He looked down at Dennis. ‘PLUS I’VE NEVER REALLY HAD A FRIEND BEFORE . . .’
Jamjar shuffled up to me and put one of her arms round my shoulders. ‘You CAN’T go yet, Ratboy!’ she said. ‘We’ll miss you too much!’
‘I’ll miss you lot too,’ I said.
‘Plus there’s Mr X to take care of!’ said Twoface, and I remembered Mr X scuttling off in his scorpion, saying how he had something in store for us.
‘But we went to all that trouble to get Wheelie back!’ I said, and I thought of my mum and dad and little sister sitting on the sofa at home, wondering if I was OK.
The street outside lit up, and thunder boomed in the distance.
‘Pleeeease stay for a bit longer, Future Ratboy!’ said Splorg. ‘There’ll always be another storm!’
I glanced over at Wheelie, who was stroking Dennis on the lid, and sighed. ‘Well, there do seem to be a LOT of storms here in the future,’ I said. ‘And I spose it doesn’t really matter if I stay a FEW more days – as long as I zap myself back to the exact billisecond I left . . .’
‘Oh go on then – just until we’ve got rid of Mr X!’ I said, and me, Splorg, Jamjar and Twoface all high-fived each other, which actukeely took quite a long time, what with all of Jamjar’s hands.
‘Ooh, I know what I was gonna say!’ said Bunny, once all the high fives were finished. ‘Did you get those bits I asked for?’
Jamjar plonked her carrier bag down on the table and pulled out the hand cream, the nail varnish and the soap. ‘TA DA!’ she smiled and Bunny picked them all up with three of her hands.
‘Oh no, this won’t do at all,’ she said, peering at the little bottle of nail varnish and shaking her head. ‘Electric Blue? I wanted Hot Pink! And this hand cream is the small tube. What have I got, five hands?’ she laughed, holding up all ten.
The Floaty Note 6000 curled its top over, trying to read its scribbly writing. ‘Erm . . .’ it chirped, loo
king up at Jamjar.
‘You don’t mind popping out again do you, gang?’ said Bunny.
Twoface groaned and Splorg rolled his black eyeballs. Jamjar’s glasses slid down her nose.
I pushed Jamjar’s glasses back up her nose and scraped out of my chair. ‘Not at all!’ I chuckled, wandering over to the door with Jamjar, Twoface, Splorg, Not Bird and Wheelie. Oh yeah, and Floaty and Dennis too.
The door whooshed open and we stepped out into the rain.
‘Won’t be long, Bunny!’ said Twoface, just as my telly belly did a crackle. I peered down at the little screen and spotted a familikeels-looking vending machine being held up to the sky in the claws of a giant metal scorpion.
‘On second thoughts . . .’ I said, starting to run down Shnozville High Street.
Endnotes
1. F-shirts are for people whose arms are both on the same side.
2. Actukeely, they were trousers.
Jim Smith is the keelest kids’ book author in the whole amen.
He graduated from art school with first class honours (the best you can get) and went on to create the branding for a sweet little chain of coffee shops.
He also designs cards and gifts under the name Waldo Pancake.