Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face and the Pizza of Peril Page 3

  Unfortunately, he got so excited at the thought of being a proper character that he just sat there on Stewart the Badger’s tummy, quivering with excitement, and then shouted out the first thing that came into his head, which—for reasons he could never properly explain afterward—was

  “Sam Churchill!”

  Stewart the Badger stared up at him in bemusement, but before he could even ask Who’s Sam Churchill? the badger on his tummy added, “Oof!” as another badger plummeted out of the darkness and landed on him, and his chance of glory was gone forever. And then the newly arrived badger said, “Oof!” as some more badgers arrived, and then those badgers said, “Oof!” and for several minutes nothing could be heard but the sound of badgers saying “Oof!” as other badgers fell on them.

  By the time Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face reached the jail, it was empty, and there were no badgers to be seen.

  CHAPTER 8

  In Which the Badgers Make a Discovery

  When all the badgers had finally finished falling onto other badgers and having other badgers fall onto them, they lay in a crumpled heap for a while, recovering. Eventually, Stewart the Badger got up. Since he was at the bottom of the pile of badgers, it fell over with a lot of “Oof!”s, and most of the badgers had to lie down and recover again.

  But after some time, the badgers all got to their paws. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they realized that they were in a long underground tunnel.

  “Hey,” said Rolf the Badger. “These tunnel walls are all stripy!”

  “Oh, yeah!” said all the other badgers.

  And then Stewart the Badger said, “And they’re quite tasty, too!”

  Harry the Badger clipped him on the ear. “How many times have I told you not to eat the walls, Stewart the Badger?”

  Stewart the Badger thought about this, and then he began to count very slowly on his paws, and then he said, “Er . . . None!”

  “True,” said Harry the Badger, “but that’s not the point. Eating walls is very bad for you.”

  “Okay,” agreed Stewart the Badger, eating the walls.

  Harry the Badger clipped him on the ear again. “I said, don’t!” he explained.

  “What if the walls are made of food?” said Stewart the Badger.

  Harry the Badger sighed. “Well, obviously you can eat the walls if they’re made of food!” he said.

  “Okay,” agreed Stewart the Badger, eating the walls.

  “But walls are never made of food!” Harry the Badger said.

  “These are,” said Stewart the Badger, eating the walls.

  “Oh, so they are!” said all the other badgers, eating the walls.

  And then Rolf the Badger said, “Wait a minute! I know where we are! We’re in the legendary abandoned pizza mines of Great Kerfuffle!”

  Harry the Badger stared at him. “What makes you think that, Rolf the Badger?”

  “Because there’s a sign over there that says

  Legendary Abandoned Pizza Mines of Great Kerfuffle

  “See,” said Rolf the Badger, pointing at it.

  “So there is,” said Harry the Badger, eating the walls. “Mmmm! Pizza!”

  CHAPTER 9

  In Which the Badgers Stop Eating the Walls, and Harry the Badger Has an Idea

  Some time later, a large number of very full badgers lay on the ground in the underground tunnel, burping and rubbing their tummies.

  “Well,” said Rolf the Badger, “that’s the tastiest wall I ever tasted.”

  “Nearly as good as worms and that stuff you find in garbage cans!” said Stewart the Badger.

  “I found some pizza in a garbage can once,” said Rolf the Badger. He licked his paws and sighed. “I reckon these walls taste just as good.”

  “We could stay here forever!” Stewart the Badger said. “There’s enough pizza in these mines to keep us going for the rest of our lives!”

  “Yeah,” said Harry the Badger, cunningly. “Or . . .

  we could

  make a fortune!”

  All the other badgers sat up.

  “Just think about it,” Harry the Badger continued. “All these pizzas, waiting to be dug up. And if we dig them up, we can sell them and make a fortune! And you know what we could do with a fortune?”

  There was a pause while all the other badgers thought about it, and then Stewart the Badger said, “Um . . . We could buy lots of pizzas?”

  “Yeah, we could,” agreed Harry the Badger. “But that’d be stupid.”

  “Well, what, then?” asked Rolf the Badger.

  Harry the Badger tutted impatiently. “What do us badgers love to do?” he asked.

  “Um . . .” said all the other badgers.

  Harry the Badger tutted again and handed Rolf the Badger a copy of STINKBOMB AND KETCHUP-FACE AND THE BADNESS OF BADGERS. Rolf the Badger flicked through the first few pages, reading slowly to himself. “Er . . . It says here that we dig holes in the lawn and eat all the worms, and we knock over garbage cans and frighten chickens and drive too fast.”

  “Oh, yeah!” said all the other badgers.

  “Exactly!” said Harry the Badger. “If we had a fortune, we could buy all the lawns we wanted and dig them up, and we could buy all the worms we wanted and eat them, and we could buy all the garbage cans we wanted and knock them over, and we could buy all the chickens we wanted and frighten them, and we could buy all the cars we wanted and drive them too fast!”

  “And we could buy all the money we wanted and spend it on lawns and worms and garbage cans and chickens and cars!” said Stewart the Badger excitedly.

  “Er . . . yeah,” said Harry the Badger. “So what do you say, badgers? Who wants to make a fortune?”

  “Me! Me!”

  said all the other badgers excitedly. And they rushed off to see if the legendary abandoned pizza mines of Great Kerfuffle held any legendary abandoned pizza-mining equipment.

  CHAPTER 10

  In Which Nothing Much Happens

  Meanwhile, Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face were a little fed up, because even though it was their story, absolutely nothing seemed to be happening in it.

  In fact, nothing at all happened for a few days, so those of you who are easily bored might want to skip to the next chapter right now.

  However, for those of you who want to get an idea of how fed up they were, we’re going to have an intermission.

  Welcome to the intermission. Please stare at this lovely picture until next Tuesday.

  Thank you. Now on with the story.

  CHAPTER 11

  In Which There Is Pizza for Lunch

  A few days later, King Toothbrush Weasel summoned Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face to the palace.

  “It’s very strange,” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “The Secret Service has searched the whole island for the badgers, but it’s as if they’ve vanished.”

  Just then, there was a knock at the door.

  “Oh,” said King Toothbrush Weasel, “that’ll be the pizzas I ordered. Could somebody go to the door? Here’s the money.”

  Stinkbomb took the money and went to the door. There, on the threshold, stood the pizza delivery man. He was a big pizza delivery man with a big badge that said .

  “Pizzas!” he said cheerfully. “One of everything on the menu, as requested.”

  “Thanks,” said Stinkbomb. “How much is that?”

  The pizza delivery man counted slowly on his paws. “Um . . . that’ll be lots of money, please.”

  “Okay,” said Stinkbomb, and he gave him lots of money.

  “Thanks,” said the pizza delivery man, and he went away.

  “Yum!” said Ketchup-Face as Stinkbomb carried the tower of pizza boxes back into the throne room. “I love pizza!”

  “Me too,” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “I thought we could have some
pizza while we try to work out what the badgers might be up to.”

  “I wonder what the badgers are up to,” mused Ketchup-Face, opening a box. It was a nicely designed pizza box, with the words Badger Pizzas printed around a picture of a badger sipping from a mug marked .

  “Yes,” said Stinkbomb. “I can’t help feeling we’re missing something.” He opened a big box with a picture of a big badger wearing a big badge that said . “Mmmm—what’s this one?”

  “That looks like the pescatore,” said King Toothbrush Weasel, checking the delivery menu. “‘Tuna, shrimp, and anchovies, with tomato sauce, mozzarella, and basil.’”

  “Pescatore! My favorite!” said Malcolm the Cat happily, chasing a slice around the room and then pouncing on it. “Or am I thinking of napoletana?” he asked himself, letting it go. “No, wait, it’s definitely pescatore,” he decided, pouncing on it again. “Although maybe . . .”

  “Ooh,” Ketchup-Face said, “this one smells lovely!”

  “I think that’s margherita,” said King Toothbrush Weasel, checking the menu again. “‘Just tomatoes and mozzarella—but you’ve never tasted better,’ it says here.”

  “Ooh—what about this one!” said Stinkbomb, getting carried away and opening all the boxes. “And this one! And this one!”

  “Um . . .” said King Toothbrush Weasel, examining each box in turn. “That looks like a quattro formaggio: ‘tomato sauce topped with four mouthwatering cheeses—mozzarella, pecorino, gorgonzola, and Great Kerfuffle’s own specialty cheese, daftypants.’ And that one . . . let me see . . . that’s a napoletana: ‘mozzarella, tomatoes, and lots of anchovies.’”

  “Ewww,” said Ketchup-Face, looking at the next pizza. “This one doesn’t look very good.”

  “You’re just being fussy,” said Stinkbomb. “I might have a slice of that, just to show you.”

  “That one must be a vermi e rifiuti,” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “‘Tomatoes and mozzarella with a generous helping of worms, plus the finest bits of trash, smothered in our special garbage can sauce made by the secret method of filling a garbage can with soggy leftovers and then knocking it over. Perfect after a hard day at work frightening chickens and driving too fast.’”

  Ketchup-Face looked smugly at Stinkbomb. “Go on, then,” she said. “Have a slice. Just to show me.”

  Stinkbomb thought about this. The idea of having a slice of pizza with a generous helping of worms, plus the finest bits of trash, smothered in special garbage can sauce made by the secret method of filling a garbage can with soggy leftovers and then knocking it over, certainly sounded interesting, but he wasn’t sure if he would actually like it.

  “Anyway,” he said, “we’re supposed to be trying to work out where the badgers might be.”

  “But how are we supposed to do that?” said Ketchup-Face grumpily. “It’s not as if we’ve got any clues or anything!”

  Stinkbomb, Ketchup-Face, and King Toothbrush Weasel all sighed. For a moment there was silence, except for the sound of pizza being chewed.

  And then they all heard a dreadful noise.

  CHAPTER 12

  In Which Terrible Danger Threatens the Loose Pebbles Library

  Everyone ran to the window. The sound came again—a creaking, tearing sound, like a building in agony. They stared into the bright afternoon, trying to find the source of the sound.

  And then Stinkbomb said, “Should the library be leaning over like that?”

  There was another groaning, creaking sound, and the library tipped a little farther.

  “Oh, no!” gasped Ketchup-Face.

  “Follow me!” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “There’s no time to lose!” And he led them out into the hallway, into the kitchen, around the table, back out into the hall, and into the closet, where he pressed the button on the wall. He closed the door and made a noise like an elevator, and then after about thirty seconds, he stopped making a noise like an elevator, went, “Ding!” and opened the door, and they all emerged into the hallway again. “Quickly!” he said urgently, leading them out into the sunlight just in time to see the little shopping cart screeching to a halt in front of the gate.

  “To the library!” yelled Ketchup-Face as they all scrambled into the basket.

  “Hang on!” said Malcolm the Cat, and he ran back into the palace and returned with a stack of pizza boxes. “What?” he said as everyone tutted. “I’m hungry!”

  “Do get in, Malcolm the Cat!” snapped King Toothbrush Weasel.

  It took less than a sentence to reach the library, but already the great building was leaning over still farther.

  “Look!” said Stinkbomb, pointing.

  On the library roof, someone was tying a thick rope around the neck of a stone gargoyle.

  “It’s Miss Butterworth!” Ketchup-Face yelled excitedly. “She’s a ninja librarian, and she’s terribly brave and wise!”

  “What are you telling me that for?” Stinkbomb asked. “I know who Miss Butterworth is!”

  “Yes,” agreed Ketchup-Face, “but some of the people reading the book might not know, so I’m telling them.”

  As the building creaked and groaned and tilted farther yet, Miss Butterworth—still holding the rope—raced down the now-diagonal wall and flung herself at the ground.

  “Miss Butterworth!” Ketchup-Face screamed, but Miss Butterworth had calculated perfectly. The rope pulled taut just as her toes touched the earth. Quickly, she fastened it around the leg of a passing elephant.

  “Do you mind?” asked the elephant.

  “My apologies,” puffed Miss Butterworth as Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face rushed to meet her. “But it is an emergency. It is only until the end of the story.”

  The elephant looked slightly put out. “I’m supposed to be in Chapter Twenty-Eight,” it said. “Do you think you can untie me before then?”

  “I hope so,” Miss Butterworth said seriously. “But danger threatens Great Kerfuffle, and at all costs the library must lean no farther.”

  The elephant rolled its eyes grumpily.

  King Toothbrush Weasel’s face was solemn as he regarded the library. “We can’t leave it like that forever,” he said. “But the library is safe for now, thanks to that loyal and good-hearted armadillo.”

  “Elephant,” said Stinkbomb.

  “Where?” shrieked King Toothbrush Weasel, spinning on the spot and lifting the hem of his robe, as if worried that something small and poisonous might scurry up it and bite him. Then he glared at Stinkbomb. “This is no time for jokes,” he said. “The whole of Great Kerfuffle is in terrible danger!”

  “It is indeed,” Miss Butterworth agreed. “If the library tips over, the whole of Great Kerfuffle will capsize and we shall all be drowned in the sea.”

  “Gosh,” said Stinkbomb. “That’s a bit serious for one of our stories, isn’t it?”

  “Nevertheless,” Miss Butterworth said, “that is what will happen unless somebody goes beneath the library to find out what is happening.”

  CHAPTER 13

  In Which Somebody Goes Beneath the Library to Find out What Is Happening

  Well,” said King Toothbrush Weasel, “that sounds like a job for the Secret Service.”

  Everyone looked at the Secret Service, who was balanced on a large wobbly pile of pizza boxes.

  “But I’m having my lunch!” protested the Secret Service, taking an entire pizza out of the top box and flinging it like a Frisbee in the direction of the library. “Hey! It’s getting away!” With a tremendous leap, he sprang off the pile of boxes and brought the airborne pizza down just next to the elephant. “Got you!” he said triumphantly, and took a great bite. “Ewww! Yuk!” he added, spitting and gagging. “Acckkk! Eccchhh! Vermi e rifiuti!”

  “Malcolm the Cat,” said King Toothbrush Weasel sternly, “stop messing around. All your spitting and choking might distr
act this loyal and good-hearted armadillo . . .”

  “Elephant,” said the elephant.

  “Where?” shrieked King Toothbrush Weasel, spinning on the spot and lifting the hem of his robe again. Then he glared at the elephant. “Not you as well. This is no time for jokes. As I was saying, Malcolm the Cat, I need to send you under the library to find out why it is tipping over. Ow!” he added as a napoletana pie hit him in the face.

  “You don’t get away that easily!” shouted Malcolm the Cat, throwing himself at the pizza and grabbing it with his claws. It slid slowly down King Toothbrush Weasel’s front, leaving a trail of tomato sauce the whole way.

  King Toothbrush Weasel sighed wearily. “On second thought,” he said, “I think I’ll send someone more sensible.” And he pulled two pairs of dark glasses out of his pocket and ceremoniously placed one on Stinkbomb’s face, and the other on Ketchup-Face’s. “Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face,” he said regally, “I hereby appoint you honorary secret agents in the Great Kerfuffle Secret Service.”

  “Wowsers my trousers!”

  said Stinkbomb eagerly.

  “Gosh my pants!”

  agreed Ketchup-Face, hopping up and down with excitement.