Stinkbomb and Ketchup_Face Page 4

  They went on waiting . . .

  and nothing . . .

  interesting . . .

  happened.

  CHAPTER 48

  IN WHICH,

  QUITE UNEXPECTEDLY, THERE IS A BIT MORE WAITING AT THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS OF WAITING A CRAZY LONG TIME

  Surely the light should have changed by now!” Stinkbomb grumbled. He was beginning to wish they had gone the other way and crossed the Valley of Despair, climbed the Mountains of Doom, made their way across the Swamp of Misery, and faced the Volcano of Death instead.

  He was sure it would have been more interesting.

  Ketchup-Face jumped up and pointed toward the big window at the back of the bus. “Look!” she cried. “It’s the mobile library.”

  She waved at the nice lady who was driving the mobile library, and the nice lady waved back. It was Miss Tibbles, who ran Bouncy Sing & Clap Story Time for toddlers at the main library.

  Ketchup-Face waved again, and so did Stinkbomb, and Miss Tibbles waved back again, and made a funny face. The raccoons joined in too. A few of them got very excited and began to be a bit silly, and some of them even showed Miss Tibbles their long, ringed tails and waggled them about, which sounds rude until you remember that their tails were in a bag and not on their bottoms.

  And so they kept themselves amused while they waited for the light to change.

  CHAPTER 49

  IN WHICH,

  AT LAST, THE LIGHT CHANGES

  AND THE BUS CONTINUES ON

  At last, the light changed and the bus continued on. And Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face and the raccoons went on waving and making faces at Miss Tibbles until the rocking of the bus made them sleepy, and one by one they all sat back in their seats and dozed off.

  CHAPTER 50

  IN WHICH

  THE BUS FINALLY REACHES STUPIDITY

  The bus shuddered to a halt. From all around came the sound of raccoons yawning and stretching.

  “Eeeek!” squeaked Stewart the Raccoon, as he opened his eyes. “We’re surrounded by bandits!”

  Harry the Raccoon clipped him around the ear. “That’s not bandits,” he said gruffly. “That’s our reflections in the windows.”

  “Lady and gentleman and raccoons, welcome to Stupidity!” said Mr. Jolly.

  The bus door opened with a hiss—and everyone froze in horror. There, right at the foot of the steps, was a deadly snake. It raised its hooded head, displaying its lethal fangs. Its little beadlike eyes glittered; its gaze swept over them all before fixing on Mr. Jolly.

  “Excuse me,” it said, “but does this bus go to the Valley of Despair?”

  “No,” said Mr. Jolly cheerily, “that’s the 36A you’ll be wanting, young Master Deadly Snake. It should be along in a bit.”

  “Oh, thanks,” said the deadly snake happily. “I was afraid I was going to be late for dinner again.”

  “I probably shouldn’t say this,” Mr. Jolly added, as the deadly snake slithered back a little to let Stinkbomb, Ketchup-Face, and the raccoons off the bus, “but watch out for Mr. Creepy, the driver. He’s a bit . . . well . . .”

  “Creepy?” suggested the deadly snake.

  “Oh, no!” said Mr. Jolly in surprise. “No, I wouldn’t say that at all. I was going to say ‘short-tempered.’” He paused, and scratched his chin. “Or maybe I’m getting him mixed up with the man who drives the Number 33. Now, what’s his name again . . . ?”

  * * *

  • • •

  “Okay,” said Stinkbomb, as he and Ketchup-Face and the raccoons made their way across the little village square, “where’s this Magic Porcupine?”

  Stupidity was a tiny little village. Aside from the bus stop there was nothing in it except two houses stuck together, and a mud hut. There was no shop; there was no movie theater; there was no post office; there was no restaurant; there wasn’t even a nuclear research facility or a space shuttle launchpad.

  There was, however, a mobile library, which had just pulled up in the middle of the village square. As Miss Tibbles opened the doors, Stewart the Raccoon raced excitedly across to it.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Can I have an ice cream sandwich, please?”

  Miss Tibbles smiled. “No, my lovely,” she said kindly. “This isn’t an ice cream truck; it’s a mobile library.”

  “Oh,” said Stewart the Raccoon sadly.

  “I know,” said Stinkbomb. “Let’s ask Miss Tibbles.”

  “Hello, you two,” Miss Tibbles greeted them. “Aren’t your parents with you today?”

  “Oh, no,” said Ketchup-Face. “They like to stay out of the way when we’re in a story.”

  Miss Tibbles went a bit pink. “Are we in a story?” she said. “Oh, dear. Does my hair look all right?”

  “It looks really nice,” Stinkbomb assured her. “Do you know anything about the Magic Porcupine?”

  “Oh, yes,” Miss Tibbles said. “It’s quite lovely, the Magic Porcupine. And it’s very, very magical. It can do the most amazing things. Why do you ask?”

  “Well,” said Stinkbomb, “the badgers have escaped from prison, and the only one who can foil their evil and wicked plans is the Magic Porcupine, so we’re on a quest to find it.”

  “And, er, we’d like to see it do some magic,” added Harry the Raccoon, who—along with all the other raccoons—had come over to join them.

  Miss Tibbles nodded wisely. “Well,” she said, “you might try that mud hut over there. That’s where it lives.”

  “Oh,” said Ketchup-Face. “Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 51

  IN WHICH

  OUR HEROES MEET THE MAGIC PORCUPINE OF STUPIDITY

  The mud hut was dark inside, and dimly lit by candles. Black shadows on the walls danced a strange and eerie dance, like your granny at Christmas when she’s had too much fizzy wine.

  Ketchup-Face edged closer to Stinkbomb and took his hand. “It will be a nice Magic Porcupine, won’t it?”

  “Dunno,” said Stinkbomb. He was secretly hoping the Magic Porcupine would be like a grumpy old wizard with lightning flashing from his staff and a habit of saying “Bah!” a lot.

  Suddenly, the candles flamed and flared wildly, and a figure stepped from the shadows.

  It was the Magic Porcupine of Stupidity.

  “Ooooooh,”

  went all the raccoons excitedly.

  It was hard to see the Magic Porcupine clearly in the dimness and gloom of the hut, but Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face could make out the shape of the long, sharp quills that covered its body, and the tall wizardy hat on its head. The whole effect was terrifically mysterious, and very exciting, and extremely magical.

  “Um . . . hello, everybody,” said the Magic Porcupine. “Would you like to see some magic?”

  “Oooh, yes please!”

  said all the raccoons.

  Stinkbomb hugged himself excitedly. “Maybe it’ll conjure lightning from the skies!” he whispered to his sister. “Or make the whole hut fly up into the air! Or make a fountain of gold coins spring up from the earth!”

  “Or turn a prince into a handsome frog!” Ketchup-Face suggested.

  “Right, then,” said the Magic Porcupine. “Pick a card—any card.”

  “Um . . . this one!” said Harry the Raccoon.

  “Look at it, and put it back in the pack,” said the Magic Porcupine. “And . . . is this your card?” It plucked the ten of diamonds from the top of the pack and held it up triumphantly.

  Harry the Raccoon shrugged. “Can’t remember,” he said. “I think mine was that sort of color, though.”

  “It was definitely that shape,” added Stewart the Raccoon helpfully.

  The Magic Porcupine sagged a little. “Oh well,” it said. “Let’s try something else, then. Erm . . .

  Abracadabra!”

  It re
ached forward and plucked a small coin from behind Ketchup-Face’s ear.

  “Oooh,” said all the raccoons politely, and they clapped.

  But Stinkbomb was not so easily impressed. “There’s something funny about this,” he said. “We need a better look at this Magic Porcupine. Where’s the light switch?”

  Ketchup-Face peered into the gloom. “I don’t think there is one,” she said.

  “Oh,” said Stinkbomb. “Well . . . hang on, I think I’ve got one in my pocket.”

  Sure enough, a quick fumble in his pocket produced a square, white plastic light switch.

  “Right,” he said. “Ready?”

  Ketchup-Face nodded. Stinkbomb pressed the switch.

  The mud hut was

  flooded

  with

  light.

  CHAPTER 52

  IN WHICH

  SECRETS ARE REVEALED

  The Magic Porcupine was magically producing a bunch of flowers out of thin air. But as the lights blazed on, everyone could see that it was actually whipping them out from underneath its tall wizardy hat.

  “Oh, dear!” said the Magic Porcupine, trying to stuff the flowers back under its hat so quickly that the hat fell off, revealing a pair of tall floppy ears.

  “You’re not doing real magic at all!” said Stinkbomb.

  “And I don’t think you’re even a proper porcupine!” added Ketchup-Face.

  “I am!” said the Magic Porcupine unconvincingly.

  “Then why have you got a zipper up your front?” asked Stinkbomb.

  “And why do you have such tall floppy ears?” added Ketchup-Face.

  “Yeah!” said Stinkbomb. “You’re not a Magic Porcupine at all—you’re just a rabbit in a spiky coat!”

  The Magic Porcupine’s face crumpled. It pulled a hankie from the sleeve of its spiky coat and blew its nose into it. “You’re right,” it admitted. “I’m not the Magic Porcupine.”

  “Why were you trying to trick us, you naughty rabbit?” demanded Ketchup-Face.

  The rabbit burst into tears.

  Ketchup-Face felt immediately sorry. “Oh, please don’t be sad,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Stinkbomb, who was equally kind at heart. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be naughty. You seem like a very nice rabbit.”

  The rabbit sniffled again, and dried its eyes. “I’m sorry,” it said. “It’s just that—well, this arrived this morning.”

  It handed them a crumpled note:

  Please may the Magic Porcupine be excused from being in the story today, as it has a sore throat, and I don’t want it going out and making itself sick before our vacation.

  With every apology for the inconvenience,

  The Magic Porcupine’s Mom

  “So you see,” said the rabbit, “we needed another Magic Porcupine, or the story would just have stopped in the middle of Chapter Fifty-One without a proper ending or anything.”

  “But why didn’t they just get another Magic Porcupine?” said Stinkbomb.

  The rabbit sighed. “There aren’t many really magical animals. And most of them already have jobs in those books about the boy who goes to wizarding school. So they asked me, because last week I borrowed a book about magic from Miss Tibbles. I’ve been practicing really hard.”

  “But you don’t have any real magic?” asked Ketchup-Face.

  “No,” admitted the rabbit sadly.

  “But that means you won’t be able to do any magic on the badgers,” said Stinkbomb. “And that means you won’t be able to defeat them and put an end to their evil and wicked doings.”

  “And that means,” put in Harry the Raccoon, “that we don’t need our disguises!”

  And with a twang of elastic, all the raccoons took off their black masks, revealing themselves to be none other than . . .

  the badgers!

  “Gosh,” said Stinkbomb. “That was unexpected.”

  “So Harry the Raccoon was really Harry the Badger all the time!” Ketchup-Face gasped. “And Rolf the Raccoon was really Rolf the Badger, and Stewart the Raccoon was really Stewart the Badger!”

  “Ah! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!” chuckled Harry the Raccoon. “That’s what was so clever about our evil and wicked plan!” He straightened up and put on a big badge that said .

  “We fooled you completely! I am actually Rolf the Badger!”

  “Yeah,” said Rolf the Raccoon, stepping down off the tall platform shoes that nobody had noticed he was wearing, and taking off the coat that was exactly like his own fur, only bulkier and with a big badge that said pinned to it. “And I’m really Harry the Badger. So there.”

  Everybody looked at Stewart the Raccoon, who just shrugged and shuffled his paws and said in a small voice, “Nobody wanted to swap with me . . .”

  “Anyway,” said Harry the Badger, “with the Magic Porcupine out of the way, nothing can stop us doing some evil and wicked doings!”

  “We can!” said Stinkbomb bravely.

  “Oh, yeah?” said Harry the Badger. “Well, not if we tie you up and throw you in the river!”

  And they tied them up and threw them in the river.

  CHAPTER 53

  IN WHICH

  THE BADGERS MAKE THEIR GETAWAY, AND OUR HEROES FIND THEMSELVES IN TERRIBLE DANGER

  Help!” shouted Ketchup-Face.

  “Glub!” said the rabbit, getting a face full of dirty river water.

  “Why aren’t we sinking?” asked Stinkbomb, being a practical sort of child. “I thought the badgers tied us up before they threw us in the river.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Harry the Badger from the steep bank above them. “We tied you up with really strong rope, didn’t we, Rolf the Badger?”

  “Yes,” agreed Rolf the Badger. “Well, sort of. But we didn’t use proper knots. That’d be dangerous. We may be the bad guys, but we’re not that bad.”

  “I wish we weren’t the bad guys at all,” said Stewart the Badger sadly. “I’d like to be a good guy for a change.”

  “I know!” said Harry the Badger. “Let’s catch the bus back to Loose Pebbles and get rid of King Toothbrush Weasel! Then maybe in the next story, with all the good guys out of the way, we’ll get to be the good guys!”

  “Does it work like that?” asked Stewart the Badger cautiously.

  Harry the Badger shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “But it’s worth a try. Look—here comes the bus now!”

  Sure enough, a bus was just pulling in to the village square. Displayed on the front were the words

  LOOSE PEBBLES

  written in big letters. Below that, in smaller letters, it said

  ---

  via the Volcano of Death, the Swamp of Misery, the Mountains of Doom, and the Valley of Despair

  It was the Number 36A, and it was driven by a man who looked . . . well, a bit creepy, really.

  “Quick!” said Harry the Badger.

  The badgers all rushed across the square and scrambled on board, pushing past the deadly snake. Moments later, in a cloud of dust, the bus was gone.

  “What do we do now?” asked Stinkbomb, treading water.

  “Oh,” said Ketchup-Face breezily, “something’s bound to turn up.”

  “Eeek!” said the rabbit.

  “What do you mean, Eeek!?” Ketchup-Face demanded.

  “Eeeeek!” explained the rabbit, pointing with a trembling foot.

  Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face turned, and froze with horror. There, cutting through the water toward them with terrifying speed, was a sinister gray triangular fin.

  “Eeek!” agreed Ketchup-Face.

  “It’s a shark!”

  The shark began to circle them, drawing closer with each turn. Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face, still treading water, clutched each other for comfort, letting out little whimpers
of fear as the huge creature brushed their legs.

  And then the shark spoke. Its voice came up from the water, a menacing rumble that chilled their blood.

  “I am hungry!”

  CHAPTER 54

  IN WHICH

  YOU HAVE TO READ THE CHAPTER TO FIND OUT WHETHER OR NOT OUR HEROES GET EATEN BY A SHARK

  Eeeek!” said the rabbit again. “We’re going to get eaten!”

  The shark circled menacingly, displaying a cruel mouth full of jagged triangular teeth. Angling away from them, it turned and made a sudden dash back.

  “I am hungry!” it rumbled again, butting Stinkbomb’s legs with its wide flat head. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any bananas?”

  “Bananas?” squeaked the rabbit.

  Ketchup-Face said nothing, but suddenly looked slightly smug.

  Stinkbomb eyed the shark more carefully. “You’re a hammerhead shark, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Yeah!” said the shark in surprise, raising one eye out of the water to look at him. “How’d you know that?”

  “Well,” said Stinkbomb, “your head’s shaped like a hammer.”

  The shark thought about this. “Ohhhhh,” it said. “Hammer . . . head. Head like a hammer. That makes sense. Funny I never realized before. So . . . do you have any bananas?”

  “Um . . . I think I might, actually,” Stinkbomb said, fumbling in his pocket and producing a small bunch.

  “Thanks,” said the shark. It neatly snipped off the ends of the bananas with its teeth and sucked the fruit out, leaving Stinkbomb holding the empty skins. “Yum,” it said.