Stoopid Kids

 

This book is forever dedicated to

Shoko
 

The Invention

Mr. Walter Wannabe was a short fat hideous fellow. His teeth were crooked and creaky like stones on a castle wall. His mouth was slobbery and his lips were like sausages. His head was hairless and shiny. And Mr. Walter Wannabe always wore a pin-stripe suit but the stripes went sideways.

The man with him, Tinker, was tall and skinny and knobbly like a piece of knotted string. His hair was uncombed and spiky as if he‘d just been hit by a bolt of lightening. And he always wore a long white laboratory coat covered in stains.

Half hidden in shadow, they stood beside a large table covered with papers. A single dim light bulb hung by a long wire from the high ceiling. And all around, piles and piles of big cardboard boxes disappeared into the darkness.

“Right,” slobbered Walter Wannabe, puffing on a big fat stinky and slobbery cigar, “is you, or isn’t you, my inventor?”

“Yes Boss. I am Boss.”

“And do you, or don’t you, invent?”

“Yes Boss. I do Boss.”

“Right then, listen up and listen up good, 'cos I’ll only say this three times.” The Boss paused. “Are you listening up?”

“Yes Boss. All the way to the top,” Tinker answered.

“Right. Now this is top secret.” Wannabe took a quick shifty look around. “This is between my mouth and your ears. Understand?”

“Yes Boss. Top secret.”

“I want you to invent something. And I want you to invent something so rotten it’ll make your socks stink.”

“Yes Boss.”

“I want you to invent something so shocking you’ll get a medal from the electric company.”

“Yes Boss.”

“I want you to invent something so tricky it’ll make magicians weep.”

“Yes Boss,” Tinker said. “But what exactly do you want me to invent?”

“I want you to invent something that’ll make kids stupid.”

“Make chilliwacks stupid Boss?”

“Yes you oaf! Make kids stupid.”

“Which chilliwacks Boss?”

“All of them.”

“Oh,” Tinker scratched his spiky head. “How stupid Boss?”

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Wannabe slobbered. “In a quiz between a kid and a cabbage, I want the cabbage to win.”

“Oh.” Tinker seemed flabbergasted.

“Right, you’ve got one month to invent the invention. Get inventing!”

One Month Later

Tom Baker was not the kind of boy to have an adventure. He was eight years old and preferred sitting quietly reading books about other people having an adventure.

Now, to tell the truth, Tom was a bit short for his age. And he was a bit chubby for his age. And he was definitely a bit brainy for his age. In fact, although he was only eight, some of the teachers whispered amongst themselves that he was the cleverest kid in the whole school.

He was in math class and today, like every other day, he was the only one to have a table to himself. It was in the far corner at the back.

Most of the kids were all eyes down as if they were playing a game of Bingo. But some—the ones who hated mathematicating—looked out of the window, or watched the hands on the big wall clock, or scribbled on their book covers.

“Right everyone,” Mr. Adder, the math teacher, stood up. Mr. Adder was sick of teaching kids and secretly wanted to stay home all day and do long multiplication. “Put your pencils and books away.” He paused and adjusted his wire spectacles. All the class started smiling and chattering.

“Right, quiet every one. Before you all go home, I want to hand back the tests from yesterday.” There was a general unhappy grumble. Mr. Adder opened a folder and took out the pile of papers.

“Tut, tut,” he tutted, flipping through the pile. “Terrible. This was the terriblest test I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen tons of terrible tests in my time.” Mr Adder though said that about every test. “What do you mean doing so badly? Eh?” he continued. “What do you mean?” He looked from blank face to blank face. The class had no idea what they meant by doing so badly. “Believe it or not, more than half of you got Ds. Only one student got an A.”

“Yeah, Brain Box Baker,” Basher Baldwin chimed as if he was singing a song. Basher Baldwin was the class bully and loved bashing kids smaller than he was. He also loved bashing kids bigger than he was. His hobby was bashing. And he always said that one day he’d bash teachers too. Tom wriggled awkwardly in his chair while the class twisted their necks to look at him.

“Hey Brain Box, you want another gold star to show your mummy?” Basher taunted. Tom’s face turned red.

“He’ll see plenty of gold stars when I smash his head in after school!” This was Watfor, one of Basher’s gang.

“Don’t you know no one likes a brain box?” This was Scrag, another of Basher’s gang. It wasn’t because Tom got As in math that Basher’s gang hated him. No, it was because he got As in every class. English, Geography, you name it, Tom got As in it. Well, every class except one.

“He’s not a brain box in sports,” Watfor said.

“No, he’s a weed box,” Basher said, and all his gang laughed like it was the funniest joke they’d ever heard.

“All right you horrible little vermin,” Mr. Adder said finally. “Quiet while I hand back your terrible tests.”

All the kids looked silently at their grades and then stuffed the papers into their bags.

“All right, scram the lot of you. Go home.” All the kids rattled their seats and rushed out. All except Tom. He was in no hurry. In fact, he planned on being very slow, hoping that Basher and his gang would get tired of waiting to beat him up.

“Hurry up, Tom,” Mr. Adder said, wiping his spectacles on his shirt. Tom walked past the teacher and into the corridor. Down the stairs. Into the library. He browsed the spinning rack of new books. But there was nothing he hadn’t read already.

Holding his schoolbag in front and kicking it with each step, Tom slowly walked back into the corridor and towards the main door. And there he stood, peeping outside but scared to stick his neck out.

“Are you hiding from someone?” a voice behind asked. Tom turned around. It was a big kid, 11 years old from the 6^th year. He was new to the school.

“Basher,” Tom said, shyly.

“Oh, yeah, I heard of him,” the big boy answered with a friendly grin. “You’re Baker, aren’t you.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard of you as well,” the big boy gave another grin. “You get As in everything don’t you?”

Tom looked at the floor.

“Well don’t worry, 'cos I get Es in everything!” The big boy laughed. Tom stayed silent.

“Come on, you can walk with me. Nobody’ll touch you.”

Outside, a bunch of kids were playing football in the village square. A few others sat around the old clock tower, chatting away. But there was no sign of Basher or any of his awful gang.

“See, nothing to worry about!” the big boy grinned.

But then Basher and his basher gang suddenly came out from behind the old church. Basher was grinning like mad dog in an alley of cats. And then he saw who Tom was walking with. Basher and his gang suddenly stopped. The grin fell off Basher’s face like egg from a non-stick frying pan.

They stood around kicking stones and pretending to chat and pretending they weren’t waiting to do some bashing.

“Look at them! What a bunch of cowards!” But Tom preferred not to look.

Tom and the big boy walked past the square and followed the old road out of the village. Now it was hilly with high dry-stone walls on both sides of the road and the sound of sheep in the fields behind.

“What’s your name?” Tom asked, finally relaxing and throwing his schoolbag onto his back.

“Every one calls me Smiley,” he said.

“Do you smile a lot then?”

“Nah.” Smiley reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small digital camera and showed it to Tom.

“Is it yours?”

“Yeah,” Smiley said. “I got my fist camera when I was little. I used to take loads of pictures and tell everyone to smile all the time. That’s why they call me Smiley.”

“You live down the road on the left, don’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s us.”

“I live at the farm near the stream.”

“You live on a farm?”

“Yes,” Tom nodded.

“Is your dad a farmer?”

“No, my mum’s a farmer. My dad’s a teacher.”

“Really? That’s a bit odd.”

“Yes, I know. My mum’s a bit odd.”

“Have you got pigs?” Smiley obviously wasn’t interested in Tom’s odd mum.

“No. We have loads of sheep though.”

“Oh, I like pigs,” Smiley said.

“We have 15 cows,” Tom added.

“I like pigs,” Smiley insisted.

They continued to walk up the steep hill. It was early autumn and a strong cool wind blew in their faces.

“I read a book once about a pig that could talk,” Tom offered.

“That sounds fun.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tom asked as they reached the top of the hill.

“What?”

“That’s one of our fields—and the gate’s open.” Tom pointed.

“Well maybe your mum’s in there.”

“No. And she might be a scatterbrain, but she’d never leave a gate open.”

They crossed the road and walked through the open gate. There was a line of trees half way up the hilly field. Beside the trees they could see a big white van. On the side it said: “Education Department.” There was a ladder on the roof.

“What’s going on?” Tom whispered.

“Let’s go find out!” Smiley answered.

“We should be quiet,” Tom whispered. “There’s something fishy going on in this field of sheep.”

They ran up the hill towards the trees and then came to a stop. Through the trees they could see two figures. There was a small fat man in a pin-stripe suit with the stripes going sideways. He was standing on the edge of the hill peering through a pair of binoculars. Walking towards him was a tall skinny man with spiky hair wearing a white laboratory coat covered in stains.

“All the kids are out now.” It was Wannabe with his spiky inventor, Tinker. Wannabe lowered the binoculars from his eyes. “We’ll wait another thirty minutes and then most of the teachers’ll be gone.”

“Right Boss,” Tinker answered.

“Go bring the invention.”

“Yes Boss.” Tinker walked back towards the white van.

The two boys looked at each other.

“I think he’s spying on the school,” Smiley whispered.

“Yes. And what’s the invention thing he wants?”

Just then Tinker returned. He was carrying a long white glass tube. It looked like a fluorescent light bulb.

“Here it is Boss. I call it a Stupidifier.”

“It looks like a fluorescent light,” Wannabe said, examining it uncertainly.

“I know Boss,” Tinker chuckled. “That’s why it’s so crafty and so cunning and so clever. When we put it in that school, no one will guess what it really is and what it really does.”

“And you’re sure it’ll make all the kids stupid?”

“Yes Boss.” Tinker nodded.

“Did you hear that?” Smiley whispered.

“Yes. They must be a couple of loonies,” Tom whispered, hardly able to believe his ears.

“As long as the chilliwacks walk under the Stupidifier every day,” Tinker was explaining, “it’ll make them stupid and keep them stupid.”

“Perfect!” Wannabe laughed a slobbery laugh and spit fell on his shoes. “We’ll put it in the main corridor, then the brats’ll get a dose the moment they arrive every morning.”

“Right Boss.”

“This is our big test,” Wannabe said, half daydreaming. “If it works here, we’ll put one in every rotten school!”

“Right Boss.”

“How long before we need to test it?”

“A week, Boss.”

“A week? I want it tested quick! You lanky laggard.”

“It needs time, Boss.”

“All right you pottering potterer. Now, wait here while I go put it back in the van.”

“Yes Boss.”

Wannabe carefully carried the Stupidifier back to the van.

“Did you hear that?” Smiley whispered.

“They must be mad,” Tom said. “It’s just a fluorescent light bulb.”

“But what if it’s real?”

“I can’t be.”

“What if it really makes kids stupid?”

“Well, we’d better get out of here and tell someone. Come on.”

“Tell who?”

“The headmaster. Or the police,” Tom whispered.

One Second Later

Just as Tom and Smiley were about to turn and hurry away, a hand fell on each of their shoulders and a voice shrieked, “GOTCHA!” It was Wannabe. He dragged them backwards by their shirt collars and their feet hardly touched the ground.

“These two brats were spying on us,” Wannabe blabbered.

“Chilliwacks? Spying?”

“Yes, you great oaf. Now hold them for me. And don’t let them go.”

“Yes Boss.” Tinker took them by the arm and clung on tight. Tinker wasn’t so strong and Smiley was ready to break free. But then he saw Wannabe. And Wannabe was holding a gun and pointing it at them.”

“What did you two brats hear?” he demanded, spluttering and splattering with every slobbering word.

“Nothing,” Smiley said.

“Ha! They heard e v e r y t h i n g!” Wannabe decided.

“No, no,” Smiley said.

“We didn’t,” Tom said.

Wannabe licked the slobber from his sausage lips while he considered the situation.

“Right, there’s only one thing for it.”

He cocked the trigger of the gun.

“But Boss, you can’t kill chilliwacks.”

“We have no choice, you great piece of spiralled spaghetti. They heard the whole plan and they’ll blab faster than a blabberer.”

“But Boss—”

“Nothing can stop the plan now. Nothing!” Now Wannabe wasn’t just slobbering he was shaking.

“But, but Boss, they’re just chilliwacks. You can’t kill chilliwacks!”

“I can,” slobbered the slobbery Wannabe, “and I will.” He raised the gun towards the boys and pointed it straight at them.

“You-hu-hu can’t,” Tom said, beginning to cry. Big tears trickled down his cheeks.

“We’re just kids,” Smiley pleaded.

Wannabe just slobbered, trying to decide which one he’d shoot first.

“Boss Boss Boss,” Tinker said, urgently. “Wait wait! I have a better idea.”

“What’s your idea?” Wannabe slobbered suspiciously, his finger still on the trigger.

“I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. No! I’ll show you!” Tinker grabbed Wannabe by the arm and pulled him a few steps to the summit of the hill. Wannabe waddled like a fat duck that thought it was a pig.

“Let go of me, you oaf!”

“Look Boss.”

“Look? Look at what?” Wannabe wanted to keep his eye on the two boys, hoping they’d try and run off so he could shoot them.

“Do you know where that is over there?” He pointed at the vast up and down mountains and forest that disappeared into the distance.

“Of course I know where it is! It’s Nowhere!” Wannabe was beginning to get angry, glancing back at Tom and Smiley.

“Yes Boss, its Nowhere. The Nowhere mountains. Where no one has ever been and no one wants to go.”

“Get to the point! We have work to do!” Wannabe gargled.

“My point is, Boss, if we put those two kids in the deepest darkest part of Nowhere, where the forest is full of heepy-creepies and boy-eating beasties, they’ll never get out. They’ll never be seen again. They’ll be lost forever. Eaten up and gobbled. They’ll never have a chance to blab and spoil your plan.”

Tom and Smiley gazed in silence at the Nowhere mountains. There was nothing more scary to a small boy than the Nowhere mountains.

“Well that’s just lovely!” Wannabe scoffed. “That really is lovely, you great loggerhead! How can we put them there? There’s no roads. There’s no way out 'cos there’s no way in!”

“That’s true Boss. Except, I know how.”

“Shooting ‘em’s quicker. Bang bang! They’re dead.” Wannabe pretended to shoot at the boys while he said each bang.

“Ah, yes Boss, but that’s murder. But when they’re creepied and guzzled and gobbled by the heepy-creepies and beasties, well that’s just bad luck!”

While it was true that no man, woman or child had ever been in the Nowhere mountains, it was common knowledge that they were full of the most retched heepy-creepies and beasties. And when little kids where bad, wicked parents sometimes threatened to send them to the middle of Nowhere.

“I admit, it does sound tempting,” Wannabe slobbered. “And no one could say I murdered the brats.”

“Boss, they’d say you’re so kind for not murdering them!”

“Right then!” Wannabe decided. “Get on with it! I want ’em in the deepest darkest part of Nowhere. And fast.”

Whaaaaa

Tom and Smiley stood with Wannabe slobbering and pointing the gun at them. Tinker rushed to the van. With his long skinny legs, he walked like a giraffe on stilts. Then he rushed back.

“This ball of string is the longest strongest ball of string in the world. And this other ball of string is the strongest longest ball of string in the world. It’s Super Strong String.”

He dropped them on the ground. He rushed to the van. Then he rushed back.

“This is the strongest lightest cloth in the world. It’s water-proof and fire-proof and wiggle-proof and giggle proof.”

He dropped the role of cloth on the ground. He rushed to the van. Then he rushed back.

“These are the strongest lightest poles in the world. They’re stronger than you and lighter me.”

He dropped the pile of poles on the ground. He rushed to the van. Then he rushed back.

“This Magic Sticky Tape is the stickiest sticky tape in the world. It will stick anything to anything else and anything else to anything. It will stick wiggles to giggles and giggles to wiggles.”

“All right you great wooden spoon!” Wannabe said, glaring at all Tinker’s weird inventions piled up on the grass. “What’s your game?”

“No game Boss. Watch and see!”

Tinker took three poles and laid them on the grass shaped like an A.

Next, he took the Magic Sticky Tape and stuck the poles into position. Then he started to cut the green cloth into a giant rectangle, stretched it over the poles and stuck it in place with the Magic Sticky Tape. It was about now that Tom began to guess what Tinker was up to. But the idea was too crazy. It was too impossible. It was too unbelievable.

Now Tinker was cutting very very long strips of the green cloth and sticking them in place.

“That’s one done,” Tinker said.

“It looks like a giant kite!” Wannabe said.

“Yes Boss,” Tinker said. He was already grabbing more of the poles and making another.

“We don’t have time for kite flying, you great ninny!” Wannabe said, getting very red in the face. He was spluttering and blubbering like a madman on holiday in a place with no sea or sand.

“It’s not just a kite, Boss. I call it a Kiddy-Kite. It will carry any kid any where you care that kid to be. “

Now Tom knew his guess was right. And it was too crazy and too impossible and too unbelievable.

“You mean—”

“Yes Boss,” Tinker interrupted, still busy making the second Kiddy-Kite. “I’m going to Kiddy-Kite them all the way to the middle of Nowhere.”

“You can’t!” Tom cried.

“Shh,” Smiley whispered, “don’t make the fat one angry.”

But Wannabe was already angry. He pointed his gun at Tom and began to waddle over towards them. “Right, right, I’ll just shoot you brats!” he spluttered.

“No Boss! No! It’s done! Look, both Kiddy-Kites are ready! Let’s have some fun with these rotten chilliwacks. Let’s fly them off once and forever. Let’s watch ‘em cry like babies!”

“Well, get on with it then, you chucklehead!” Wannabe said, realising what fun it would be to watch them dangle and scream like cry-babies.

Tinker laid the two Kiddy-Kites on the summit of the hill, then, using some thick cord from the pocket of his white laboratory coat, he began to tie first Smiley then Tom to the metal poles. As Tom looked upwards he imagined himself dangling from the Kiddy-Kite and climbing higher and higher and higher into the empty sky. Tom began to cry again. But Tinker had no time for his tears. Finally he tied the end of each giant ball of Super Strong String onto the kites, then rushed down to the van. Smiley struggled to get free, but it was useless. He twisted his neck to see what was happening. Tinker had fixed the two giant balls of Super Strong String onto a kind of winding machine beside the back doors of the van.

“Right Boss, everything’s ready. When I say ‘Now,’ press this red button on the winding machine.”

“Am I or am I not the Boss?” Wannabe said angrily.

“You are Boss. You are the Boss, Boss.”

“Well then, I’ll be the one to say, ‘Now.’ Not you. Right?”

“Yes Boss. Right Boss.”

First Tinker lifted Tom’s Kiddy-Kite so that the bottom of the poles rested on the ground.

And then, quickly, so quickly it seemed as if maybe nothing had happened, Tinker dropped something small and heavy into Tom’s trouser pocket.

Then he lifted up Smiley’s Kiddy-Kite. With a Kiddy-Kite in each hand, he stood facing the wind and soon it began bellowing into the cloth.

“Don’t do it,” Tom begged, tears now streaming down his cheeks. “We won’t tell anyone.”

But suddenly a giant gust of wind blew over the hilltop and Tinker threw the Kiddy-Kites upwards and skywards. Both boys cried out, “Whaaaaa!” The Kiddy-Kites quickly flew upwards as the wind blew and blasted. The boys looked down and again cried, “Whaaaaa!”

“You can say ‘Now’ now Boss,” Tinker called.

“What? What?” Wannabe answered.

“YOU CAN SAY ‘NOW’ NOW BOSS!”

“What? Say ‘now’? What’re you going on about, you great hoddy-doddy?”

“PRESS THE RED BUTTON Boss!”

“Red button?” Wannabe looked around and saw the red button on the winding machine. “Oh, oh, right.”

“NOW! Boss.”

Wannabe pressed the red button and the winding machine began to turn. It fed out the Super Strong String from both giant balls and the Kiddy-Kites flew higher and higher and further and further.

Tom closed his eyes, afraid to look, but could feel the wind growing stronger and cried, “Whaaaaa!” again. Smiley watched the ground fall away beneath him. His heart jumped up into his mouth, beating and bumping against his teeth. “Whaaaaa!” he cried, sure the Super Strong String would break any moment and they’d fall to the ground deader than dead.

Tinker walked back to the van, glancing over his shoulder and watching the Kiddy-Kites soar higher and higher and further and further. There was a certain skip and jump in the way he walked now, as if he was too proud of his latest invention to keep his feet on the ground.

“Pretty good, eh Boss?” The winding machine continued to turn and feed out the Super Strong String. The boys’ cries now blew away with the wind.

“Grmph, pretty good,” the slobbery Wannabe slobbered, using his binoculars to watch the Kiddy-Kites fly away. “At least they’re still blubbering like blubberers.”

Tinker pulled a large sheet of folded paper from his pocket.

“Look, Boss,” he said, unfolding it. “This is a map of the clouds. See?”

“Yes yes yes,” Wannabe said, even though he had no idea what he was looking at.

“We’ll cut the Super Strong String when they get here,” he pointed. “By the time the Kiddy-Kites crash—if the crash doesn’t kill them—they’ll be in the deepest darkest forestiest part of the mountains: where no one has ever been and no one wants to go.”

“Will it? Will the crash kill ’em?” Wannabe slobbered.

“Probably, Boss.”

“Good!”

And then, despite the wind and the distance, they both heard a final, “Whaaaaa.”

And then the two Kiddy-Kites and the two boys were nothing more than two tiny specs in the sky.

And then . . .

“I think we’re gonna be okay!” Smiley shouted over to Tom.

“What?” Tom’s eyes were still tightly closed and the wind was howling and hollering.

“These Kiddy-Kites fly okay,” he shouted louder.

“Oh,” Tom called, the wind slapping his face and the Kiddy-Kite tugging on the Super Strong String.

“Open your eyes and see!”

“No.”

“Go on.”

Tom peeped out, but only saw sky and clouds. He screamed and closed his eyes again.

“It’s okay. I promise!” Smiley shouted.

Tom peeped out again. This time he saw the ground. But it was so so so far below. He screamed and closed his eyes again.

“Are you okay?”

“We’re too high,” Tom called, his eyes tightly closed, his cheeks stained with dry tears.

“I know we are. But closing your eyes doesn’t make us any lower,” Smiley shouted.

“Mmm.” Tom started to think about this. And he was thinking it sounded pretty smart for a kid who says he always gets Es in school. And he was thinking it was pretty stupid to keep his eyes closed because it really didn’t make them any lower.

So he opened his eyes.

They were really flying high and far. The van and the two horrible men were too small to even see. Tom glanced straight down and it seemed like he was looking from an aeroplane.

“We’re going to die,” he screamed.

This time Smiley started to think. The Kiddy-Kites were flying well and they were fixed securely in place, but sooner or later the horrible men would cut the stings and then . . .

Baaaaa

“Do you have a chair in the back of that van?” Wannabe asked, sucking on a slobbery stinky cigar and watching the winding machine wind out the Super Strong String.

“Yes Boss.” Tinker brought two fold-up chairs. Wannabe sat and his chair creaked under his fat bum.

“Do you have a table in the back of that van?”

“Yes Boss.” Tinker brought a fold-up table.

“Do you have anything to make a cup of tea in the back of that van?”

“Yes Boss.” Tinker brought a small fold-up camping stove, a fold-up kettle, a fold-up teapot, two fold-up bone china cups, two fold-up teaspoons, a bottle of low fat milk, four sugar cubes and two tea bags. The short fat Wannabe stuck out his little fat finger when he held his cup as if he was having tea with the Queen.

“You seem to have a lota stuff in the back of that van,” Wannabe mused, taking a drink with his little fat finger sticking out.

“Yes Boss. I have everything in there.”

“Everything?”

“Everything Boss.”

“Do you have a red pogo-stick covered in painted yellow flowers?” Wannabe gave an evil smile.

Tinker rushed back to the van and returned bouncing on a red pogo-stick covered in painted yellow flowers. “Here, Boss. Want to try bouncing?”

“No, you great noddy.”

Tinker sat down and took a drink of his tea.

The winding machine whirred away.

“Everything you say?” Wannabe asked with an even more evil smile.

“Everything Boss.”

“Do you have a chocolate Easter egg wrapped in silver foil with a genuine pearl necklace hidden inside?”

“It’s not Easter, Boss.”

“HA! Got you!” Wannabe was triumphant. He knew Tinker couldn’t have everything in his van.

“But even so, I still have one,” Tinker said.

Tinker rushed back to the van and returned with a chocolate Easter egg wrapped in silver foil.

Wannabe sputtered and choked and his tea came spurting out of his mouth and nose as if he was a human tea fountain. He took the Easter egg and began to unwrap it.

The winding machine whirred away.

The chocolate egg split in two and a genuine pearl necklace fell into Wannabe’s flubbery hands.

“What? What? What?” he said, still spluttering.

“There you go Boss. I told you I have everything in that van.”

But the Boss wasn’t listening. He was examining the pearl necklace. It was a rather charming necklace, and he decided to try it around his fat flubbery neck.

“How does it look?” he asked, pulling and tugging and twisting his neck to try and see the pearls.

“It suits you, Boss. Most fetching.”

“You must have a mirror in that blasted van of yours?”

Tinker rushed back to the van and returned with a hand mirror. Wannabe sat admiring the string of pearls around his fat flubbery neck. He turned his face this way and that way and made half a dozen weird expressions.

“How long is that blasted thing gonna take?” Wannabe asked, suddenly glaring at the winding machine and the longest ball of Super Strong String in the world and the other longest ball of Super Strong String in the world.

Tinker showed him the map of the clouds again and pointed. “Look, Boss, those chilliwacks have to go pretty far.”

“How long will that blasted thing take?” Wannabe repeated.

“Pretty long, Boss,” Tinker said.

“Can’t you make that blasted thing go faster?”

“Faster? Yes Boss.” Tinker pushed the button marked, “Faster” and the whirring speeded up.

“Now how long will it take?”

“Pretty long Boss.”

“Baaaaa,” Wannabe said, as if he was one of the sheep in the field. “Let’s leave it going and get down to that school. The place must be empty by now.”

“Right, Boss.”

Snip

Tinker took the stepladder from the roof of the van while Wannabe grabbed the Stupidifier.

And so they left the van and the winding machine in the field and walked towards the school. They crossed the village square.

“Good,” Wannabe whispered. “The school’s deserted.”

They walked through the doors and into the main corridor. Tinker looked up and saw a fluorescent light on the ceiling.

“Here Boss.” Quickly and quietly, he set up the stepladder, climbed up and replaced the long light bulb with the Stupidifier.

“That should make the kids really stupid, Boss.”

“It better,” Wannabe warned, glancing up and down the empty corridor. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Just a minute, Boss,” Tinker said. And he ran off into one of the classrooms then moments later ran back to Wannabe.

“What were you doing?”

“I’ve hidden a Secret Spy Camera in that classroom,” Tinker said, folding away the stepladder.

They hurried out of the school. As they passed the church, Wannabe started to whistle as if he was as innocent as a whistling baby.

“Why did you put the spy camera?” Wannabe finally asked.

“So that, Boss, when we come back next week, Boss, to see how well the Stupidifier has worked, all we need to do is turn on my special Secret Spy Camera TV in the van. Then we can see how stupid the kids are.”

“Good idea, you great peeping-tom,” Wannabe said.

Now they walked up the hill towards the open gate. Wannabe looked here and there, making sure no one was around, then they slipped back into the field.

The winding machine was still winding away. The two lines of Super Strong String were impossibly long and vanished into the sky.

“How much longer will it take now? Wannabe asked.

“Pretty long, Boss,” Tinker said. “Let’s have some more tea.”

So they sat in silence, sipping their tea, while the winding machine whirred and the two balls of Super Strong String became smaller and smaller and smaller.

“I just thought of something.” Wannabe’s eyes were shining like a car’s headlights.

“Yes Boss?”

“Your stupid Stupidifier looks like a fluorescent light bulb. But what happens if a school doesn’t have fluorescent lights in the corridor? What if it has regular lights? Did you think about that?”

Tinker took a leisurely sip of tea.

“Well?”

“Well, Boss, most schools have fluorescent lights. But, if they have regular lights, then we’ll use this.” He reached into the pocket of his white laboratory coat and took out what looked like a regular light bulb. “This is a Stupidifier Compact,” he said smiling.

“Grmph,” Wannabe said.

Finally Tinker spread his cloud map on the table and examined it carefully.

“Right, Boss. I think that’s it. We can cut the Super Strong String.”

“About time you great gufflewaffer! Get on with it,” Wannabe spluttered with another spluttery cigar stuffed in his mouth.

Tinker took a pair of scissors from the van that had everything and looked up to where the two Super Strong Strings vanished into the distance. And then Tinker reached out with the scissors and cut the Super Strong Strings with a snip.

Birthday and Christmas and Summer Holidays

Tom and Smiley flew side by side. They were tired and scared and couldn’t count the minutes for the hours. Below, far below, the Nowhere mountains and forest stretched in every direction. It was a place where no one had been and no one wanted to go. It seemed to go on and on and on forever.

Suddenly something happened: both the Super Strong Strings on the Kiddy-Kites fell slack and fell downwards. Almost at the same time the Kiddy-Kites twisted and turned and began to spin and fall fall fall.

“Whaaaaa,” Tom and Smiley cried. They knew the Super Strong String had been cut and they were falling to their deaths. It was the terrible moment they’d both been expecting. “Whaaaaa,” they cried, spinning and twisting and turning and falling. A million crashing smashing dying ideas flashed through the boys’ heads as the Kiddy-Kites spun out of control. Their hearts raced and drummed and drummed and raced and tears spilled down their cold cheeks. It was going to happen. They were going to die.

Then, just as suddenly, the Kiddy-Kites stopped spinning and falling and began to fly, like two crazy gliders, gliding with both boys now hanging underneath.

“We’re gliding! These Kiddy-Kites can glide!” Smiley shouted.

“Cripes!” Tom shouted back.

“Maybe we can land them!” Smiley called.

After being so scared for so long and thinking about crashing and dying, Tom now felt as if it was his birthday and Christmas and summer holidays all rolled into one. They were gliding and not crashing.

And so now they boys hung precariously under the Kiddy-Kites, gliding forwards further and further into the middle of Nowhere.

Time passed slowly, and slowly Tom felt less sure. Could they really land safely? Looking down at the mountains and forest, Tom was beginning to doubt it. Maybe it wasn’t his birthday and Christmas and summer holidays after all.

“Hey, Tom!” Smiley shouted over.

“What?”

“Try to move your body over a bit to the left of your Kiddy-Kite.”

“What? How? Why?” Tom shouted.

“Just try to move yourself over a bit! Try.”

Tom struggled half-heartedly.

“I can’t,” he called.

“Try harder! Watch me!” Tom twisted his neck and saw Smiley adjusting himself and edging slightly to the left side of his Kiddy-Kite. He didn’t move much but it was enough to make the Kiddy-Kite suddenly change direction and fly to the left towards Tom. Smiley swooped like a crazy swooping swooper and Tom cried out, “You’ll crash me!” At the last moment, Smiley pushed himself back to the centre and his Kiddy-Kite changed course again and flew safely beside Tom’s.

“See?” Smiley shouted. “We can steer these Kiddy-Kites! Try it.”

“I tried! I can’t! I’m not strong like you!”

“You have to! Try again!” Smiley shouted. “Try harder. We have to steer these Kiddy-Kites if we want to land them! Otherwise we’ll crash.”

“But—”

“TRY!”

Tom could hear that Smiley was getting angry, so he tried again. But nothing happened.

“Try harder!”

“I AM!” Now Tom was getting angry and tears ran down his cheeks and blew away in the wind. Again he struggled to move, twisting and turning and trying with all his might. Suddenly he seemed to figure it out and his Kiddy-Kite turned and flew off to the left.

“Whaaaaa,” he shouted.

“You did it!” Smiley shouted and turned his own Kiddy-Kite to follow. “Now move back to the middle!”

Tom adjusted his body and moved back to the middle and the Kiddy-Kite flew straight forwards again.

“You got it!” Smiley shouted as they glided side by side again.

“It’s not so hard!” Tom called proudly.

“Right! Well follow me then!”

Tom saw Smiley move slightly to the right and he swooped away. Tom copied and quickly followed.

“Watch this!” Some how Smiley’s Kiddy-Kite began to glide upwards and then downwards.

“How do you do that?” Tom shouted.

“Try to move yourself backwards a tiny bit!”

Tom tried and this time quickly got the hang of it. As his weight moved back, the Kiddy-Kite started to glide upwards, higher into the sky. Smiley followed. Then Tom moved forwards a tiny bit and began to glide downwards. Smiley followed.

Smiley swooped to the left. Tom swooped to the left. Tom swooped upwards. Smiley swooped upwards. Up and down, left and right, they swooped here and they swooped there, and with every swoop they learned how to control the Kiddy-Kites better.

“Look over there, ahead to your left!” Smiley shouted. Tom saw the summit of a mountain. The mountaintop was flat with no trees or bushes.

“We better try and land there. Okay?”

“Cripes! Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” In one fantastic move, Smiley swooped downwards and leftwards and swooped directly underneath Tom. The flat-topped mountain wasn’t so far away, but it was far below. The boys had no choice but to swoop downwards faster than a swooping swooper.

“We’ll crash!” Tom shouted.

“We won’t. Just stay behind me and copy everything I do!”

Smiley swooped downwards and around the mountain’s summit until he was flying from a completely different direction. Tom cried, “Whaaaaa,” as he followed, and quickly realised what Smiley was doing: they were both flying towards the summit, but now they were going into the wind. It blew and swooshed into their faces and the Kiddy-Kites began to slow down. But the summit was still coming up fearfully fast. Tom saw Smiley lean back and the front of his Kiddy-Kite lifted upwards. The wind suddenly hit the underside and his Kiddy-Kite slowed even more. Tom followed and felt the cloth fill like the sail of a yacht in a sail-breaking yacht-sinking storm. His Kiddy-Kite slowed too. But the summit was still coming up fearfully fast.

With horror, Tom watched Smiley swoop level with the summit. It looked like Smiley was crashing. The tail end of his Kiddy-Kite was dragging along the ground, drawing scritch-scratch lines over the grass and patches of bare rock. Then the front of Smiley’s Kiddy-Kite seemed to suddenly rise upwards even more and then came to a stop. Was Smiley still alive? There was no time to think because now it was Tom’s turn. He forced the front of his Kiddy-Kite slightly higher and felt the bottom of the poles dig into the ground and drag along. Next the toes of his shoes began to scrape the ground. Almost at once the ground seemed about to crash into him. With a final effort he tried to lift the front of the Kiddy-Kite higher and felt the wind catch underneath. Finally, the Kiddy-Kite stopped and Tom fell flat onto his face, completely covered by the Kiddy-Kite. “Whaaaaa,” he yelled and then lay quiet.

The Middle of Nowhere

Tom’s eyes were closed, but he could feel and smell the grass against his face. He could hear the sound of the wind howling over the mountaintop, flapping and fluttering the cloth of his Kiddy-Kite. Was he dead? Was he hurt? Was he Broken?

“Are you okay, Tom?” a voice called. But the wind made it seem so far away, almost like the voice of a ghost. Was he dead? Was he hurt? Was he Broken?

“Are you okay, Tom?” a voice called again.

“Smiley?” Tom gasped.

“Yeah, Tom. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I can’t move.”

“Look under your kite to the right. Can you see me?”

With the Kiddy-Kite covering him completely, Tom struggle to turn his head and peep under the cloth.

“I can see you!”

“Try to wriggle towards me.”

“I can’t. I’m stuck. I can’t move!”

“TRY,” Smiley shouted, and Tom could hear he was angry again.

“Okay.” It was hard and he didn’t seem to be moving much. So while he wriggled, he pushed with his fingertips and shoved with the toes of his shoes. Very very slowly, Tom started moved over towards Smiley. He glanced over and saw Smiley was also moving slowly but steadily towards him. It was obvious Smiley was strong and it was obvious Smiley was brave. Finally they were side by side.

“Okay, Tom, don’t move.” Tom relaxed, panting with his face pushed into the grass. Smiley moved closer until their hands touched. Like a hand-spider, Smiley began to feel the knot in the rope that held Tom to the frame of the Kiddy-Kite.

“I think it’s a slipknot,” Smiley said. “If I pull on the longest end it should pop open.” The hand-spider found the long end and pulled. The knot popped open. Tom’s hand fell free.

“Can you pull the one on your other hand?” Smiley asked. Tom struggled but it was no use.

“I can’t reach.”

“Okay. Start to turn around then. I’ll have to do it.”

From above it must have seemed as if two strange kite creatures were doing some kind of mountaintop dance. Finally, they were in position and Smiley began to tug on the next slipknot. The knot popped open.

“You did it!” Tom cried.

“Can you untie your waste and feet?”

Tom reached down and pulled the long end of the rope around his waist.

“Got it! But I can’t reach my feet. I’m still trapped.”

Again the kite creatures danced their crazy dance until Smiley pulled on the last rope. Instantly the wailing wind grabbed the untethered Kiddy-Kite and it began to fly off.

“Catch it!” Smiley shouted, peeping from under his own Kiddy-Kite.

As quick as a flash, Tom reached out and grabbed a pole before the Kiddy-Kite blew away. He took off his schoolbag and placed it on top.

“Good job, Tom!” Smiley said. “Now untie me!”

Tom got up. He was aching but nothing seemed broken. A minute later Tom and Smiley stood facing each other.

“We did it! We made it!” Smiley said. And the two boys, complete strangers just a few hours early, reached out and hugged each other.

Tom and Smiley walked to the edge of the flat-topped mountain and looked out the way they’d come. Beneath them, trees and trees and mountains and trees stretched on and on and on and on and on and on.

“We’re completely in the middle of Nowhere,” Tom said in a whisper that was almost eaten up by the monster wind. Silently they looked outwards and downwards and outwards again.

“We’ll never get home,” Tom said, and silent tears spilled down his cheeks.

Silently they stood, until finally, still looking into the distance, Smiley put his arm on Tom’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get home.”

Going Down

“Right! Let’s take these Kiddy-Kites to pieces and take everything with us.”

“We’re not flying them again are we?” Tom asked.

“No, don’t worry Tom boy! You’ll see why later.”

And so, with the blustery wind blustering and blowing, they took the Kiddy-Kites to pieces.

“That’s funny, these poles seem to have tiny joins.” Smiley could see several faint lines.

“Maybe they fold up,” Tom said.

So Smiley began pulling and twisting and turning a pole. But nothing happened.

“Well, I don’t know how!” He gave the pole a final shake. And then, in the blink of an eye, the pole seemed to jump and snap and fold.

“Holy-guacamole! Did you see that? It’s folded up all by itself.”

“What did you do?”

“I just shook it.” Smiley shook once more and the pole was suddenly long again.

“Cripes.”

Soon, everything was stuffed in their school bags.

“Let’s take some Super Strong String as well,” Smiley said. Again they stood on the edge of the summit while Smiley wound up the Super Strong String.

“Smiley?”

“Yeah?”

“How can we find our way though?”

“I’ll tell you that later as well, Tom boy.” Smiley said. “We’ve got to get off this mountaintop as fast as we can.”

Tom cut the Super Strong String with his school scissors and Smiley stashed it away. They both put on their school bags.

“Do you think you can climb down these rocks?”

“Mmm, I’ll try,” Tom said, not liking the look of it.

“Well, just follow me.”

Smiley began to carefully climb down. He knew if either of them slipped there was no one to come to their rescue.

Now it was Tom’s turn and he was almost too scared to even go over the edge. But there was no choice. Slowly, almost shaking from fear, he climbed towards Smiley.

“That’s it. Slowly,” Smiley encouraged him.

“I think I’m stuck!” Tom said, fighting off tears.

“No you’re not. Don’t worry. Just stay calm.”

Tom’s tear stained cheek was flat against the cold naked rock. He began to lower his leg, finally found a small ledge and uncertainly lowered himself down.

And so they continued, fingers finding impossible holds, balancing on narrow outcroppings, clinging to the rocks. Slowly but steadily they climbed down.

Finally they stood together. The rocks now were less steep and they could hike downwards. But the ground was covered in loose stones and every step was still dangerous and slow. Smiley glanced up at the darkening sky.

“We have to find somewhere flat to camp,” he said, “before it gets dark.”

At last there were no more loose stones and trees and bushes began to appear. And so they walked on, faster now, downwards until they found themselves inside the great massive endless Nowhere forest.

“It’s darker in here,” Tom said, looking up at the canopy of leaves. Smiley looked up too. The trees seemed taller than normal trees and the two boys felt tiny.

“Yeah. Now we really have to get a move on.”

They quickened the pace, dodging around trees, pushing through branches, striding over shrubs, leaving a long line of small footprints in the mossy forest floor.

“Smiley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that inventor man made those Kiddy-Kites like gliders so we wouldn’t crash and die?”

“I’m not sure. But he was nicer than the fat one. So maybe.”

It was twilight. Soon it would be dark. With every passing minute, Smiley grew more worried, glancing frantically this way and that way and every other way, searching for an empty flat place where they could make camp.

“How about there?” Tom pointed.

“It’s too rocky,” Smiley answered, with only a brief glance.

In the end, just when it seemed they’d never find a place, the two boys came over a ridge and saw, just below, a giant rock the size of the house with a fallen tree on one side and a large area of grass in front.

“Look!” Smiley called. “Perfect!”

They scrambled down the slope towards the rock.

Creepy and Scary

“Okay, we’ve no time to waste.” Smiley took off his schoolbag, dropped it to the ground and unfastened the buckles. “Tom, get your Kiddy-Kite cloth.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“Try and make a tent!”

“Cripes! Can you?”

“I dunno, but I have to.”

Smiley found a nice sized rock. He shook the first pole and it snapped to full length. Then, he pushed it into the grassy ground and began hitting the other end with the rock, hammering it deeper and deeper.

“Pass me another pole,” he told Tom quickly.

Smiley pushed the second one into the ground so that the top ends both crossed each other. Then he hammered it with the rock. Now Smiley wrapped some Magic Sticky Tape where they crossed. The poles stood firm like a kind of upside down V. Smiley began hammering another pole into the ground and taping it to the first two.

By the time he’d finished, which was pretty soon because he was working so fast, all six poles formed a circle and criss-crossed each other near the top.

“Oh, you’re making a wigwam kind of tent?”

“Yeah! I hope!”

Now Smiley took one of the Kiddy-Kite cloths and taped one corner to a pole and then began wrapping it around the frame.

“Hey! I just remembered something,” Tom said.

“What?”

“I think that inventor put something into my pocket before he flew us away.” Tom reached into his pocket and took out a small silver case.

“Look.”

“What is it?”

The top was hinged and Tom flipped it open. “It’s a cigarette lighter.”

“Holy-guacamole! Does it work?”

Tom span the small wheel and tiny sparks turned to flame.

“That’s brilliant. We can make campfires! Close it! Don’t waste the fuel! And don’t lose it!”

Tom flipped the top closed and said, “Oh, well, er, you keep it then.”

“Okay, Tom boy.” Smiley took the lighter and stashed it in his deepest pocket.

“Well, you should start getting dead branches so we can make a fire.”

Smiley was already winding the second cloth around the bottom part of the poles.

Tom wandered around collecting wood from the forest floor. But away from Smiley, it suddenly seemed much darker and much scarier. He didn’t go far, but still silent tears began to run down his cheeks.

Smiley had almost finished the tent. With Tom’s school scissors he cut two slits upwards from the bottom and made a door-flap. Then he took the Kiddy-Kite tales, cut them to size and stuck them together making one big sheet. He crawled inside and spread it out on the ground. It was a perfect fit.

“It’s finished!” he called.

Tom threw more branches on the pile he’d collected and walked over to look.

“Cripes. It’s great,” he sad, happy for a brief moment. “Like a real wigwam.”

“I’ll teach you how to make a fire tomorrow when we have more time,” Smiley said, kneeling on the ground in front of the tent and breaking up some twigs.

“All right.”

Soon the fire was burning. The light spread out towards all the surrounding trees and the house-sized rock behind. Tom looked around the campsite and the moving flames made the shadows shiver and shake and shift about.

“Hey, do you have any food left from lunchtime?” Smiley asked.

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yeah, tons.”

In Tom’s lunch-box he had:

One chicken sandwich—with only a bite taken out—wrapped in silver foil.

Six carrot sticks.

An apple.

Half a small bottle of orange juice.

In Smiley’s lunch-box he had:

Five meatballs in gravy.

A few bits of potato.

Two chocolate biscuits.

Half a large bottle of red pop.

“Mmm, it all looks good, I’m starving,” Tom said.

“Me too. But we’d better keep some for tomorrow.”

Tom was just about to say, “Yes, but . . .” when he realised Smiley was right.

“Let’s eat my stuff now and your stuff tomorrow,” Smiley said.

There wasn’t much food so they ate slowly. Finally, yum, a whole chocolate biscuit each. Tom began slowly licking off the chocolate and didn’t take a single bite until it was all gone.

Smiley had other plans: he took tiny bites. The bites were so tiny he took almost a hundred before the biscuit was finished.

“What was it like licking the chocolate off?” Smiley asked.

“Deliciumptious. What was it like taking tiny bites?”

“Slow!” And they both laughed.

Tom and Smiley sat watching the fire, first sitting and then laying on the grass. As the wood burned down they noticed the evening was turning very cool. Smiley put more logs on.

“Do you have a watch?” Smiley asked, after a long silence.

“Yes, do you?”

“No. Does it have an alarm?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Have we got to wake up early?”

“No, but we have to keep the fire burning all night.”

“Do we? Why?”

“Well, there could be like some, you know, a few animals in this forest, small ones maybe, and the fire’ll keep them away.”

“Oh,” Tom said.

Smiley knew Tom was getting scared because he was pretty scared himself.

A few minutes later they packed up the food and carried their schoolbags into the tent.

“It’s nice inside!” Tom said.

The entrance flap was pushed behind two poles so it wouldn't fall down, and the campfire was close enough to light up the inside.

“It’s much warmer inside.”

The two boys lay on their stomach, rested their chins in their hands and watched the fire burn.

“So, listen Tom boy, we have to take it in turns to wake up and put more wood on the fire. Every two hours should be okay. What time is it now?”

“Nearly eight.”

“Okay. So I’ll do the first one at ten, and you do the next at twelve and we keep going like that. What do you think?”

“Okaaaaaaaay,” Tom said, as if the word was bubble-gum he was giving it a good chew. “But I don’t know how to put the wood.”

“Just like you saw me. If the fire’s burning good, just put lots of big logs on. If it’s not burning so well, put some smaller branches on first and then the big logs. Easy. Right?”

“I’ll try.”

Tom showed how to set the alarm and then Smiley strapped the watch to one of the poles.

Smiley lowered the door-flap. The campfire sent faint shadows running over the tent.

“I wish we had a cover,” Smiley said.

“I’ve got something.”

“What is it?”

Tom fished inside his schoolbag and took out a small package. “It’s a raincoat that folds up into the hood.” Tom unfolded it.

“You have a raincoat in your bag even when it’s sunny?”

“Yes. Just in case. I don’t like getting wet.”

Smiley smiled to himself. “Let’s spread it out.”

The raincoat made a pretty bad cover, but it was much better than nothing.

Smiley used his schoolbag as a pillow. Tom copied. The bag made a pretty bad pillow too.

Tom closed his eyes. The tops of trees creaked painfully in the gentle breeze, leaves shivered and shook and sometimes rattled like old bones. Even the grass seemed to creep in the wind with a crickle and a crackle. Tom lived in the countryside, but it was nothing like the middle of Nowhere. The silence just wouldn’t shut up. And there was the hooting of hooting owls and the flip-flap of a bat’s whispering wings, the quiet screaming of insects that had survived the end of summer. And the scampering of small animals in the undergrowth, rustling and whiskering about. With his eyes closed, Tom heard everything that he didn’t want to hear and everything he heard sounded creepy and scary.

Tom rolled over.

A few tears trickle down his face.

And time passed.

And Tom was still awake when his watched beep-beeped and Smiley crawled out to put logs on the fire.

And time passed.

And Tom was still awake when his watched beep-beeped and it was his turn to take care of the fire.

And his heart was beating like crazy because he didn’t want to go outside where the silence was so noisy and wouldn’t shut up.

And then he was out.

And shadows still twisted and turned and dodged about.

And Tom didn’t look and walked straight to the fire.

And he put the logs on the fire just like Smiley said and hurried back inside the tent.

And when the watch beep-beeped again for Smiley to take care of the fire, well Tom was finally fast asleep.

Hit by a Bullet

The two boys continued their long walk through the middle of Nowhere.

“Smiley?” Tom began.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t tell me how we’re going to find our way home.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, we have no map. So there’s only one thing we can do.”

“What?”

“We have to go west to get home.” Smiley looked up at the sky to see where the morning sun was. “And west is that way,” he pointed. “So what we have to do is try and find a stream or a river that’s going west and just keep following it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Water always flows downhill, right? So sooner or later it’ll flow out of the mountains. Then we’ll find people and we’ll be safe.”

“Oh,” Tom said. It sounded too simple.

They walked on.

“Smiley?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m pretty thirsty. Are you?”

“Yeah. But we don’t have much left. Can you wait a bit longer?”

“All right,” Tom said, trying not to sound unhappy.

They pushed their way through a large bush and jumped with surprise when half a dozen small birds suddenly flew out.

They walked on.

“Smiley?”

“Yeah?”

“What will we do when all the juice is finished?”

“Don’t worry, Tom boy. We’re in the mountains. There’s always loads of streams in the mountains. We’ll find one soon.”

But Smiley was secretly worrying. He knew they had to find drinking water really soon.

So they walked on, with Smiley checking the position of the sun to make sure they were going west. And at the same time he was looking carefully in every direction for any sign of a stream and drinking water.

“Let’s take a rest and a drink,” he said, and they sat down leaning against a tree. Tom took out the bottle of juice.

“Let’s have four glugs each,” Smiley said.

“All right.”

Tom: Glug glug glug glug.

Smiley: Glug glug glug glug.

They were both tired, but Smiley knew they had to keep walking and keep searching for a stream before it got dark.

Tom groaned as they stood up, his aching legs too tired to move. They mostly walked downwards. But often they had no choice but to climb up and over ridges and small hills. And it was hard work. Worst of all, it was thirsty work. But Smiley never suggested drinking and Tom decided not to ask.

The sun had climbed up into the sky, over their heads and was now sinking towards the horizon. The two boys sat for another rest and Smiley finally said they could drink.

“Three glugs each?”

“All right,” Tom agreed.

Smiley: Glug glug glug.

Tom: Glug glug glug.

It wasn’t much and they were both still thirsty but it was already all gone.

While they sat, Smiley hid his face in his hands, trying to look as if he was just resting. Really, he was almost ready to cry. He could hardly believe they’d walked so far and so long and not found a stream. He knew they could only survive three or four days without drinking. Smiley tried not to imagine what it would be like to die of thirst.

Much too soon, Smiley stood up again and Tom followed. He really wanted to just stay where he was and rest and put up the tent and go to sleep and dream a nice dream and wake up and find he was back home in his own bed.

So they walked and the sun peeped through the trees and slowly sank lower in the sky. Smiley was looking here and there and everywhere. There had to be a stream somewhere.

Even though they were both exhausted, Smiley changed pace and they started walking faster than ever. Faster than ever with Smiley frantically looking here and there and everywhere. He knew if they had to camp without finding any drinking water it would be a terrible night and the next day would be even more terrible.

Then, unexpectedly, Smiley grabbed Tom by the arm and stopped dead still.

“What—?”

“Shh,” Smiley shhed. There they stood, silent. Smiley cupped his ear with his hand.

“Can you hear it?” he whispered.

“What?” Tom could only hear the forest sounds: the rustle of leaves and the twittering and squawking of birds.

“That!” he whispered. Still holding Tom’s arm, Smiley quietly and slowly led the way, gently pushing a leafy branch to one side, careful with each silent step as if they were hunters stalking an animal. Smiley stopped again and listened.

“Now? Can you hear it now?”

“What?” Tom was starting to get scared.

Smiley pulled him along by the arm and now he was walking faster. And with each step Smiley pulled him faster still. And then he released Tom’s arm and ran forward until he seemed to fall to the ground as if he’d been hit by a bullet. Tom rushed to help him.

“Are you all right?” he cried.

At the last moment he saw there was a small stream and Smiley was lying with his face in it, drinking like a fish.

Tom fell to his knees and used his hands to drink. The water was so cold and so tasty. It was better than any water he’d ever tasted in his life.

“It’s better than red pop,” Smiley gasped. And red pop was his favourite.

If you’ve ever been really thirsty for a long time and then finally had a drink, then you’ll know what it feels like. Only Tom and Smiley weren’t really thirsty. No: they were really dying of thirst. Glug glug glug no need to count the glugs.

Smiley turned to face Tom. “We did it Tom boy!” And they both smiled at each other with water dripping down their chins.

“You did it Smiley. And I knew you would!”

Sausages

The next morning was chilly and they hadn’t even a scrap of food left.

They washed in the stream, drank, packed everything away. The sun was still behind the high mountains, so they sat down on a rock and enjoyed the last of the fire.

Finally they set off. It was easier to walk following the stream because they only had to go downhill. Soon it was starting to be nice and warm, and by mid morning they both had their jackets off and stuffed them in their bags. Not much later they took off their pullovers and tied them around their waists.

The stream began to take them around a sharp corner. Ahead they saw a tall tree with very peculiar looking fruit.

“Ha! It looks like sausages,” Tom said as they came closer.

Using his spear, Smiley knocked one of the fruits off and it fell to the ground. He picked it up and it really did look like a sausage.

Smiley took a small bite.

“What’s it taste like?”

“You won’t believe me.”

“I will.”

“You won’t.”

“I will. Tell me.”

“Well, if you ask me, it tastes like sausage.”

“Ha! I don’t believe you.”

“A traditional sage and onion sausage.”

“It’s a fruit. It’s not a sausage.”

“Have a bite then.”

So Tom took a smaller bite. Smiley took a photo. Click.

“Cripes. You’re right. It tastes exactly like a traditional sage and onion sausage. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I love traditional sage and onion sausages.”

“Me too,” Smiley said.

“I’m starving,” Tom said, and started to take another bite.

“Stop!” Smiley snatched the weird traditional sage and onion sausages away.

“What?!”

“We have to be careful. For all we know it could be poisonous.”

“Really?” Tom said, sadly. “But it’s yumific.”

“Yeah, and nature can be dead tricky. And we don’t want to end up dead.”

“So we can’t eat any?” When Tom said this, he looked as if he was ready to cry.

“We just have to be careful. We’ll take another bite each and then wait until tonight. And if we haven’t been sick and we feel okay, we’ll know they’re probably safe.”

“So are we staying here all day waiting?”

“Nah, we’ll fill up the bags and get going.”

“All right.”

Tom and Smiley took another bite each and seemed to study the taste as if there would be a test later.

“Okay, let’s get as many as we can carry.”

The tree was pretty big and even the lowest lying fruit was almost too high to reach with the spear. Smiley managed to knock off three more.

“I can’t reach any more.”

“Cripes,” Tom said, stuffing them into his bag. “That’s not many.”

“I know. I know what, though. Get on my shoulders and you try.”

“Mmm, all right,” Tom said, unhappily. He wasn’t keen on gymnastic stuff.

Smiley got on his knees. Tom sat on his shoulders. Smiley stood. Tom wobbled.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

Smiley passed the spear to Tom who began to knock off more of the sausage fruit.

“I think we have enough!” Smiley said.

“I can get more.”

“Maybe you can. But maybe it’s not a great idea. Look over there!”

In the distance Tom saw a pack of animals running towards them. They were monkeyish, except they had no fur, were completely pink from head to toe with a short curly tail, and were making very un-monkeyish snorting sounds.

“Get off!” Smiley cried.

Tom jumped from Smiley shoulders.

Tom was about to grab his school bag and run when Smiley shouted, “Get the sausages!”

The boys scrambled about in a panic, stuffing the sausages in their bags as fast as they could. Tom was about ready to cry from fear.

Smiley glanced up. The strange pink animals were getting awfully close.

“Okay okay let’s go!” he cried and they set off running.

When the strange animals reached the tree they noticed some sage and onion sausages still scattered about on the ground. They wanted to chase the two sausage thieves. But they wanted to eat the sausages more. So they all stopped and started munching away as fast as they could and making awful munching sounds.

“I think we can stop now!” Smiley said, glancing back. “They’re busy eating.”

He took out his camera and zoomed in. Click.

A Couple of Rag Dolls

Tom crawled out of the tent. The wet grass glistened and glimmered with the rays of the early morning sun. Smiley was still sitting staring at the campfire.

“Good morning, Smiley.”

“Hiya.”

Tom crouched down and warmed himself at the fire.

There was a long silence, and then Tom said, “Thanks, Smiley.”

“For what?” Smiley looked up. He looked tired.

“Taking care of that animal. You know.” Tom had a feeling it had been much more dangerous than Smiley would admit.

“Oh, yeah. No problem.”

“I never knew a pencil case full of marbles could be so scary!” Tom laughed. But Smiley only offered a tired smile.

Soon they packed away and set off again, following the stream and hoping, sooner or later, it would lead them back to civilisation before they starved to death.

Tom and Smiley were both tired and they were both starving and feeling as weak as a couple of rag dolls with half the stuffing knocked out.

“Hey! Look there!” Smiley said, pointing to the other side of the stream and immediately taking a running jump to cross it. Tom looked and saw a giant bush covered in small black fruit. He followed Smiley.

“Blackberries!” Smiley said, picking one and tasting it carefully. Tom took one. It had been days since they’d had anything to eat and they both began to scoff like crazy. They ate them like blackberries were crazy and they were two crazy kids crazy for crazy blackberries.

“My mum said it’s not good to each too much fruit,” Tom remembered.

“I thought you said she’s a scatterbrain?”

“She is.”

“Well just eat then,” Smiley said, his fingers and face covered in black blackberry juice.

They both stuffed themselves until they couldn’t stuff themselves any more.

“Shall we collect some for later?” Tom, asked.

“Of course, Tom boy!”

They took their plastic lunch-boxes from their bags and started to fill them up with blackberries.

Finally, they sat to rest.

“I told you we’d find some food!” Smiley said with a smile.

The boys had been so hungry for so long, they felt like they’d just finished a banquet even it was just some blackberries.

Simpwicity

Inside, the log cabin was just as slanted as outside. In fact, inside was even more slanted. The first thing both boys noticed though was a big gun hanging on the wall beside the door. And they certainly weren’t happy to see that.

Close to the door there was a big wooden table with a bench on either side. And just to the left of the door, the window with no glass. Below the window, a chair and smaller table covered in heaps of papers. Opposite, on the back wall, a low wooden platform that looked like a bed covered in furs. On the far wall to the right was the fireplace and chimney made of rocks with a bunch of fur and animal skins on the floor in front.

“How did you get here?” Smiley asked.

“Pwease sit,” Professor Reader said. Tom sat carefully on a bench in case it fell to pieces. Smiley, who was wandering around, sat on the chair by the window.

“And now, to answer your question: I walked. With three vewy fine donkeys, four vewy naughty goats, a dozen chickens and my goods and chattels.”

“Why?” Tom asked, finally feeling a bit better. “No one ever comes here. Not ever.”

“And that is the very weason I came,” he said, almost smiling.

“Oh,” Tom said.

“You see, back in the wealm of civilisation, I am a Doctor of Phiwosophy and a Doctor of Witerature.”

“My sister’s a nurse,” Smiley said.

“Indeed.” Professor Reader’s eyebrows swivelled. “I twavelled into this empty pwace to conduct a gwand phiwosophical experiment: the wesults will, um, wattle the world of academia. If you, um, take my meaning.”

Of course Smiley was looking out of the window and hardly even listening. And even Tom couldn’t guess what he was on about.

“In simple Engwish, I am writing a book.”

“Oh,” Smiley said. Finally understanding something Professor Reader said.

“My book is expwaining the wessons I have wearned wiving in this wilderness. Wiving in sowitude and wiving with Nature.”

“Oooh,” Tom and Smiley both said, pretending to be interested.

“My book is named The Simple Wife.” Professor Reader glanced at the piles of papers on the small table beside Smiley.

“Oh, are you married, then?” Tom asked.

“Mawied? Of course not.”

“So why is your book called The Simple Wife?”

“Wife?” Professor Reader looked at Tom as if he was a madboy. “Not wife. I said Wife.”

Smiley looked at the title page and read it to Tom: “The Simple Life.”

“Oh, The Simple Life,” Tom said.

“Just as I said,” Professor Reader answered, shaking his hairy head while his eyebrows leapt up and down. “The Simple Wife.”

The two boys tried not to laugh but Smiley definitely snickered.

“In, um, two more years my book will be compwete.”

Smiley looked again. There were hundreds and hundreds of pages. He took one at random and glanced over it. Every word was super-long like a wet weekend at the end of a wet week.

“I have a question,” Smiley said, almost dizzy from looking at the page.

“Indeed?”

“Yeah. If your book is about simple life—”

“Yes?”

“Well, why is it so big and so complicated?”

“Well, um, well—” Professor Reader looked at his shoes. “Well, um you see, that is a vewy canny question. Vewy canny. But, um, have you ever had mumps?” It was obvious Professor Reader wanted to change the subject and that was the best he could manage.

“Mumps? Tom asked, pretty puzzled. “No.”

“Lumps?” Professor Reader continued his line of enquiry.

“Lumps? No.”

“Bumps?”

“No”

“Well, that’s cewtainwy good to hear.”

“I’m sure it is,” Tom agreed.

“Oh, oh, you must both be hungry.” The professor finally thought of something connected with real life.

“Yeah, we’re always hungry!” Smiley said.

“Yes, a feature of boyhood. Might I suggest a dewicious bowl of wentil soup?”

“Lentil soup?” Smiley asked, standing and going over to sit at the table with Tom. “You can’t eat lentils, can you?”

“Eat wentils? Why of course. What do you do with them?” Professor Reader asked, beginning to think the boys were a couple of madboys.

“Well, when I was little I used to glue them to paper and make pictures,” Smiley said.

“I did that too!” Tom said. “It was fun.”

“Well, um, how about a delicious wentil burger instead? Or wentil stew?”

“I don’t want to be rude,” Smiley said, “but do you have something to eat that’s not lentils?”

“Well, um, how about, um, a carrot casserole with special sauce?”

“What’s the special sauce?”

“Delicious wentil,” Professor Reader said.

“Anything’s all right,” Tom said, and gave Smiley a nudge. “Be polite,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Excellent!” Professor Reader said, almost smiling. He went to the fire, added some wood, then hung a large pot over the flames.

“So how far do we have to go to get out of Nowhere?” Tom asked.

“Oh, vewy far.”

“How far?”

“Vewwwwy far.”

“Well how long did it take you to get here?”

“I came vewy slowly. My speed was neither here nor there.” He seemed to look around to make sure.

“Well how long do you think it will take us to get to a village?” Tom asked, wishing Professor Reader would answer something clearly and simply.

“By Kiddy-Kite?”

“Of course not! Walking.” Smiley said.

“Afoot? I can hazard a guess, if you wish. Do you wish?”

“Yes, we wish,” Tom said.

“Well then, afoot: possibwe one month. Or possibwe two.”

Tom and Smiley looked at each. All expression had been wiped off their faces like ink from a whiteboard.

“We’ll never make it,” Tom said quietly. And for once, Smiley didn’t argue.

Just then, Professor Reader served them giant bowls of lentil soup and two cups full of a curious brown drink. Then he served himself and sat with the boys.

The lentil soup looked horrible and smelled horrible, so Tom took a drink first. His eyes popped open wide as he swallowed.

“What’s this drink?” he spluttered.

“Dwink? Why, that dwink is home-made beer. Vewy nutritious.”

“Beer? Is it?” Smiley asked, picking up his cup to have a taste. But Professor Reader was paying no attention because he was already eating his lentil soup.

“Dewicious! The utter simpwicity. The unpwetentious simpwicity.” And with that, he slurped and actually smiled.

Snooping

Tom and Smiley were in the giant warehouse. A dim bulb, hanging over the big table, gave enough light for the boys to see they were surrounded by piles and piles of boxes.

They walked slowly between the towering stacks.

“It’s all brand new TVs,” Smiley said.

“It must be his business.”

Smiley came to a small dirty window and stood to one side peeping out.

“I can see them,” he whispered.

Tom peeped out too. Wannabe and Tinker were standing talking in a small dark car park. Well, Wannabe seemed to be doing the talking and Tinker seemed to be doing the listening. Then Wannabe climbed into a fancy Rolls Royce car and drove away. Meanwhile, Tinker grabbed a bicycle with a basket on the front, climbed on and peddled away.

“Now they’ve gone,” Smiley said.

“So, what’re we supposed to do here?” Tom asked.

“Well,” Smiley looked guilty, “when I said I had a plan, this was really as far as it went.”

“Just to come here’s your big plan?”

Smiley smiled shyly. “I never said it was big. I just wanted see where they were going and snoop around and find out what’s going on.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get snooping then,” Tom said.

Tom spotted a desk in the corner with a computer. He moved the mouse and the computer woke up. Quickly, he began click click clicking. After a few seconds he started laughing.

“What’s funny?”

“I found their names,” Tom said.

“Go on then.”

“The fat one’s called Walter Maximilian Wannabe.”

“What about the thin one?”

“It just says Tinker.”

“Hey, now I’ve found something!” Smiley said.

“What?” Tom looked up from the screen.

Smiley was looking at a cork notice board on a wall.

“It’s a bunch of newspaper clippings.”

“What do they say?”

Smiley unpinned one. “This one say’s that Wannabe’s become the richest businessman in the whole country.”

“Cripes!”

“And he has five TV factories in a country called Anich.”

“Cripes.”

“And he’s opening five more.” Smiley pinned the clipping back.

Tom went back to clicking the mouse on the computer.

“Smiley?”

“What?”

“Come and see this.”

Smiley stood beside Tom to look at the computer screen.

“Look,” Tom pointed. “This graph shows his TV business. You’re right: he’s suddenly started selling millions of them.”

“I wonder how?”

“I don’t know. Let me see what else I can find.” Tom started clicking again. Smiley went back to his own search.

“Hey, Tom. Look!” Smiley had the top drawer of a filing cabinet open. He reached in and took out a pistol. “It’s that fat fellow’s gun.”

“Cripes,” Tom said, walking over to look at it. “The one he pointed as us.”

“Yeah.”

“I hate guns.”

“Me too. And I’ve got a good idea.” Smiley emptied all the bullets out of the pistol.

“What’re you going to do with them?”

Smiley walked away and returned a moment later.

“I flushed them down the toilet!”

“Ha!”

Tom went back to the computer and quickly found something else.

“Cripes, Smiley, I think he’s got his own TV Channel as well.”

“Does he? Which one?”

“It’s called Kids 24.”

“ Kids 24? I never heard of it.”

“It’s new. And it’s on twenty-four hours a day!”

“That’s crazy. Kid’s don’t watch TV twenty-four hours a day.”

“I know.”

“There’s a TV over there. Let’s see if we can see his stupid channel.” They crossed a short passage into a grimy kitchen with heavy blood-red curtains and a big TV balanced on an old wobbly chair.

Smiley grabbed the remote. The screen came to life.

“Look, I think it’s already set to his channel.”

“Ha! I’m not surprised,” Tom said.