Читать книгу Mr Gum and the Secret Hideout - Andy Stanton - Страница 10

BOING!

BOING!

BOING!

‘That’s it, Billy me old demonic melon!’ laughed Mr Gum as he BOING!ed up and down on his grimsters old sofa. ‘Chuck that meat on the heat!’

‘Right you are!’ cackled Billy, shovelling a pile of horse bladders on to the fire where they exploded in a dirty shower known as ‘Butcher’s Fireworks’. ‘But why we doin’ all this again, Mr Gum, me old Spanish woodworm?’

‘Cos it’s our flippin’ masterplan, Billy me boy,’ growled Mr Gum, BOING!ing higher than ever. ‘The more we heat up them stale meats, the more poison gases goes up that massive chimney an’ in the air. An’ the more poison gases goes in the air, the hotter an’ nastier it gets in Lamonic Bibber. It’s called “Townal Warmin’”.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ laughed Billy. ‘“Townal Warmin”’. Now I remember. An’ once that stupid town gets hot enough, then –’

‘SPLASH!’ finished Mr Gum, grinning so nastily that a nearby mouse dissolved with fright. ‘The weather goes crazy, Lamonic Bibber falls in the sea an’ then we rule over it forever!’

‘How we gonna rule over it if it’s fallen in the sea?’ asked Billy through a mouthful of coal dust.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Mr Gum. ‘I never thought of that. Well, forget it. We’ll just stick to destroyin’ Lamonic Bibber by makin’ it fall in the sea. That’s evil enough for now. OI!’ he shouted. ‘Why ain’t you shovellin’ that meat? Get back to work, you lazy old trumpet!’

‘But there ain’t no more meat to shovel,’ whined Billy. ‘Them horse bladders was the last of it. We run out, see?’

‘Well, take yer stupid cap off an’ chuck it on the blaze!’ yelled Mr Gum. So Billy took off his butcher’s cap and threw it on the furnace, where it quickly burnt to a crisp.

‘Now burn yer apron!’ yelled Mr Gum. ‘Now burn yer shirt! Now burn yer trousers! Now burn yer boots! Now burn yer socks! Now burn yer pant – nah, on second thoughts keep yer pants on, you disgustin’ lettuce.’

‘Well, that’s it then,’ said Billy as he stood there in his grubby grey boxer shorts. ‘We burnt all the meat. We burnt me clothes. There’s nothin’ left to burn.’

‘What we gonna do now?’ scowled Mr Gum, stroking his beard into the shape of a gigantic red question mark.

‘There’s only one thing for it,’ said Billy. ‘We gotta go an’ get more meat off that strange little bloke what helped us out last time.’

‘It’s true,’ growled Mr Gum. ‘But we gotta be crafty, Billy der Willy der Wills. We gotta be so crafty ’bout it that even we hardly know what we’re up to ourselves. What’s that thing called when it’s all dark an’ there’s that stupid thing in the sky what’s not the sun but the other one what’s not so big?’

‘Night time?’ suggested Billy.

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ grinned Mr Gum. ‘That’s the time to do our evils, Billy me boy – “Night time”. When no one can see us, when no one can catch us an’ when no one can stinkin’ well stop us!’