Читать книгу Barry Loser and the Curse of Terry Claus - Jim Smith - Страница 5
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It was the night before Christmas and I was standing in my sitting room, chomping on a mince pie while watching the Satsuma Fronkle advert on TV.
In the advert, Santa is going round delivering pressies to all the kiddywinkles. The only problem is, his evil brother, Terry Claus, is creeping in right after him and nicking them.
‘BOO, HOO, HOO!’ roars Terry, snatching a kiddywinkle’s stocking and climbing out the window. Except this time Santa spots him.
‘OH, HO, NO you don’t!’ cries Santa, and he wraps up his little brother like a naughty pressie and chucks him in the bin. Then Santa pulls a can of Satsuma Fronkle out of his pocket and takes a sip.
‘Mmm, nothing like an ice-cold can of Satsuma Fronkle on Christmas Eve!’ he says, and the Fronkle logo comes up.
‘Best. Fronkle. Advert. Ever,’ I said to myself, walking into the kitchen to answer the phone, which had been ringing ever since the start of the advert. ‘Hello?’ I burped down the little holes in the phone.
‘Poo, your breath stinks!’ crackled my best friend Bunky’s voice, and I imagined how keel it’d be if we all had smellyphones like they do in Future Ratboy.
Future Ratboy is mine and Bunky’s favourite TV show. It’s all about Future Ratboy and his annoying sidekick Not Bird.
‘I can’t believe it’s only one more day until I get my Future Ratboy costume!’ I shouted down the phone to Bunky.
‘Me too!’ said Bunky, who was getting a Future Ratboy costume for Christmas as well, even though I’d told him he couldn’t.
‘You really should be getting a Not Bird costume,’ I said, because everybody knows I’m the hero out of us two, and Bunky is my sidekick (like Not Bird is Future Ratboy’s).
‘NOT!’ screeched Bunky down the phone, as my mum tapped me on the shoulder, looking like she had something to say.
She was wearing her green woolly jumper and sparkly red bauble earrings, and if I squinted my eyes, I didn’t know which one was our Christmas tree, her or the Christmas tree.
‘Gotta go, see you tomozzoid!’ I shouted down the phone, because the Bunky family were coming round to ours for Christmas Day.
‘Merry Keelmas, Barry!’ shouted Bunky’s voice, and I hung up and got ready to hear what my mum had to say.
