Читать книгу Future Ratboy and the Attack of the Killer Robot Grannies - Jim Smith - Страница 11

‘HELLO DEAR,’ bleeped a familiar robotty voice, and I turned round to see MAVIS 3000 standing there with another robot granny.

She was fatter than MAVIS 3000 and had neon-red lipstick zigzagged round her mouth. Dented into her metal skirt in scary-looking capitals was the name ‘DOREEN XL97-220’.

Both the robot grannies were carrying handbags and pulling old granny shopping trollies, except unlike normal old granny shopping trollies, these ones floated – probably because we were in the future.

‘EEK!’ squeaked Not Bird’s bubblegum blob, trying to slither off a tiny bit faster, and MAVIS 3000 stomped her foot down on the pavement, spiking it to death with her clippy-cloppy heel. She held her shoe up to DOREEN XL97-220’s mouth and waggled her metal eyebrows.

‘OOH. TA VERY MUCH, MAVIS,’ bleeped DOREEN XL97-220, pincering the blob off MAVIS 3000’s heel with her jaggedy metal teeth and starting to chew.

‘Operation Back Away Quietly,’ I whispered to Not Bird, dragging the wheelie bin in front of us like a smelly plastic shield, and the bin scraped along the pavement, not being quiet at all.

MAVIS 3000 nodded at me with her square head, and her red traffic-light eyes flashed. ‘THIS IS THE ONE I TOLD YOU ABOUT, DOREEN,’ she bleeped, and DOREEN XL97-220 did a computery-sounding tut.

‘OOH, YOU’RE RIGHT, MAVIS. HE IS A BIT RATTY, ISN’T HE?’ she bleeped, and I wondered if they maybe weren’t talking about me at all, seeing as I wasn’t ratty in the slightest, I was Colin Lamppost-y.

I twizzled my head around, looking for that rat that’d been in the bin with me and Not Bird the night before. ‘Operation I Reckon It Must Be That Rat They’re Talking About, Not Me . . .’ I said.