Читать книгу Barry Loser and the Holiday of Doom - Jim Smith - Страница 7

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When I got home my mum and dad were standing in the kitchen, smiling like it was Christmas morning.

‘What is it?’ I said, hoping they’d finally bought me a puppy. I’d been asking for a real-life pet dog for nine trillion years now, and I STILL didn’t have one.


‘Barry, you know how we’re going on our caravan holiday to Plonkton this weekend?’ said my mum.

She had a tea towel on her shoulder, and my dad was standing right behind her, leaning his head on it like a cabbage.


‘Ye-ah?’ I said, splitting my yeah into two bits because of how keel Plonkton is.


‘Well your mum and me were thinking maybe you’d like to invite a couple of your little pals along?’ said my dad’s cabbage head.

The words swam down my earholes and into my legs, making them go wobbly.


I leaned against the washing machine, which had been busy washing our best clothes for Plonkton all week.

‘What, like Bunky and Nancy?’ I said all shakily, probably because the washing machine was wobbling around like some kind of giant metal jelly cube.

‘Yes, like Bunky and Nancy!’ chuckled my mum, and I gave her a cuddle, imagining how disgusting it’d be if she was Sharonella from my class.


I picked up the phone to tell Bunky and Nancy, then changed my mind, deciding it’d be keeler to see their excited little dog and cat faces face-to-face. After that I played nineteen games of Future Ratboy on my Feeko’s Gamoid to celebrate.


Then I brushed my teeth with my Future Ratboy toothbrush, got into my Future Ratboy pyjamas and snuggled up underneath my Future Ratboy duvet to go to sleep.

‘Wait till Bunky and Nancy hear!’ I whispered to my cuddly Future Ratboy, and I squeezed his fat little belly and waited for him to speak.

‘WHAT IN THE NAME OF UNKEELNESS?!’ he screeched, and I remembered me saying the exact same words to Bunky outside Feeko’s that afternoon.


‘What if Bunky DOES fancy Nancy?’ I yawned, and I squeezed his belly again.

‘PUKESVILLE-O-RAMA!’ he screeched, as I nodded off to sleepypoos.

Barry Loser and the Holiday of Doom

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