Читать книгу Amelia Fang and the Lost Yeti Treasures - Laura Ellen Anderson - Страница 8
Оглавление‘BIIIIIIIIIIIRFNIIIIGHT BUMS!’
Amelia Fang woke with a start. Her pet pumpkin, Squashy, rolled off the bed, landing with a pa-doing!
‘It can’t be night time already, surely?!’ said Amelia, pulling the blanket over her head.
‘SOUNDS LIKE THE CELEBRATIONS ’AVE STARTED,’ said Florence Spudwick with a stretch.
Grimaldi Reaperton yelped and hid underneath his bed covers.
It was the Winter Holidays in the Kingdom of the Dark, which meant six whole weeks off school! Young vampire Amelia Fang and her three best friends were spending the first weekend of their holidays at the Yeti Mountain Pits. The pits were home to all the ancient retired yetis in the kingdom, each living in their own cosy pit connected by a network of candlelit tunnels.
Florence’s Grand-yeti Clemence was turning three hundred and fifty years old, and the ancient yetis were having a party all weekend to celebrate. Amelia and her friends were so excited to have a big sleepover together. This meant late-day chats, tragic stories by candlelight and lots of silliness.
The door to the pit where Amelia, Florence and Grimaldi were staying burst open. An old yeti bellowed, ‘TIME FOR BIRFNIGHT BUMS!’ before running away.
‘Florence, why does everyone keep shouting ‘‘Birthnight Bums”?’ squeaked Grimaldi from under the covers. The little grim reaper was easily alarmed.
‘BUMPING BUMS IS A COMMON YETI GREETING, LIKE SHAKING HANDS,’ said Florence, as she lit the candles on the walls of the pit. ‘IT’S TRADITION TO BUMP BOTTOMS WITH THE BIRFDAY YETI THE SAME NUMBER OF TIMES AS THEIR AGE.’
‘Wait! Isn’t your grand-yeti three hundred and fifty years old?’ said Amelia. ‘That means . . .’
‘YUP! FREE ’UNDRED AND FIFTY BUM BUMPS,’ said Florence. She performed five intense squats and punched the air. ‘I’M SO READY FOR THIS!’
Florence Spudwick was a rare breed of yeti with a passion for one-armed press ups and having fun with her friends.
‘AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO MEET MY GRAND-YETI CLEMENCE,’ she said happily. ‘I FINK YOU’LL LOVE ’ER!’
The door to the pit flew open again, making Squashy do a tiny poo in shock. A HUGE yeti with curly white hair and thick-rimmed glasses ducked into the room.
‘ALWITE DAD!’ Florence grinned and the two yetis high-fived each other.
‘EVENIN’ FLO! ALWITE KIDS?’ said Florence’s dad, Laurence Spudwick. ‘I ’OPE YOU ALL SLEPT WELL. WE GOT A LOT OF CELEBRATING TO DO OVER THE NEXT TWO NIGHTS!’
‘Evening, Mr Spudwick!’ said Amelia politely. ‘We all slept as soundly as dead toads! These pits are super comfy.’
‘THAT’S FANGTASTIC TO ’EAR!’ replied Laurence. ‘Y’KNOW, THE ANCIENT YETIS WILL BE SO DELIGHTED TO MEET FLO’S FRIENDS. DON’T WORRY THOUGH, THEY DON’T ALL SPEAK LIKE US. ONLY RARE BREEDS ’AVE SUCH BEAUTIFUL BOOMING VOICES.’ Laurence looked proud and grinned. ‘YOU’RE PROB’LY RELIEVED THOUGH. IMAGINE SPENDING AN ’OLE WEEKEND SURROUNDED BY SHOUTING?!’
‘I did wonder,’ said Grimaldi thoughtfully.
‘So, how many pits are there inside Yeti Mountain?’ asked Amelia curiously.
‘THERE ARE LOADS,’ said Florence. ‘DAD DUG THE ’OLE LOT WHEN ’E WAS STILL AT DIGGER SCHOOL! ’E COMES ’ERE EVERY NIGHT TO LOOK AFTER ALL THE ANCIENT YETIS. AND WHEN I’M GROWN UP I WANNA DO THE SAME.’
‘THAT’S MY GIRL!’ said Laurence, giving his daughter a big sloppy kiss on the head.
‘DAAAAAAAD, GROSS!’ moaned Florence, wiping the slobber from her fur.
‘RIGHT, I BEST GO GET BREKKY SERVED,’ said Laurence, rubbing his paws together. ‘WE GOT SUPER SLIMY SLOW WORMS WITH TONGUE-FLUFF SPREAD. GO GET YERSELVES SOME BEFORE DEREK EATS THE LOT. ’E LOVES ’IS TONGUE-FLUFF !’ And Laurence stomped out of the room.
Suddenly, from the pit opposite, Prince Tangine La Floofle the First emerged. His hair was extra glittery, his fangs were sparkling white and his face was positively glowing.
‘ARGH!’ Florence bellowed, covering her eyes. ‘DON’T LOOK DIRECTLY AT IT.’
Tangine scowled. ‘How dare you,’ he said before stroking both cheeks. ‘I’ve never felt better. I discovered this new all-purpose glitter polish in my monthly Pampered Prince magazine. It’s called EveryKing Sparkles. You really can use it on EVERYTHING – nails, cheeks, hair, fangs and SHOES.’ He waved his foot around, causing flecks of light to bounce off the walls. ‘The results are phenomenal!’
Amelia squinted. ‘More like fluorescent.’
‘I’m kind of glad you’re sleeping in your own room this weekend,’ said Grimaldi, using the hood of his black robe to shield his eyes.
Florence’s dad had insisted that Prince Tangine – half-vampire, half-fairy – have his very own pit for the duration of his stay. Florence had tried telling her dad that Tangine didn’t need any special ‘royal’ treatment, but Tangine had lapped up the attention. ‘More room for my weekend stash of EveryKing Sparkles polish!’ he had declared cheerfully.
‘Can anyone else smell . . . unicorn fart?’ asked Amelia.
‘AND MAGNIFICENCE?’ Florence added. ‘Y’KNOW THAT KINDA SOUR, SWEET, SICKLY SMELL. A BIT LIKE GLORY, BUT MORE SYRUP-Y.’
‘That’ll be the polish!’ Tangine confirmed. Squashy sniffed at Tangine’s shoes and began to lick them.
‘It’s polish, Squashy,’ said Tangine, ‘not food.’
‘Where’s Pumpy this weekend?’ asked Grimaldi.
‘Grounded,’ said Tangine, straightening his bow tie. ‘He’s been a very naughty pumpkin, so Mum is getting a pumpkin trainer in over the Winter Holidays!’
Pumpy was Tangine’s pet pumpkin, and a bit of a handful at times. But Tangine still loved him very much.
‘Now, let’s get to this party!’ said Tangine, throwing a silky scarf around his neck.
Amelia and her friends made their way along the candlelit tunnels to the Party Pit dressed in extra-warm layers. The Yeti Mountain pits were incredibly cold; colder than anywhere Amelia had been before. She had learnt from her Positively Pumpkin magazine that pumpkins did NOT like the cold and liked to find cosy spaces to keep warm. (Amelia loved everything to do with pumpkins and wanted to be a pumpkinologist when she grew up!) So, in order to keep Squashy snug, she had knitted him a spotty onesie for the weekend.
The friends entered the Party Pit, which was decorated from top to bottom with bunting, cobwebs and pictures of Florence’s Grand-yeti Clemence. In the middle of the room sat a round table with the largest spread of frightful food Amelia had ever seen – it was even more impressive than the petrifying platter at her mother’s annual Barbaric Ball! Vessels of bubbly green liquid fizzed and gurgled, assorted scabs sat in bowls beside toe-jam pastries, and splattered spleen oozed out from between layers of spider-leg sponge cake. It all looked disgustingly delicious!
Tangine gasped. ‘That is one of the best things I have EVER seen . . .’
‘I KNOW!’ agreed Florence enthusiastically. ‘FIRST OF ALL I’M GONNA START MAKING A DENT IN THE SPIDER-LEG SPONGE, THEN THOSE SCABS ARE ALL MINE AND THEN —’
‘No, not the food,’ Tangine replied, shaking his head dreamily. ‘That . . . right there . . . is the best thing I’ve ever seen!’ He skipped over to a baffled-looking yeti and stroked the sparkly tiara on her head. ‘It’s GLORIOUS,’ he breathed.
‘Oh!’ The yeti blushed. ‘It’s me favourite fing ever, this is! I wear it ALL the time.’ But Tangine, like a jittery magpie, had already danced over to a picture of Grand-yeti Clemence that stood on the table between the bowls of assorted scabs.
‘Actually, these glittery glasses may top the tiara,’ he squealed. ‘I must ask Florence’s Grand-yeti where they’re from!’
‘THEY’RE FROM THE GLITTEROPOLIS EYEDOLS,’ said the picture of Grand-yeti Clemence, making Tangine almost jump right out of his skin. ‘HEE HEE! THAT TRICK NEVVA GETS OLD!’ The old yeti chortled as she removed the picture frame from her face.
‘YOU MUST BE ONE OF FLO FLO’S FRIENDS!’ said Grand-yeti Clemence as she crawled out from underneath the table. ‘YOU SMELL OF UNICORN FART AND MAGNIFICENCE. I LIKE YOU ALREADY.’
‘I’m Prince Tangine La Floofle the FIRST,’ said Tangine proudly. ‘Friend of Florence and future king of Nocturnia.’
Grand-yeti Clemence bellowed with laughter. ‘YOUR NAME IS RIDICULOUSLY LONG AND ALSO SOUNDS LIKE FOOD. SO I’M JUST GONNA CALL YOU DAVE. NICE TO MEET YOU, PRINCE DAVE.’
