Читать книгу ‘Dancing in my nuddy-pants!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 65

Angus is on the road to recovery. I can hear him serenading the Prat Poodles with a medley of his latest hits: “Yowl!” and “Yowl 2 the remix”.

I got up to look. He is so brave in the face of his pain. I really love him, even if he has destroyed half my tights. He could have just given in, but no, there he was, biffing the Prat Brothers like normal. Naomi was parading up and down on the Next Doors’ window sill, sticking her bottom in the air and so on. She is an awful minx. She is making a mockery of a sham of her so-called love for Angus. It’s like in that old crap song where the bloke is wounded in the Vietnam War and his wife goes off with other men because he can’t get out of his wheelchair. He sings, “Ru-beeee, don’t take your love to town.”

That is what Angus would sing. “Naom-eeeee, don’t take your love to town.” If he could sing. Or speak. And had a wheelchair.