Читать книгу The Ice Monster - David Walliams, Quentin Blake, Tony Ross - Страница 15

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Elsie stayed as still and quiet as she possibly could in the cleaning cupboard. Through the door, she could hear the grown-ups arguing.

“WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO, DOTTY?” boomed a voice.

“Just me mops and brushes, Mr Clout, sir,” replied Dotty.

“A likely story, Dotty!” the man scoffed. “As the museum’s head of security, I order you to open that door!”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“Me hands have gone all floppy.”

“What do you mean your hands ‘have gone all floppy’?”


“Too much mopping!”

“Well, I’ll open it, then.”

“I wouldn’t if I was you.”

“Why?”

“I just blew off in there.”

“You did what?”

“I did a bottom burp in the cupboard so all the stuffed animals wouldn’t have to smell it. It’s a really stinky one. It would have peeled the paint off the walls.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were talking.”

“I was talking to my own bottom.”

“You were talking to your bottom?”

“Giving it a jolly good telling-off, Mr Clout, sir.”

Elsie had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. This lady really was dotty.

“I have never heard so much nonsense in all my life!” thundered Clout. “Now step aside, woman, or I will be forced to use… force!”

The girl heard a slight scuffle.

“OOF!”

“OUCH!”

“GET OFF ME FOOT!”

As fast as she could, Elsie nestled herself in behind the mops and brushes.


The Ice Monster

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