Oliver Fibbs and the Giant Boy-Munching Bugs Read online

  ‘Anything would be better than this,’ I replied. ‘I don’t want to stand on the Town Hall stage and look stupid in front of everyone.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m going to lose on purpose.’

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ I snarled, narrowing my eyes at her. ‘If you do, I’ll . . . I’ll . . . mess up everything in your neat and tidy satchel.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘I would!’

  ‘Well, if you lose,’ warned Peaches, ‘I’ll tell miss you brought the DEVIL BUG to school!’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘I would!’

  We glowered at each other in silence for a moment, then played rock-paper-scissors to see who would go first. Peaches chose paper, I chose scissors. She GROWLED angrily, and stomped off towards the hall.

  Symon Cowbell sat behind a table in the middle of the floor with his arms folded, and his mug of tea steaming in front of him. Miss Wilkins sat to his left, and Mrs Broadhead to his right. They grinned and nodded, and gave Peaches the thumbs-up as she climbed on to the stage and turned to face them.

  Peaches started to throw peanuts in the air (I can’t call it juggling), and dashing around the stage, making pathetic attempts to catch the juggled nuts in her mouth. The act was even worse than when she did it in class. She was definitely trying to lose!

  Miss Wilkins sat with her head in her hands, slowly rocking backwards and forwards. I heard Mrs Broadhead whimper.

  After about a minute of this, Peaches just threw all the peanuts in the air, didn’t even try to catch them and then took a bow.

  Symon Cowbell puffed out his cheeks and shook his head, as our teachers applauded politely. I would have to be bad to beat that.

  When it was my turn on stage, I remembered my disastrous performance in front of the class. Now I had to be even worse. I began to blow up BALLOONS and fold them into shapes.

  ‘A squashed chicken!’ I said, holding up the tangled mess.

  ‘A squashed cow!’

  ‘A squashed sheep!’

  As I blew up my black-mamba BALLOON, Symon Cowbell said something to Miss Wilkins. She nodded, and winced like she’d just got a really bad tummy-ache.

  Yes! I was bad! But I knew I could be BADDER. I deliberately blew too much air into the BALLOON and burst it.

  ‘A popped BALLOON! I announced triumphantly.

  Miss Wilkins and Mrs Broadhead clapped reluctantly as I took a bow.

  Symon Cowbell looked at us all as if we’d gone mad.

  ‘Those two acts were the worst I’ve ever seen!’ he said, ‘They’ve got absolutely no talent. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nil. Nada. None. Not even a tad. Not even a smidge. They’re a totally talent-free zone.’

  Miss Wilkins glared furiously at him.

  ‘But . . . I suppose they do have . . . er . . . potential,’ he added quickly. ‘And, unfortunately, I do have to choose a winner.’

  Peaches and I looked daggers at each other.

  ‘My act ,’ she hissed.

  ‘My act more,’ I hissed back.

  Mr Cowbell stroked his chin thoughtfully. Finally he declared, ‘The act that I have chosen to perform at the KIDS CAN DO TALENT SHOW is . . .’

  As he stood up to announce the winner, I spied the DEVIL BUG scuttling from under his chair.

  SQUWRRUNCH!

  Derek was squashed flat under Symon Cowbell’s bid left boot.

  ‘EUGHHHHH!’ said Peaches.

  ‘Noooooooooooo!’ I howled.

  ‘Get it off me!’ said the DJ, lifting up his foot. I scraped Derek’s flattened beetly body into Algy’s matchbox, wondering if the Kiss of Life was worth a try.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Symon went on, his face wrinkling with DISGUST. ‘The winner is . . .’

  At that moment, the hall door squeaked open and Millie Dangerfield came in. She looked like Dick Whittington, wearing a puffy shirt, green tights, and a pointed cap with a long feather stuck on the side. She carried a fluffy ginger cat that she’d dressed as Puss in Boots, with a wide-brimmed hat, and little black boots on his back legs.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ said Millie. ‘Can Tiddles and I still do our act?’

  Symon Cowbell threw his hands in the air. ‘Why not?’

  Millie put the cat down next to her on the stage, and began to tunelessly warble a song. While she sang, Tiddles miaowed along with her, and pranced around the stage on his booted back legs.

  As Millie finished her act with a strangled, quivering high note, Tiddles did a pirouette, took a bow and we all burst into applause.

  ‘That cat rings my cowbell!’ cried Symon. ‘That cat’s got talent! We have the winner!’

  We were saved. Millie and Tiddles would perform at the Town Hall with the star acts from all the other schools.

  Peaches and I whooped and hugged each other.

  ‘We’re losers!’ I laughed.

  You certainly are,’ said Mr Cowbell. ‘But you do quality for the runners-up prize: a special all-you-can-eat Losers’ Party at Cowbell’s Pizza Pie Palace.’

  Peaches and I whooped and hugged some more.

  Miss Wilkins was happier than at the end of . Her face was flushed pink, and her eyes shone with pride.

  ‘I’m so pleased with all of you,’ she said. ‘Fifty points each!’

  (That put us top of the class, and way ahead of Bobby Bragg! DAB KIDS really did rule!)

  ‘You saved the day!’ she said.

  But what Miss Wilkins actually said was: ‘Now, time to do some long division.’

  ‘What did Symon Cowbell say exactly?’ asked Dad that evening.

  ‘He said I had potential.’ I shrugged. ‘But . . .’

  ‘He said you had potential,’ interrupted Mum. ‘Maybe you’re going to be a BRILLIANT performer.’

  ‘Maybe a BRILLIANT actor!’ said Dad.

  Mum rushed to her computer. ‘I’ll sign you up for acting classes and elocution lessons straight away.’

  ‘I’ll get the Complete Works of Shakespeare,’ said Dad, following her out of the room.

  (Another huge book to hide my comics in!)

  ‘He also said I had absolutely no talent,’ I told my little brother.

  I took the matchbox out of my pocket. ‘I’m sorry, Algy. I’ve dot some terrible news. Symon Cowbell trod on Derek.’

  Algy gasped, and looked with horror at the DEVIL BUG, lying on its back with its legs in the air.

  ‘Can we bury him in the garden?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. We can find you another pet too,’ I said. ‘There are some spiders living under Mr Trott’s shed that are as big as . . . bunny rabbits! And you know how much the twins hate spiders.’

  I could tell by the naughty look in his eyes that Dr Devious had returned!

  Then, the best thing of all: Mrs Broadhead closed the school for a week until everyone had recovered from the . Seven whole days to build up an appetite for our all-you-can-eat pizza blow-out, and seven whole days of reading comics in peace!

  On the first day back at school, Miss Wilkins told the class about the talent show.

  ‘Millie, Oliver and Peaches did us all proud,’ she said. ‘And I’m thrilled to tell you that Symon Cowbell has chosen Millie and her talented cat Tiddles as one of the acts at the KIDS CAN DO Festival next month!

  Millie blushed and smiled shyly, as everyone clapped and . Peaches grinned at me. We were very happy to disappear back into dullandboringosity.

  ‘And as a special reward,’ continued Miss Wilkins, ‘Millie can choose how we spend our time this morning.’

  All eyes turned to stare at Millie, making her face go even redder. Kids called out suggestions.

  ‘Let’s watch a film.’

  ‘Let’s play outside.’

  ‘Let’s paint.’

  ‘Let’s have a spelling bee.’ (That was Hattie Hurley, of course.)

  Millie raised her hand, and everyone went quiet. ‘Miss, I want Oliver to finish his story. I have to know DABMAN has beaten
the SHOW-OFF – and if the DEVIL BUGS hove been released around the world.’

  Bobby Bragg groaned.

  Miss Wilkins looked at me and smiled. ‘All right, Oliver,’ she said. ‘On Monday, you helped to save the day, so why don’t you tell us if DABMAN managed to save the world?’

  I grinned at her, and began . . .

  ‘Captain Common Sense and I were in a serious of bother,’ I said. ‘We were deep inside the Temple of Stikki Ikki, but walking into a trap! The SHOW-OFF had written us a note using special knock-out ink that the Boffin had invented, and as we read it we passed out! When we woke up, we were inside the Boffin’s lab, with our hands tied . . .’

  ‘I felt the GRUESOMINGIN race through my body,’ I told the class. I looked across at Captain Common Sense, and saw that her hands and face had already started to turn blue, with huge red-and-yellow boils popping up!’

  Hattie Hurley cried, ‘EUGHHHHH!’ and quickly covered her ears.

  Millie Dangerfield let out a horrified squeak. ‘I don’t want to catch GRUESOMINGIN ,’ she wailed.

  ‘The SHOW-OFF had made a mistake,’ I told Millie. When it bit us, the DEVIL BUG also bit through the ropes tying our hands. We were free, but we were locked in the lab, and I was beginning to feel sleepiness creeping over me. There was no time to lose . . .’

  ‘We followed the SAS GANG through the wormhole in space,’ I said. ‘And just like last time the electro-magnetic, anti-neutronic forces instantly cured the GRUESOMINGIN . But when we came out the other side . . .’

  ‘That’s daft,’ said Bobby. ‘We’ve seen how useless you and your BALLOONS are.’

  ‘Actually, you could make inflatable boots,’ said Toby Hadron. ‘I think I’ll try it for my next project.’

  Bobby shot him a furious look. ‘Whose side are you on?’

  Millie Dangerfield stood up. ‘Thanks, DABMAN!’ she cheered.

  ‘Lies! Lies! You eat rat pies!’ cried Bobby Bragg.

  ‘Bobby! That’s enough!’ said Miss Wilkins. ‘Oliver was heroic at the auditions last Monday, so it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that he’d saved the world as well.’

  ‘He’s Dull And Boring!’ Bobby continued. ‘And if I’d been there on Monday doing my ninja moves . . .’

  ‘If you hadn’t released the DEVIL BUG and given the whole school ,’ said Peaches, ‘everyone would have been there.’

  Miss Wilkins looked furious. ‘Is that true, Bobby? It was all your fault?’

  He stared at the floor, and mumbled, ‘Er . . . well . . . yes, miss.’

  Miss Wilkins shook her head in disbelief. ‘You lose fifty points, have playtime detention for the next two weeks and do extra maths homework for a month!’

  Bobby Bragg stared at me from across the classroom, his eyes evil and piercing, like Drang, the indestructible robot in Metallic Manglers From Mars.

  Steve Hartley is many things: author, astronaut, spy, racing-car driver, trapeze-artist and vampire-hunter. His hobbies include puddle-diving and hamster-wrestling and he was voted ‘Coolest Dude of the Year’ for five years running by Seriously Cool magazine. Steve is 493 years old, lives in a golden palace on top of a dormant volcano in Lancashire and never, EVER, tells fibs. You can find out more about Steve on his extremely silly website: www.stevehartley.net

  Books by Steve Hartley

  The DANNY BAKER RECORD BREAKER series

  The World’s Biggest Bogey

  The World’s Awesomest Air-Barf

  The World’s Loudest Armpit Fart

  The World’s Stickiest Earwax

  The World’s Itchiest Pants

  The World’s Windiest Baby

  Oliver Fibbs: Attack of the Alien Brain

  Oliver Fibbs and the Giant Boy-Munching Bugs

  www.stevehartley.net

  First published 2013 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2013 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

  20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR

  Basingstoke and Oxford

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-4472-2025-1

  Text copyright © Steve Hartley 2013

  Illustrations copyright © Bernice Lum 2013

  The right of Steve Hartley and Bernice Lum to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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