Clapping a hand over his mouth trying to stop the huge burp fast rising up his throat, Alfie used his other hand to grab the edge of the table cloth, stuffing it into his mouth, hoping to cork himself.
WHARP! The mighty burp rushed out of his mouth with such power, Alfie’s chair toppled over backwards, taking him, the cloth and most of the contents of the table with it.
*
Captain Thunders awoke in his hammock with the parrot perched on the end of his nose, its claws digging in painfully.
“OW!” howled the Captain. “Gerrof me!” He tried to push the parrot away from his throbbing nose.
“Ow,” mimicked the parrot, promptly pecking Captain Thunders on his hand. “Ow. Gerrof me!”
“Oh, go away!” moaned the Captain, crossly shoving the bird away. “Leave me alone, you stupid parrot.”
“Stupid parrot, stupid parrot!” The parrot fluttered up, landing on the Captain’s knee.
“He knows his name.” Vanessa was fidgeting on the hammock ropes, grinning as only a spider can grin. “Stupid parrot! It suits him.”
“You need a proper name, parrot.” Captain Thunders waggled one of his sausage-like fingers at the bird. “No, don’t peck it. I wanted you to hop on while I named you. Ow! Stop it! Dratted bird!”
“Dratted bird, dratted bird!”
“Tee, hee,” chortled Vanessa. “That’s an even better name than stupid parrot. That bird’s a gift to sarcasm.”
“Sarky!” said the Captain. “I’ll call him Sarky! Well done, Vanessa.”
“Glad to be of service,” said the spider, dropping down a silken rope to the deck to where Mr Spinks was counting out his nutshells. “Shall I rename the monkey now? How about manky?”
Shrieking with fury, Mr Spinks hurled a handful of shells at Vanessa. They all missed, showering the parrot instead. Squawking and flapping and making lots of noise it dived on Mr Spinks.
Vanessa put several of her feet up to her ears to muffle the racket. “Make him shut up!” she moaned.
“Shut up, Sarky!” With a mighty leap, Captain Thunders jumped out of his hammock. “Come here, Sarky.” He pointed to his shoulder. The brightly coloured bird flew over, landing neatly on his jacket.
“Good Sarky, pretty Sarky,” cooed the Captain.
“Ship ahoy!” Portuguese John was far up in the crow’s nest, scanning the horizon while Merturtle – who should really have seen the ship first, was fast asleep, snoring her head off on the wooden seat at the prow of the ship.
“Ship ahoy! Starboard!”
With a loud snorting noise, much like a startled pig, Merturtle woke up “Wassat?” she spluttered. “Wisssa ship?” Swivelling wildly around, she nearly fell off her seat. “Oh, there it is in front of us. Oy, Captain – there’s a boat over there. Pull me up someone! Or I’ll get pelted with surf when you take off after it!”
Hanging over the prow Nathan seized the rope attached to the mermaid’s seat. Merturtle’s sea shells had slipped a bit while she’d been asleep and she wiggled them back into place. Then wiped the dribble from her cheek with the back of her hand, scraping it off in her hair.
“Yuck,” said Nathan, winding her up the front of the ship. “You’re a dirty mermaid, you are.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Merturtle, landing on deck. “I’m a right catch, I am.”
“Yeah,” said Nathan. “If it was pitch black, in a cave, and you had your eyes closed.”
“All hands on deck,” called Captain Thunders. “Let’s get after the ship.
A plundering we will go,
A plundering we will go.
Over the waves,
Out with the hooks,
A plundering we will go!
“You’ll never make a singer,” said Vanessa. “I’ve heard a whale with bellyache who sounded more tuneful than you.”
Captain Thunders hurled a barrel at Vanessa – luckily for the spider, it missed her and flew over the side of the ship landing with a big splash in the waves below.
“That were the last of the rum!” wailed Nathan, watching the barrel sinking until just a few bubbles were left on the surface. “Now what’ll we do? Everyone knows pirates run on rum. Argh!”
Captain Thunders shoved Nathan out of the way, shouting at the top of his voice. “Get to the ropes and rigging lads, get after the gold!”
A flock of seagulls flew up from the sails in alarm, several black clouds scuttled quickly across the sky.
“Prepare the ship! Hoist the Jolly Roger – let’s go a pirating!” Whirling a cutlass in circles round his head, the Captain almost chopped off the end of Sarky the parrot’s tail.
“Jolly Roger, Jolly Roger,” echoed Sarky, landing on some rigging well out of the way of Captain Thunders’ swishing blade. “Go a pirating, go a pirating!”
Spider Sam gave the ship’s wheel a mighty twirl and The Merry Mary sailed in closer and closer to the other ship. It was a medium sized schooner and as soon as they drew alongside, quick as a flash the shiny silver grappling hooks whizzed across the gap. Clunk, clunk, clunk, the hooks anchored themselves firmly onto the schooner’s deck.
The terrified sailors on the other ship frantically tried to prise the hooks out, but the pirates were already on their ropes flying through the air, landing amongst them before they could make good their escape.
“Avast ye, me hearties!” Captain Thunders jumped down with a spine-trembling thud. “Prepare to die – you luckless tub-lubbers!” Lots of yelling ensued as the sailors all ran for their lives. The deck shook as Captain Thunders pounded about swooping and plucking sailors from their feet, hurling each one over the side and into the sea. Splish, splash, splosh.
“They’ve got rum – lots of it!” Nathan prised off the top of a barrel with the point of his cutlass. Lifting the barrel he began gulping down its contents. “Yum,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Good stuff this! Nice and thick with a hint of molasses. Sticky on the palate – just the way I likes it. Arr!” He pitched the empty barrel over the side and prised open another. “Ahhhh!” said Nathan, wiping dribbles from his bristly chin and slumping drunkenly down onto the deck.
“Master!” Unlucky Pete stuck his head out of the hold. “I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find any treasure. You had better catch one of those sailors to find out where they’ve hidden it.”
“Too late.” Captain Thunders had just despatched the last sailor over the side. He peered across the deck rail, watching him sinking rapidly beneath the waves. “They must have gold,” he said. “A schooner like this would be sure to have more treasure than just a few barrels of rum – go on lads, get searching! Ooh, what’s that I smell?”
The Captain sniffed, whirling round in circles with his nose in the air. Far above his head, sitting on the topsail was Mr Spinks. Chattering excitedly, the monkey was busy pushing gaudy bracelets and golden bangles all the way up his hairy little arms.
“C’mere you thievin’ monkey!” The Captain pulled at the sail rope, whipping it to knock the monkey down. Mr Spinks shrieked and leapt to another sail. “Hooknose! Your monkey’s got the gold.”
“Treasure ship!” said Portuguese John, whipping out a flag and sticking it in a barrel.
“Mr Spinks! Come down from there at once!” Hooknose patted his immaculately trousered thigh. “Here, now. Come, Mr Spinks.”
But the nimble little monkey swung out from the sail. Dropping softly to the deck, he jumped smartly over the snoring Nathan, bounding towards a cooking funnel rising up from the galley below he vanished inside it.
“Bad Mr Spinks!” said Hooknose.
“No! Come back, you treacherous beast.” Captain Thunders tried to jam his arm inside the funnel but his hefty paw stuck almost at once.
“Ouf!” The Captain pulled his arm free, sprawling backwards onto deck.
“I’ll get it!” Unlucky Pete and Portuguese John dived at the funnel – bumping heads when they bo
th tried to peer inside.
“OW!” they cried. Stepping away from the funnel, rubbing their sore heads, the two pirates tripped over the Captain and fell in a heap on top of his chest.
“Useless as a sand rope,” he said, flinging them off.
Mr Spinks popped out of the funnel wearing a golden coronet covered in rubies perched raffishly over the top of his hat. Chattering happily, the monkey hopped out and bounced away over the deck. Portuguese John took his chance, scrambled up and leaned into the funnel for a closer look.
“The treasure’s down here, Cap’n!” His voice echoed out of the funnel in strange muffled tone. “It’s dangling in a great big net – I’ll try and haul it up, ouf, ouf.” Leaning deep into the funnel, John reached as far down as he could. Levering his foot on the deck he gave one last desperate lunge – and slipped forwards.
“Hang on, John.” Unlucky Pete dived at John’s ankles and hung on tightly. “I’ve got you, ooh!” Pete also began slipping inside the funnel. “Help, help.”
“Just as I said – useless!” Captain Thunders seized Pete’s feet and pulled. Out came Pete, followed by Portuguese John and finally out flew the net stuffed with treasure.
“Cor, what a haul.” Captain Thunders surveyed the deck strewn with fabulous treasures. Rings glinted in the sunshine, gold doubloons, diamond bracelets, thick bangles of gold and gems of every shade and hue sparkled before his eyes.
“Lovely,” said Unlucky Pete, admiring a sapphire the size of a shark’s eye. “Sparker-ly.”
Portuguese John crawled towards a pile of golden chains and began trying to untangle them.
Hooknose stood back admiring a fine diamond through the magnifying glass he wore on a cord around his neck. “Not at all bad,” he said. “I’ve seen better and bigger – but it’s all good stuff, Captain.”
“Mmm.” The Captain was busy filling up his coat pockets with gold doubloons. Mr Spinks dropped onto Hooknose’s shoulder, the golden coronet still perched crookedly atop his small red hat. The Captain eyed it and made a grab. “Give me that!” He missed and Mr Spinks streaked up a rope, leaping across to The Merry Mary.
“Darn monkey!” The Captain pulled a hook out of the deck and threw it back across the gap. “Come on, gather up the haul and let’s be off.”
“Dhunt fahgit the rhum,” said Nathan, staggering up hugging a barrel. “Ish gud!”
Back on the deck of The Merry Mary, Captain Thunders was swaying in his hammock drinking from a big flagon of rum. Mr Spinks was catching drips in a nutshell and quaffing them down.
Merturtle was sound asleep curled up on a coil of rope, chuffing like a steam train while the crew played cards, swigging rum and trading rings. Mr Spinks, made brave by rum, sneaked up to the snoring mermaid, screaming in surprise when her frizzy yellow hair came off in his hands. He toppled over, clutching his prize and, gibbering in ecstasy, raced to Hooknose.
“What do you have there, Mr Spinks,” said Hooknose. “My stars – it’s a wig!”
The crew turned and all burst out laughing when they saw the un-wigged mermaid.
“It’s not funny!” cried Merturtle, wrapping her hands over her fuzzy scalp. “Give it back, you flea-bitten little blighter!” She wiggled her scabby tail trying to move towards the monkey who was now wearing the wig and capering about doing a little dance.
Hooknose leaned on the ship’s wheel, regarding the spectacle of a bald mermaid chasing a monkey in a wig, with a look of wry amusement gracing his tanned face.
Captain Thunders peered out of his hammock and smiled. “Hic,” he said. “Thash funny – isn’t it, Sharky?”
“Thash funny, thash funny.”
“Do you know, Sharky?” said the Captain. “I don’t think I should have drunk show mush rum. I feel a bit queasy! Oopsh.”
*
Alfie opened his eyes and tried to sit up.
“Oh, Alfie,” said his mother, pushing him back down on the sofa. “Thank goodness, you’re okay.”
Behind his mother, Alfie could see Grandma Rains. Her beautifully coifed, blue-rinsed hair was absolutely covered in bright pink taramasolata.
“Alfred James!” Before Grandma Rains could take a step towards him, Alfie was off the sofa, dodging across the room. Grandma Rains side-stepped him, but Alfie dived between her legs. He hit the ground on the other side running, racing out into the hallway so fast he bounced off the radiator on his way to the front door.
Alfie pulled at the handle, his greasy fingers slipping on the big brass knob.
“Alfie, come back here!”
“Alfred James!”
Frantically pulling at the door, it finally flew open. Alfie tore up the driveway, rushing out into the Avenue.
“Hello, Alfie,” said Trixie. “Where are you going in such a hurry? And is that pastry in your hair?”
Alfie was so taken aback he just gawped at Trixie. “Err…” he said, mouth open in surprise.
“Kissy, kissy!” Trixie clamped onto him like a limpet on a rock. “Mwuh, mwuh!”
Wriggling madly, Alfie managed to get free. “Yuck!” he said. “Yuck, yuck – disgusting!” He spun around, frantically wiping his mouth on his sleeve, hands paddling like a duck’s feet. He licked his sleeve and spluttered into the gutter. “Yuck, yuck, yuck.” Feeling finally purged of Trixie, Alfie turned around. “Oh no,” he said.
Trixie Tracy Buttercup Fleming had a strange expression on her face. Her cheeks were puffed out. Her red curls plastered to her forehead.
Burp! Trixie went even redder in the face. Burp, burp, burp. There was a loud popping sound and Trixie’s dainty little legs folded underneath her like a fawn on the grass. Alfie clapped his hands over his mouth and uttered a horrified moan.
“Trixie!” Bending over her, he shook Trixie’s shoulders. “Trixie, Trixie! Wake up! Wake up, Trixie!” But Trixie didn’t move.
“Oh no!” Alfie sat back on the grass and put his hands over his mouth. He gulped and shook Trixie again, but she just flopped about like a rag-doll. Then, all over her face spread a great big smile – almost as if she was having the most wonderful of dreams. Alfie carried on shaking until Trixie’s curls bounced on her shoulders like little russet dancers.
“Come back,” cried Alfie. “Come back, Trixie!” But Alfie knew with a sinking dread where Trixie had gone. She’d gone to Pirateland – and in his current cheese-less state he couldn’t hope to follow her.
Monster Pirate Cheese Boy Page 8
