Barry Loser and the Birthday Billions

by Jim Smith

  ‘I spose I just wanted to talk to another inventor,’ I typed. ‘I’m a child genius like Wolf Tizzler, you see. Sometimes it can be a bit lonely . . .’

  ‘Nice to meet you, fellow child genius!’ typed Sunil.

  ‘Do you have any advice for me?” I typed. ‘I’m trying to make a billion pounds so I can buy a SHNOZINATOR 9000. My baby brother weed in my one.’

  Sunil’s bubble stayed empty for a bit. ‘Sorry to hear that, barry_winner. My advice is to focus on your goal. Stay true to your desires and work hard to make them real.’

  I scratched my bum, which isn’t an easy thing to do when you’re already sitting on it.

  ‘That sounds a bit boring,’ I typed.

  ‘Mr Tizzler believes that only boring people get bored,’ typed Sunil.

  ‘Oh,’ I said out loud. ‘But I get bored all the time,’ I typed.

  The only time I WASN’T comperleeterly bored was when I was with my friends, actukeely.

  ‘I think I might’ve been a bit horrible to my best friend Bunky,’ I typed into my little green bubble. ‘His real name’s Nigel, and he doesn’t like anyone knowing it, but I told Sharonella and Renard anyway. Cos they thought he could do funnier voices than me.’

  Sunil’s bubble stayed empty for a bit again. ‘No offence barry_winner, but our algorithm is indicating that the probability of your being a child genius is minus seventeen per cent.’

  ‘I. Don’t. Even. Know. What. You. Are. Talking. About.’ I typed.

  ‘My advice to you,’ typed Sunil, ‘is to make friends with your friend.’

  I thought of Bunky, sitting somewhere all upset that everyone knew his name was Nigel. Then I thought of him doing his old granny voice, and I sniggled to myself.

  ‘Is that what Wolf would do?’ I typed.

  ‘Wolf Tizzler doesn’t have time for things like friends,’ typed Sunil.

  I peered back out the window at the two little birds. They’d stopped bickering and were tearing a worm in half, sharing it for dinner.

  ‘K, thx bye,’ I typed, stuffing my phone into my pocket and heading off to find Bunky.

  ‘Nancy’s back, Snookyflumps!’ cried my mum as I started donking down the stairs.

  ‘What in the name of Shnozville are you doing here?’ I said.

  ‘Bunky’s missing!’ cried Nancy. ‘I went looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere. His mum says he didn’t come home for dinner!’

  ‘Oh my unkeelness,’ I said, pulling at the neck of my polo neck jumper. ‘It’s all my fault! I never should’ve told them his name was Nigel!’

  My mum poked her nose round the kitchen door. ‘You staying for Barry’s birthday dinner, Nancy?’ she smiled. ‘It’s his favourite - fish fingers, chips and peas!’

  I put my hands on my mum’s shoulders and stared into her eyes, getting ready to tell her fish fingers weren’t my favourite any more. ‘Mumsy Wumsy, I hate to break this to you, but . . .’

  ‘But what, Barry?’ said my mum, starting to look worried, and I changed my mind.

  ‘Back in a bday sec!’ I cried, running out the door.

  ‘Where could he be?’ said Nancy as we zoom-strolled down my road, me in the lead because it was my bday.

  I turned the corner at the top and headed in the direction of Mogden High Street. ‘I don’t know, but we’re gonna find out.’

  A lamp post was growing out of the pavement like a leafless concrete tree. On it was stuck one of those LOST DOG posters we’d spotted earlier.

  ‘Nancy, you still got that pen?’ I said, clicking my fingers and holding out my hand.

  Nancy fished around in her pocket and found her pen, dropping it into my palm. ‘I might not be able to do funny voices,’ I said, ‘but I can still come up with genius ideas!’

  I crossed out the word ‘DOG’ on the poster and wrote ‘BUNKY’ above it in capitals. Then I scribbled over the dog’s ears and drew Bunky’s three tufts of hair above its eyes. ‘There!’ I said, standing back.

  The photo didn’t look anything like Bunky. Not that it mattered, because I’d just spotted a familikeels silhouette out of the corner of my eye.

  ‘What is it, Barry?’ said Nancy, following me across the road to Cafe Cafe.

  Inside it was comperleeterly dark apart from one small light in the back corner. The ‘closed’ sign was hanging on the door and I squidged my face up to the window, peering through.

  ‘Why didn’t I think of it before!’ I cried. Not that I’d been looking for all that long. ‘Of course he’d come here!’

  I banged on the door and Herman wandered over, unlocking it and letting me and Nancy in.

  ‘He’s in a bad way,’ he said, leading us through to the back. ‘I tried to find out what was wrong but he wouldn’t tell me. I think it’s got something to do with somebody called Nigel?’

  Bunky was slumped over Darren’s table, empty Fronkleccino cups dotted around all over it. ‘Too . . . many . . . Fronkleccinos . . .’ he warbled.

  ‘How many of those things has he had?’ said Nancy, lifting Bunky’s head off the table and leaning him back in his chair. ‘Bunky, are you all right?’ she said, and he did a Fronkleccino burp right into her face.

  ‘Bunky? Who’s Bunky?’ he whimpered, beginning to sob. ‘I hate to break it to you Nance, but Bunky’s DEAD!’

  ‘Don’t you ever say that!’ I boomed, swiping the Fronkleccino cups off the table, and they crashed on to the floor. I think I was overdoing it a bit. Not that it mattered because it was my bday.

  ‘Hey! Watch the crockery, man!’ cried Herman, wandering off to get a dustpan and brush or whatever.

  I pulled the spare chair out and sat down opposite Bunky. ‘I’m sorry, Bunky,’ I said, reaching over to hold his hand. Which was weird. I don’t think I’ve ever held Bunky’s hand before.

  Bunky wriggled his hand out of mine and stared at me through his tears. ‘It’s too late for sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Everyone knows my name is Nigel . . .’

  ‘Not everyone!’ I said, trying to make my voice sound un-droney. ‘Only Shazza and Renard - and they won’t tell anyone!’

  It went quiet for a bit while we all tried to imagine Sharonella not telling anyone that Bunky’s real name was Nigel on Monday morning at school.

  ‘OK, Shazza might be a problem,’ I said. ‘But I’ll deal with her.’

  Bunky grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and wiped his eyes, just as Herman reappeared carrying a brand new ZOOM-E-BROOM.

  ‘You seen this thing in action?’ he smiled, sweeping up the plastic Fronkleccino cups.

  I glimpsed over at Bunky and did half a smirk.

  ‘Stupid Wolf Tizzler,’ he snuffled, blowing his nose and smirking the other half back. ‘I still haven’t forgiven you, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Oh come on, Bunky,’ I said. ‘It’s not like “Nigel” is even that bad a name. You wanna try “Barry Loser” out for size!’

  Herman stopped sweeping and looked at Bunky. ‘Your real name’s Nigel?’ he smiled, and Nancy stomped on his foot.

  ‘That’s between you and that lamp post outside!’ she said.

  Bunky did a little chuckle and looked at my polo neck.

  ‘I’ve got an idea for how you can pay me back,’ he said, and I pulled at the neck of it, because it really did cling.

  It was Monday morning and me, Bunky and Nancy were strolling through the gates of Mogden School.

  Sharonella wandered over to us with Renard, a ginormous smile on her face. ‘Morning Barry, morning Nancy, morning . . . BUNKY!’ she chuckled.

  ‘Thanks, Shazza,’ I said, rattling a 10p out of my piggy bank and handing it over to her for not saying ‘Nigel’. ‘How long’s this gonna go on for, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’ll be a while before you’re a billionaire!’ she cackled, dropping the coin into her pocket.

  I thought back to my bday and shook my head. ‘Oh I gave up on that idea DAYS ago,’ I said. ‘It was WAY too much trouble!’


  ‘But what about zee SHNOZINATOR 9000, Barry?’ said Renard. ‘’Ow are you gonna afford eet now?’

  ‘Feeko’s sold out anyway,’ I said. ‘The last one went on Sunday afternoon . . .’

  ‘I am SO sorry, Barry,’ said Sharonella, leaning forward to give me a hug which I immedi-wriggled out of.

  ‘Oh, I’m comperleeterly over it,’ I said, looking round at them all. ‘Who needs a SHNOZINATOR 9000 when I’ve got friends like you?’

  ‘Really?’ said Nancy.

  ‘Plus my mum and dad said they’d buy me one for Christmas!’ I smiled.

  ‘What about zat terreeble leetle brother of yours, Barry?’ said Renard. ‘’Ave you forgiven ’im yet?’

  ‘Yeaaah,’ I said. ‘Desmond can’t help it if he’s a bit of a Loser sometimes!’

  Sharonella pointed at my yellow hoodie. ‘Nice yellow hoodie,’ she said.

  Not that I was the one wearing it - Bunky was.

  ‘Ooh, thank you, dear!’ warbled Bunky in his old granny voice. ‘It’s mine all week - payback for young Barry here being such a naughty boy!’

  Nancy did a sniggle. ‘And I see your polo neck’s had a little adventure too, Barry!’ she said, pointing at my white jumper, which wasn’t white any more, it was pink.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, pulling at the neck of it. ‘I threw it in the laundry with my mum’s dressing gown by accident. Turns out you’re not sposed to mix red and white clothes together in the washing machine.’

  ‘Ooh la la, ’ow do you not know zees, Barry?’ chuckled Renard. ‘Eet ’appens een every cheeldren’s TV show I ’ave ever seen, non?’

  Bunky ruffled my hair like he was my dad. ‘Pink suits you, Bazza!’ he laughed. ‘It brings out the insides of your eyelids!’

  Just then Anton Mildew from our class ran past. ‘Darren’s here!’ he cried. ‘He’s got a SHNOZINATOR 9000!’

  ‘Huh?’ I said, looking up. And that was when I noticed something unbelievakeel.

  Darren Darrenofski was in the middle of the playground, a ginormous queue of kiddywinkles snaking off in front of him like a caterpillar. Slotted on to his piggy-shaped head was a SHNOZINATOR 9000 with the visor flipped up.

  ‘How’d Darren afford a SHNOZINATOR 9000?’ gasped Bunky as I Future-Ratboy-zoomed my eyes in on the queue.

  All the kids were holding 10p coins in their hands. Next to Darren sat a humungaloid pyramid of tiny black cardboard packages.

  They were all about the size of a lipstick box and had the word ‘SUPER SLUG!’ scribbled on the side of them in red capital letters.

  There was a yellow sticker on the lid of each box with the words ‘10p ONLY!’ written on it.

  ‘Our slugs, that’s how!’ I cried, stomping over to him. ‘Oi Dazza, you’ve got some explaining to do!’

  ‘Oh I have, have I, Loser?’ snuffled Darren, taking 10p off the freckly-faced boy at the front of the queue and handing him a SUPER SLUG box.

  ‘Don’t act all clever with me, young man,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen your little slug boxes. You think you can buy them off me for 2p each and sell them for 10?’

  ‘I don’t FINK I can,’ said Darren. ‘I KNOW it!’

  Nancy tapped the freckly-faced boy on his shoulder. ‘Excuse me - can I have a look at that, please?’ she said, and the boy thought for a second then shrugged and handed it over.

  ‘If you’ve done anything to hurt those poor slugs . . .’ said Nancy, staring at Darren. She opened the lid and peered into the box. Inside a slug was munching happily on a bit of lettuce.

  ‘See - no violence,’ burped Darren. ‘Like I said, that’s not my style!’

  ‘How in the unkeelness did you get people to pay 10p for them?’ said Bunky. ‘They’re just boring old slugs!’

  ‘Page nineteen,’ said Darren, pointing to the Wolf Tizzler book poking out of his rucksack. ‘It’s all in the packaging!’

  Nancy handed the box back to the boy and he peered into it, doing a face like he’d just wasted 10p.

  Renard stroked his chin and glanced down the queue at all the kiddywinkles holding their 10ps. ‘But ’ow did you sell enuff of zees slug fingys to buy une SHNOZINATOR 9000?’ he said. ‘Zis gaming ’elmet, eet eez really, really expenseeve, non?’

  Darren cackled to himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, Bernard!’ he said. ‘I didn’t buy it with my slug money!’

  ‘So ow DID you buy it then, Daz?’ said Sharonella.

  ‘I found that lost dog that’s been on all the lamp posts!’ he giggled. ‘Barely recognised him at first - he was all black from dirt and stuff !’

  ‘Black?’ I said, remembering the little black dog that’d weed up against the moody sunglasses man’s lamp post.

  ‘Yeah, I gave him a wash and called the phone number on the poster,’ grinned Darren. ‘Nice big juicy fat reward - just enough for a SHNOZINATOR 9000!’

  I watched the next kiddywinkle in the queue as she handed Darren her money.

  Bunky tapped me on the shoulder. ‘Er Barry? Spoiler alert - THAT WAS THAT DOG WE SAW!’ he cried.

  But I just ignored him because I was too busy coming up with one of my brilliant and amazekeel ideas.

  Darren took the coin off the girl and held it up to his nostrils. ‘Mmm, I love the smell of a 10p in the morning!’ he snarfled, handing her a SUPER SLUG.

  ‘Hmmm,’ I said, giving my piggy bank a little rattle and looking round at my bday gang. ‘Anyone thinking what I’m thinking?’

  ‘What you finking, Bazza?’ said Sharonella.

  ‘Yeah Barry, what’s your brilliant and amazekeel idea this time?’ said Bunky, peering into my earhole.

  I tapped Darren on the shoulder. ‘What you want, Loser?’ he burped.

  ‘How much for a go on your SHNOZINATOR 9000?’ I said, and he scratched his bum.

  ‘The SHNOZINATOR 9000 is not for sale,’ he said, stroking it with the same hand he’d just scratched his bum with.

  ‘Nice try, Bazza,’ said Sharonella, patting me on the back, but I wasn’t finished yet.

  I whipped Darren’s copy of HOW TO BE A GENIUS LIKE ME out of his rucksack and flipped it open to page fifty-nine. ‘Everything has a price,’ I said, reading out loud.

  Darren smiled and peered at the piggy bank tucked under my arm. ‘How much you got in that thing?’ he said.

  I held the piggy bank up in front of his face and gave it a rattle. ‘Ooh . . . enough for at least five goes, I reckon.’

  Bunky started counting how many of us there were in the bday gang. ‘Barry, Nancy, Shazza and Renard - that’s four. So why do you want FIVE goes, Barry?’

  ‘Hello?’ said Sharonella, knocking on Bunky’s forehead. ‘Anyone ho-ome?’

  ‘Oh yeah, and me!’ giggled Bunky.

  Darren snatched the piggy bank with his left hand and rattled it again.

  ‘Ooh . . . that does sound luvverly,’ he drooled.

  Gordon Smugly from my class was the next person in the queue. ‘Are you two going to stand around pretending to be Wolf Tizzler all day?’ he sneered. ‘Some of us have got SUPER SLUGS to buy!’

  Darren lifted the SHNOZINATOR 9000 off his head with his right hand and weighed it up against the piggy bank.

  ‘COME ON!’ cried a kiddywinkle from the back of the queue, and Darren smiled.

  ‘Well?’ I said, putting my arms round the bday gang, and we all took a deep breath.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal, Loser!’ said Darren, handing me the SHNOZINATOR 9000.

  (Apart from the next page)

  Endnotes

  1. Keel = cool

  2. I was saving the SHNOZINATOR 9000 till last.

  3. The neck of my polo neck really was clinging to my neck.

  Jim Smith is the keelest kids’ book author and drawer in the whole world amen.

  He graduated from art school with first-class honours (the best you can get) and went on to create the branding for a keel little chain of coffee shops.

  He also designs cards and gifts under the
name Waldo Pancake. And his favourite colour is pink.