Tyger Pants - Cretin the Cruel

by Royston Wood

  Chapter One

  The Awkward Subject

  Glancing around the breakfast table I try to judge the best moment to raise the awkward subject.

  Dad’s got his head stuck in the local newspaper. Not literally. But whatever he’s reading must be pretty interesting because he’s buttered his tie and is slowly raising it to his mouth to take a bite.

  Sandy’s eating her shredded wheat with a book propped open in front of her. I can’t see the title but it will either be about ponies or princesses. Who knows, she’s beaming like a toddler with a fist full of chocolate so it might even be about a pony princess.

  Mum’s sloshing some orange juice into a glass. “We never have any conversation at this table,” she grumbles. “Everyone’s always got their eyes glued to a book!”

  That’s not strictly true. I don’t. I’m not keen on reading. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against reading, it’s just not for me. The way I figure it, if we were meant to read, video games wouldn’t have been invented. I suppose books are ok for people with limited minds that can’t cope with proper excitement though.

  Mum’s sipping her juice now. She’s still got the carton in her other hand, reading the ingredients. Oranges?

  In theory, now would be a good time to bring the awkward subject up: everyone is quiet and whilst mum seems a bit grumpy, at least there aren’t any arguments.

  Not yet.

  I chase some cornflakes around my bowl with a spoon until they become milklogged and sink below the surface. I take a deep breath, it’s now or never…

  “Dad, can I help you out at the library this morning?” I ask, sounding as casual as possible.

  “I don’t see why not Tyger,” dad responds from behind the newspaper.

  I glance at mum, waiting for the usual objection. My hopes rise, she’s distracted, reading the back of the cereal box now. Dad’s agreed so if I just keep quiet and tag along with him maybe mum won’t notice I’ve gone until it’s too late. I try to suppress the grin spreading across my face.

  “Mum, you said Tyger couldn’t go to the library,” says Sandy, looking at me with a smirk on her face.

  “What’s that dear?” asks mum, still reading the cereal box.

  “Shut up!” I hiss at Sandy.

  Sandy grins at me. “Tyger wants to go to the library with dad.”

  Frowning, mum drags her eyes from the cereal box and fixes them on me instead. “Tyger, we’ve been through this a dozen times. You are not helping out at the library!” she declares.

  “Aww but mum…”

  “No Tyger!”

  “Dad said I could,” I throw back.

  Mum stabs a piercing glare at dad but his newspaper seems to be glare proof so she turns it on me instead. “Tyger, no means no! You can stay at home and play with your Pii or that xPox720 thingy.”

  “But dad said I could help him out on Saturdays. He said he would start training me up to be a Librarian.” I reach over and pull down the newspaper that dad has retreated further behind and give him an imploring look. “Didn’t you dad!”

  Dad glances at mum and I know I’ve lost. My imploring look is never going to beat her piercing glare.

  “Er…perhaps another weekend we can...” dad starts. Mum’s glare intensifies. “It’s not really a good time, Tyger. It’s really busy at the library right now. Lots to sort out.”

  “All the more reason for me to help then,” I suggest.

  Dad flicks a look at mum. She gives a slight shake of her head.

  “The thing is, Tyger, the thing is…er…” dad’s brow has creased and there’s a bead of sweat glistening on his temple. Ha! I’ve got him. He can’t think of a good reason why I shouldn’t help.

  “I expect you don’t have time to train Tyger because you are so busy,” suggests Sandy.

  “Yes. That’s it exactly!” says dad, relaxing back behind his newspaper.

  “Huh! That’s just an excuse,” I mumble, scowling at Sandy. She sticks her tongue out at me and goes back to reading her book.

  “Look Tyger, do as your mother says; stay and play some video games,” says dad from behind the newspaper. “You can grab a stash of chocolate and crisps from the treat box if you like.”

  Talk about bribing your way out of something! We’re normally only allowed one thing out of that treat box a week. I’m surprised it hasn’t all gone mouldy.

  “And I’ll pop down to the shop and get you some coke,” adds mum. “The real stuff, not own brand.”

  I know I’ve lost but I can’t help throwing out my usual argument of last resort, “It’s so unfair!”

  Mum retorts with the parents’ ultimate weapon, “Tyger, it’s only because we love you. The library is too dangerous. Look what happened last time. You’ve still got the scars on your chin!”

  “If you really loved me you’d want me to have some fun!” I mumble as I push my chair back and stomp off across the room.

  “Tyger, you haven’t asked to leave the table,” says mum.

  “Why should I,” I grumble, pulling the door open.

  “Because it’s the polite thing to do,” says dad.

  “That’s not it at all, is it!” I snap, turning in the doorway to glare at him. “It’s just a daily reminder that YOU’RE in charge and that I can only do things if YOU say so. Well it’s not fair!”

  The door makes a satisfying bang as I slam it. I start stamping up the stairs to my room but about halfway up I realize I’ve left something behind. Rats! If I go back now I’ll ruin my dramatic exit. But…

  I debate it for a few moments then turn round and tramp back down the stairs. Entering the kitchen with a scowl, I march past the breakfast table to the cupboard, deliberately not looking at mum and dad. I grab the treat box, turn and march straight back out again.

  As I pass the table Sandy’s hand snakes out, dips into the box and come out with a packet of candy love hearts. Grudgingly I have to admire her skill; her eyes haven’t left the pages of her book and she’s still spooning shredded wheat in her mouth with her other hand.

  Not bothering to slam the door, it’s kind of difficult with the treat box in my hands, I retreat to my room.

  About the Author

  As a child I was not a keen reader. I didn't see the point: there were comics and a picture is worth a thousand words, right?

  Now I am an avid reader and regret missing out on so many good stories as a kid. Fortunately, with children of my own, I'm now managing to catch up, reading stories to them every night before bed.

  There isn't anything quite like a book to let you escape from real life for a while. True, films are great, but they don't involve you as much as a book. A well written book will get your imagination working, filling the story with colour and energy, making the story yours. A film is just a depiction of somebody else's imagination.

  In fact, I enjoy reading stories to my children so much, I started to write my own. And bearing in mind my own reluctance to read as a child I have written them to be as engaging as possible, to draw the reader into a land of imagination and discovery.