by Duncan Ball
“The ever-cool Inspector Selby refuses to panic. He will not jump to the conclusion that someone has mailed a bomb to the mayor,” Selby said. “What I need is one of those sniffer dogs that can smell explosives. Come to think of it maybe I am one of those sniffer dogs that can smell explosives.”
Selby threw open the door and put his nose to the package.
“Pheeeeeeeeew! That smells awful! And what’s this?” Selby said, opening and reading a note that was stuck to the package.
“‘Dear customer,’” he read, “‘We do hope that this doesn’t go off before you receive it.’ Go off? Does that really say ‘go off’? Yes, indeed it does and Inspector Selby has just reached the inevitable and inescapable conclusion that this package right here before him contains an article known in detective circles as a bomb. Yikes!”
Selby slammed the door and dashed to the TV room, putting his paws over his ears.
“A bomb! A bomb on the doorstep!” he screamed. “It’s about to go off! It’ll blow the house to bits and me with it! I won’t live to chew another Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuit! Help! Save me!”
Selby lay there for a minute wondering how to get out of the house without passing the package. Suddenly he straightened himself up.
“I can’t just run away. This house is filled with all of the Trifle’s valuable belongings. Not only that, the Trifles themselves might return home just before the bomb goes off. I’ve got to disarm it.”
Selby grabbed the video tape of the Inspector Quigley episode about the bomb and fast-forwarded it to the part where the inspector told a roomful of policemen about bombs.
“The simplest thing to do with a package bomb is to smash it against the ground,” Inspector Quigley told them.
“That’s it!” Selby squealed as he dashed out the front door and lifted the package over his head."Why didn’t I think of it.”
“The problem with this,” he heard Inspector Quigley say, “is that it will probably explode if you do. All of which goes to show that the simplest answer isn’t always the best answer.”
“Crumbs!” Selby thought, putting the package back down.
“A direct approach is to rip open the package and get to the mechanism,” the inspector continued, “and find out how it works.”
“Done!” Selby said, tearing off the outer layer of paper.
“But of course some package bombs are made to go off if you do this,” the inspector added. “Sometimes the direct approach isn’t the best method.”
“Good point,” Selby said, stopping in mid-tear.
“Alternatively, you could soak it in water,” Inspector Quigley said, scratching his chin. “Water will ruin a lot of explosives.”
“Of course!” Selby said and he ran into the garden, grabbed the garden hose and started spraying the package.
“But, sadly,” Selby heard Inspector Quigley say, “some bombs go off when they get wet and there’s no real way to tell if yours will or won’t.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Inspector!” Selby screamed, blowing furiously on the package to dry it. “Stop telling me what I can’t do and tell me what I can do!”
“The fact is,” the inspector said, “that anything you do to a bomb could set it off. Sometimes, running away is the only answer.”
“But the house, Quig? I can’t just let the house blow up,” Selby thought. Then he thought again,“Oh, yes I can!”
Selby was halfway out a back window when he heard voices at the front door.
“Oh, no!” he thought. “The Trifles are back!”
“Look! This must be the cheesecloth I ordered,” Mrs Trifle said, removing some of the paper from the package.
“Goodness me,” Dr Trifle said, “look at the mess Postie Paterson made of it. It looks like it’s been dragged through a mud puddle.”
“I can’t let her open it!” Selby said. “I’ve got to warn the Trifles even if I give away my secret forever! — even if I have to be their servant for life! I’ve got to save them.”
Selby dashed into the lounge room and grabbed the package in his teeth.
“It’s a bomb!” he cried in plain English, but it came out more like hhhhuuuuuummmmmmmbbbb because of the package in his mouth.
“If I’m not mistaken, he wants to play toss and catch,” Dr Trifle said, watching Selby hurl the package out the window.
“Speaking of mistakes,” Mrs Trifle said, looking in the garden where the package had split open, spilling its contents on the grass, “those silly-billies at Healthnut didn’t hear me properly. Instead of cheesecloth, they sent me some cheese and a clock — and the cheese smells like it’s gone off. Phew!”
RALPHO’S MAGIC SHOW
“I don’t think it was a good idea to invite Ralpho to do his show for the boy scouts and girl guides of Bogusville,” Mrs Trifle said to Dr Trifle. “He’s simply not a good performer. He just gets too nervous.”
“Ralpho’s got to learn to face an audience without going to pieces,” Dr Trifle said, referring to his magician friend, Ralpho the Magnificent. “He’ll never be a success as long as he gets so flustered. I just thought it would be good practice for him to entertain some very polite country children in the friendly atmosphere of our home. It’ll give him confidence and the kids will love it. Besides, he says he’s got something exciting to liven up his act this time.”
“I’m just afraid he’ll pop his cork the way he did the last time,” Mrs Trifle said. “I think he was better as an inventor than as a magician. But we’ll see …”
“We will see,” Selby thought."I’ll get to see it too. Oh boy, oh boy, I love magic shows.”
And so it was that Ralpho the Magnificent arrived at the Trifles’ house and set up all his magic gear just in time for the busload of children to come running into the lounge room and sit quietly on the floor. All of which would have been perfectly okay if Aunt Jetty hadn’t also heard about the show. This still would have been okay if she hadn’t dumped her disastrous son Barnstorm Billy outside.
“I have some errands to run,” she told Billy as he ran for the Trifles’ door. “You go in and have a good time. I’m sure the Trifles won’t mind one more little pair of eyes and ears.”
“Magician?” Billy said in a loud voice just when Ralpho was about to pull a pigeon out of a hat."I don’t want to see a stupid old magician! I thought it was a musician. I want to see somebody play the drums.”
“You just sit there quietly, Billy,” Mrs Trifle said politely."I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“Why oh why,” Selby asked himself, “did Aunt Jetty have to bring bratty Billy? He’ll spoil everything for sure.”
From then on, things went terribly wrong. Ralpho pulled the pigeon out of the hat but it took one look at him and bit him on the finger. Billy burst into laughter and everyone else joined in. Then Ralpho juggled three flaming torches until he caught one by the wrong end.
“Good one, mister stupid magician man!” Billy roared as Ralpho plunged his injured fingers in a glass of water."Was that hot enough for you?”
Now Ralpho was angry and nervous — very angry and nervous. But the final straw came when Ralpho’s mummy broke down.
“And now,” Ralpho said, putting on a turban and holding up his hands for silence, “one of the mysteries of the pyramids: the walking mummy.”
Dr Trifle pulled back a curtain and there stood a mummy case covered in mummy-writing.
“Struth!” Selby thought. “This is great! Ralpho really is a good showman.”
“Here in this box,” Ralpho began, “is the mummy of Amen-hop-rope, a king who lived four thousand years ago. He died a terrible death when he was tricked by his slave, Tut-tut-tutmose. One day when he was quite tired of the king, the slave said, ‘Oh, master of masters, you are so magnificent I’m sure you can walk on the waters of the Nile.’ The king, believing his slave, stepped into the river — and sank like a stone. He not only couldn’t walk on water he also couldn’t swim a stroke. Do you hear me, Am en-hop-rope?” Ralp
ho said and the lid of the mummy box flew open making the girls and boys gasp with delight.
“Crumbs!” thought Selby, when he saw the bandaged figure in the box. “It’s fabulous! The mummy looks real!”
“It’s not a real mummy and don’t pretend it is!” Billy yelled out. “And you’re a cheater, mister cheathead!”
“Quiet!” Ralpho said angrily, and then he turned to the mummy. “Great Amen-hop-rope, I Tut-tut-tutmose, say you are a fool.”
As soon as Ralpho said the word great, the mummy’s arms shot out and he started walking slowly towards Ralpho, who turned sideways and smiled at the startled children.
“Real mummies can’t walk,” Billy screamed. “Their legs are wrapped together!”
“Oh, yeah?” Ralpho said. “If you’re so smart, tell me how it walks.”
“It’s got a voice-thing in it,” Billy yelled. “When you say great it moves.”
“I hate to admit it,” Selby thought. “But I think Billy’s right. It’s a voice-activated robot. A very clever robot nevertheless.”
“Quiet, kid,” Ralpho said, turning quickly as the mummy was about to grab him around the throat. “Oh, wise Amen-hop-rope,” he said, “please forgive your humble slave.”
The mummy dropped its arms and started back towards the box.
“You said wise extra loud,” Billy yelled, “and that made it go back to the box.”
“Did not!” Ralpho said, turning red as a beetroot.
“Did so,” Billy answered. “It’s a fake, mister faker! Watch this. Great!” Billy yelled and the mummy turned around and started back in Ralpho’s direction with its arms outstretched.
“The brat is right again,” Selby thought. “The robot’s programmed to go one way when it hears great and the other way when it hears wise.“
“Wise!” Ralpho yelled and the mummy turned again.
“Great!” yelled Billy. “It’s just a robot. Great! Great! Great!”
“Wise! Wise! Wise!” Ralpho screamed, bursting into tears. “Get out of here all of you! Go away! I never want to see any of you children again!”
Dr and Mrs Trifle quickly shooed the frightened girls and boys out the front door to where their bus was waiting, while Ralpho chased Billy round and round the room.
“When I catch you,” Ralpho screamed, “I’m going to give you a spanking you’ll never forget!”
“I’ll tell!” Billy yelled back. “My mummy will spank you, mister sillyhead!”
“This is crazy,” Selby thought, running for safety just as Ralpho caught Billy by the neck and started to shake him. “Ralpho’s really done his lolly this time. He’ll strangle the kid if someone doesn’t stop him!”
“Great! Wise! Great! Wise! Great! Wise!” they yelled, as Amen-hop-rope turned in circles and put his arms up and down so fast that his bandages began to unwind. In a minute he was a shining silvery robot with smoke pouring from his head.
And in the heat of battle, Ralpho throttled and Billy kicked and both fell silent, not noticing that Billy had got one more great in and that Amen-hop-rope was walking towards them with his arms out. In a second, the robot had them both by the throat, one in each hand.
“Wiiiiii-glug-glurg!” Ralpho said, struggling to say wise.
“Wurg-glurg, gleeeeeeg!” Billy said, also trying to say wise.
“Help!” Selby thought, looking out the window where the Trifles were putting the last of the children on the bus. “If someone doesn’t call off the metal monster there are going to be questions asked — and Ralpho and Billy won’t be doing the answering! I’ve got to do something!” he thought, biting Amen-hop-rope’s leg and hurting his mouth in the process. “I’ve got to talk! My secret will be out, but I’ve got to do it! If only I can get to where Ralpho and Billy can’t see me speak …”
“Wise! Wise! Wise!” Selby screamed.
Suddenly the robot stopped, dropped its arms and walked back to its box. The stunned Ralpho let go of Billy who tore out of the door and jumped in Aunt Jetty’s car which had just driven up. Ralpho stood staring in amazement at Selby.
“I saw you talk,” Ralpho said. “Very clever! Yes, very, extremely clever!”
“We’re terribly sorry about everything,” Dr Trifle said, as he and Mrs Trifle came in the door. “I’m afraid we didn’t expect little Billy. I’m sure I can help you fix your mummy.”
“Never mind the mummy! This talking dog robot you made,” Ralpho said, pointing to Selby, “is a great idea! I’m going home right now to make one. It’s just what I need! Bye now.”
“Talking dog robots?” Mrs Trifle said, watching Ralpho drive away. “Poor Ralpho’s gone completely round the twist this time.”
“I don’t know what he was driving at,” Dr Trifle said, looking down into Selby’s innocent eyes, “but I have to admit he made a better mummy robot than I could have. Maybe this dog robot is just what he needs to liven up his act.”
“I don’t know about livening up Ralpho’s act,” Selby thought. “If it got any livelier than today’s, I don’t think I could stand it.”
A BALLOON TOO SOON
“This is fantastic!” Selby thought as the tiny dot that was Dame Cecily Quagmire’s balloon appeared on the horizon. “Dame Cecily is about to be the first person to fly a balloon around the world over both the North and the South Poles, and she’s stopping in Bogusville just before the end of her trip!”
Dr Trifle quickly took down the old torn flag from in front of the council chambers and replaced it with a new one as Mrs Trifle memorised her welcoming speech.
“This is an historic occasion…” she began. “This is a truly exciting and historic occasion … Oh, heavens,” Mrs Trifle said, looking up from her notes. “I’ll never get this speech right and she’s nearly here.”
“You could just say, ‘G’day and welcome to Bogusville.'” Dr Trifle said.
“I most certainly could not,” Mrs Trifle said. “Mayors aren’t allowed to say ‘G’day', especially when they’re greeting international heroes who are making historic round-the-world, over-the-poles balloon flights.”
“It was just a suggestion, dear,” Dr Trifle said.
“Dame Cecily is the grand old lady of flight. She used to race aeroplanes back when they were held together with chewing gum and baling wire. Back then they used to fly by the seat of their pants. Don’t ask me how their pants helped fly the plane, but they did,” Mrs Trifle said as a crowd began to gather. “These days aeroplanes are flown by computers. It seems the only things that pilots do with the seats of their pants is sit on them,” she added. “By the way, why did you have to take down the old flag?”
“It was too tatty.”
“Tatty or not,” Mrs Trifle said, “I was sort of fond of it.”
“This one’s made of that special computer-designed Tare-Knot Miracle Flag Fabric,” Dr Trifle said. “It should last a long time. It’s so tough that you could bet your life it wouldn’t tear.”
Selby lay back in the shade of a tree and watched Dame Cecily’s balloon come closer and closer. He remembered the last episode of the TV series Balloon Flights of Long Ago about the early days of ballooning.
“What a wonderful sport,” he thought. “Hanging from a balloon in a big open basket. Letting the wind take you where it might. Dropping down in a meadow for a picnic lunch. Being blown off course into deserts and jungles. Being rescued by people so primitive that they’ve never even seen an Australian before. What a life. But wait just a minute!” Selby thought, jumping to his feet as the balloon approached. “That’s no basket! It’s all plastic and glass. It’s like a space capsule! And it’s covered in advertising!” Selby said, looking at the signs on the balloon that said FLY-RIGHT FLY SPRAY and DR POPHAM’S STONE GROUND MUESLI PELLETS and VACATION VILLA INTERNATIONAL HOTELS.
Dr Trifle grabbed a rope that hung down from the huge balloon and pulled on it until the capsule touched the ground. He tied the rope to the tree next to Selby and watched as Dame Cecily scrambled out, zippin
g up her flight suit and brushing her hair as she went.
“This is a … er … truly exciting and … um … historic occasion,” Mrs Trifle said as a bus full of reporters drove up flashing cameras at Dame Cecily. “As the mayor of … um …”
“You’re the mayor, are you dear?” Dame Cecily whispered to Mrs Trifle as she grinned at the TV cameras.
“Why, yes I am,” Mrs Trifle said, “and I feel deeply honoured —”
“Thank you, thank you,” Dame Cecily said, grabbing a microphone. “How very nice, Mrs Mayor. But I’ll make the speeches if you don’t mind.”
Selby put his paws up in the open doorway of the passenger capsule and peered in at the control panel.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the world,” Dame Cecily said, waving her arms about. “This is a truly exciting and historic occasion. Tomorrow I will fly to Brisbane and finish the first round-the-world, over-the-poles balloon flight ever. It has been a dream of many years, a dream made possible by the kindness of Vacation Villa Hotels, who spared nothing in making me comfortable in some of the most remote corners of the world, places so primitive that the people had never even seen an Australian before. And thanks to a health-giving diet of Dr Popham’s Stone Ground Muesli and thanks also to Fly-Right Fly Spray. I’d also like to thank Kevtex Wonder Fibres and Polycarborundamide Impact-Resistant Plastics and Tru-Star Computer Navigational Aids and —”
“Struth,” Selby muttered as he hopped into the capsule. “Look at all this electronic gear: radios, computers, wind-speed indicators, things to make the balloon go up and things to make it go down. It’s completely automatic. All Dame Cecily has to do is sit in it and tell it to go and the instruments do the thinking and the work.”
“We are only as good as our technology. I’d like to thank Oxy-Gulp Air Supply for the system that kept me from suffocating in the stratosphere,” Dame Cecily said with a laugh. “And of course many thanks to the Your Wish-Is-My-Command Control Module which made the balloon go wherever I asked it to go.”
