The 91-Storey Treehouse
Page 2
‘But the twins said they were old enough to look after themselves,’ I say. ‘They just turned six.’
‘Six?!’ says Jill. ‘That is way too young to be looking after themselves and a baby. We need to find them and make sure they’re safe. Let’s go!’
We hurry to the chocolate waterfall. We can’t see the kids, but it’s pretty obvious they were here. There are little chocolate footprints everywhere.
We follow the trail of footprints to what used to be the 91-storey house of cards. But there’s no house … and no kids.
We keep looking. We find a baby’s bootee on the chainsaw-juggling level. (Fortunately it’s empty.)
We go to the ice-cream parlour, but all we find is a very upset Edward Scooperhands.
‘They ate it all,’ he says, waving his empty scoops in the air. ‘Even the invisible ice-cream.’
‘Did you see where they went?’ says Jill.
‘That way,’ he says, scooping towards the Trunkinator’s level.
We rush to the Trunkinator’s boxing ring.
But there are no kids … just the Trunkinator lying flat on his back.
‘Wow!’ says Terry. ‘They must have knocked out the Trunkinator!’
‘Poor Trunky,’ says Jill. ‘But where are the children now?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I think we should ask Madam Know-it-all. She will know.’
We climb the ladder up to her tent as fast as we can.
Madam Know-it-all is hunched over her crystal ball.
‘I knew you were coming,’ she says. ‘What is your question?’
‘Do you know where Mr Big Nose’s grandchildren are?’ says Terry.
‘Of course I know,’ she says. ‘I know all and see all.’
‘So where are they?’ I say.
Madam Know-it-all stares into her crystal ball.
Round and round
And round it goes,
Where it ends,
Nobody knows (except for me, of course, because I know everything)!
We all look at each other and shrug.
‘Can you give us a clue like you did last time, please?’ says Terry. ‘We’re in kind of a hurry.’
‘I know,’ sighs Madam Know-it-all. ‘All right. Here’s your clue: “girl school”.’
‘No, you fool,’ says Madam Know-it-all. ‘Where they are rhymes with “girl school”.’
‘No,’ says Madam Know-it-all. ‘There’s no such thing.’
‘They’ve gone to a girls’ school?’ says Terry. ‘But Albert’s a boy and the baby is too young to be at school!’
‘Um … smirl schmool?’ I say.
‘Um … is it … whirlpool?’ says Jill.
‘Yes!’ says Madam Know-it-all. ‘I knew you would get it.’
‘Do you mean our whirlpool?’ says Terry.
‘Yes!’ says Madam Know-it-all.
‘But our whirlpool is the most powerful whirlpool in the whole world!’ I say. ‘It’s totally unsuitable for children.’
‘I know!’ says Madam Know-it-all.
‘Uh-oh,’ I say.
‘Come on,’ says Jill. ‘There’s no time to lose. We’ve got to get there before they fall in!’
‘Too late for that,’ says Madam Know-it-all. ‘They already have.’
CHAPTER 4
Whirling and Sinking
We arrive at the whirlpool and discover that Madam Know-it-all was right again! Mr Big Nose’s grandchildren are whirling around and around and around, getting closer and closer to the centre with each whirl.
‘Oh my goodness!’ says Jill. ‘Those children are in terrible danger! How do you stop this thing?’
‘You can’t,’ says Terry. ‘It’s the world’s most powerful whirlpool. Nothing can stop it.’
‘Look at us!’ calls Alice. ‘We’re in the whirlpool!’
‘I can see that,’ I say. ‘But it’s time to get out now.’
‘Why?’ says Albert. ‘The ride isn’t finished yet.’
‘It’s not a ride,’ I say. ‘It’s actually a really dangerous whirlpool.’
‘We’ve got to get them out before they get sucked into the middle,’ says Jill.
‘We’ll have to pull them out,’ I say.
We get as close to the edge of the whirlpool as we dare and lean out to grab them.
‘You can’t catch us!’ calls Alice as they whirl past, laughing and squealing.
‘We’ll see about that!’ I say. ‘Terry, hold on to me so I can lean out further.’
‘Okay,’ says Terry. He picks me up by my legs and holds me out over the whirlpool.
I grab wildly at the children but I still can’t reach them.
‘Missed me!’ says Alice.
‘Missed me too!’ says Albert.
‘I need to get closer, Terry!’ I say.
‘Jill!’ says Terry. ‘Can you hold on to me so I can lean out a little bit further?’
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘I’ve got you.’
I’m really close now. This time when they come around I grab Alice with one hand and Albert— who is holding the baby—with the other.
‘Got you!’ I yell. ‘Terry! Pull me back in!’
‘Jill!’ says Terry. ‘He’s got them! Pull me back in.’
‘I’m trying,’ says Jill, ‘but I’m slipping!’
‘Me too!’ says Terry.
‘Uh-oh,’ I say.
Now we’re all in the whirlpool …
whirling …
whirling …
whirling …
whirling …
whirling …
whirling
… until we stop whirling— get sucked down—and start sinking!
Sinking …
sinking …
sinking …
sinking …
sinking …
… until we hit something soft and sandy and we can’t sink any more.
CHAPTER 5
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
I’ve got to say it’s actually quite nice down here, especially if you like things beginning with the letter ‘s’. There are seahorses, starfish, stingrays, sand, shipwrecks and a sign saying 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I could be wrong, but unless I’m very much mistaken—and I don’t think I am—it looks as if we are …
TWENTY THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA!!!
Like I said, it’s quite nice down here. The only problem is that I don’t think I can hold my breath for much longer.
I’m not worried, though, because I’ve got a plan. Well, when I say ‘plan’, I mean sandwich. And when I say ‘sandwich’, I mean submarine.
Yes, you read that right. I’ve got a submarine sandwich from our submarine sandwich shop. And what you probably don’t realise about these sandwiches is that they not only look like submarines, they work like submarines too! Check it out!
We climb aboard the submarine sandwich and I make my way to the control deck.
The others join me …
and I set a course for the surface, twenty thousand leagues above.
‘Thanks, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘Your submarine-sized submarine sandwich saved our lives!’
‘It sure did,’ says Jill. ‘Where did you get it from?’
‘From our submarine-sized submarine sandwich shop, of course!’ I explain. ‘The sandwiches are so big it takes me a couple of weeks to eat them. So I keep them in my pocket and just pull them out whenever I’m hungry. Or whenever I find myself deep underwater.’
‘I’m kind of disgusted and kind of glad at the same time,’ says Jill.
‘I’m glad too,’ says Albert. ‘I’ve always wanted to ride in a submarine.’
‘And I’ve always wanted to ride in a sandwich,’ says Alice.
‘Goo-goo ga-ga,’ says the baby.
‘This reminds me of that song,’ says Terry. ‘You know, the one about a sandwich submarine!’
‘Do you mean Rock Around the Sandwich Submarine?’ I say.
‘No,’ says Terry
.
‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Sandwich Submarine?’ I say.
‘No, that’s not it either,’ says Terry.
‘What about We All Live in a Sandwich Submarine?’ says Jill. ‘That always tops any list of top ten songs about sandwich submarines.’
‘Yes! That’s the one!’ says Terry. ‘How does it go again?’
‘Like this!’ says Jill, and she starts singing:
‘We all live in a sandwich submarine,
a sandwich submarine,
a sandwich submarine …’
The rest of us join in:
‘We all live in a sandwich submarine,
a sandwich submarine,
a sandwich submarine …’
‘Hey, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘This is a really fun ride and I don’t want to complain, but it’s getting really soggy in here! My feet are sinking into the floor.’
‘So are mine,’ says Jill.
‘The submarine must have sprung a leak,’ I say. ‘But I don’t know how. Submarine sandwich bread is supposed to be 100 percent waterproof.’
‘I think I’ve found the problem,’ says Jill, pointing to the deck below. ‘The children are eating the submarine!’
‘Hey, stop that!’ I say.
‘But we’re hungry,’ says Alice.
‘And it tastes really good,’ says Albert.
‘I know,’ I say, ‘but it’s also a submarine, and you don’t eat a submarine that you’re travelling in! Everybody knows that!’
‘I don’t think everybody would know that,’ says Jill. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make. We should probably all put on emergency life jackets. Where are they kept?’
‘I don’t think there are any,’ I say.
‘What about emergency life boats?’ says Jill. ‘Does it have any of those?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Does it have emergency anything?’ says Jill.
‘It’s got emergency pickles,’ says Terry, holding up a jar.
‘What’s the use of that?’ says Jill. ‘Nobody likes pickles. They’re the bits you take out of your sandwich.’
‘What about your emergency automatic self-inflating underpants, Terry?’ says Albert. ‘Are you wearing them?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am,’ says Terry.
‘Then how come they didn’t inflate when you fell in the whirlpool?’ I say.
‘Because I haven’t got them turned on,’ says Terry. ‘They kept inflating when it wasn’t an emergency, and it was a bit embarrassing, so I turned them off.’
‘Can you still activate them?’ I say.
‘Yes,’ says Terry. ‘I can operate them manually.’
‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ I say. ‘Everybody hang on to Terry. We’ll be on the surface in no time.’
We all grab hold of Terry.
‘Everybody ready?’ he says.
We all nod.
‘All right then,’ he says. ‘Here we go—3, 2, 1, blast off!’
It’s a wild ride, but within seconds we are all floating around on the surface of the sea using Terry’s emergency self-inflating underpants as a life raft.
‘Yay!’ says Alice. ‘That was fun!’
‘Let’s do it again!’ says Albert.
‘No way!’ I say. ‘We’ve got to start paddling.’
‘But there’s nowhere to paddle to,’ says Alice.
‘Yes there is,’ says Jill. ‘Look—over there! A desert island!’
‘Goody!’ says Albert. ‘I love desert islands!’
‘Me too!’ says Terry.
‘Goo-goo ga-ga,’ says the baby.
CHAPTER 6
Marooned!
We paddle until we reach the island. I jump out into the shallow water and pull the others safely to shore.
‘Thanks, Terry,’ I say. ‘You saved our lives!’
‘Don’t thank me,’ says Terry. ‘Thank my underpants.’
‘Thanks, Terry’s underpants,’ I say.
‘You’re welcome,’ says Terry in a high-pitched voice, which I think is supposed to be his underpants.
‘What are we going to do now?’ says Alice.
‘Be marooned,’ I say. ‘That’s what!’
‘How do you do that?’ says Albert.
‘Easy!’ I say. ‘You sit around on a desert island with no food, no water, no map and no way of ever getting back to the treehouse.’
‘That sounds kind of boring,’ says Albert. ‘Why don’t we get rescued by that ship instead?’
‘What ship?’ I say.
‘That one!’ says Albert, pointing to the horizon.
Albert is right. There is a ship. A big ship.
We all jump up and down and yell and wave our arms like a bunch of wacky waving arm-flailing inflatable tube men at a wacky waving arm-flailing inflatable tube men festival.
‘It’s not stopping!’ says Terry.
‘Maybe they can’t see us,’ says Jill. ‘We need to start a fire and make some smoke signals!’
We collect a bunch of driftwood and use a packet of driftmatches to start a driftfire.
I rip one of the biggest leaves off a palm tree and hold it over the fire to smother the flames. Then I pull the leaf away and a big puff of smoke puffs up into the sky. But the ship doesn’t stop.
‘It’s not working,’ says Jill. ‘They probably just think we’re having a barbecue. Let me try making a message!’
I give Jill the leaf and she makes three small puffs of smoke that spell out ‘SOS’.
‘Let me have a turn,’ says Terry, reaching for the leaf.
He waves the leaf over the fire and the sky fills with puffy smoke pictures.
‘Terry,’ I say, ‘how exactly are these pictures going to make the ship come and rescue us?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says, shrugging. ‘I just like drawing smoke pictures! You’ve got to admit they’re pretty good.’
‘Give me that!’ I say, snatching the leaf from him. There’s no time to lose. I start fanning out a new message that will leave no doubt about what we want.
It’s a pretty clear message, but by the time I’ve finished there is so much smoke that none of us can see anything.
By the time the smoke has cleared, the ship is nowhere to be seen.
‘Well, that’s just great,’ I say. ‘You think they would have seen all that smoke—or at the very least smelled it.’
‘Hey,’ says Terry, ‘look at this old teapot I just found in the sand.’
‘That’s not a teapot,’ says Jill. ‘I think it’s one of those mysterious magical lamps that you rub and a genie comes out and grants you three wishes.’
‘Cool!’ says Terry. ‘I’m going to try it.’
He rubs at the lamp and smoke starts billowing out of the spout.
‘Oh, no, not more smoke!’ says Alice.
‘Relax,’ I say. ‘This is good smoke. This is magic genie smoke!’
Sure enough, the smoke gets thicker and thicker and then it forms into a … GENIE!
‘Thank you for releasing me from my prison,’ says the genie. ‘As a reward, I grant you three wishes.’
‘Fabulous!’ I say. ‘Let’s all wish to get off the island!’
‘No!’ says Albert. ‘I want a lollipop. I wish I had a lollipop!’
‘Your wish is my command,’ says the genie.
‘No, stop!’ I say, but it’s too late.
‘One lollipop!’ says the genie, handing Albert a large lollipop.
‘Hey,’ says Alice. ‘How come Albert got a lollipop and I didn’t? I WISH—’
‘Don’t do it!’ I say. ‘Don’t wish for any more lollipops!’
‘—FOR A LOLLIPOP, TOO!’ says Alice.
‘Your wish is my command,’ says the genie. It produces an enormous rainbow-swirl lollipop and gives it to Alice.
‘OKAY, THAT’S IT!’ I yell. ‘NOBODY WISH FOR ANY MORE LOLLIPOPS!!!’
‘But that’s not fair!’ says Terry. ‘They got lollipops! I wis
h I had a lollipop, too!’
The genie shrugs. ‘Your wish is my final command,’ it says, placing a lollipop the size of a dinner plate in Terry’s hand. ‘So long, suckers!’
‘WAIT!’ I yell. ‘Could we please have one more wish?’
‘No way,’ says the genie. ‘I’m all out of wishes and I’m definitely out of here.’
‘I WISH you wouldn’t go,’ I say.