Zombie Bums from Uranus
Page 1
Andy Griffiths is the award-winning author of the popular Just series and The Day My Bum Went Psycho. He lives in a renovated bum shelter in Smellbourne, Arsetralia, where he divides his time between story-writing and bum-fighting. Zombie Bums from Uranus is his second novel and is absolutely 100 per cent completely true except for the made-up bits.
Also by Andy Griffiths
and illustrated by Terry Denton
Just Tricking!
Just Annoying!
Just Stupid!
Just Crazy!
Just Disgusting!
The Bad Book
Also by Andy Griffiths
The Day My Bum Went Psycho
Zombie Bums from Uranus
Bumageddon: the Final Pongflict
Also by Andy Griffiths
(with Jim Thomson and Sophie Blackmore)
Fast Food and No Play Make
Jack a Fat Boy: Creating a healthier lifestyle
for you and your children
First published 2003 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
1 Market Street, Sydney
Reprinted 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006
Copyright © Backyard Stories Pty Ltd 2003
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Griffiths, Andy.
Zombie bums from Uranus.
For children.
1SBN 0 330 36425 1.
1. Human-alien encounters – Juvenile fiction. I. Title.
A823.3
Designed by Liz Seymour
Typeset in 11.5/14 pt Life Roman by Post Pre-Press Group
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
These electronic editions published in 2003 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
Zombie Bums from Uranus
Andy Griffiths
Adobe eReader format: 978-1-74197-005-0
Online format: 978-1-74197-608-3
EPUB format: 978-1-74262-214-9
Macmillan Digital Australia
www.macmillandigital.com.au
Visit www.panmacmillan.com.au to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks online. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.
This book is dedicated to my grandparents, Percy
and Mabel, wherever they may be . . .
CONTENTS
Cover
About Andy Griffiths
Also by Andy Griffiths
Title page
Copyright
Prologue
1 Crapalanche!
2 The Big Bang
3 The Blind Bum-feeler
4 Zombie Bumvasion
5 The Pincher
6 Bumergency!
7 The Smoking Bum
8 The Forker and the Flicker
9 The Mutant Maggot Lord
10 Hokey Pokey
11 The Great White Bum
12 Zombie Bum Feast
13 Many Crappy Returns
14 The Brown Hole
15 Beyond the Brown Hole
16 Graduation Day
Epilogue
Glossary
There are many theories about how the univarse began, but the truth is most of the theories are just that. Theories. All we know for certain is that in the beginning there was a bum.
from The Origins of the Univarse by Sir Roger Francis Rectum, Smellbourne University Press, 2002
Zack Freeman skied down a steep snow-covered slope on a crisp sunny winter morning, completely unaware that he was about to be engulfed by a deadly crapalanche.
Crapalanche!
The very word struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest and most experienced skiers, but not Zack Freeman.
This was not, however, because Zack Freeman was especially brave or experienced.
Far from it.
No, Zack Freeman was unafraid of crapalanches because Zack Freeman had no idea what a crapalanche was.
There was an ear-splitting crack.
An advance wave of nauseating stench.
But, incredibly, Zack Freeman was completely oblivious to even these telltale warning signs.
He was too busy arguing with his bum.*
‘Can’t we go home?’ whined his bum. ‘I’m cold!’
‘But this is fun,’ said Zack.
‘Fun for you, maybe,’ said his bum. ‘You’re not the one who has to put up with all the bruises. You’re not the one who’s wet and cold and freezing.’
‘Stop complaining!’ Zack said. ‘I’m wearing thermal undies and padded pants.’
‘I hate them,’ said his bum. ‘They make me look fat. Take them off!’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Zack.
‘I’m not being stupid,’ said Zack’s bum. ‘You are! Skiing is stupid. This mountain is stupid. I want to go home right now!’
‘Well, I don’t,’ said Zack.
‘Well I DO,’ said his bum. ‘And I say we go. Now!’
‘You can’t tell me what to do,’ Zack said. ‘You’re not the boss of me.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said his bum. ‘Well, you’re not the boss of me, either.’
Zack sighed.
Despite everything he and his bum had been through, they still had a lot of arguments.
The slope was gradually becoming steeper. As Zack picked up speed he heard his bum cry out in alarm.
‘Phwoar!’ said Zack. ‘Cut it out. I’m trying to concentrate!’
‘But, Zack,’ said his bum. ‘You don’t understand!’
‘Ha!’ said Zack. ‘I understand all right. I understand that every time we do something I want to do, you try to wreck it. Well, it’s really selfish and it’s got to—’
‘Shut up, Zack!’ interrupted his bum. ‘Crapalanche!’
‘Crap a what?’ said Zack.
‘Crapalanche!’
‘What’s a crapalanche?’ said Zack.
But his bum didn’t reply.
It didn’t need to.
The snow underneath Zack was no longer white. It had turned an ominous shade of brown.
Zack’s first thought was that his bum must be more scared than he realised. He turned around to reassure it, but what he saw almost made his heart stop.
It wasn’t just the snow around him that had turned brown.
All of the snow on the mountain had turned brown. And bearing down on him was the biggest, ugliest and brownest crapalanche in the history of big ugly brown crapalanches.
Suddenly Zack realised he had made a mistake. A big mistake. He wasn’t skiing down a mountain—he was skiing down a bumcano! And nobody, not even the bravest and most experienced skiers in the world would have been stupid enough to attempt to ski down a bumcano! Nobody, that is, except Zack Freeman.
‘Faster!’ his bum yelled. ‘Go faster!’
Zack crouched low, tucked his head down and went as fast as he dared. And then faster still.
‘Not fast enough!’ shouted his bum.
Zack turn
ed his head. The thunderous brown mass was gaining on them.
‘Maybe we could go faster if you would give me some help,’ said Zack. ‘I did save your life you know—you owe me!’
Zack’s bum’s only response was to scream.
Zack felt the scream rip a hole through his thermal undies and padded pants. Normally he would have been annoyed, but this time he just smiled. It was exactly what he needed. The force of the scream sent him surging forward, a long way ahead of the crapalanche.
Zack heard his bum whoop with joy.
‘Good work!’ yelled Zack as he dug his stocks wildly into the brown muck in order to pick up even more speed. The more distance he could put between himself and the crapalanche the better.
But just when Zack was starting to feel safe again, he saw it.
The end of the slope!
The edge of a cliff-face, dropping away into a deep dark ravine.
Nobody could survive a fall like that.
Nobody.
‘Reverse thrust!’ Zack yelled. ‘Reverse thrust!’
‘I can’t do that,’ said his bum. ‘It’s impossible!’
‘Can’t you at least try?’ Zack begged his bum. ‘We’re as good as dead. We have nothing to lose.’
‘Okay,’ said his bum. ‘Here goes.’
It tried.
And tried.
And tried.
But it was impossible.
‘I CAN’T DO IT!’ yelled Zack’s bum, causing him to surge forward even faster.
‘Oh no,’ said Zack as he flew over the edge of the cliff and out into thin air.
‘Oops,’ said Zack’s bum.
As Zack fell he noticed a wave of pink objects hurtling towards him at high speed.
UFBs—unidentified flying bums!
Zack gasped. He was helpless. One of the UFBs bore up hard into his stomach. Another smashed into his face. And yet another crashed into his bum.
‘Zack!’ shouted his bum. ‘Do something!’
Zack—dazed, bruised and winded—began jabbing and thrusting his stocks into the air. The unidentified flying bums were so numerous that even without looking, he was able to collect two stocks’ worth of skewered bums within moments. At this formidable display of bum-skewering the other UFBs took fright and shot off into the distance.
‘Good going, Zack!’ yelled his bum. ‘I thought we were dead for sure!’
‘We are!’ said Zack who, looking down, had noticed they were about to plunge into a raging bum-piranha infested river. ‘Prepare to drown!’
They plunged into the wild brown water with an almighty splash.
The bum-piranhas set upon them before they’d even surfaced for air. Zack felt them attack his feet, legs, stomach, chest, arms, neck and head . . . and then he had an idea.
He remembered he was still holding his stocks full of skewered UFBs. He drew them together in front of him and pushed himself on top of them, taking advantage of their natural buoyancy to create a makeshift raft.
Zack smiled.
Not only were the UFBs keeping him afloat, they were giving the bum-piranhas something to chew on while he worked out what to do next.
But he had to think fast.
‘What now?’ said his bum.
‘We need to paddle to the edge of the river,’ said Zack.
‘But it’s too wide!’ his bum said. ‘The piranhas will eat the raft before we get there!’
‘Then we’re doomed!’ said Zack, closing his eyes and feeling an immense tiredness engulf him. He couldn’t keep fighting. It was time to admit defeat. To die with at least a little dignity.
‘Why don’t we jump onto that log?’ said his bum.
Zack opened his eyes.
He couldn’t believe it.
As if by magic there was a large brown log floating beside them.
‘Good idea!’ said Zack, reaching across and dragging himself onto the log, just as the bum-piranhas finished off the last of the bum-raft.
Zack stood up, riding the log like a surfboard.
But the brown river was getting wilder and faster and there was a roaring sound in the distance that chilled Zack to his bum.
They were heading towards a giant sewagefall!
Zack tried desperately to point the log towards the bank of the river, but the log seemed to have a mind of its own.
That’s when Zack realised the truth.
It did have a mind of its own. Because it wasn’t a log at all—it was a poopigator! A poopigator masquerading as a log in order to trap unwary bum-fighters!
Zack cursed his own stupidity.
The oldest trick in the bum-fighter’s Bumper Book of Bums and he’d fallen for it!
The poopigator lifted its large brown head out of the water, revealing enormous jaws full of large brown teeth, and twisted its neck around to chomp at Zack’s legs. Zack jumped back. The poopigator chomped again. Zack jumped back even further. The poopigator lunged around and chomped for a third time. Zack jumped back as far along its tail as he could.
He couldn’t jump back any further without falling off completely. He looked down into the river and saw the frenzied mass of bum-piranhas following close behind.
And even if he wasn’t chomped in half by the poopigator or eaten by bum-piranhas, he would be killed for sure when they went over the sewagefall in front of them.
And it was no use asking his bum to try to thrust them into the air. The sky was full of even more UFBs than before.
The situation was not good.
In fact it stunk.
It really stunk.
‘If only you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t have gone skiing in the first place,’ said his bum. ‘We could have been sitting at home on a nice fluffy pink toilet seat cover.’
‘Well we’re not, are we,’ said Zack. ‘We’re about to die! Any last words?’
‘Yes,’ said his bum. ‘How could you have been SO DUMB?’
Zack shook his head.
After everything he and his bum had been through together—after facing and defeating some of the most dangerous and terrifying bums in the world including Stenchgantor: the Great Unwiped Bum and the Great White Bum—they had been brought undone by a common crapalanche.
The poopigator sailed over the edge of the sewagefall.
Zack caught a glimpse of the jagged rocks below.
There was only one thing left for him to do.
Zack sighed, reached down for the fluffy pink toilet seat cover he carried on his bum-fighting utility belt, wrapped it around his head and closed his eyes.
‘HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEEN SO DUMB?’ yelled the Kicker, violently shaking Zack’s shoulder.
Zack blinked under the harsh fluorescent light, trying to understand what was happening to him.
Apparently he wasn’t about to be dashed on sharp rocks, drowned in a sewagefall, eaten by a poopigator, have the flesh stripped from his bones by bum-piranhas, attacked by UFBs or even buried in a crapalanche.
He blinked again and looked around.
He was inside a state-of-the-art bum-fighting simulator.
Buckled, belted and clamped into a black leather chair in front of a wraparound screen. The clamps had been fitted to prevent terrified rookies from escaping the simulator. Once a simulated bum-fighting program began, nobody was able to leave, no matter how scary—or how hairy—the simulated bums and challenges became.
Once again Zack marvelled at how overwhelmingly believable the environments and situations created by the simulator were. And, how overwhelmingly terrifying. They completely sucked him in every time, which of course was the whole point. To give the rookie bum-fighters at Silas Sterne’s Bum-fighting Academy a chance to virtually experience the threats and challenges of bum-fighting before they actually had to do it for real.
But the fact that Zack wasn’t really about to be dashed on sharp rocks, drowned in a sewage fall, have the flesh stripped from his bones by bum-piranhas, attacked by UFBs or buried in a crapalanche was no great cause for c
elebration.
Zack was in for something which would make any one of these possible fates infinitely preferable: another tongue-lashing from the Kicker.
This wasn’t the first simulated bum-fighting episode that Zack had failed. In the three weeks he’d been at the Academy studying for his elementary bum-fighter’s certificate, Zack had died in almost every way it was possible for a bum-fighter to die. He’d been crushed in bumquakes, asphyxiated by stink-tornadoes, thrown off the backs of giant bucking blowflies, squashed by the Abuminable Brownman, run over by stampeding rhinocerarses and, most humiliating of all, gassed by a simulated replica of his own bum.
Because the shiny silver surfaces of the bum-fighting simulator acted like an echo chamber, Zack could barely understand a word the Kicker was yelling as he unlocked the clamps that held Zack in the seat. He did, however, have no trouble picking out key words and phrases such as ‘HOPELESS!’, ‘CALL YOURSELF A BUM-FIGHTER?!’ and ‘GET OUT, I WANT TO TALK TO YOU!’
Zack took off his helmet.
‘This is all your fault,’ he whispered to his bum.
‘Me?’ it said. ‘What did I do?’
‘If you hadn’t done a forward thrust instead of a reverse thrust we wouldn’t have gone over the cliff in the first place!’
‘True,’ said his bum. ‘We would have been buried in the crapalanche instead! That was a much better plan, Zack. Sorry. My mistake!’
Zack climbed out of the simulator and stepped into the classroom.
The Kicker followed. He stood and faced Zack, his hands on his hips.
‘What did you think you were doing?’ he roared, not waiting for a reply. ‘Why have you ignored everything I’ve tried to teach you? We’ve been over the difference between a mountain and a bumcano a hundred times! One is filled with rock and the other is filled with—’
‘Yes,’ said Zack, cutting in, ‘I know, but . . .’
‘No butts!’ yelled the Kicker. ‘You can learn to fight bums or you can make excuses but you can’t do both! What’s it going to be, boy?’