by R M Scotford
Suddenly, Douggie remembered the all-important Kiddy-Care DVD. He rushed to the charred looking player and peered in. The disc resembled a squeegee lump of liquorice. He grabbed his hair with his hands and screamed out loud,
“NO! What are we going to do? The DVD is TOAST. That’s our only bit of evidence. We can’t even go to the police now.”
Crispy Bacon
Kimiko carefully held the glass of water to Abu’s lips, while Jimmy gently lifted up his head.
“He’s not dead, I can see him breathing, plus dead people are cold. He feels really hot,” she said, informatively.
“He’s hot because Maxy fried up his brain like crispy bacon. That’s why he’s hot. What if he stays like this forever?” Jimmy was worried and angry all at the same time.
“He’s going to be OK. I think he may be just a little stunned. Maximus, what did you do to him?” Maggie asked for the second time.
Maximus had found his glasses and was feeling a little more coherent.
“I, I, I just imagined that my mind was a huge laser gun, like the ones you see in the movies and Abu was an enemy spaceship and... and boom, boom, boom. I hit him with pulse after pulse of energy, and I blasted the pants off him.”
He held his hand over his mouth to try and hide a tiny giggle.
“THIS IS NOT FUNNY, MAXIMUS. And that goes for the rest of you too. Douggie and I didn’t make this gang so we could fight each other. We’re all supposed to be friends. And friends don’t FIGHT. Is that clear? There will be no more pickling of brains by anyone.”
Maggie’s face burned cherry red as she scolded everyone. They all murmured in agreement. Finally, Abu stirred. He lifted up his arm and rubbed his sore head,
“Uh, what happened? My head is pounding.”
Before anyone could explain to Abu what had happened Maggie said,
“Abu it was terrible, we were all watching the TV and it suddenly exploded. Do you remember?”
Abu looked up at Maggie, his face full of confusion.
“No,” he shook his head, “I don’t remember anything.” He rubbed his bruised head once more. “My head is so painful.”
Maggie smiled,
“Good. You’ll be OK, Abu. I think you may have banged your head — erh — when you fell off the chair.” She glared at the other children, one by one.
“Didn’t he? He BANGED his head when he fell off the chair.”
She finished by fixing Jimmy with a stern stare. All the children, including Jimmy, nodded again. Maggie was developing a special ability to influence people’s actions.
As the other children did their best to tidy up Maximus’ room, and Abu did his best to recover, Maggie pulled Jimmy aside.
“Jimmy, do you understand why it’s important for us not to fight?”
He nodded.
“So, you must understand that if Abu can’t remember what happened then, that’s a good thing — Right?”
Jimmy looked confused and tried to speak, but Maggie was firm and held up her hand to stop him. She spoke quickly but quietly so that Abu wouldn’t overhear her.
“If Abu remembers that he was beaten in a fight by Maximus then maybe he’ll want to take revenge. Now, I’ve said there’s to be no more fighting and I mean it. Plus, you don’t have ANY superpowers. You are only in this gang because we’re being nice. So, don’t tell Abu. Otherwise, you’re OUT. Do you understand now?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Good.” Maggie smiled. “Then that’s the end of it.”
Gnomesville
Nurse Hobbs flung open the door to Grenwold’s office.
“Come on. Let’s do it. I can’t wait any longer.”
Sternly, she summoned her timid husband with her chubby finger.
“Stop hiding in your office you little wimp, let’s get this thing done.”
Grenwold collected up a few power cables and tucked his laptop under his arm. He mopped his sweaty bald brow with his free hand and stuffed his purple polka dot hanky in his old corduroy trousers.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming my little peach. No need to get yourself in a tizz. Yes, let’s get this done. Everything is set. I was just checking over the last few settings on my computer; I wasn’t hiding.”
The pair of them walked through their opulent house, past the multitude of oak carved rooms that they never used, under the sparkling palatial chandeliers that they never noticed, through their extravagant state room of artistic masterpieces, which they never looked at, and out into their stunning ornamental garden which they never ever, ever, ever walked around.
“What a lovely garden,” remarked Grenwold. “I really must find the time to —”
Before he could finish his wife completed his sentence,
“Yes, find time to speak to that dastardly gardener. Look at this.” She was scowling at something on the crazy paving.
Grenwold adjusted his glasses to get a better look at what his wife was moaning about.
“What is IT?” she howled.
He inspected the minuscule white mark,
“I do believe it’s a small piece of poo, my dear. Probably from a bird.” He sounded every bit like a university lecturer.
“I KNEW IT. THAT GOOD-FOR-NOTHING GARDENER! Why on earth do I pay him if this is the standard of work he gives me?”
Thora Hobbs stamped her foot on the floor several times and huffed and puffed vigorously. She looked like a bull about to charge. Grenwold took the time to examine the tiny white and black mark on the red tile.
“It looks quite fresh. Maybe it only just happened?”
But there was no consoling her. The gardener would probably get fired as soon as he crossed her path.
It had been a beautiful day. The sun was glowing a deep orange as it hovered over the distant hills. The garden looked stunning, bathed in the warm afternoon light. Without noticing a single drop of nature’s beauty, Thora Hobbs pointed at a small cleft in their long sweeping pea-green garden.
“Ok, we’ll do it over there. Where’s Brigitte? I gave her specific orders to meet me here at five o’clock, sharp.”
Brigitte was right behind her, and she chirped up,
“I’m right here, Madam Hobbs, just like you asked. What is it you want me to do?” she smiled sweetly.
Nurse Hobbs frowned at Brigitte and looked at her disapprovingly,
“Go stand over there on the grass, near that small hill, and don’t move. Whatever you do, don’t move.”
Brigitte skipped off across the soft, spongy grass.
“Ok, Grenwold, are you ready?”
Grenwold clumsily opened his laptop,
“Just one second, my dear. Just one second.”
He dropped the cables he was holding onto the grass as he struggled to hold onto the laptop. By now Brigitte had reached the spot at which Nurse Hobbs had pointed to. She shouted out, but was now so far away that her voice was too faint to be heard clearly. Nurse Hobbs waved at her. She had no idea what she was saying,
“Just stay there my dear, and DON’T MOVE,” she yelled.
Grenwold had the laptop resting unsteadily on his leg while kneeling on the other,
“Right my dear, I’m ready when you are.”
It suddenly occurred to Thora that there was no way to measure the experiment,
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. This is not flipping right. How will we be able to measure the force? We need some targets.”
She gave Grenwold a forceful nudge with her foot,
“We need some targets you idiot! Do we have any spare toddlers in the house?”
Grenwold was kneeling in a precarious position and he almost fell when his wife struck him with her foot,
“My dear, I hardly think that there are ANY children anywhere in our house.”
“Hmmmmm,” mused Thora. “Maybe Brigitte has some tucked away somewhere. I’ll ask her.” Nurse Hobbs screamed across the garden for Brigitte to return, beckoning madly at the same time.
“Brigitte,” Nurse Hobbs sn
apped, “have you got any toddlers hidden away anywhere, we need some. About six will do.”
Brigitte looked confused and bit her lip,
“Erh, no. I’m sorry. I don’t have any handy. They’re all at the Kiddy-Care centre. Would you like me to get some?” she said cheerily.
“No, no, no. No time now. We’ll use something else.” Nurse Hobbs scanned the garden. “We’ll use something from here.”
Now, even though Nurse Hobbs had cursed her gardener for being lazy and good for nothing, he was, in fact, a champion artistic landscaper. Unbeknown to the Hobbs their garden had won many awards and the jewel of the garden was the beautifully sculpted, multi-million dollar, Gnome Village. This splendid garden village had received world acclaim and the prestigious magazine,
had run a ten-page article on the delights of the garden. It had been particularly impressed with the quality of the gnomes, which had each been painstakingly carved by a since-passed, half-blind, one-armed, Tibetan monk.
For the first time ever, Nurse Hobbs and Grenwold began to explore their stunning panoramic gardens. By unfortunate chance they stumbled upon the award-winning Gnome Village.
“This is absolutely perfect,” Nurse Hobbs shrieked with astonishment.
Grenwold looked around in stunned amazement,
“Precisely my dear. It really is something else. It’s quite breathtaking. I simply had no idea that we owned such a place.”
He marveled at the multitude of smiling gnomes hidden away in little nooks, crannies, and hidey-holes. It was an enchanted place; there was no doubt about it. There were fisherman gnomes, pipe-smoking gnomes, dancing gnomes, skipping gnomes, kissing gnomes, toadstool gnomes, baby gnomes, wheelbarrow gnomes, and violin-playing gnomes, gnomes with suitcases, gnomes reading books, eating sandwiches, jumping, skipping, sleeping, laughing, crying, running, playing, and flying. There was a gnome for every occasion, thought, and action. Everywhere one looked a chubby, cheerful face smiled out from the shrubbery. It was gnome paradise. Nurse Hobbs turned round and quietly spoke to Grenwold,
“We’re so lucky,” she whispered. “This is just what we need.”
Grenwold scratched his head; he was bemused at what his wife meant.
“Right,” she ordered. “Grab the big ones.”
She yanked the happy pipe-smoking gnome out of the grass and stuffed him under one arm.
“Well don’t just watch me, you oaf, GET ON WITH IT!”
She grabbed a toadstool by its stalk and yanked the gnome free. Within ten minutes the Hobbs had managed to steal fifteen of the biggest and finest gnomes from their own garden and had arranged them in a circle near the small grassy hill.
“This is perfect. We have our gnome targets spread out at equal distances from each other. This should give us some idea of the power. Fantastic!”
Nurse Hobbs was growing more excited. She ordered Brigitte to go and stand amongst the merry gang of gnomes. As Brigitte got closer to the happy little gang of clay figures, she turned round and shouted out,
“Can I take one of the gnomes into the Kiddy-Care Centre later? The children will love them.”
Nurse Hobbs ignored Brigitte’s twittering and waved at her to move further back.
“Make sure you stand in the middle of the gnomes, my dear,” she called out.
Obediently, Brigitte jumped happily into the centre of the gnome circle and did a little jig,
“Ok, ok, I’m here,” she giggled. “What do you want me to do now?”
“STAY THERE. And what ever you do DON’T MOVE.” Nurse Hobbs yelled back. Brigitte nodded, enthusiastically,
“Ok.”
Thora Hobbs turned to her husband and nodded,
“Do it,” she hissed. “Let’s see what it can do.”
Grenwold glanced at sweet Brigitte, who was standing expectantly in the group of freshly stolen gnomes, then glanced at his laptop and paused.
“What are you waiting for you twit? DO IT!” Nurse Hobbs roared.
Slowly, he lifted up his hand and hit a big red button in the centre of his laptop. Immediately Brigitte exploded in a terrific ball of flames. The defenseless gnomes stood no chance and were each blown into a million small, clay pieces. Nurse Hobbs jumped up and clapped her hands with glee,
“Simply marvelous. Let’s go and take a closer look.”
She reached for her husband’s hand and the two of them dashed across the grass. All that remained of Brigitte was a smoking pair of pink nursery nurse shoes. As for the gnomes, the happy little gang was a faint memory. Each gnome was blasted up to the Heavenly Gnome City in the sky. As the Hobbs walked through the scorched blast zone their feet crunched on the millions of tiny gnome fragments strewn over the blackened grass.
“This is fantastic!” Nurse Hobbs squealed in delight. “These K-BOTS are stupendously lethal. Well done Grenwold.”
Grenwold shifted uncomfortably on his feet. In his hand, he held the charred nametag that had once belonged to Brigitte,
“Erh, thanks, dear. They seem to be rather effective, especially when it comes to annihilating gnomes.”
Thora flippantly waved her hands.
“Argh, gnomes, toddlers, what’s the difference? They’re both annoying little creatures.”
She picked up a few shards of clay and rubbed them through her hands, grinding the shards into dust,
“Well, that’s the end of these gnomes. There’s no fixing them now.”
Grenwold chuckled to himself,
“You’re absolutely right my dear, there’s no gnome cure.”
Thora Hobbs held the gnome dust tight in her hand,
“Nothing can stop me now. Soon the world will shake at my very name.”
She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Quietly, Grenwold slipped away to try and find a broom and dustpan to sweep up the mess before the gardener got fired.
Grounded
After destroying his loft lab, Maximus was grounded for a whole year. He had desperately tried to convince his parents that what he’d been doing was a very educational experiment that had gone horribly wrong and nothing like it would happen again. Finally, his parents had started to believe that it had been a fluke scientific reaction and they’d agreed to replace most of the stuff that had been destroyed, but they wouldn’t lift their ban on him going out or seeing his new friends.
The whole situation was funny and sad all at the same time. For the past ten years of Maximus’ life, it really wouldn’t have mattered whether he was grounded or not. He never went out. Now that he actually had some friends he couldn’t see them. It reminded Maximus of a word he’d heard before. He walked over to the bookshelf and scanned through the dictionary.
He read the word out loud, “Ironic.” It was a great word to describe his situation. Maximus wondered what his new friends would do for a whole year and whether they’d still want to know him when he was eleven. He was disturbed from his daydreaming by a faint knock at the window. To his complete surprise, he saw Douggie peering in from the gloom with his nose pressed against the garden windows. Panic-stricken, he ran to the patio door. If his parents saw Douggie here, they’d ban him from going out until he was twelve. Carefully and quietly he opened the back door and slipped out into the shadowy garden.
“Douggie, are you mad?” Maximus hissed quietly but firmly. “My parents will kill me if they see you here. In fact, my parents will kill you too.”
Douggie stepped away from the window and hid in a tree’s shadow. He almost disappeared in the night.
“Follow me, Maximus. We need to talk. It’s urgent.”
“I can’t—I’m banned from going out,” Maximus protested.
Douggie called out from the dark,
“Are you banned from walking in your own garden?”
Maximus thought for a second. Douggie had a point. His parents had never said anything about not going out in his own garden. Reluctantly, he bumbled blindly through the darkness after Douggie.
They were heading down
to the very bottom of the garden, away from the light of the house. As Maximus reached his back fence someone pulled him behind a tree. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out two children. Wow, thought Maximus, it was a midnight meeting. He felt terribly excited, being in the gang just got better and better.
“Is this a midnight meeting?” he said, excitedly.
Maggie and Douggie looked at each other and chuckled softly,
“Maximus,” sniggered Douggie, “it’s only eight o’clock. How can it be a midnight meeting?”
Maximus thought for a second; it was still early evening. It had been such a long day. It wasn’t every day that he melted his room and got grounded by his parents.
“Yeah,” Maximus mumbled, feeling a little stupid. “You can’t have a midnight meeting at this time can you?”
“Not really,” whispered Douggie.
Maggie tapped Maximus on the shoulder,
“We need your help.”
“I can’t help you,” Maximus protested. “I’m grounded, banned, busted. My parents went nuts when they saw my room. I can’t help. I wish I could but I —”
Douggie slapped him on the shoulder before he could finish his whining.
“Maximus, you have to help us, you have no choice. The Kiddy-Care problem is bigger than all of us. Now that the disc from the centre is destroyed we have no evidence at all, but it doesn’t mean that the problem has gone away.”
“But I’m grounded, how can I help?”
Douggie grabbed hold of Maximus,
“Look Maximus; my younger brother goes to that centre. There are thousands of small children all over the country, the world even, that are in danger. YOU HAVE TO HELP.”
“But...”
“No ‘buts,’ Maximus,” Douggie hissed.
“Just go to the police. It’s not our problem. Let the police deal with it.”
“We will go to the police, tomorrow, but if that doesn’t work, then we’ll need your help. So be ready, OK?”
Maximus nodded hesitantly,
“Ok.”
