I grin. It is not what I expected. But it is just what I need.
‘Eggs,’ I say.
There on the side of the jar is a row of perfectly formed little round eggs. The sort caterpillars lay. There are about twenty of them. Maybe more.
‘They should be on leaves or something,’ I say. I scratch my head and think. The hailstone bugs come down in the ice. Then they hatch and mate. Then they come down again and it all starts over.
‘Quick, to the kitchen,’ I say.
We sneak down so that Mum and Dad don’t hear us. I fish around in the bottom cupboard and take out a couple of trays.
‘Iceblocks,’ says Foxy. ‘You’re a genius.’
We put both hailstone bugs into the other jar and I use a pair of tweezers to pick out the eggs one at a time. I carefully place one egg in each compartment of the ice-cube tray. Finally I cover them all with water.
‘They’ll drown,’ says Foxy.
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s just like hailstones.’
I put the ice-cube trays into the freezer.
Foxy smiles. ‘It might just work,’ he says.
We close the fridge door and sneak off back to bed.
8
In the morning my dreams have all come true. Well, almost.
Every single iceblock has a little hailstone bug in it.
‘Amazing,’ says Foxy. ‘They must hatch out in the cold water. Then when the ice melts they come out to play.’
We both laugh. We are very happy.
I stick all of the ice-cubes into a jar with the two bugs we already have. I put them outside in the sun to melt.
By the time we have finished breakfast they have all come to life. There are about twenty little creatures all flying around in the jar.
‘Each one is different,’ says Foxy.
He is right. Some have bigger ears or oddly shaped noses. There is one thing about them that is the same, though. The look in their eyes. They are sad.
It is nearly time for school. ‘We can sell them today,’ I say happily. ‘Then I can buy the levitation trick.’
‘What will happen to them?’ says Foxy.
‘The kids will keep them in jars,’ I say. ‘They will be well fed. Like pets.’
‘Like jail more like it,’ says Foxy.
‘They don’t know anything,’ I say. ‘They are just dumb insects.’
I gaze into the jar. And twenty-two pairs of eyes gaze back. And I mean gaze, not look.
‘What if they are intelligent?’ says Foxy. ‘Some kids won’t feed them properly. Some won’t put breathing holes in the jars. Some will go on holidays and forget about them.’
We both sit there in silence. The jar is filled with misery. Foxy knows it.
And I know it.
I walk out to the backyard with the jar. Foxy follows in silence.
Slowly I unscrew the top of the jar.
‘Off you go,’ I say.
The hailstone bugs flutter into the air and fill it with joyous dancing. They pair off and hang on to each other’s legs as they twirl around. They are mating. It is a wonderful sight. They are free. They circle our heads for a bit. Suddenly they start to rise higher and higher. Soon they are just a handful of sand thrown at the sun. Then they are gone.
Like my hopes of a levitation trick.
9
It’s funny when you do the right thing.
I feel good every time I get out of bed. Even this morning, the day of the concert. Okay, so I have done my chance of winning but I feel sort of warm inside. I am glad I let the hailstone bugs go.
Until the moment comes when I am standing on the stage. The lights are on me. The house is packed. What a crowd. I am the final act. They have probably kept the worst until last. I am shaking all over.
There have been some terrific performances. Little Curly Simons nearly brought the house down by singing ‘I Love My Daddy’. How can you compete with that?
And the tap dancers sent the applause meter up to ninety-two.
Toula Pappas recited a poem that scored seventy-four and Tran Chong received eighty-three by playing ‘Waltzing Matilda’ on the violin.
‘I need a volunteer,’ I say in a nervous voice.
There is a long silence. No one moves. No one wants to be associated with a weak act like mine. Finally Foxy stands up and walks on to the stage. He is a good mate.
‘Rigged,’ yells someone in the back row.
‘Pick a card,’ I say. ‘Any card.’
‘Not that old trick,’ says Mickey Bourke.
Oh, this is terrible. Why don’t I back out? I am trembling. I hold out the pack of cards. Oh no. My little finger has gone numb. I am so clumsy. The cards slip from my quivering fingers.
The audience are bored already. They snuggle down into their coats. It is a cold night and they want to go home.
I hang my head. What is the use? I might as well give up.
Suddenly I see Foxy. He is over by the door. He is flapping his arms like wings and pointing out into the night. What is he on about? Could it be the bugs? No. Well, it’s worth a try.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen,’ I shout. ‘My latest trick, for your entertainment, is …’ I take a deep breath and a big risk, ‘the dance of the magic midgets.’
Nothing happens. And then there is a gasp from the audience. Hundreds of butterflies have flown in the window. They swoop low over everyone’s heads. I know what they are going to do next.
‘Pair off and dance,’ I command.
The little hailstone bugs do what comes naturally. They grasp each other’s legs and spiral and turn in the air.
‘Amazing, wonderful, what a sight.’ The audience is rapt.
‘How does he do it?’
‘Fantastic.’
I take a deep breath and shout. I know what is coming next. So I get in quick.
‘Vanish,’ I yell.
The hailstone bugs do one more twirl and fly out the window.
I bend and bow to the audience. The applause meter goes bananas.
Mickey Bourke is puzzled. ‘What were they doing? They looked real,’ he says suspiciously.
I tell him.
Sort of.
‘Don’t you worry about that.
‘Mate.’
Hundreds of people were watching Giffen. They thought he was a bit mad. But they couldn’t stop looking. He was very interesting.
Giffen went over to his truck and got out a tube of glue. On the tube it said GIFFEN’S GREAT GLUE. IT WILL STICK ANYTHING. Giffen held the glue over his head. ‘This is the best glue in the world,’ he said. ‘It can mend anything that is broken. Who has something that is broken?’
A small boy came out the front. He held up a bow and arrow. ‘My bow is broken,’ he said. ‘And no one can fix it.’ Giffen took the bow out of the boy’s hand. He put a bit of glue on the broken ends and joined them together. Then he put the arrow in the bow and shot it into the air. The people were surprised. They all clapped and cheered.
‘That’s nothing,’ Giffen told them. ‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’ He went over to the back of his truck where he had a big crane. It had a rope on the end of it. Giffen grabbed the rope. He put a dab of glue on the end of it. Then he put the rope onto the roof of the car. ‘This glue can hold up a car,’ he told the crowd. He stepped into his truck and started up the crane. The car was lifted up into the air. The only thing that held the rope onto the car was the glue.
The crowd thought this was great. No one had ever seen glue like this before. ‘Now,’ said Giffen, ‘who wants to buy some of Giffen’s Great Glue?’
The crowd rushed forward. Everyone wanted some glue. They couldn’t get it quick enough. They thought it was terrific. ‘Get it while it lasts,’ shouted Giffen. ‘Only ten dollars a tube.’
Giffen sold two hundred tubes of glue. He made two thousand dollars in one day. The customers took their glue and went home to try it out.
‘You fools,’ said Giffen to himself. ‘You will soon find o
ut that the glue stops working after four hours.’
2
Miss Tibbs had bought a tube of Giffen’s Great Glue. She was a very old lady. She lived all on her own. Most of her friends were dead. There was no one to help her to fix things up when they got broken. So she was very glad to have the glue.
Miss Tibbs collected china. She had spent all of her life saving pieces of china. She had plates and cups and saucers from all over the world. She also had little china dolls and toy animals. She had so many pieces that she didn’t know where to put them all. This is why she wanted the glue. She wanted to put up a new shelf.
As soon as she got home Miss Tibbs went and fetched a piece of wood from the shed in her back garden. Then she put some of Giffen’s Great Glue along the edge of the wood and stuck it onto the wall. It worked well. The shelf was very strong.
‘This is wonderful glue,’ she said. ‘It dries straight away.’ Miss Tibbs started to put her china pieces onto the shelf. She decided to put her favourite piece out first. It was a small china horse. She had owned it for many years. It had been given to her by her father before he died. Miss Tibbs loved this horse. She put it in the best spot, right in the middle of the shelf.
After she had put all of the other pieces out Miss Tibbs sat down and had a rest. She was very tired. She fell asleep in her armchair in front of the fire.
Four hours later Miss Tibbs was woken up by a loud crash. The glue had stopped working. The shelf had fallen off the wall and all of the china pieces were smashed.
Miss Tibbs went down onto her hands and knees. She started to pick up all of the broken pieces. Then she remembered her horse. Her precious horse. She looked for it among the bits. She couldn’t find it. Then she found something that made her cry. A leg and a tail and a tiny head. The horse was smashed to pieces.
Miss Tibbs cried and cried. She got her tube of Giffen’s Great Glue and threw it in the fire. Then she decided that she would go and find Giffen. She would tell him that his glue was no good. She would ask him to pay for the broken china.
She hurried back to the place where Giffen had been. But he was gone. There was no sign of him. She knew that he would never come back.
3
Another person who bought the tube of Giffen’s Great Glue was Scott Bridges. He had bought it to mend his canoe. It had broken in half.
Scott’s father had told him the canoe could not be repaired. He said that its back was broken. He told Scott to take it to the tip. But now that Scott had a tube of Giffen’s Great Glue he knew that he could fix it.
The canoe was down at the lake. Scott went down there on his own. He didn’t tell his father where he was going. He pulled the two pieces of the canoe together, and put Giffen’s Great Glue along the join.
‘Great,’ yelled Scott. ‘It’s as good as new. This glue is fantastic.’ He pushed the canoe into the water and climbed in. It floated well. It didn’t leak at all. Scott began to paddle out into the middle of the lake. He was very happy. And excited. He paddled off as fast as he could go.
Scott was not allowed to go out in the canoe without a life jacket. But on this day he had forgotten. All that he could think about was the canoe and Giffen’s Great Glue.
It was a sunny day and the time passed quickly. Soon four hours had passed. Scott noticed that some water was starting to leak into the canoe. He decided to start paddling for home. But it was too late. The glue had come unstuck. The canoe broke in two and sank.
The water was icy cold. Scott was frightened. It was a long way to the shore. ‘Help,’ he screamed at the top of his voice. But no one heard him. He was the only person on the lake.
Scott started to swim to shore. After a little while he began to get tired. His legs hurt and he had a pain in his stomach. His head went under the water. He tried to get back to the top. But it was no use. His lungs filled with water and he sank to the bottom of the lake.
That night, when Scott did not come home, his father called the police. Divers searched the lake. They found Scott’s body. And the broken canoe. In the bottom of the canoe was a tube of Giffen’s Great Glue.
4
Giffen was driving away in his truck. Very fast. He knew that he only had four hours to get away. Then the people who had bought the glue would start looking for him. He knew that they would be mad. He did not want them to catch him.
He decided to drive to Horsham. That was a long way off. They would not know about Giffen’s Great Glue in Horsham. He could find some more suckers, and make some more money.
Two days later he arrived in Horsham. He took his truck to the centre of town. Then he put up a sign. The sign said:
TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS PRIZE
FOR ANYONE WHO CAN UNSTICK
GIFFEN’S GREAT GLUE
Soon two men arrived. They were both riding tractors. One of the men got down from his tractor. He walked over to Giffen and gave him two pieces of rope. ‘Join these up with your glue,’ he said. ‘Then we will pull it apart.’
Giffen smiled to himself. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it.’ He put a dob of glue on the end of the two pieces of rope. Then he joined them together. The glue stuck fast.
The men took the rope that had been joined. They tied one end to each of the tractors. Then they started the tractors up. There was a lot of smoke and noise. A crowd started to gather. Everyone thought that the glue would break. But it didn’t. The wheels on the tractors sent up blue smoke. The engines roared. But still the glue held.
Then there was a loud bang. The engine of one of the tractors had stopped. The other tractor started to drag it along the road. Everyone cheered at the top of their voices.
‘Now,’ said Giffen, ‘who will buy my great glue?’
The crowd pushed forward. Everyone wanted some. The people waved their money. They pushed and shoved. Giffen sold three hundred tubes.
At last everyone went home. Except one man. A short, bald man with a friendly smile. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to Giffen. ‘But I wonder if you would like to buy something from me?’
‘What are you selling?’ said Giffen in a gruff voice.
‘A Strap Box Flyer. It is a small box that will make people fly.’
5
Giffen didn’t believe that there was a box that could make someone fly. There was no such thing. This man was trying to fool him. Still, he was interested. It might be a new sort of trick that he could use himself, to make money from the suckers. He looked at his watch. He had to get out of this town before the glue started to come unstuck. He had four hours left. There was plenty of time to talk to the little man.
‘Okay,’ said Giffen to the little man. ‘Show me your Strap Box Flyer.’
‘Not here, someone might see us. Come home with me and I will show you how it works.’
Giffen followed the little man home to his house. It was a small cottage. It was very untidy. The grass was long and some of the windows were broken. Inside there was junk everywhere. There were tools, nuts and bolts, machines and bits of wire all over the floor.
‘My name is Mr Flint,’ said the little man. ‘But everyone calls me Flinty.’
‘I’m in a hurry, Flinty,’ said Giffen. ‘So let me see you do some flying.’
‘Very well, very well,’ replied Flinty. He went over to a shelf and took down a small box. Then he lifted up the carpet and pulled out a short strap. It looked like a watchband made out of silver.
‘I keep the strap in one place, and the box in another,’ said Flinty. ‘That’s to stop anyone stealing my invention. I have to screw the box onto the strap. It won’t work unless both pieces are screwed together.’
Flinty fiddled around with the box and the strap. It took a long time. About half an hour. Giffen was getting worried. He did not want to stay much longer. The crowd would be mad when they found out that the glue did not work for long. At last Flinty finished. He had screwed the box onto the strap. He put it onto his arm. It looked just like a wristwatch, only bigger.
‘Now,’ said
Flinty. ‘Watch this.’ Slowly he rose up off the floor. He went up about ten centimetres.
Giffen could not believe it. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘How high can you go?’ he asked Flinty.
‘As high as I want to.’ Flinty floated up to the ceiling. Then he flew around the room, just like a cloud.
Giffen knew that he had to get the Strap Box Flyer. It was worth a fortune. He could make a lot of money if he had it.
6
‘Why are you showing this to me?’ Giffen asked Flinty.
‘Because you are a great inventor,’ said Flinty. ‘You have invented Giffen’s Great Glue. I am an inventor too. I have invented the Strap Box Flyer. We could be partners. You could help me make the Strap Box Flyer. And I could help you make the glue.’
Giffen did not say anything. He was thinking. He wanted the Strap Box Flyer. But he couldn’t stay in Horsham. Once four hours was up his glue would stop working. The things that people had mended would start falling to bits. They would come looking for him. He could even end up in jail.
‘Have you got another Strap Box Flyer?’ Giffen asked.
‘Yes,’ said Flinty. ‘I have one more. You can try it out if you want to. But first I will have to assemble it. I will have to screw the strap onto the box.’
‘That will take half an hour,’ said Giffen. ‘I will go and get my truck. Then I will be back to try out the Strap Box Flyer myself.’ Giffen went off. He had decided to steal the Strap Box Flyer. He wanted to have the truck nearby for a quick getaway.
Giffen could not believe his luck. Once he had the Strap Box Flyer he would find out how it worked. Then he would make more of them. He could sell them for thousands of dollars each. He would make a fortune. Everyone would want one.
He ran back to his truck. Then he drove to Flinty’s house as fast as he could. The Strap Box Flyer was ready. There would just be time for a quick tryout and then he would have to leave town.
Flinty put the Strap Box Flyer onto Giffen’s arm. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘All you have to do is to think of where you would like to fly to.’
Paul Jenning's Weirdest Stories Page 21
