Slime: The new children’s book from No. 1 bestselling author David Walliams.

by David Walliams

  “WHOOSH!”

  “WHOA!”

  Ned flew straight over the wall of the castle.

  “AAAAHHHH!”

  Below him, Ned could see the castle courtyard getting nearer and nearer.

  It was a swarming sea of cats!

  Cats of every size and colour!

  Black cats, white cats, ginger cats, grey cats, red cats, blue cats, even one of those weird baldy cats.

  “MIAOW” “MIAOW” “MIAOW”

  Any moment now, the boy was going to land right on top of them.

  “HELP!” he screamed.

  “CATS!”

  “HISS” …HISS”…HISS”

  As Ned tumbled through the air, he shut his eyes tight. The boy was about to be eaten alive by 101 cats. However, what Ned didn’t see was that Slime was arching up from the moat to form a bouncy castle beneath him.

  A bouncy castle made of slime.

  A “slouncy”* castle.

  This slouncy castle landed right on top of the cats.

  Ned landed in the dead centre of the slouncy castle.

  BOING!

  Only to find himself flying back up into the air.

  Back over the wall.

  Heading straight for the moat again!

  Once Ned had been plucked from the murky depths, Slime turned itself into a ladder. A “sladder”.*

  A sladder seemed like the perfect way to get over the castle wall. That was until the boy actually attempted to haul himself up with his arms. It was so wet and ssslippery he ssslid ssstraight back down into the moat.

  Eventually, after much discussion between Ned and his slimy friend, a solution was found.

  It was so simple it was brilliant.

  The boy would be shot out of a slime cannon (or “slannon”*) and land on top of KITTY LITTER CASTLE.

  So, on the count of three…

  “One, two, three!”

  …Slime blasted Ned up into the air.

  BANG!

  WHOOSH!

  Over the wall of the castle.

  WHOOSH!

  Over the courtyard of cats.

  WHOOSH!

  Over the other wall of the castle.

  WHOOSH!

  Crash-landing in the moat on the far side.

  S P L O S H !

  N O O O O O O !

  Slime trans-slimed back into the sea monster and plunged down into the depths of the moat to save his friend.

  Once back on dry land, the boy wailed, “THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!”

  “Nothing is impossible,” replied Slime.

  “Getting into Aunt Greta’s castle is!”

  “Yes, apart from that. Obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  The pair thought for a moment.

  “There must be some way over the wall and past those cats,” said Ned.

  “What do cats hate?” asked Slime.

  “Dogs!”

  “Then a dog I shall be!”

  In an instant, Slime trans-slimed into a dog, or “slog”.*

  The slog, which was a hundred times the size of a normal dog, dried itself off by doing that weird shaking thing that dogs do.

  FLUTTER!

  Next, the slog placed Ned on its back. Miraculously, the boy didn’t ssslip off. It then paced away from the castle, before bounding towards it and taking a gigantic jump.

  LEAP!

  They leaped over the wall.

  WHOOSH!

  And… SUCCESS!

  They landed in the castle courtyard, right on top of the sea of cats.

  With cats circling them, the pair were scared.

  “W-w-what sh-sh-shall w-w-we d-d-do?” asked Slime.

  “YOU ARE A DOG!” reminded Ned. “GROWL AT THEM!”

  “I’ll try,” replied Slime. “GRRRR!”

  Aunt Greta’s cats were not easily scared. In fact, they actually laughed at this pitiful display.

  “ME-HOW-HOW-HOW!”*

  “Oh no,” said Ned.

  “Oh yes,” said Slime.

  The cats began circling the intruders, before going on the attack, baring their fangs.

  “HISS!”

  Some of the bolder cats began scratching at this “dog” with their claws.

  “MIAOW!”

  “HISS!”

  SWIPE!

  SCRATCH!

  Ned and Slime cowered in a corner. They cowered so far in the corner that in no time the pair were nothing more than a gooey mess.

  “Oh no!” exclaimed Slime.

  “Oh yes!” exclaimed Ned.

  “It looks like the end.”

  “It certainly does. There are just so many of them!”

  “How many?” asked Slime.

  “I can’t count them all! They keep moving around!”

  Still Aunt Greta’s army of cats hissed and swiped with their claws.

  “MIAOW!”

  “HISS!”

  SWIPE!

  SCRATCH!

  “If they aren’t scared of dogs, there must be something else they are frightened of!” reasoned Ned.

  “But what?”

  The cats were pawing nearing and nearer.

  STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

  “WATER!” exclaimed the boy.

  “Of course!” agreed Slime.

  “Slime! Become a raging sea! NOW!”

  Slime did just as its friend asked. In no time at all, the castle courtyard was sloshing with a slimy sea (or “slea”*).

  “MMMMMIIAAOOOOOWWWWWW!” screamed the cats.

  Ned was right. The cats were scared of water. In fact, they were TERRIFIED!

  The monstrous moggies were now leaping on to anything floating on the surface of the slimy sea.

  Chairs. Tables. Other cats.

  “MMMIIAAOOOWWW!”

  Ned, who was body-surfing on a wooden tray, spied an open window on the wall.

  “Through here, Slime!” he called out.

  The boy slid through the window, and the sea of slime followed, pouring itself through the narrow frame.

  Inside the castle, the boy fell on the floor.

  THUD!

  “OOF!”

  The slime poured on top of him.

  SPLURGE!

  “YUCK!” said the boy.

  Ned looked around. He was inside the biggest room he’d ever been in in his life. It was a picture of opulence. Oil paintings, priceless antiques, crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was a world away from the humble cottage where he lived.

  “WHO GOES THERE?” demanded a voice.

  It was Ned’s aunt, Greta Greed. The lady was standing right over them, dripping with jewels, and holding a particularly fearsome cat in her arms.

  * Walliamsictionary has this so just back off.

  * Walliamsictionary. Come on, guys. Get with the beat.

  * I am not telling you again.

  * Right. That’s it. Question me one more time and this book will turn into slime in your hands!

  * Yes, that is how cats laugh. I have heard them laughing when reading my books.

  * This is the worst one, I promise.

  * That was the cat, not Aunt Greta.

  At first glance, it wasn’t clear who was holding who. It might as well have been the cat holding the aunt, as they were both the same size. The cat, like all the others, was called Tiddles.

  This Tiddles you could tell apart from all the rest for the simple reason that it was the size of a grizzly bear. It was really Gigantic Tiddles.

  “I SAID, ‘WHO GOES THERE?’” repeated Aunt Greta.

  The boy heaved himself up on to a chair. Meanwhile Slime, which had spread out all over the silk rug, gathered itself together again. It took its blobulous* form behind the boy.

  “It’s me, Aunt Greta! Your favourite nephew – Ned!” spluttered the boy. “Well, I say ‘favourite’… You’ve only got one. So I must be your favourite!”

  Aunt Greta was not the least amused. “You are a leech is what you are, boy! Sucking all you can from m
e! Like the rest of your wretched family.”

  The evil cat was giving him the evil eye. They glinted like the diamonds on his collar.

  “HISS!” it hissed.

  “Didn’t you read the sign? Trespassers will be eaten! I want you out of my castle now! Or I will set Tiddles on you!”

  With that, she hurled Gigantic Tiddles towards the boy. The great thing landed with a thud on the floor.

  DOOF!

  “And who is this gigantic bogey with you?” demanded Aunt Greta.

  “CHARMING!” exclaimed Slime. As it looked down, it noticed that Gigantic Tiddles was licking Slime’s blobby foot with its huge rough tongue. Slime did not agree with the cat one bit, and soon Gigantic Tiddles was coughing up not hairballs but slimeballs.

  “HUH! HUH!”

  “Slime is my friend,” replied the boy.

  “How perfectly revolting to have a lump of snot for a friend,” remarked Aunt Greta.

  “You should try having a friend someday, Aunt Greta. We worry about you here, all alone in your castle.”

  The lady chuckled to herself. “Ha! Ha! Friends? I have no need for friends. Or family. Or anybody. These are my nearest and dearest!”

  With that, the lady displayed her jewels to the boy. Aunt Greta looked like a Christmas tree, with sparkly decorations dangling from every conceivable place.

  And, of course, her crazy cat crown!

  You might mistake Aunt Greta for a member of the royal family, if it were not for the stench of cat pee.

  “What are you doing here, boy?” she sneered. “I didn’t invite you to my castle. I never invite people to my castle. They always want something.”

  “Well, actually—” began Ned before he was cut off.

  “Is it money? Is that why you are here? Because I will tell you now that you aren’t getting a single penny of my millions! Do you hear me, boy? NOT A PENNY!”

  “Is she always like this?” whispered Slime.

  “This is her on a good day,” replied Ned.

  “What do you want, boy? Tell me!” she thundered. “Or else I will set my one hundred and one cats on you!”

  Ned looked up at the castle window. The other hundred cats must have scrambled up the courtyard wall.

  Now they were streaming into the living room. A rushing river of cats.

  “HISS!”

  Led by Gigantic Tiddles, all the other Tiddleses began circling the pair, ready to strike.

  “TELL ME, BOY!” she yelled, causing her jewellery to clank together. “OR YOU WILL BE CAT FOOD!”

  “MIAOW!”

  “HISS!”

  The boy had the naughtiest notion. A notion that would teach this lady a lesson. A lesson that might just change the lives of all the children of Mulch forever.

  “I am here, Auntie dearest, because I wanted to give you something.”

  The lady was intrigued. “ME?”

  “Yes, you. I worry that you just don’t have enough jewellery!”

  Greta looked down at her many adornments.

  “You are right, boy!” she trilled. “I don’t have nearly enough sparkly things. There is always a need for more, more, MORE!”

  “Would you like some more?” asked Ned.

  “YES!” growled Greed. “GIMME, GIMME, GIMME MORE!”

  Ned looked at Slime. “I knew you would want more. Please! Let my friend Slime treat you!”

  The pair smiled at each other. Slime knew exactly what to do.

  “Let’s start with another necklace!” exclaimed the boy.

  With that, Slime’s chest opened, and a torpedo of goo shot out.

  SPLURGE!

  It hit the lady’s chest, covering her in slime.

  SPLAT!

  “URGH!”

  “And, of course, some new earrings!”

  Two smaller slime bombs struck her ears.

  SPLAT! SPLAT!

  “URGH!”

  “And why have a tiara when you can have a great big massive crown?”

  Then, what was left of Slime rose into the air, and came crashing down on her head, covering her from top to bottom in GOO!

  SPLAT!

  “EEEUUURRRGGGHHH!” she shrieked.

  As Ned allowed himself a chuckle…

  “HA! HA! HA!”

  …Slime gathered himself together again and shot back over to the boy.

  “We need to get out of here!” exclaimed Slime.

  “Why?”

  “The Tiddleses are on the attack!”

  Ned looked down. Surrounding him were cats, cats and more cats.

  Leading the pride of cats was Gigantic Tiddles. The enormous beast jumped up at the boy, its fangs bared.

  “HHHIIISSSSSS!”

  Slime thought fast. Without a word it shot up to the ceiling.

  SPLAT!

  And stuck there.

  It was now like a giant jellyfish. Long gooey tentacles poured down from above.

  “What about me?” Ned called up.

  “I am getting there!” Slime called down.

  Just in time, the tentacles scooped up the boy and whisked him to the ceiling.

  WHOOSH!

  Ned’s bare feet became embedded in the slime.

  SPLUT!

  He hung there, upside down, out of reach of the cats’ claws, feeling more than a little pleased with himself.

  However, the smug look on his face turned sour as his slime-drenched aunt barked her order.

  “Tiddleses!

  EAT THAT BOY!”

  * It means blobbiful.**

  ** It means blobulous.

  Aunt Greta must have trained her 101 cats in circus skills – unlikely, I know, but stay with me – because immediately the beasts began climbing up on each other’s shoulders. The cats formed some kind of cat ladder, or “cadder”,* to give it its proper name.

  In no time, the cats were rising. Higher and higher. In the blink of an eye, they were dangerously close to the boy, their sharp claws swiping at him.

  “SLIME! PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!” Ned screamed.

  Slime started sliming its way along the ceiling to escape.

  SPLUT! SPLUT! SPLUT!

  However, it soon became tangled up in a chandelier.

  CHINK! CHANK! CHUNK!

  “Tiddleses, WE HAVE THEM NOW!” bellowed Aunt Greta from below as she wiped the goo off her face. “ENJOY YOUR DINNER, MY BEAUTIES!”

  Now cats are not the brightest of creatures. In my experience of spending time with different types of animals, I would rate their intelligence thus:

  The not-clever thing that the cats did was make the kitten Tiddleses go at the bottom of the cat ladder, then the fully grown Tiddleses go in the middle, then the Gigantic Tiddles at the top. Gigantic Tiddles was now level with the boy, tangled up with Slime in the chandelier. The monstrous moggie was chomping at the air, just a whisker from Ned’s face.

  As Slime tried to escape from the chandelier…

  CLINK! CLANK! CLUNK!

  …it accidentally swung the upside-down boy straight towards the beast.

  WHOOSH!

  “ARGH!” screamed Ned.

  “CHOMP!” chomped Gigantic Tiddles as its fangs bit into Ned’s ear.

  The pain was eye-watering!

  “ARGH!”

  What’s more, the beast was not letting go!

  “HHHEEELLLP!”

  A giant cat earring is perhaps the most painful earring of them all.

  The boy kept swinging, and Gigantic Tiddles swung too.

  SWISH!

  The beast swung so far that the cadder began to crumble.

  “MIAOW!”

  “MIAOW!”

  “MIAOW!”

  As Gigantic Tiddles stayed locked on to Ned’s ear with its fangs, the other hundred cats beneath him took a tumble, or “cumble”.*

  The hundred cats fell right on top of Aunt Greta.

  THUD!

  THUD!

  THUD!

  “MIAOW!”

  “MIAOW!”<
br />
  “MIAOW!”

  The lady was buried under a mountain of moggies.

  “URGH!” came a muffled cry. No doubt one of the cats’ bottoms (or “cobboms”*) was stuck right under her nose.

  With all the other cats having tumbled (or “cumbled”*) to the floor, incredibly Gigantic Tiddles was still dangling (or “cangling”) from Ned by his ear.

  Try as Ned might to fight it off, the beast was not letting go of Ned’s ear. In fact, it was sinking its fangs deeper and deeper into his flesh.

  “CHOMP!”

  “YEOW!” screamed Ned. As you might if you had a giant cat that weighed as much as a small car dangling from your ear.

  Meanwhile, Aunt Greta was scrambling up from underneath the mountain of cats. Many of her moggies were still stuck all over her gooey body. The wicked lady looked like a huge furry monster.

  “I can’t get this gigantic cat off my ear!” screamed Ned.*

  “Tickle it!” suggested Slime.

  “TICKLE IT?”

  “It’s worth a try!”

  Immediately, the upside-down pair began tickling Gigantic Tiddles all over its body.

  Its ears, its chin, its legs, its tummy, its tail.

  TICKLE! TICKLE! TICKLE! TICKLE! TICKLE!

  Nothing worked! The cat remained unmoved.

  “TICKLE THE TIP OF ITS TAIL!” ordered Ned.

  “I am not tickling the tip of a cat’s tail!” replied Slime.

  “Why not?” demanded the boy.

  “People will talk!”

  “Nonsense! Let’s do it together!”

  That is exactly what they did. The pair tickled the tip of Gigantic Tiddles’s tail.

  “ME! HOW! HOW!” the cat laughed. As it did so, it opened its mouth and let go of Ned’s ear.

  WHOOSH!

  Gigantic Tiddles fell through the air.

  “NNNNNOOOOO!” cried Aunt Greta from below as a cat the weight of a baby elephant crashed down on her head.

  DOINK!

  “OW!” she cried.

  “Have you had enough now?” asked Ned. “Or would you like more, more, more?”

  “Please!” pleaded Aunt Greta. “No more, more, more!”

  “Then things have to change on Mulch!”

  “Anything! Just name it!”