Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face and the Badness of Badgers
Page 1
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
Text copyright © 2014 by John Dougherty.
Illustrations copyright © 2017 by Sam Ricks.
First published in Great Britain by Oxford University Press.
First American edition published in 2017 by G. P. Putnam’s Sons.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Dougherty, John, author. | Ricks, Sam, illustrator.
Title: Stinkbomb & Ketchup-Face and the badness of badgers / John Dougherty ; illustrated by Sam Ricks.
Other titles: Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face and the badness of badgers
Description: First American edition. | New York : G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2017.
“First published in Great Britain by Oxford University Press.”
Summary: Stinkbomb and his sister, Ketchup-Face, with help from King Toothbrush Weasel, go on an adventure to recover the stolen contents of their piggy bank from a gang of rascally badgers.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016000640 | ISBN 9781101996621 (hardcover)
Subjects: | CYAC: Brothers and sisters—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction. | Badgers—Fiction. | Humorous stories.
Classification: LCC PZ7.D74433 St 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016000640
Ebook ISBN 9781101996645
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies,events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Jacket art © 2017 by Sam Ricks
Cover design by Annie Ericsson
Version_1
For my favorite antipodean piglets, Genevieve & Holly, with love from your uncle John.
And—as always—for the original Stinkbomb & Ketchup-Face, Noah & Cara, with all my love. More than ever, this one’s for you.
—J.D.
To Seara and Elijah—partners in crime, and Great Kerfufflers.
—S.R.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Blueberry Jam
Acknowledgments
About the Author
CHAPTER 1
IN WHICH
OUR HEROES WAKE UP
AND A STARTLING DISCOVERY
IS MADE
It was early morning, and dawn was breaking over the peaceful little island of Great Kerfuffle.
The golden sun peeped over the horizon, checked to make sure no one was looking, and slowly climbed into the blue sky. And far below, in a tall tree in the garden of a lovely house high on a hillside above the tiny village of Loose Pebbles, a blackbird cleared its throat and broke forth into song to greet the new day.
Inside the lovely house, in a beautiful pink bedroom, a little girl opened her eyes and leapt out of bed. Dashing to the window, she flung the shutters wide open. The sunlight streamed in, bringing with it the sweet smell of blossoms on the morning breeze. As if in greeting, the tree waved gently and rustled its leaves. There, on the nearest branch, so close she could almost touch it, perched the blackbird, trilling merrily.
yelled the little girl, and she threw a shoe at it.
The shoe bounced off the branch and fell to the ground, where it was picked up by a passing cat. The blackbird stuck out its tongue and blew a defiant raspberry. Then it flew away.
The little girl stomped grumpily back to her bed and shut her eyes. But it was no good: she couldn’t get back to sleep. After a few minutes, she tried actually getting into the bed and lying down, but that didn’t help either. So then she decided to go and jump on her brother’s face.
Seconds later, in the bedroom just across the landing, the little girl’s brother pulled one of her toes out of his right nostril and groaned wearily.
“Morning, Stinkbomb!” said the little girl, cheerfully flumping on his tummy. “Time to get up!”
“Why?” said Stinkbomb grouchily.
“Because,” said the little girl, “it’s a beautiful morning, and the sun is shining, and we can play games and have adventures, and if you don’t get up, I’m going to put oatmeal down your pants forever, so there.”
Stinkbomb thought about this. The idea of having oatmeal put down his pants forever certainly sounded interesting, but he wasn’t sure he would actually like it. So he decided to get up.
As he did, he made a disturbing discovery. On his bedroom floor lay a small ceramic pig with its feet in the air and a hole in its tummy.
“Hey! Ketchup-Face!” he said grumpily. “Have you been raiding my piggy bank?”
Ketchup-Face shook her head. “Nope,” she said.
“Well, somebody has!” said Stinkbomb. “Look!” He picked up the piggy bank and shook it. A solitary penny fell out and landed with a little thunk on the carpet. “I had a twenty-dollar bill in there, and it’s gone!”
Ketchup-Face shrugged. “Wasn’t me.”
Stinkbomb scratched his head. His sister had many faults, but telling lies wasn’t one of them.
“Well, then,” he said, “it must have been the badgers.”
Ketchup-Face thought about this. She wasn’t really sure what badgers were, so she just nodded and tried to look wise. Then she changed her mind and asked, “What’s a badger?”
“It’s a, it’s a, well, you know,” said Stinkbomb. “They dig holes in the lawn and eat all the worms, and they knock over garbage cans and frighten chickens and drive too fast.”
“Oh,” said Ketchup-Face. “And do they empty piggy banks as well?”
“Probably,” Stinkbomb said knowledgeably. “It sounds like the kind of thing they would do.”
Ketchup-Face scratched her head. It was quite a pretty head, except when the front of it was covered with
Just at the moment it was clean, but it was a fair bet that by the end of Chapter Four it would be filthy again.
“Does it?” she asked.
Stinkbomb nodded in a big-brotherly kind of way. “Of course it does,” he said. “Think about it. They do bad things because they’re bad
gers. If they weren’t bad, they’d just be gers. I bet our garbage can’s been knocked over too.”
Ketchup-Face opened the window and looked outside. Sure enough, the family garbage can was lying on its side in the yard, giving every indication of having been badgered.
“Gosh,” Ketchup-Face said, impressed, “I suppose that proves it. The badgers have taken your twenty-dollar bill. What are we going to do about it?”
Stinkbomb drew himself upright. Then he drew himself sitting down, and then he drew himself winning a race and getting a medal, and then he drew a dinosaur taking a bath. And then he put his pencil down and said, “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to see the king.”
CHAPTER 2
IN WHICH
OUR HEROES SET OFF TO SEE THE KING
AND KETCHUP-FACE SINGS A SONG
In most stories, if the heroes were to set off to see the king, you’d expect their journey to take a really long time. Chapters and chapters and chapters, probably, in which they’d have adventures and fight dragons and giant spiders. They’d get lost in the forest, and nearly get eaten by witches, and have to solve mysterious riddles before they could cross rivers or ravines, and all that kind of stuff. And it’d probably rain as well, and they wouldn’t have brought their coats or sandwiches or anything.
Fortunately for Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face, the nearest king lived only half a mile away. It was just five minutes on the number 47 bus if you had fifty cents each. But Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face didn’t have any money, so they set off through the fields.
It was a truly beautiful day. The sun beamed down on them like a kindly uncle, the trees waved like friendly flags, and all around them the birds twittered and tweeted like a tiny feathered choir.
All of nature was at play: they saw newts playing frog and frogs playing newt; bunnies playing squirrel and squirrels playing bunny; foxes playing pig and pigs playing fox, because pigs aren’t very good at leaping and they’re quite BIG.
They saw a snake basking in the sunshine, lambs frolicking in the pasture, and a shy deer in a false mustache peeping through the bushes. It was all so lovely that it made Ketchup-Face want to sing, and—since making up songs was one of her favorite things to do—that’s exactly what she did.
This is what she sang:
“That’s a song about blueberry jam,” she added.
“Very nice,” said Stinkbomb. “What’s it called?”
Ketchup-Face thought about this. “Ummm . . . ‘Blueberry Jam,’” she said. “ ’Cause it’s about blueberry jam.”
Stinkbomb nodded wisely. “I see,” he said. He paused—tactfully, because he liked to encourage his little sister when she wasn’t jumping on his face and sticking her toes up his nose—but he felt there was something about the song that left room for improvement. “Do you think it might be a bit . . . same-y?” he said eventually.
Ketchup-Face scratched her head. “I see what you mean,” she said. “Maybe I should put some other kinds of jam in it as well.”
So on they went, with Ketchup-Face trying out different kinds of jam in her song and Stinkbomb sticking his fingers in his ears, until at last they caught sight of the palace.
Ketchup-Face stopped singing and pointed. “There it is,” she said happily.
“What did you say?” said Stinkbomb.
“There it is,” repeated Ketchup-Face.
“What did you say???” said Stinkbomb.
yelled Ketchup-Face.
shouted Stinkbomb.
Ketchup-Face tugged at Stinkbomb’s elbows until his fingers popped out of his ears. “I said, there it is,” she explained.
“Oh,” said Stinkbomb. “Why didn’t you say so? And by the way,” he added, “why are you hopping?”
Ketchup-Face looked down at her feet. “Because I threw one of my shoes at a blackbird,” she said. “Come on!”
And off she hippity-hopped again, with Stinkbomb strolling along behind her, until they reached the palace.
CHAPTER 3
IN WHICH
WE LEARN
A LITTLE HISTORY
Not many children live only half a mile from a real king, but then not many children live near the tiny village of Loose Pebbles on the little island of Great Kerfuffle. Loose Pebbles is the capital village of Great Kerfuffle, which is too small to have a capital city or even a capital town; even so, Great Kerfuffle is very rare among little islands, because it has its very own king all to itself.
The reason for this dates back to the English Wars of the Roses. There was an argument between King Richard III and King Henry VII as to which of them was really the king, and they agreed that the best way to find out who was right was to put lots of men in a field and get them to hit each other with pointy things. What most people don’t know is that there was a third man who thought he was king. He was known as King Isabel the Confused, and he kept showing up at battles and trying to join in. The problem was that King Isabel hadn’t really gotten the hang of battling, and he and his soldiers just ended up getting in the way and shouting things like:
The effect was something like when a small dog tries to take part in a soccer game. The dog has no chance of winning, but it makes it very difficult for anyone else to either. So in the end, King Richard and King Henry decided that the only way to get on with the battle was to give King Isabel a little kingdom of his very own, as long as he promised to go away and stop being a pain.
The kingdom they gave him was, of course, Great Kerfuffle, which at that time was at the very tip of southwestern England. As soon as King Isabel had been crowned as its king, King Henry tiptoed down in the dead of night, sawed it off, and sent it floating out to sea. King Richard would have helped, but he couldn’t on account of having lost the battle and so being extremely dead.
And that is why Great Kerfuffle has its very own king.
The king on the throne now was a great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great- on and on forever lots and lots of times great-great-great- this is getting a bit boring great-great-great-great-great-great-
grandson of King Isabel the Confused, and his name was King Sandra—or, at least, it had been until recently. However, he had worried that perhaps King Sandra was a silly name, and had decided to change it to something more sensible.
Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of asking the citizens of Great Kerfuffle to choose his new, sensible name, which is why he was now known as
King Toothbrush Weasel lived, of course, in a palace—the very palace that Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face had just reached.
You remember. At the end of Chapter Two. And now it’s the end of Chapter Three.
CHAPTER 4
IN WHICH
OUR HEROES
MEET THE ARMY
King Toothbrush Weasel’s palace wasn’t very big. In fact, it was about the size of a small cottage. It had pretty little towers with thatched turrets, and dinky little battlements, and the sweetest little sentry box you’ve ever seen, and in the little sentry box the entire army of Great Kerfuffle was standing guard.
You might think that it would be a bit of a , fitting an entire army into one little sentry box. But you’d be wrong. Great Kerfuffle was, of course, a very small kingdom, and it couldn’t afford a big army with lots of soldiers. In fact, there was only one soldier in the army of Great Kerfuffle, and he was a cat named Malcolm the Cat.
Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face looked down at him. He was a small gray cat with one shoe and a little red soldier’s jacket. He also had one of those tall, furry black hats, just like the guards outside Buckingham Palace wear, but he never wore it because it would have covered him completely and left him unable to move. Instead, he was lying on it, to make himself look taller without actually having to stand up.
“And what do you want?” said Malcolm the Cat, in a tone of voice that suggested he
wasn’t really interested unless it involved a can opener and a can of cat food.
“We’d like to see King Toothbrush Weasel, please,” said Ketchup-Face.
“Why?” asked Malcolm the Cat.
“Because the badgers have stolen my money,” Stinkbomb said.
Malcolm the Cat sat up and stared at them both without blinking, until they felt a bit uncomfortable. “All right, then,”
he said eventually. “You can knock on the door.”
Then, as Stinkbomb raised his hand to knock, the cat said, “Actually, you can’t.”
Stinkbomb dropped his hand.
he said.
Malcolm the Cat looked at him,
as if thinking. “No, I suppose you can,” he said.
Stinkbomb’s hand went to the knocker.
said Malcolm the Cat.
Stinkbomb stopped and looked at him.
“Oh, go on, then,” said Malcolm the Cat. As Stinkbomb raised his hand again, he added, “Sorry, you can’t after all. My mistake.”
“But . . .” began Stinkbomb.
“Oh, all right,” Malcolm the Cat said. After a pause, during which Stinkbomb looked at him suspiciously, he said, “No, go on. Really. You can knock on the door. You have my official permission.”
“Really?” said Stinkbomb.
“Really,” said Malcolm the Cat. “Honest. Go on.”
Stinkbomb raised his hand to the knocker.
“Oh, wait,” said Malcolm the Cat. “Sorry. You can’t knock on the door after all.”
Ketchup-Face gave Malcolm the Cat the special glare she reserved for especially annoying people and parents who wouldn’t give her chocolate. “What are you doing?” she asked.