Horrid Henry On the Go

by Francesca Simon

  Vroom. Vroom.

  Dad started the car.

  The doors locked.

  Horrid Henry was trapped.

  But wait. Was there a glimmer of hope? Was there a teeny tiny chance? What was it Mom always said when he and Peter were squabbling in the car? “If you don’t stop fighting I’m going to turn around and go home!” And wasn’t home just exactly where he wanted to be? All he had to do was to do what he did best.

  “Could I have a story CD please?” said Perfect Peter.

  “No! I want a music CD,” said Horrid Henry.

  “I want ‘Mouse Goes to Town’,” said Peter.

  “I want ‘Driller Cannibals’ Greatest Hits’,” said Henry.

  “Story!”

  “Music!”

  “Story!”

  “Music!”

  SMACK!

  SMACK!

  “Waaaaaa!”

  “Stop it, Henry,” said Mom.

  “Tell Peter to leave me alone!” screamed Henry.

  “Tell Henry to leave me alone!” screamed Peter.

  “Leave each other alone,” said Mom.

  Horrid Henry glared at Perfect Peter.

  Perfect Peter glared at Horrid Henry.

  Horrid Henry stretched. Slowly, steadily, centimeter by centimeter, he spread out into Peter’s area.

  “Henry’s on my side!”

  “No I’m not!”

  “Henry, leave Peter alone,” said Dad. “I mean it.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” said Henry. “Are we there yet?”

  “No,” said Dad.

  Thirty seconds passed.

  “Are we there yet?” said Horrid Henry.

  “No!” said Mom.

  “Are we there yet?” said Horrid Henry.

  “NO!” screamed Mom and Dad.

  “We only left ten minutes ago,” said Dad.

  Ten minutes! Horrid Henry felt as if they’d been traveling for hours.

  “Are we a quarter of the way there yet?”

  “NO!”

  “Are we halfway there yet?”

  “NO!!”

  “How much longer until we’re halfway there?”

  “Stop it, Henry!” screamed Mom.

  “You’re driving me crazy!” screamed Dad. “Now be quiet and leave us alone.”

  Henry sighed. Boy, was this boring. Why didn’t they have a decent car, with built-in video games, movies, and jacuzzi? That’s just what he’d have, when he was king.

  Softly, he started to hum under his breath.

  “Henry’s humming!”

  “Stop being horrid, Henry!”

  “I’m not doing anything,” protested Henry. He lifted his foot.

  “MOM!” squealed Peter. “Henry’s kicking me.”

  “Are you kicking him, Henry?”

  “Not yet,” muttered Henry. Then he screamed.

  “Mom! Peter’s looking out of my window!”

  “Dad! Henry’s looking out of my window.”

  “Peter breathed on me.”

  “Henry’s breathing loud on purpose.”

  “Henry’s staring at me.”

  “Peter’s on my side!”

  “Tell him to stop!” screamed Henry and Peter.

  Mom’s face was red.

  Dad’s face was red.

  “That’s it!” screamed Dad.

  “I can’t take this anymore!” screamed Mom.

  Yes! thought Henry. We’re going to turn back!

  But instead of turning around, the car screeched to a halt at a gas station.

  “We’re going to take a break,” said Mom. She looked exhausted.

  “Who needs to pee?” said Dad. He looked even worse.

  “Me,” said Peter.

  “Henry?”

  “No,” said Henry. He wasn’t a baby. He knew when he needed to pee and he didn’t need to now.

  “This is our only stop, Henry,” said Mom. “I think you should go.”

  “NO!” screamed Henry. Several people looked up. “I’ll wait in the car.”

  Mom and Dad were too tired to argue. They disappeared into the station with Peter.

  Rats. Despite his best efforts, it looked like Mom and Dad were going to carry on. Well, if he couldn’t make them turn back, maybe he could delay them? Somehow? Suddenly Henry had a wonderful, spectacular idea. It couldn’t be easier, and it was guaranteed to work. He’d miss the christening!

  Mom, Dad, and Peter got back in the car. Mom drove off.

  “I need to pee,” said Henry.

  “Not now, Henry.”

  “I NEED TO PEE!” screamed Henry. “NOW!”

  Mom headed back to the gas station.

  Dad and Henry went to the restroom.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” said Dad. “Hurry up or we’ll be late.”

  Late! What a lovely word.

  Henry went into the restroom and locked the door. Then he waited. And waited. And waited.

  Finally, he heard Dad’s grumpy voice.

  “Henry? Have you fallen in?”

  Henry rattled the door.

  “I’m locked in,” said Henry. “The door’s stuck. I can’t get out.”

  “Try, Henry,” pleaded Dad.

  “I have,” said Henry. “I guess they’ll have to break the door down.”

  That should take a few hours. He settled himself on the toilet seat and got out a comic.

  “Or you could just crawl underneath the partition into the next stall,” said Dad.

  Aaargghh. Henry could have burst into tears. Wasn’t it just his rotten luck to try to get locked in a restroom that had gaps on the sides? Henry didn’t really want to be wriggling around on the cold floor. Sighing, he gave the stall door a tug and opened it.

  Horrid Henry sat in silence for the rest of the trip. He was so depressed he didn’t even protest when Peter demanded his turn on the left. Plus, he felt car sick.

  Henry rolled down his window.

  “Mom!” said Peter. “I’m cold.”

  Dad turned the heat on.

  “Having the heat on makes me feel sick,” said Henry.

  “I’m going to be sick!” whimpered Peter.

  “I’m going to be sick,” whined Henry.

  “But we’re almost there,” screeched Mom. “Can’t you hold on until—”

  Bleeeechh.

  Peter threw up all over Mom.

  Bleeeechhh. Henry threw up all over Dad.

  The car pulled into the driveway.

  Mom and Dad staggered out of the car to Polly’s front door.

  “We survived,” said Mom, mopping her dress.

  “Thank God that’s over,” said Dad, mopping his shirt.

  Horrid Henry scuffed his feet sadly behind them. Despite all his hard work, he’d lost the battle. While Rude Ralph and Dizzy Dave and Jolly Josh were dashing around spraying each other with green goo later this afternoon he’d be stuck at a boring party with lots of grown-ups yak yak yaking. Oh misery!

  Ding dong.

  The door opened. It was Prissy Polly. She was in her bathrobe and slippers. She carried a stinky, smelly, wailing baby over her shoulder. Pimply Paul followed. He was wearing a filthy T-shirt with vomit down the front.

  “Eeeek,” squeaked Polly.

  Mom tried to look as if she had not been through hell and barely lived to tell the tale.

  “We’re here!” said Mom brightly. “How’s the lovely baby?”

  “Too prissy,” said Polly.

  “Too pimply,” said Paul.

  Polly and Paul looked at Mom and Dad.

  “What are you doing here?” said Polly finally.

  “We’re here for the christening,” said
Mom.

  “Vera’s christening?” said Polly.

  “It’s next weekend,” said Paul.

  Mom looked like she wanted to sag to the floor.

  Dad looked like he wanted to sag beside her.

  “We’ve come on the wrong day?” whispered Mom.

  “You mean, we have to go and come back?” whispered Dad.

  “Yes,” said Polly.

  “Oh no,” said Mom.

  “Oh no,” said Dad.

  “Bleeech,” vomited Vera.

  “Eeeek!” wailed Polly. “Gotta go.”

  She slammed the door.

  “You mean, we can go home?” said Henry. “Now?”

  “Yes,” whispered Mom.

  “Whoopee!” screamed Henry. “Hang on, Ralph, here I come!”

  Horrid Henry looked out the window. AAARRRGGGHHH! It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were tweeting. The breeze was blowing. Little fluffy clouds floated by in a bright blue sky.

  Rats.

  Why couldn’t it be raining? Or hailing? Or sleeting?

  Any minute, any second, it would happen…the words he’d been dreading, the words he’d give anything not to hear, the words—

  “Henry! Peter! Time to go for a walk,” called Mom.

  “Yippee!” said Perfect Peter. “I can wear my new yellow boots!”

  “NO!” screamed Horrid Henry.

  Go for a walk! Go for a walk! Didn’t he walk enough already? He walked to school. He walked home from school. He walked to the TV. He walked to the computer. He walked to the candy jar and all the way back to the comfy black chair. Horrid Henry walked plenty. Ugghh. The last thing he needed was more walking. More chocolate, yes. More chips, yes. More walking? No way! Why oh why couldn’t his parents ever say, “Henry! Time to play on the computer.” Or “Henry, stop doing your homework this minute! Time to turn on the TV.”

  But no. For some reason his mean, horrible parents thought he spent too much time sitting indoors. They’d been threatening for weeks to make him go on a family walk. Now the dreadful moment had come. His precious weekend was ruined.

  Horrid Henry hated nature. Horrid Henry hated fresh air. What could be more boring than walking up and down streets staring at lampposts? Or sloshing across some stupid muddy park? Nature smelled. Uggh! He’d much rather be inside watching TV.

  Mom stomped into the living room.

  “Henry! Didn’t you hear me calling?”

  “No,” lied Henry.

  “Get your boots on, we’re going,” said Dad, rubbing his hands. “What a lovely day.”

  “I don’t want to go for a walk,” said Henry. “I want to watch Rapper Zapper Zaps Terminator Gladiator.”

  “But Henry,” said Perfect Peter, “fresh air and exercise are so good for you.”

  “I don’t care!” shrieked Henry.

  Horrid Henry stomped downstairs and flung open the front door. He breathed in deeply, hopped on one foot, then shut the door.

  “There! Done it. Fresh air and exercise,” snarled Henry.

  “Henry, we’re going,” said Mom. “Get in the car.”

  Henry’s ears pricked up.

  “The car?” said Henry. “I thought we were going for a walk.”

  “We are,” said Mom. “In the countryside.”

  “Hurray!” said Perfect Peter. “A nice long walk.”

  “NOOOO!” howled Henry. Plodding along in the boring old park was bad enough, with its moldy leaves and dog poo and stumpy trees. But at least the park wasn’t very big. But the countryside?

  The countryside was enormous! They’d be walking for hours, days, weeks, months, till his legs wore down to stumps and his feet fell off. And the countryside was so dangerous! Horrid Henry was sure he’d be swallowed up by quicksand or trampled to death by marauding chickens.

  “I live in the city!” shrieked Henry. “I don’t want to go to the country!”

  “Time you got out more,” said Dad.

  “But look at those clouds,” moaned Henry, pointing to a fluffy wisp. “We’ll get soaked.”

  “A little water never hurt anyone,” said Mom.

  Oh yeah? Wouldn’t they be sorry when he died of pneumonia.

  “I’m staying here and that’s final!” screamed Henry.

  “Henry, we’re waiting,” said Mom.

  “Good,” said Henry.

  “I’m all ready, Mom,” said Peter.

  “I’m going to start deducting money from your allowance,” said Dad. “Five cents, ten cents, fifteen cents, twenty—”

  Horrid Henry pulled on his boots, stomped out the door, and got in the car. He slammed the door as hard as he could. It was so unfair! Why did he never get to do what he wanted to do? Now he would miss the first time Rapper Zapper had ever slugged it out with Terminator Gladiator. And all because he had to go on a long, boring, exhausting, horrible hike. He was so miserable he didn’t even have the energy to kick Peter.

  “Can’t we just walk around the block?” moaned Henry.

  “N-O spells no,” said Dad. “We’re going for a nice walk in the countryside and that’s that.”

  Horrid Henry slumped miserably in his seat. Boy would they be sorry when he was gobbled up by goats. Boo hoo, if only we hadn’t gone on that walk in the wild, Mom would wail.

  Henry was right, we should have listened to him, Dad would sob. I miss Henry, Peter would howl. I’ll never eat goat’s cheese again. And now it’s too late, they would shriek.

  If only, thought Horrid Henry. That would serve them right.

  All too soon, Mom pulled into a parking lot, on the edge of a small forest.

  “Wow,” said Perfect Peter. “Look at all those pretty trees.”

  “Bet there are werewolves hiding there,” muttered Henry. “And I hope they come and eat you!”

  “Mom!” squealed Peter. “Henry’s trying to scare me.”

  “Don’t be horrid, Henry,” said Mom.

  Horrid Henry looked around him. There was a gate, leading to endless meadows bordered by bushes. A muddy path wound through the trees and across the fields. A church spire stuck up in the distance.

  “All right, I’ve seen the countryside, let’s go home,” said Henry.

  Mom glared at him.

  “What?” said Henry, scowling.

  “Let’s enjoy this lovely day,” said Dad, sighing.

  “So what do we do now?” said Henry.

  “Walk,” said Dad.

  “Where?” said Henry.

  “Just walk,” said Mom, “and enjoy the beautiful scenery.”

  Henry groaned.

  “We’re heading for the lake,” said Dad, striding off. “I’ve brought bread and we can feed the ducks.”

  “But Rapper Zapper starts in an hour!”

  “Tough,” said Mom.

  Mom, Dad, and Peter headed through the gate into the field. Horrid Henry trailed behind them walking as slowly as he could.

  “Ahh, breathe the lovely fresh air,” said Mom.

  “We should do this more often,” said Dad.

  Henry sniffed.

  The horrible smell of manure filled his nostrils.

  “Ewww, smelly,” said Henry. “Peter, couldn’t you wait?”

  “MOM!” shrieked Peter. “Henry called me smelly.”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “Did not, smelly.”

  “WAAAAAAAAA!” wailed Peter. “Tell him to stop!”

  “Don’t be horrid, Henry!” screamed Mom. Her voice echoed. A dog walker passed her and glared.

  “Peter, would you rather run a mile, jump a fence, or eat a country pancake?” said Henry sweetly.

  “Ooh,” said Peter. “I love pancakes. And a country one must be even more delicious
than a city one.”

  “Ha ha,” cackled Horrid Henry, sticking out his tongue. “Fooled you. Peter wants to eat cow pies!”

  “MOM!” screamed Peter.

  Henry walked.

  And walked.

  And walked.

  His legs felt heavier, and heavier, and heavier.

  “This field is muddy,” moaned Henry.

  “I’m bored,” groaned Henry.

  “My feet hurt,” complained Henry.

  “Can’t we go home? We’ve already walked miles,” whined Henry.

  “We’ve been walking for ten minutes,” said Dad.

  “Please can we go on walks more often,” said Perfect Peter. “Oh, look at those fluffy little sheepies!”

  Horrid Henry pounced. He was a zombie biting the head off the hapless human.

  “AAAAEEEEEE!” squealed Peter.

  “Henry!” screamed Mom.

  “Stop it!” screamed Dad. “Or no TV for a week.”

  When he was king, thought Horrid Henry, any parent who made their children go on a hike would be dumped barefoot in a scorpion-infested desert.

  Plod.

  Plod.

  Plod.

  Horrid Henry dragged his feet. Maybe his horrible mean parents would get fed up waiting for him and turn back, he thought, kicking some moldy leaves.

  Squelch.

  Squelch.

  Squelch.

  Oh no, not another muddy meadow.

  And then suddenly Horrid Henry had an idea. What was he thinking? All that fresh air must be rotting his brain. The sooner they got to the stupid lake, the sooner they could get home for Rapper Zapper Zaps Terminator Gladiator.

  “Come on, everyone, let’s run!” shrieked Henry. “Race you down the hill to the lake!”

  “That’s the spirit, Henry,” said Dad.

  Horrid Henry dashed past Dad.

  “OW!” shrieked Dad, tumbling into the stinging nettles.

  Horrid Henry whizzed past Mom.

  “Eww!” shrieked Mom, slipping in a cow pie.