The Day My Butt Went Psycho

by Andy Griffiths

  ‘The raft is ready!’ yelled the Kicker.

  Zack looked at the bums that the B-team had lined up on the sand.

  The bums were in ten rows, and in each row there were twenty bums. Zack wondered why they weren’t all trying to run away but looking closer he could see that they were all lashed together with brown vines and fastened to eleven long pieces of bumboo. Like the bums used to make the bum-hoppers, they had all been corked.

  ‘Come on,’ said the Smacker. ‘We have to hurry. The bums are getting more powerful every minute. We have to get to the bumcano before it erupts.’

  As she spoke, a huge squadron of bums zoomed overhead in the direction of the bumcano.

  Zack, Eleanor and the Smacker walked down and joined the group.

  ‘Well?’ said the Kicker. ‘What do you think? Two hundred bum-power and completely unsinkable.’

  Zack was impressed, but wasn’t sure how the raft was going to be powered. He couldn’t see any oars or paddles. He didn’t want to say anything, though, in case it made him look dumb.

  ‘Great work,’ said the Kisser, kneeling down to pat one of the bums. ‘How long do you think it will take to reach the bumcano?’

  ‘Without a map it’s hard to say,’ said the Kicker. ‘But with a bit of luck and a fair wind we should be there by nightfall.’

  He slapped one of the bums as he said ‘fair wind’ and suddenly Zack understood how the bum-raft was going to work.

  The Kicker and the Kisser dragged the raft down to the edge of the water. The bum-piranhas were waiting in the shallows.

  ‘But what about the bum-piranhas?’ Zack said. ‘They’re still there. Won’t they eat the raft?’

  ‘Funny thing about bums,’ said the Smacker. ‘They never eat their own kind. As long as you stay on the raft you’ll be fine.’

  ‘And if they try anything I’ll kick their bums!’ said the Kicker.

  He pushed the raft into the water.

  ‘Eleanor,’ said the Kicker, ‘you first, then Zack.’

  Eleanor stepped on and went to the far end. Zack stepped on. The raft wobbled violently and Zack would have fallen off, but Eleanor reached out and steadied him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Eleanor. ‘I owe you one.’

  ‘Uncork the rear row!’ said the Kicker, who was manning the rudder, which was made out of a thick slab of bum-tree bark.

  Zack turned and watched as the Smacker and the Kisser knelt and pulled the corks out of the bums in the back row of the raft.

  The effect was impressive. It was like having ten outboard motors all running at full throttle. The front of the raft rose into the air as the bums at the back roared into action.

  ‘How long do the bums last?’ Zack asked the Kicker.

  ‘About half an hour each,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got plenty of spare fuel. When the back row runs out I’ll replace them with fresh ones. And if they all run out I’ll kick ’em the rest of the way!’

  The beach receded in the distance, as did the Brown Forest. Zack was very happy to see the back of it, although now the sea posed a new challenge. He’d only been on the raft for a few minutes and he was already feeling seasick. He put his hand up to his mouth.

  Zack lay down next to Eleanor, who was sitting at the front of the raft, staring into the water.

  Eleanor looked at Zack.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she said. ‘Your face has gone green.’

  Zack shrugged. ‘Could be better,’ he said. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Just wish I could locate my father. I reckon we’re going to need him.’

  ‘So you’ve got no idea where he is?’ said Zack.

  ‘No,’ said Eleanor. ‘And it’s just not like him to leave without telling me where he was going.’

  ‘What about your mum?’ said Zack. ‘Did he say anything to her?’

  Eleanor shook her head.

  ‘I don’t have a mum,’ she said. ‘Not any more. She was killed when I was five years old.’

  Zack was shocked. He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ he finally mumbled. ‘How?’

  Eleanor took a deep breath.

  ‘We were having a picnic,’ she said. ‘I remember Dad was being silly. He was juggling boiled eggs and Mum and I were laughing at him. Next thing I knew Mum was lying on her back. Not moving. Not breathing. I looked up. We were surrounded by bums. And in the middle stood the most evil bum of them all.’

  ‘Stenchgantor?’ said Zack.

  ‘No,’ said Eleanor. ‘He’s the smelliest, but he’s not the most evil. Not evil in the way the Great White Bum is evil.’

  ‘The Great White Bum!’ said Zack.

  ‘It was payback for my father’s role in putting an end to a bum uprising the month before,’ said Eleanor. ‘Lots of bums were killed. The whole B-team was involved, but the Great White Bum held my father directly responsible.’

  ‘Did it try to kill you as well?’ said Zack.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Eleanor. ‘But Dad saved me. He fought the bums, including the Great White Bum, single-handedly. But he couldn’t save Mum. It was too late.’

  Zack shook his head, trying to imagine what it must feel like to have your mum murdered by the Great White Bum. Then he had an idea.

  ‘Do you think the Great White Bum has anything to do with the bumcano?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t only think so,’ said Eleanor. ‘I know so. Wherever there’s trouble the Great White Bum is never far away. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s master-minding the whole uprising.’

  Zack wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved that his bum might not be completely responsible for the mad plan to take over the world, or whether to be even more worried. The thought that his bum might be in league with the Great White Bum was pretty frightening.

  He looked down into the water. It was teaming with exotic bum-fish, the likes of which he’d never even dreamed existed. Bums with teeth, with fins, with tails and scales. A bum with three eyes. A spotted bum-shark. An octobum with cheeks elongated into vast thin wings glided under the raft and then disappeared into the depths. It was all so strange. There was so much he didn’t know. Zack felt completely out of his depth.

  The Smacker tapped Zack on the shoulder.

  ‘Here,’ she said.

  He turned around.

  She was holding four of the bum-plugging corks, and four smaller corks.

  ‘Take two of the big ones,’ she said, and stick them in your ears. ‘Put the little ones up your nose. And don’t remove them until I tell you to. Got that?’

  She gave the other set to Eleanor.

  ‘But why?’ said Zack.

  ‘There are many beautiful things in the Sea of Bums,’ said the Smacker. ‘But they can also be deadly. And the most beautiful and deadliest of all are the Siren Bums.’

  ‘Siren Bums?’ said Zack.

  ‘Bums that live on small rocky outcrops in the Sea of Bums,’ said the Smacker. ‘They have such a sweet scent and such a beautiful song that all who hear and smell them forget all thoughts of their mission, their families, friends and home, and are compelled to jump overboard. They have only one thought in their minds—to spend the rest of their lives drinking in the song and the smell and the beauty of the Siren Bums. Sadly, they never make it that far. They are torn to pieces and eaten by the abundant sea-bum life that you see all around us.’

  As if to emphasise what the Smacker had just said, Zack noticed a large red-spotted bum-shark rise up through the depths, roll to one side, reveal a frightening set of teeth and head back down into the dark water.

  Zack took the plugs.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  He turned to Eleanor.

  ‘Have you ever heard the Siren Bums sing?’ he said.

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘Eleanor?’ said Zack.

  Her head was turned away. He wondered if he’d upset her in some way. He tapped her s
houlder. She turned around and Zack repeated his question.

  ‘I’m sorry, Zack,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘I can’t hear a thing you’re saying. I’ve got the plugs in my ears!’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said Zack. ‘You don’t have to shout!’

  ‘Pardon?’ said Eleanor.

  Zack shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘I’ve heard them,’ said the Kicker, who obviously didn’t have his earplugs in.

  ‘You’ve heard the Siren Bums?’ said Zack.

  ‘Yeah,’ said the Kicker. ‘Beautiful too. Most amazing thing I ever heard.’

  ‘But how did you survive?’ said Zack.

  The Kicker laughed and winked.

  ‘Takes more than a singing bum to get the better of me,’ he said. ‘They’re not that dangerous. But they are worth hearing. At least once.’

  It was one of the few times since Zack had met him that the Kicker had talked about something other than kicking bums. He figured the sound of the Siren Bums must be pretty special. Zack had only ever known bums to make crude, disgusting noises. The noises were occasionally amusing, of course, but Zack couldn’t remember a single one that he would have called beautiful. Was it possible they really did sound like the Kicker described?

  Zack rolled the plugs in between his fingers, trying to decide whether to take the Smacker at her word or to take a chance and believe the Kicker.

  That’s when he heard it.

  Just a faint sound at first, almost indistinguishable from the roar of the bum-raft, but definitely there. And definitely beautiful. Like a beautiful choir. Like a choir of angels, thought Zack.

  He could see a small rocky outcrop ahead. There were three bums on it, smooth and round and pink like ripe peaches.

  And the smell was something else again. It was like Zack’s nostrils had died and gone to heaven. Sweet and fruity, it wafted all around him. He sniffed deeply, and then sniffed again, trying to take in as much of the smell as he could, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to get closer. He had to get closer.

  Zack couldn’t stay on the raft any more. All he cared about was the sound and the smell of the Siren Bums. He had to get to them.

  Nothing else was important.

  Not food.

  Not water.

  Not family.

  Not the B-team.

  Not Eleanor.

  And definitely not his bum.

  Only the Siren Bums.

  They were all that mattered.

  Zack jumped into the water and started swimming.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  POOPOISES AND GIANT BLOWFLIES

  Or so Zack was told later, anyway.

  He didn’t remember jumping. All he remembered was waking up with the Smacker sitting on his chest, Eleanor sitting on his legs and the Kisser pinching his nose, pulling his head back and about to put his mouth over Zack’s.

  ‘What are you doing?!’ spluttered Zack, spitting out seawater.

  The Kisser pulled back.

  Trying to save your life,’ he said.

  ‘Huh?’ said Zack

  ‘You kept jumping in, you idiot!’ said Eleanor.

  Zack shook his head. ‘I did?’

  ‘Only five times,’ she said. ‘You nearly drowned.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ stammered Zack, beginning to feel very stupid. ‘Sorry if I’ve been any trouble.’

  Trouble?’ said the Smacker. Trouble? No trouble at all! Feel free to disregard my instructions and risk your life and everybody else’s life anytime you feel like it! Why didn’t you put your earplugs in like I told you?’

  ‘I was going to,’ said Zack, ‘but the Kicker told me that the Siren Bums were worth hearing at least once.’

  The Kicker glared at Zack.

  The Smacker turned on the Kicker.

  ‘Is that true?’ she said.

  ‘Look at that sky!’ said the Kicker. ‘There’s going to be a storm.’

  ‘Answer the question!’ said the Smacker. ‘Is it true?’

  The Kicker shuffled uncomfortably under the Smacker’s glare. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was a test.’

  ‘A test?’ said the Smacker. ‘What sort of test?’

  ‘An intelligence test,’ said the Kicker. ‘Which he failed.’

  ‘He could have been killed!’ said the Smacker.

  The Kicker was looking up at the sky again. ‘That’s one almighty storm blowing our way,’ he said.

  Zack looked up.

  Sure enough the sky was an enormous black swirling cauldron of storm clouds. Big clouds. Brutal clouds. The kind of clouds you wouldn’t like to meet on a street late at night.

  ‘Do you think we’ll get there before the storm hits?’ said the Smacker.

  ‘Hard to say,’ said the Kicker. ‘I reckon we’re only about halfway. And that storm looks mean.’

  As he spoke the wind gusted violently against their faces, whipping up the swell to almost twice its previous height. Zack watched as the clouds crashed and merged, forming even bigger and more brutal clouds.

  ‘Can’t we go any faster?’ said the Kisser.

  ‘We could try uncorking the second row as well,’ said the Kicker. ‘More than that I wouldn’t like to risk. The raft could break apart.’

  ‘It’s worth a try,’ said the Smacker. ‘Eleanor, keep your eye on Zack. Make sure he doesn’t try to jump in again.’

  The Smacker and the Kisser set to uncorking the bums in the second row.

  While they did that, Eleanor drew Zack aside.

  ‘Is it true what you said about the Kicker?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zack.

  Eleanor shook her head.

  ‘I don’t know why he would say that,’ she said. ‘He knows how dangerous those Siren Bums are . . . unless . . .’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Unless what?’ said Zack.

  Eleanor looked at Zack, and then spoke in a very low voice. ‘Unless he really did want to kill you.’

  The bum-raft rose into the air on a particularly large swell and dropped again. Just like Zack’s stomach.

  ‘But why would he want to kill me?’ said Zack, beginning to feel sick again.

  Eleanor looked around her to make sure nobody was listening and then leaned in close to Zack.

  ‘I’ve had my doubts about him for a while now,’ she said. ‘I think he’s up to something.’

  ‘What?’ said Zack.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Eleanor. ‘He’s just been acting strangely, that’s all. Like when he sent me to find you in the Brown Forest. He didn’t even offer to come with me.’

  ‘Maybe he just doesn’t like me,’ said Zack.

  ‘I think it’s more than that,’ said Eleanor. ‘I think he’s trying to sabotage our mission. I don’t think he was expecting either of us to make it out of the Brown Forest alive.’

  Zack looked at the sky. The clouds seemed to have all joined into one gigantic cloud. Big. Black. Evil. The wind was getting stronger by the minute and the sea around the raft was bubbling and churning like a giant washing machine.

  ‘He did seem pretty surprised to see us,’ said Zack, swallowing as hard as he could.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Eleanor. She paused. ‘I think he might be a bum sympathiser.’

  ‘No way,’ said Zack, clutching the side of the raft as it dropped to the bottom of a large wave and rose again almost as quickly. ‘He hates bums.’

  ‘So he says,’ says Eleanor. ‘A little too often, don’t you think? Maybe he just says that to try to cover up the truth. And maybe he’s trying to kill you because he’s scared that you’ll be able to talk your bum out of going through with its plan.’

  Zack struggled to take in what Eleanor was telling him. The Kicker, one of the world’s greatest bum-fighters, a bum sympathiser? It was impossible. And yet Zack couldn’t deny that what Eleanor said seemed to square with the facts.

  ‘So what do you think we should do?’ said Zack.
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  ‘Right now there’s nothing we can do,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s going to be difficult to convince the others until we have some hard evidence. In the meantime, just be careful. He might try again.’

  Eleanor looked around to make sure none of the others were watching. Then she reached down, rolled up her trouser leg and removed a small bum-gun strapped above her left ankle. She passed it to Zack.

  ‘Here, take this,’ she said. ‘You probably need it more than I do.’

  Zack put the gun in the front pouch of his belt. ‘Thanks,’ he said. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but it made him feel better knowing it was there.

  The wind roared and howled. The storm was setting in fast. Zack looked up and saw a large wave.

  A very large wave.

  The wall of water seemed to rise forever . . . and then it started to break. An avalanche of white foam came tumbling down the face of the wave towards the tiny raft.

  ‘Hold tight, everybody,’ yelled the Smacker.

  Zack flattened himself against the bum-raft, wedged his hands in between two of the biggest pairs of cheeks he could find and braced himself.

  The wave slammed down on top of them.

  Zack had never felt anything like it.

  He was washed clear of the raft and sent somersaulting helplessly into the depths of the bum ocean.

  Zack was under the water for a long time before he surfaced.

  When he finally did surface there was no sign of the bum-raft.

  Just the Kicker, the Smacker, the Kisser and Eleanor all fighting for their lives in the foaming craziness around them.

  ‘I thought you said the raft was unsinkable!’ said the Kisser as the Kicker floated in front of him.

  ‘It was,’ said the Kicker.

  ‘Then how come it sunk?’ said the Kisser.

  ‘It didn’t sink,’ said the Kicker. ‘It broke apart. How was I to know that there’d be freak waves like that?’

  Zack glanced at Eleanor. She glanced back.

  She was right, thought Zack. The Kicker really was trying to sabotage the mission.

  Zack gulped.

  They were in the middle of the Sea of Bums. They had no raft. They were going to drown. And if they didn’t drown, they’d be killed by the Kicker who was clearly hellbent on eliminating them all.