Higher.
And higher.
And higher.
Zack had expected the explosion to be big but he wasn’t expecting it to be strong enough to blast the Great White Bum up through the shaft and out the top of the bumcano. The Great White Bum had won. The human race was about to be destroyed by the bumcano eruption. An eruption which Zack had just helped to trigger.
Zack looked down.
Eleanor and the Bum Hunter were standing next to the freshly plugged side vent, looking up, their fingers in their ears. Beside them Zack’s bum and the rest of the Bum Army were lying on the ground, exhausted from their bumcano-plugging efforts.
But something about the scene didn’t fit, thought Zack. If the eruption that he had just triggered was so deadly, how come Eleanor and the Bum Hunter were still alive? And for that matter, how come he was still alive?
Then it hit him.
The Great White Bum hadn’t won after all.
The explosion had consumed all the toxic waste in the bumcano, just as Zack had intended. The main vent might not have been plugged for very long, but it had been plugged for long enough to do its job.
The bumcano was now completely harmless.
Humanity could breathe freely again.
The only person who was in any danger now was Zack himself.
There was no sign that the Great White Bum was going to slow down. If anything, it was the opposite. At the speed it was travelling, it wouldn’t be long before it blasted through the Earth’s atmosphere and out into space.
Which was quite a good thing in one sense, thought Zack.
He couldn’t think of a safer resting place for the Great White Bum’s carcass than the deep freeze of outer space. In fact, it was the best thing that could have happened . . . if only he wasn’t attached to it.
The higher they rose the colder it got, but the fresh air had a bracing effect on Zack. After the fetid, suffocating conditions of the bumcano it was like taking a cold shower. He began to feel better and was able to think more clearly.
Zack had to detach himself from the Great White Bum before it went into outer space.
He knew that much.
But even supposing he was able to do it, he had no idea about how he was going to get back down safely. He didn’t have a parachute in his utility belt. All he had left was the utility belt itself.
He looked up.
The Great White Bum had been badly blistered by the blast. Large sections of its thick skin were already starting to peel.
It wasn’t a pretty sight.
But looking at it gave Zack an idea.
It was risky, sure, but it wasn’t like he had a whole lot of other options to choose from.
Zack swung his torso up, grabbed at the rope around his ankles and began pulling himself up towards the Great White Bum.
It was tough, hard work but he was spurred on by the fact that with every passing second they were getting further away from the ground.
Finally he reached the end of the rope. He grabbed hold of the harpoon and used it to swing himself up into the huge crevice between the Great White Bum’s cheeks. Zack placed his back against one side, extended his legs across the gap to the other side and started edging his way up to the top of the bum.
When he finally reached the summit Zack was exhausted. The air was getting thin. His head was aching and he was fighting dizziness again.
He didn’t have much time.
He grabbed two large handfuls of the bum’s blistered hide, and jumped.
There was a sharp ripping noise as Zack peeled away the top layer of skin from the Great White Bum’s right cheek.
Zack fell through the air and then felt a strong jolt on his ankle as the harpoon was wrenched out of the Great White Bum.
He looked up.
The Great White Bum was already a long way above him.
He was clear.
Now all he needed was for his make-shift parachute to work.
It was streaming out behind him like an enormous sheet. Zack knew he had to gather its corners together so that he could use it to trap enough air to slow him down.
He threaded two corners of the bumskin through the holes on either side of the utility belt and tied them tight. Then he grabbed the other two corners and pulled them in until he was holding a great bunch of bumhide in each hand. He extended his arms out straight.
WHUMP!
Zack felt another huge jolt as the bumskin formed a large, beautiful canopy over the top of him. It was a perfect parachute. He could even steer it by pulling down on one side or the other.
Zack was floating now—rather than falling—and it wasn’t long before his bum, Eleanor, the Bum Hunter and the Bum Army came into view. They were still on the side of the bumcano, all looking up into the sky. Looking up at Zack . . . and waving.
Zack swung his bumskin-chute gently around and spiralled down to land as close as possible to them, and as far away as possible from the main vent of the bumcano. Even though it was now harmless, it was one place Zack never wanted to visit again.
The ground was really close.
Zack pulled down on the bumskin-chute, in the same way that he’d seen professional skydivers do to bring their parachute to a gentle stop. Unfortunately the bumskin-chute was not quite as graceful. In fact it seemed to speed up.
If it hadn’t been for his bum running underneath at the last moment Zack would have hit the ground hard. Instead Zack hit his bum hard, bounced off it and landed flat on his back. The bumskin billowed down softly over the top of him.
Zack just lay there, very happy to be alive.
Eleanor pulled the bumskin off.
‘What’s the matter?’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘You’re grinning like a lunatic.’
‘I’m happy,’ he said. ‘There’s no law against that is there?’
‘I thought you were dead.’
‘Takes more than a little fall to kill me,’ boasted Zack, sitting up and untangling the harpoon rope from around his ankles.
The Bum Hunter smiled and shook his head.
‘You’ve definitely got bum-fighter’s blood in you, boy,’ he said.
‘You really think so?’ said Zack.
‘I do,’ said the Bum Hunter. ‘That was brilliant. Just brilliant. With a bit of training, the sky’s the limit for you, Zack.’
Bum-fighter’s blood? thought Zack. But his parents were musicians. They were as different from bum-fighters as it’s possible to be. So it couldn’t have come from them . . . unless . . . unless . . . Zack remembered his gran’s cryptic advice to him.
Don’t forget to wash your hands . . .
Was it possible that his gran was a bum-fighter? Or at least had been? The thought was so bizarre that Zack couldn’t even believe he was thinking it. Zack had always assumed that her war ramblings referred to living through two world wars. Could it be that she might be talking about bum wars? Zack was going to have to have a long talk to her when he got home. A very long talk. But right now he needed some rest.
Zack lay back and looked up at the sky.
The Great White Bum was just a small speck in the distance—a tiny white dot against the clear blue sky.
‘I can’t believe the Great White Bum’s really gone,’ said Eleanor.
‘Yeah,’ said Zack. ‘So much for being indestructible.’
Zack heard a groan. He looked around. His bum was still lying on the ground.
‘Sorry mate,’ said Zack, getting to his feet and picking his bum up at the same time. ‘I forgot about you.’
‘That’s all right,’ said his bum. ‘Happy to be of service.’
‘I’m proud of you,’ said Zack. ‘Your bum mutiny helped to save the world. It’s good to have you back.’
‘It’s good to be back,’ said his bum. ‘Well, it would be if . . .’
‘If what?’ said Zack.
‘You know,’ it said, ‘two’s company, but three’s a
crowd.’
For a moment Zack didn’t know what it was talking about and then it dawned on him.
‘Oh,’ said Zack, patting his false bum, ‘you mean this.’
‘Yes,’ said his bum. ‘You’re going to have to choose.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Zack. ‘That’s a tough one. My false bum is self-wiping . . .’
Zack’s bum looked hurt. ‘Yeah . . . well . . . I’m not doing that,’ it said.
‘But you are my bum, I guess,’ said Zack. He undid his pants, pulled out his false bum and bowled it down the hill.
Zack’s bum gave a squeak of delight, jumped into Zack’s pants and reattached itself to his body. The Bum Army cheered.
Zack turned around to admire his bum.
That’s when he saw them.
The Prince and Maurice were standing behind him, as pompous as ever.
‘Well, well,’ said the Prince, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you again, isn’t it, Maurice?’
‘Oh yes, sir,’ replied Maurice. ‘A deep, deep pleasure.’
‘I see that while we’ve been away our Bum Army has finally succeeded in capturing you,’ said the Prince. ‘And the Bum Hunter too—excellent work, brothers and sisters!’
Eleanor and Zack looked at each other and burst out laughing. The Bum Hunter chuckled as well.
The Prince and Maurice looked confused.
‘Would you mind explaining what’s so funny?’ said the Prince. ‘I hardly need to remind you that you are in very serious trouble here.’
‘Very serious trouble,’ said Maurice. ‘Very, very serious . . .’
‘Maurice!’ said the Prince.
‘Actually, it’s the other way around,’ said Eleanor.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said the Prince.
‘Listen to me, you puffed-up bum pimple,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s all over. Your leader is dead. We killed him.’
The Prince laughed nervously.
‘Impossible,’ he spluttered. ‘The Great White Bum is indestructible!’
‘Look up into the sky,’ said Zack. ‘See that dot?’
‘Yes,’ said the Prince. ‘What about it?’
‘That’s your “indestructible” leader,’ said Zack.
‘You lie!’ hissed the Prince.
‘It’s true!’ said Zack.
As Zack spoke, the Prince and Maurice glanced nervously at each other.
‘It’s very easy to say all this,’ said the Prince, turning back to Zack, ‘but what evidence do you have?’
‘The skin of his right cheek for a start,’ said Zack, reaching back and unfurling the pale sheet in front of them. It was blistered and a little worse for wear, but still retained a bleached brilliance that could only belong to the Great White Bum. The Prince and Maurice stepped back, clearly shaken and disturbed. Maurice craned forward, his cheeks wobbling like jelly.
‘It’s his!’ said Maurice. ‘I’d recognise it anywhere.’
‘It’s a trick!’ said the Prince.
‘Oh yeah?’ said Zack. ‘Wanna see another trick?’
‘What’s that?’ said the Prince.
‘This!’ yelled Zack, charging at him and giving him an almighty torpedo-kick, just as he’d seen the Kicker do.
The Prince shot through the air over the Bum Army, over the bumcano and straight into the enormous talons of a circling wedge-tailed bum-eater. It gave a grateful squawk and flew off into the distance, ignoring the Prince’s insults and curses.
Meanwhile Maurice stood his ground.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ growled Zack. ‘You wanna see my trick again?’
‘No!’ he screamed. He turned and ran down the slope towards the cliff where the Kicker, the Smacker and Ned Smelly had all met their doom.
He ran over the cliff, into the air and, cartoon-like, ran on nothing for a few seconds before dropping like a stone.
As Zack watched, and savoured the moment, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
‘Way to go, son!’ said a raspy voice. ‘That’s what I call kickin’ bum!’
Zack spun around.
It was the Kicker.
Grinning from ear to ear.
He grabbed Zack’s hand and shook it like he was trying to pull Zack’s arm out of its socket.
‘And you really kicked bum up there, too!’ said the Kicker, pointing to the Great White Bum, which was now only a fuzzy dot in the sky.
‘He’s obviously had a good teacher,’ said the Bum Hunter stepping forward with his arms wide open.
‘Silas, you old bum sympathiser!’ roared the Kicker as they embraced. ‘About time you showed up!’
‘Kicker?’ said Eleanor. ‘But I thought . . . Zack said you were . . .’
‘Dead?’ he guffawed. ‘Not a chance! Not with legs as powerful as mine. I land on my feet every time. Only problem was, I landed in a bog. But the Smacker and Ned found me and dragged me out.’
‘You mean they’re still alive too?’ said Zack.
‘Of course we are!’ said the Smacker, limping into view, using a tree branch for a crutch, aided by Ned Smelly.
Suddenly the Smacker stopped dead, staring at the Bum Hunter like he was a ghost.
‘Silas?’ said the Smacker. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I wouldn’t miss a good bum-fight for the world,’ said the Bum Hunter, walking over to the Smacker and embracing her and Ned warmly.
‘But how did you survive?’ said Zack to the Smacker. ‘You fell off that cliff!’
‘That’s true,’ said the Smacker. ‘Well, technically, I was pushed. But I managed to get a grip on a ledge on the rock-face about halfway down.’ She held up her hands. ‘They’re not just good for smacking, you know.’
‘Yeah!’ said Ned. ‘She got a grip on me as I went flying past.’
‘Hang on,’ said Zack. ‘Let me get this straight. The Smacker is holding onto a rocky ledge, you fall past and she grabs you too?’
They both nodded.
‘So the Smacker is holding on with one hand, and holding you with the other?’
‘Yep,’ said Ned, ‘that’s about the size of it.’
‘Then how did you get down?’
‘I rigged up a remote unit for the bum-mobile,’ said Ned, patting a small box in his top pocket.
‘Thought it might come in handy—and it did. I guided the bum-mobile down to us and we climbed aboard.’
‘That must have been after the Kisser used it to get to the top of the bumcano,’ said Zack.
‘Speaking of the Kisser, where is he?’ said the Kicker. ‘He’s got a bum-kickin’ comin’ to him that he’ll never forget.’
‘Actually, he’s already had a lot worse,’ said Eleanor.
‘Worse than a kicking?’ said the Kicker. ‘What could be worse than that?’
‘He fell into the brown lake inside the bumcano,’ said Eleanor. ‘The giant maggots pulled him down.’
The Kicker winced.
‘That’s worse,’ he said. ‘Definitely worse.’
The group nodded a silent agreement.
‘I say we go back to Ned’s shack and party!’ said the Kicker. Then he turned to the Bum Army. ‘And all you bums are welcome too!’
‘I’ll second that,’ said the Smacker above the cheering of the bums.
‘And I’ll third it,’ said Ned, putting his arm around Zack’s shoulder.
Suddenly Zack stopped dead. There was something different about Ned.
And then Zack realised what it was. He didn’t stink any more.
‘Ned?’ he said. ‘What happened to your smell?’
‘Well,’ said Ned, ‘it’s the strangest thing! After I recovered from the Kisser’s attack, I was too sick to collect needleweeds or go stinkant hunting so I had to eat the supplies you left me. My body odour cleared up almost instantly!’
‘That’s fantastic!’ said Zack.
‘I suppose it is,’ Ned said sadly, ‘but to tell you the truth, I lived with it for so long that I kind of miss it.’
Ned breathed in deeply. ‘Just like old times,’ he said with tears in his eyes.
There were tears in Zack’s eyes too—but for a different reason.
‘Yeah,’ said Zack, putting his clothespeg back on. ‘Just like old times.’
GLOSSARY
Note: Any words within an entry that appear in italic type have a separate entry in the glossary.
Anti-bum energy bars
Favourite food of bum-fighters. They inhibit the sense of smell and contain massive amounts of protein for extra smacking, kicking or kissing power.
Brown Forest, The
Formerly known as the Black Forest, this once healthy and thriving forest is now dead and brown and full of stinkbogs and brown fog, due to the presence of the great unwiped bum, Stenchgantor.
Brown fog
A thick fog that completely disorients anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in it. Mostly found in the Brown Forest.
B-team, The
A crack bum-fighting unit made up of the Kicker, the Smacker and the Kisser.
Bum
The two fleshy mounds above the legs and below the hollow of the back. Detachable, with a will of their own. May emit gas. See fart.
Bumboo
A tree-like tropical grass. The hollow woody stems are used for building purposes and for making furniture, poles, bum-rafts etc.
Bum-boulder
A boulder formed by bums clustered together. Like a snowball it grows bigger and bigger as it rolls and collects more bums.
Bumcano
An extinct volcano that has been colonised by bums. Allows lethal concoctions of gas and solids to build up, resulting in eruptions that have the power to devastate enormous areas and in some cases are powerful enough to destroy the ozone layer. A proliferation of bumcanoes in the late Jurassic Period is thought by some to have been responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs.
Bumcatcher
Person employed by the local council to catch runaway bums.
Bum-fighter
Any individual engaged in bum-resistance, either in a paid or voluntary capacity.
Bumguard
The Day My Butt Went Psycho Page 16
