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Quick, Let's Get Out of Here

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by Michael Rosen


  What could I say to that?

  At first, I go,

  ‘No no, it’s all right.’

  But he goes,

  ‘No, come on – I’ll lend you a hand.’

  So I say, ‘OK’

  and he comes over and he helped me.

  He’s sitting there right next to me,

  my enemy,

  showing me how to do my sums.

  Then he said,

  ‘Now you try,’

  and then I could do them.

  So there I was, friends with him,

  grateful,

  I’m saying, ‘Thanks. Thanks for helping me.’

  But in the back of my mind,

  I know something

  THE TWIG WAS STILL IN THE BED.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  All I could see was

  THE TWIG

  sitting in his bed

  just where his feet would get it.

  Even if I went and got it out

  there’d still be a heap of dirty prickly bits

  left in his bed,

  after he’s showed me how to get all the sums right.

  So I go,

  ‘Look – when you go to bed –

  tonight

  there’ll be a twig in your bed.’

  So he goes,

  ‘A twig in my bed? A twig in my bed?

  How did it get there then?’

  So I say,

  ‘I put it there.’

  And my mum and dad heard that.

  So my dad goes,

  ‘You put a twig in his bed?

  Did I hear that right?

  You put a twig in his bed, might I ask

  Why did you put a twig in his bed?’

  And I just couldn’t say.

  I just sat there like a lemon.

  I couldn’t say it was to pay him back for

  telling on me about the watch

  because they wouldn’t think there was anything wrong

  with him doing that.

  So I just sat there

  and then I said,

  ‘I don’t know.’

  What a stupid thing to say.

  My dad goes,

  ‘You don’t know why you put a twig in his bed?

  You don’t know why?

  The boy’s going mad.

  First thing he does is smash up his watch

  and next thing

  he’s going round stuffing a twig in people’s beds.

  He’s going stark staring mad, I tell you.’

  I didn’t think I was going mad.

  And I don’t think my brother did.

  I bet he knew why I put

  a twig in his bed…

  LIZZIE

  When I was eleven

  there was Lizzie.

  I used to think this:

  You don’t care, Lizzie,

  you say

  that you’re a ginger-nut

  and you don’t care.

  I’ve noticed

  that they try to soften you up

  they say

  you’re clumsy

  they say

  you can’t wear shorts

  to school

  but you say,

  ‘I don’t care,

  I mean

  how can I play football

  in a skirt?’

  Lizzie,

  I’m afraid of saying

  I think you’re great

  because, you see,

  the teachers call you

  tomboy.

  I’m sorry

  but I make out, as if

  I agree with the teachers

  and the other girls

  wear bracelets

  and I’ve noticed

  they don’t shout like you

  or whistle,

  and, you see,

  the other boys

  are always talking about

  those girls

  with the bracelets

  So I do too.

  So I know

  that makes me a coward

  but that’s why I don’t dare

  to say you’re great,

  but I think it to myself

  when you’re there

  but I don’t say.

  I just try to show

  I like you

  by laughing

  and joking about

  and pulling mad faces.

  I’m sorry

  but I don’t suppose

  you’ll ever know…

  EDDIE AND THE GERBILS

  Not long ago

  we went on holiday with some people

  who’ve got gerbils.

  We haven’t got any pets

  and Eddie (he was two years old)

  he thought they were

  WONDERFUL.

  He was always looking in their cage

  going,

  ‘Hallo gerbils, hallo gerbils, hallo gerbils.’

  And when the boys took them out of the cage

  Eddie loved stroking them,

  going,

  ‘Hallo gerbils, hallo gerbils, hallo gerbils,’

  all over again.

  Now,

  when we got home from the holiday

  Like I said,

  we haven’t got any pets.

  What we’ve got, is

  MICE.

  So we wanted to get rid of them.

  So we rang up the council to ask for the mouse-man

  to come over and get rid of them.

  The mouse-man.

  That’s not a man who is a mouse.

  Silly,

  it’s a man who comes over

  and he goes round

  sniffing along the walls

  and behind cupboards

  to find where the mice go.

  Then he puts down these little trays of poison,

  only the mice don’t know it’s poison,

  they think it’s some really nice stuff

  like biscuits.

  And this poison

  it burns them up from the inside

  And they just die.

  The dead ones pong a bit.

  The bloke puts down little trays of this poison

  and the mice find it and go,

  ‘Wow. This looks really tasty stuff,’

  gobble gobble gobble

  clunk. Dead.

  gobble gobble gobble

  clunk.

  So one morning we’re having breakfast

  and when Eddie has breakfast

  sometimes he sits at the table

  sometimes he sits on the table

  sometimes he sits under the table.

  Well,

  this particular morning

  he was sitting under the table.

  So I’m eating my breakfast

  munch munch munch

  and suddenly I hear

  ‘Hallo gerbils.’

  ‘Uh?’ Ignore it. Munch munch munch.

  ‘Hallo gerbils.’

  Better have a look.

  Oh no.

  He’s got a dead mouse in his hand.

  Clutching it.

  Head poking out the top of his fist

  tail out the bottom.

  And he’s stroking it.

  The dead mouse.

  And he’s going,

  ‘Hallo gerbils hallo gerbils hallo gerbils.’

  I go,

  ‘No Eddie, No Eddie. It’s not a gerbil.

  It’s a mouse. A dead mouse.’

  And he shakes his head and he goes,

  ‘Na na. Gerbils.’

  ‘No, Eddie. Give it here.’

  So I took hold of it.

  By the tail.

  And I took it over to the bin

  and he’s following behind me on his little legs

  and I dropped it in the bin

  and he comes over to the bin too

  and he looks up, all sad.

  And he goes,

  ‘Oh.


  Bye bye gerbils.’

  FRIED EGG

  When you have a fried egg

  and the yellow bit – the yolk –

  is all runny

  and it spills on to the plate

  how do you clean it off your

  plate?

  With your knife or your fork?

  I once said to my brother,

  ‘I bet a fork’s best.’

  And he said,

  ‘I bet a knife’s best.’

  So we scraped and scraped

  and I was sure,

  in fact I could see as plain as

  plain can see

  that my fork had done it better

  than his knife.

  ‘Mine’s best,’ I said.

  ‘Mine’s best,’ he said.

  ‘No mine is,’ I said.

  ‘No mine is,’ he said.

  ‘Mum, whose is best?’ I said.

  She looked at the plates.

  ‘I think they’re just about the

  same,’ she said.

  I didn’t say anything,

  I just knew that she was wrong.

  My fork was better than his

  knife for getting

  egg-yolk off plates.

  It was as simple as that.

  It made me so angry.

  I thought,

  ‘Why doesn’t he admit it?

  I know he knows mine is best.’

  BATHTIME

  Quite often

  my mum used to say to me:

  ‘Isn’t it time you had a bath?’

  and I’d say:

  ‘But I had one yesterday.’

  ‘No you didn’t,’ she’d say.

  ‘Well – the day before yesterday, then,’ I’d say.

  ‘Right,’ she says – ‘I’ll run the water.

  You be ready to get in when it’s full.’

  So when

  the bathroom was full of steam

  I was ready to climb in.

  One thing though –

  I never get into a bath

  bold and bare all over. You see,

  a bath is part of the water world

  and I always like to keep in touch with the dry world

  till the last possible moment.

  So what I do, is take off all my clothes

  except my vest.

  I step over and in – how’s that? Owah!

  as hot as feet can bear.

  I kneel down

  as hot as knees can bear. Oh!

  Down a bit, down a bit

  as hot as bottom can bear. Oooph!

  Sit for one moment in the water world

  with my last dry thing still on –

  then, vest off, over the edge, out of sight

  and I slide the rest of me into the water.

  I have stepped from the dry world to the wet world.

  I am now a water beast.

  I’m miles away from dry places like

  blankets and dust,

  carpets, hats and paper,

  straw and cake.

  I’m a wet thing that slips and slides,

  lips that burble in the ripples.

  My skin can shine like fish

  and my hands can twist the water into ringlets

  that show up on the bottom of the bath.

  I am a wet thing.

  It’s films time; I say:

  ‘There was once a time

  when the whole world was water,

  and it was all still. But then –

  Beneath the surface,

  great movements troubled the waters…”

  (as I say this I wriggle about a bit in the bath)

  ‘… and from out of the deeps –

  there rose – islands…’

  (I stick one knee out of the water)

  ‘… mountains…’

  (I stick the other knee out)

  ‘… and great sandbanks.’

  (that’s my belly lifting)

  ‘On one such wet shore came – LIFE.’

  (I make my fingers walk out of the water

  and across my belly.)

  The steam

  has now settled on the walls

  and there are dots of water there,

  getting together, ganging up,

  becoming drips.

  Drips get too big to stop where they are

  and slip.

  Now,

  what if I helped a gang of dots

  with a flick of water from out of the bath?

  Flick my finger and thumb. PLIP!

  and the dots become a drip,

  the drip begins to slip.

  Another PLIP! More dots become a drip –

  another drip begins to slip.

  It’s a race!

  ‘Welcome back to Bathroom for the

  Big Downfall Drip Race…

  and it’s Dropso – yes it’s Dropso

  away to a great start well ahead from

  Longbottom with the long bottom

  in second place near the pipes.

  It’s Dropso from Longbottom. Dropso from Longbottom.

  Dropso in fine form

  heading hard for a gang of dots.

  Longbottom behind – slow but steady

  taking in the dots one by one,

  Dropso fairly tearing down the wall has –

  no, yes, no –

  swung sideways, staggered across the wall,

  dived into another gang of dots

  and is now, is now bulged up like a ripe plum

  ready to plunge to victory –

  Longbottom still slow. Still oh so slow.

  No. I lie.

  Plucky little Longbottom with the long bottom

  picking up now, picking up dots

  picking up – bulging, bulging.

  Old Dropso has stuck. Is this wise?

  And it’s plucky Longbottom gushing like a very mountain

  torrent

  now closing up the gap on the drooping Dropso.

  This could be dangerous.

  Longbottom nosediving right on to droopy Dropso’s tracks.

  Longbottom is slipping helplessly along Dropso’s trail.

  It’s going to be a crash.

  It is a crash.

  Longbottom has dropped on to Dropso. It’s a drop-on.

  A drop-on. What a scene! Fantastic.

  What an end –

  no race but plenty of thrills.

  From Bathroom – back to you in London.’

  Now where’s that flannel?

  On with more bathtime business.

  Watch this!

  You take the flannel.

  Open it up square.

  Hang it up from its corners in front of you,

  with both hands – like a picture.

  Then, flop it down

  flat smack on the water to float.

  Now take one hand beneath the surface of the water

  under the flannel.

  Point your fingers upwards,

  make your hand like a tower.

  Lift this tower-hand up into the floating flannel.

  Lift the flannel just a bit out of the water.

  Stop.

  Feel the flannel suck round your fingers.

  Looks a bit like a head – someone swimming?

  With a head-scarf on…

  Now, grab the flannel head around its neck.

  ‘Help! It’s a snake. It’s got me round the neck. Aaargh.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Aaaargh.’

  The snake drags the head slowly down below the surface.

  Take your free hand – the one that isn’t the snake.

  Grab the head, now it’s underwater and – squeeze.

  All the air trapped in the flannel bubbles up.

  Blubble bubble bulbybobble bopbopbopbopbopbop.

  ‘You remember JAWS – THE TERROR OF THE DEEP!

  NOW! SNAKE – THE TERROR OF THE BATH!’

 
By now

  after these adventures

  there are colder currents in the bath.

  So it’s tidal wave time.

  Get under and slide down the bath.

  Slide back slide down slide back down back

  ffoom ffomp ffoom ffomp ffoom ffomp

  Big wave

  to and fro and

  grab the side. BRAKES ON.

  ‘The two-hundred-foot wave engulfs the cold water tap

  and the overflow hole.

  Millions of gallons of sea-water plunge over the edge

  and cascades more pour out of the overflow

  into the yard outside.’

  Suddenly comes:

  ‘Have you finished in there?’

  The door opens. It’s Mum.

  ‘What are you doing?

  The floor is covered in water and you haven’t even touched

  the soap.

  You’ve been in here for nearly half an hour.

  What have you been doing?’

  ‘I was a snake. There was a race. And then there was a tidal

  wave, Mum.’

  ‘Well your father’s just home and he says he got soaked

  from the overflow pipe as he was coming in the door.’

  ‘That was the tidal wave, Mum.’

  ‘Oh was it? Now you get out of there quick or you’ll turn

  into a sponge.’

  ‘Would I?’

  ‘Well, look at your hands. You’ve begun already. Now

  come on out of there.’

  I look at them. She’s right. They’ve turned into wrinkly

  white sponges.

  Just think of that.

  Staying in a bath so long

  you turn into a sponge.

  It’s time to come back to the dry world.

  Towel, pyjamas, sheets, blankets.

  Bed.

  WISE ONE

  Wise one, wise one

  how long is a piece of string?

  Twice as long as half its length.

  Wise one, wise one

  how do you kill a snake?

  Put its tail in its mouth

  and it’ll eat itself up.

  Wise one, wise one

  What’s at the end of a cat’s tail?

  A cat.

  Wise one, wise one

  How can I get a chick out of a boiled egg?

  Feed it to the chicken

  so it can lay it again.

  Wise one, wise one

  Why do bricklayers put mortar on bricks?

  To keep the bricks together

  and to keep the bricks apart.

  Wise one, wise one

  My parrot talks too much.

  Give it a good book to read.

 

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