by Jo Simmons
‘Call them off!’ Jonny shrieked from the tree. ‘They’ve gone nuts!’
‘Enough!’ I shouted. ‘Chickens – CALM! DOWN!’
And as quickly as they had attacked, the chickens stopped.
Jonny hopped down from the tree, panting a bit.
Meg appeared from under her pan lid.
Harry straightened his tutu.
Everyone was red in the face and sweating.
‘Right!’ I said. ‘Let’s take a short break, then we’ll try that again.’
‘And remind them they need to play nicely,’ said Jonny.
‘Yeah, or I’ll rip them to bits,’ said Meg, jutting out her chin.
This was a very un-Meg-like thing to say. She was obviously quite worked up. This is another thing I’ve learned about gladiatorial contests – they get people all worked up.
The gladiators straightened up their costumes and grabbed their weapons again. I whistled to the chickens to get ready. Then I yelled:
‘Let the games commence – again!’
This time the battle went much better. The chickens were more restrained.
Meg, Harry and Jonny were able to wave their plastic pipe spears.
Some of the chickens pretended to be wounded and did some good broken-wing acting.
At one point, Meg had chicken Caesar pinned to the ground with her plastic pipe sword – it was very dramatic.
I raised my thumb, meaning let the chicken live – I was really getting into the emperor role now – then rushed off to get Tiny from the kitchen.
My plan was to unleash a zebra into the Colosseum for the gladiators to fight – I’m pretty sure they had zebras in real gladiator fights – only Tiny, being Tiny, wouldn’t walk straight. She wandered off into the bushes and then lay down in a puddle. I shooed her up. I didn’t want the water to smudge her disguise.
Plus, if Nana saw that she was a pig – the pig that killed her dog – and not an actual zebra, there would be mega trouble.
Tiny got up and wandered away. It was hopeless. I couldn’t waste time trying to steer her back. Most of the chickens had been vanquished now; some had hopped out of the Colosseum to peck the grass.
Mr Hector and Nana were talking quietly together. Keith had tried on Harry the Hulk’s tutu and was prancing around in it. The show was losing its direction.
I led Major to the wheelbarrow-slash-chariot. Using some more twine, I tied him to it. He stood between the handles, like a mighty horse that might pull along a mighty emperor – ME! – in a golden chariot. I hopped in the back, my feet dangling out, and Major headed straight for the Colosseum.
We made a spectacular sight. I know this because everyone stopped mucking about. I waved in an emperory way. Everyone cheered. Mr Hector and Nana clapped and lobbed little apples at me, which rained down like appley confetti. What a moment!
I tried not to laugh. I didn’t want to ruin the emperor effect. But it was hard. I felt so happy. This was so much fun – the best birthday fun you could ever wish for. I wanted this moment to last forever. My friends cheering, apples raining down, me being pulled along in a golden chariot by a mighty dog-horse.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever – I have learned this – and as I took another triumphant lap, with the crowd roaring, Tiny, disguised as a zebra, waddled into the Colosseum.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AN IMPERFECT STORM
‘A zebra! A zebra in the Colosseum!’ Keith shouted through his megaphone. ‘Gladiators, attack!’
They didn’t get a chance.
Major looked at Tiny the zebra, sniffed and wagged his tail. I guess you can disguise how a pig looks, but you can’t disguise its piggy smell, and Major instantly recognised Tiny. He leaped forward so fast I was thrown out of the chariot. The twine snapped, and Major broke free.
Major bounced around Tiny, scattering chickens and apples as he went.
Keith tried to stick to the script, signalling to Meg to uncover the volcano cake. He raised the megaphone to his mouth and yelled:
‘But oh no! What is that noise? What is that rumbling? The mighty volcano Vesuvius is going to erupt!’
Then there was a massive booming sound that seemed to shake the trees. How had Keith done that? Amazing! He truly was all over the special effects.
Then Keith threw some flour over everyone.
‘What are you doing?’ Nana shrieked, brushing it off her purple loon pants.
‘Hot ash rains down from the volcano!’ Keith boomed through his megaphone. ‘See the ash, raining down!’
There was a bright flash of light and another huge boom. This time everyone looked up.
The booming sound wasn’t Keith’s sound effects. It was thunder.
I felt a raindrop on my face. Suddenly, lots of fat drops fell from the sky.
‘Oh horror! Oh despair! Oh no!’ Keith continued. ‘Vesuvius is erupting. Run for your lives! The emperor and gladiators and crowd all flee in panic.’
Tiny waddled into the long grass and everyone else sheltered under the apple tree. Everyone except Keith. His cardboard megaphone was soaked and beginning to sag, but he wouldn’t be put off.
‘Soon boiling lava will flow down from the volcano’s sides.’ Keith pointed at the volcano cake. Not only was it getting wet, but it was surrounded by chickens, all pecking the strawberry-laces lava off it. Strawberry-laces lava that looked just like worms, if you are a chicken.
‘My cake!’ Meg cried, shooing the chickens away. ‘That took three hours to make!’
Another thunderclap.
BOOM!
‘Soon, chunks of hot lava and rock will explode out of the volcano!’ Keith went on.
And chunks did rain down.
Not chunks of lava, though.
Bacon sarnies.
Bruce had arrived, but no one had heard him except Major, who had jumped up, whacked the tray Bruce was carrying and sent a shower of sandwiches raining down upon us all.
‘My sarnies!’ yelled Bruce.
Things got a bit frantic.
We all ran round trying to rescue the sandwiches, while Major tried to eat them all.
The flour on our faces, clothes and hair turned to gummy splodges.
Meg tried to cover up the volcano cake, but the box was soggy and kept collapsing.
Then suddenly, from the bushes, came a squeal and a sound of thundering hooves. The grass parted and a zebra, aka Tiny, came running out at top speed.
I think maybe Tiny had found a stray sandwich and smelt the bacon in it. Bacon is obviously upsetting to a pig. Tiny was upset and she was heading straight (for once) at Meg’s cake.
Meg managed to grab Tiny’s straw mane as she ran past and swing herself up on to Tiny’s back. Meg steered Tiny away from the cake, but now they were thundering straight for Nana under the apple tree.
Nana didn’t move. Maybe she couldn’t move. Her eyes were wide, staring at this creature bombing towards her.
In the downpour, Tiny’s zebra disguise was washing off. Her straw tail dropped off, revealing her curly pig one.
Nana put her hand to her mouth. Mr Hector dived towards Nana, pushing her out of the way just as Tiny was about to crash into her.
Nana struggled to her feet.
‘That’s the pig that killed my dog,’ she said. ‘And now it’s running off with my granddaughter! After them!’
Then Nana set off after Tiny.
‘See the people fleeing from the volcano,’ shouted Keith through the megaphone.
I admired Keith for sticking to the script; it showed great resilience. Sadly, though, it was a waste of time. The show was clearly over. We all ignored Keith and chased after Nana.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE CHASE
You know those police car chases you see in films, when there’s a barrier over the road and the car in front just drives straight through it, smashing it to bits?
That’s what Tiny did to Mr Hector’s gate.
She was running so fast and
just smashed through the gate. Meg ducked as pieces of wood exploded everywhere.
Nana was running along behind, waving a pipe spear. Then there was me in a kaftan, Jonny in pyjamas and Harry the Hulk wearing his tutu. After a few seconds of stampeding, Keith caught up with us, too. All the chickens were with him.
‘This isn’t in the script!’ he yelled at me.
Thunder boomed overhead. Tiny swerved into a road. Cars slammed on their brakes and honked their horns.
My kaftan was wet and slowing me down, and the soggy gladiators were tripping over pieces of their costumes as they fell apart. Tiny raced into the park and past Bruce’s cafe, scattering the people who were queueing up outside. I ran after them – and straight into Dad and Mum.
‘Where have you been, Tom? We’ve been looking for you,’ Mum said.
I hadn’t told them where I was going this morning for my birthday. They were clearly furious with me.
‘We’re not furious with you,’ said Dad.
Huh??
Confusing.
‘The opposite. You’re a star, you’ve saved us!’ he went on. ‘My pasta sauce, that you gave to Bruce here in the cafe. It’s a total sensation. Someone from a big supermarket tasted it and now he wants me to make it for everyone. Tons of it. To sell in all their stores.’
‘It’s a real job for Dad,’ said Mum. ‘No more writing a book. It means I can cut back my hours at work and be around for you a bit more.’
‘I was never going to finish my book anyway,’ Dad said.
‘He was never going to finish his book anyway!’ Mum laughed.
Yes, laughed.
Quite a mad sort of laugh, admittedly, that went on a bit too long, but at least it was a laugh.
I couldn’t take it all in. I said nothing, and they just hugged me. They didn’t mention my birthday, but that was OK. It was a good hug.
‘This is great news, but Nana’s chasing Tiny down the road saying she’s a murderer. Plus, Meg’s riding her and I’m worried she’ll fall off.’
‘Riding Nana?’ Mum asked.
‘No! Riding Tiny. There’s no time for explaining. They’re getting away!’
We all started running now – Mum and Dad, too. We were shouting at Nana to stop. She couldn’t hear us.
‘Hold on, Meg!’ shouted Keith through his soggy megaphone. ‘We’re coming!’
Then Major bounded up alongside me, still licking his lips from all the bacon sarnies he must have scoffed in Mr Hector’s garden.
Suddenly, I had an idea. I grabbed Major and then called the chickens over. My chicken-whispering skills had been a bit patchy, but they were my only chance. I got the chickens to jump on to Major’s back.
‘Ride Major until you’re alongside Nana, then jump off and surround her,’ I said. The chickens nodded.
‘Keep her away from the pig-zebra. Use any means possible. Meg is in danger. Go!’
The chickens gripped Major’s fur and then, with a huge leap, Major shot down the road. Wow, that dog was fast. He just took off. I half expected the chickens to fall off him, but they clung on.
I pulled my kaftan up and did a final sprint. The chickens flapped down off Major’s back, landing in a line between Nana and the speeding pig. They formed a circle around Nana, wings out.
Nana was panting. Not surprising really. This was probably the most exercise she’d done in about sixteen years.
‘Stay back!’ she said, waving her pipe spear around. The chickens had their beaks open a bit, ready to peck.
Mum and Dad ran up. Then Jonny, Harry and Keith, Mr Hector and Bruce followed on behind.
‘What in the name of craningfords is going on?’ Dad puffed.
‘That’s what I’d like to know, too,’ said a voice I didn’t recognise.
There was a man holding a phone, staring angrily at all of us. He looked a bit familiar.
Then I saw Chas standing next to him and realised where we were.
There was a pond; a statue of a woman in a curtain; a very posh car. Oh great.
We had ended up in the garden of Chas Cheeseman’s house. Here was Chas, smirking, and this man was Chas Cheeseman’s dad.
‘I’m calling the police,’ he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WHAT’S ALL THIS, THEN?
It didn’t take long for the police to arrive. The officer got out of the car and my heart sank. It was the same one who had come round with Margherita in the pizza box, after I had buried her in the Bright Futures nursery sandpit and the children had dug her up again. I really hoped he didn’t mention this.
Mr Cheeseman said a girl riding a zebra had trampled through his garden, followed by Nana and a huge dog being ridden by chickens.
‘Can you identify the dog?’ the police officer asked.
‘Yes, it’s that one,’ said Mr Cheeseman, pointing at Major, who was licking the police officer’s trouser leg. ‘And those are the chickens who formed a circle around that lady,’ he said, pointing at Nana.
The police officer said he’d never heard of chickens doing something like this.
‘Expect you’ve never heard of a chicken whisperer, then,’ said Mr Hector. ‘Tell him, Tom, about your powers.’
‘I’m a chicken whisperer,’ I muttered.
‘A chicken what?’ said the police officer. ‘Speak up, lad.’
‘I am a chicken whisperer.’ I said. ‘I can control chickens. A bit.’
The chickens all clucked and nodded in agreement.
The police officer stared at me, squinting. Then he shook his head.
‘And why did you tell the chickens, if that’s what you did, to apprehend this elderly lady?’ he asked.
‘She was chasing my sister,’ I said, ‘who was riding on our pig. It was dangerous.’
‘And where are this sister and this pig then, might I ask?’ the police officer said.
‘There!’ shouted Keith, as Harry and Jonny pointed their plastic pipe spears towards a nearby hedge. Meg was crawling out of it, followed by Tiny.
‘That’s a pig?’ the police officer said. ‘Weird markings.’
‘It’s disguised as a zebra for gladiatorial combat, but the rain has ruined the stripes.’ I said.
‘Gladiatorial combat?’
‘In Mr Hector’s garden. That’s why we’re all dressed up. I was the emperor. Meg, Jonny and Harry were gladiators. Keith was special effects and narrator, and the pig was a zebra. The volcano cake erupted, sending ash which was really flour over us, and Bruce brought bacon sandwiches.
Then Major jumped up and sent all the sandwiches flying and Tiny got spooked by them – pigs get upset by bacon – and ran away. With Meg riding on her back.
Then Nana chased after her, once she realised she was the pig that squashed her dog and not a zebra at all. And that’s how we came to be here.’
The police officer was staring at me. His mouth was open. He had given up taking notes.
‘Is this true?’ Dad asked.
‘He wanted to arrange something we’d all enjoy and remember,’ said Keith. ‘So he went for Vesuvius erupting over a gladiator show. With bacon sandwiches.’
‘It just got a bit out of hand,’ Jonny added.
‘Although we looked fabulous!’ added Harry the Hulk.
‘Tom just wanted a really fun, cool birthday,’ said Meg. ‘After you cancelled it.’
‘Please don’t be angry with me,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, everyone. It’s all my fault. I tried to fix everything but it didn’t work. I just wanted my Lucky Birthday. You can arrest me if you like, Officer. I will come quietly.’
I held my two hands out, wrists together, ready to be handcuffed.
The police officer unclipped his handcuffs from his belt and walked towards me. But then he just laughed and said, ‘Fooled you, only joking!’
Then everyone hugged me. Literally everyone. I was smothered. And confused.
Nana said she was sorry she had chased Tiny. She said something about forgiveness and said
she respected Tiny for freaking out about the bacon sarnies, as she was a vegetarian, too.
Mum said that I had actually fixed my family, without even realising.
‘What you have done is make me see just how lost your dad and I got,’ said Mum. ‘We will never take our eyes off important things like you and your birthday again.’
‘Speaking of which,’ said Dad, ‘isn’t it about time we celebrated? Together, all of us. It’s your special day!’
‘Reckon that means all back to mine!’ said Mr Hector. Everyone cheered.
Chas Cheeseman’s dad complained about justice not being done, but this was drowned out by the sound of everyone singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.
Then the police officer took me to one side.
‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘You’re the one that buried a flat chihuahua in the sandpit of Bright Futures nursery.’
I gulped hard. I felt the colour drain from my face.
Then he grinned.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll let that go, too. In fact, I’ll give you a lift in the police car if you like, as it’s your birthday.’
Then he let me sit in the front of the police car – an actual real police car. He put the blue lights on and as we drove off I could hear Chas asking his dad why he’d never had a ride in a police car for his birthday.
Everyone followed: Mum and Dad and Meg, my friends, Nana and Mr Hector (who were now holding hands), Bruce from the cafe, Tiny the pig and Major the dog and all the chickens streaming along behind.
It was, I can safely say, the very best moment of my entire life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WHAT’S A LUCKY BIRTHDAY ANYWAY?
The rest of my birthday was a blur. A happy blur. If I had to list all the good things that happened, it would take ages. So I won’t, but here are the highlights:
1.Mr Hector got his fiddle out and played ‘country songs from when he was a lad back in his village’. Nana was on maracas. The two of them kept looking into each other’s eyes and smiling.
2.Meg took the tutu off Harry the Hulk and danced around all afternoon. I pointed out that she had suggested bunting, riding and dancing when I was planning my birthday and she’d had all of them (if you counted riding on a pig and bunting made of old pants, that is).
