Book Read Free

Wilf the Mighty Worrier--Battles a Pirate

Page 6

by Georgia Pritchett


  SWISH!

  The ropes frayed, there was another judder and jolt, and Wilf felt himself . . .

  FALL.

  Another three or five meters.

  “No!” screamed Wilf, holding on with just one hand. “Please stop!”

  But Alan didn’t stop. He took a third huge swipe at the rigging.

  SWISH!

  And Wilf felt himself falling, falling, falling until . . .

  THUMP!

  He fell onto the deck, into a pile of sawdust—which was all that remained of his “How to Stop Worrying” leaflet and treasure chest.

  Alan hurled himself at Wilf and tried to snatch the matches. Wilf and Alan wrestled and rolled and brawled and scrapped and tussled and scuffled and fought.

  They thumped and kicked and bit and tugged and elbowed and cuffed and then finally Alan ground Wilf’s face in the dust of his “How to Stop Worrying” leaflet and he grabbed the matches.

  Alan marched back over to the cannon and lit the match.

  “And now,” announced Alan, “I am going to sink the entire world, for I am the baddest, the baddest, the biddly boddly baddest man in the whole wide worlderoony.”

  And Alan lit the fuse.

  Wilf watched.

  Dot watched.

  Stuart watched.

  Wendy watched.

  Captain Bailey watched.

  Kevin Phillips watched.

  Mark III watched.

  The pirates watched.

  The Hearties watched.

  Dave Everyone watched.

  Everyone watched.

  They all held their breath.

  The fuse burned lower and lower.

  Wilf picked the rubber ring from the remains of his treasure chest and put it over Dot. Then he placed Stuart and Wendy on Dot’s head.

  The fuse burned lower and lower.

  Wilf wiped the remains of his leaflet from his face.

  And suddenly Wilf had an idea.

  “Stuart! Ask Wendy to tell all her friends to eat the ship for breakfast. Now!”

  Stuart turned and whispered something to Wendy. Then Wendy did the most enormously loud whistle. As you know, Wilf is something of an expert at whistling and this was one of the best whistles he had ever heard. No, I didn’t know woodworms could whistle either, but perhaps they’ve just never needed to before.

  Suddenly a loud munching crunching chomping noise could be heard as millions of teeny tiny mouths started chomping through the ship.

  The fuse burned lower and lower.

  “Good-bye world!” shouted Alan. And then he said, “What’s that strange chomping noise?”

  And the entire ship disappeared beneath their feet, cannon and all. And cannon and ball.

  Everyone splashed into the sea with a great big splash.

  Pshhhhht!

  The fuse of the cannon went out and the giant cannonball rolled slowly to the bottom of the ocean like a giant pebble.

  “Hooray!” shouted everyone.

  “I can’t swimblebubblebubble!” shouted Alan.

  “Bucket and spade!” said Dot, bobbing along happily in her rubber ring as she watched her beloved bucket and spade floating toward her. She grabbed the spade and chewed it happily.

  Meanwhile, Kevin Phillips grabbed Alan by the collar and swam toward a nearby island.

  Everyone else, including the crows, followed. Then they all climbed out of the water and onto the island and jumped up and down and hugged each other and did skippety dances.

  “Hooray for Wilf and Stuart and Wendy!” shouted everyone.

  “I name this island the United Alan Emirates,” said Alan, but nobody paid any attention.

  “We want our money back,” said Mr. and Mrs. Heartie.

  “You want a funny yak?” said Nigel.

  And then Dave Everyone and everyone had a big picnic and they all played tiddlywinks—by which I mean tiddlywinks, not, you know, tiddlywinks.

  And afterward, Wilf and Dot and Stuart and Wendy went home, tired and soggy but very happy.

  They didn’t have the treasure nor the picnic nor the slippers and they didn’t even have Wilf’s precious “How to Stop Worrying” leaflet, but they had each other. And besides, even without his leaflet, Wilf didn’t feel so worried anymore.

  THE END

  (But it really is this time.)

  Yes? Can I help?

  What are you still doing here?

  I said, it’s The End! Go away!

  Step away from the book . . .

  wilfthemightyworrier.com

 

 

 


‹ Prev