Horrid Henry Robs the Bank

by Francesca Simon

Henry scowled. The only reason he was even at this baby party was because the treasure chest was filled with chocolate coins.

  Mom clapped her hands.

  “Come on everyone, look for the clues hidden around the house to help you find the pirate treasure,” she said, handing Peter a scroll. “Here’s the first one.”

  Climb the stair,

  if you dare,

  you’ll find a clue,

  just for you.

  “I found a clue,” squealed Helpful Hari, grabbing the scroll dangling from the banister.

  Turn to the left,

  turn to the right,

  reach into the bag,

  don’t get a fright.

  The party pounded off to the left, then to the right, where another scroll hung in a pouch from Peter’s doorknob.

  “I found the treasure map!” shouted Perky Parveen.

  “Oh goody,” said Goody-Goody Gordon.

  Everyone gathered round the ancient scroll.

  “It says to go to the park,” squealed Spotless Sam. “Look, X marks the spot where the treasure is buried.”

  Dad, waving a skull and crossbones flag, led the pirates out of the door and down the road to the park.

  Horrid Henry ran ahead through the park gates and took off his skull and crossbones hat and eyepatch. No way did he want anyone to think he was part of this baby pirate party. He glanced at the swings. Was there anyone here that he knew? Phew, no one, just some little girl on the slide.

  The little girl looked up and stared at Horrid Henry. Horrid Henry stared back.

  Uh oh.

  Oh no.

  Henry began to back away. But it was too late.

  “Henwy!” squealed the little girl. “Henwy!”

  It was Lisping Lily, New Nick’s horrible sister. Henry had met her on the world’s worst sleepover at Nick’s house, where she—where she—

  “Henwy! I love you, Henwy!” squealed Lisping Lily, running toward him. “Will you marry with me, Henwy?”

  Horrid Henry turned and ran down the winding path into the gardens. Lisping Lily ran after him. “Henwy! Henwy!”

  Henry dived into some thick bushes and crouched behind them.

  Please don’t find me, please don’t find me, he prayed.

  Henry waited, his heart pounding. All he could hear was Peter’s pirate party, advancing his way. Had he lost her?

  “I think the treasure’s over there!” shouted Peter.

  Phew. He’d ditched her. He was safe.

  “Henwy?” came a little voice. “Henwy! Where are you? I want to give you a big kiss.”

  AAAARRRGGHH!

  Then Horrid Henry remembered who he was. The boy who’d got Miss Battle-Axe sent to the principal. The boy who’d defeated the demon lunch lady. The boy who was scared of nothing (except shots). What was a pirate king like him doing hiding from some tiddly toddler?

  Horrid Henry put on his pirate hat and grabbed his cutlass. He’d scare her off if it was the last thing he did.

  “AAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!” roared the pirate king, leaping up and brandishing his bloody cutlass.

  “AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!” squealed Lisping Lily. She turned and ran, crashing into Peter.

  “Piwates! Piwates!” she screamed, dashing away.

  Perfect Peter’s blood ran cold. He looked into the thrashing bushes and saw a skull and crossbones rising out of the hedge, the gleam of sunlight on a blood-red cutlass…

  “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” screamed Peter. “It’s Blood Boil Bob!” He turned and ran.

  “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” shrieked Ted. He turned and ran.

  “AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” shrieked Gordon, Parveen, and the rest. They turned and ran.

  Huh? thought Horrid Henry, trying to wriggle free.

  Thud.

  Henry’s foot knocked against something hard. There, hidden beneath some leaves under the hedge, was a pirate chest.

  Eureka!

  “Help!” shrieked Perfect Peter. “Help! Help!”

  Mom and Dad ran over.

  “What’s happened?”

  “We got attacked by pirates!” wailed Parveen.

  “We ran for our lives!” wailed Gordon.

  “Pirates?” said Mom.

  “Pirates?” said Dad. “How many were there?”

  “Five!”

  “Ten!”

  “Hundreds!” wailed Mini Minnie.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Mom.

  “I’m sure they’re gone now, so let’s find the treasure,” said Dad.

  Peter opened the map and headed for the hedge nearest to the gate where the treasure map showed a giant X.

  “I’m too scared,” he whimpered.

  Helpful Hari crept to the treasure chest and lifted the lid. Everyone gasped. All that was left inside were a few crumpled gold wrappers.

  “The treasure’s gone,” whispered Peter.

  Just then Horrid Henry sauntered along the path, twirling his hat.

  “Where have you been?” said Mom.

  “Hiding,” said Horrid Henry truthfully.

  “We got raided,” gasped Ted.

  “By pirates,” gasped Gordon.

  “No way,” said Horrid Henry.

  “They stole all the chocolate coins,” wailed Peter.

  Horrid Henry sighed.

  “What did I tell you about the cannibal curse?” he said. “Just be glad you’ve still got your heads.”

  Hmmmm, boy, chocolate coins were always yummy, but raided chocolate coins tasted even better, thought Horrid Henry that night, shoving a few more candies into his mouth.

  Come to think of it, there’d been too many pirate parties recently.

  Now, a cannibal curse party… Hmmmn.

  “I want the skull!”

  “I want the skull!”

  “I want the skull!” said Horrid Henry, glaring.

  “You had it last time, Henry,” said Perfect Peter. “I never get it.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did too.”

  “I’m the guest so I get the skull,” said Moody Margaret, snatching it from the box. “You can have the claw.”

  “NOOOOOOOO!” wailed Henry. “The skull is my lucky piece.”

  Margaret looked smug. “You know I’m going to win, Henry, ’cause I always do. So ha ha ha.”

  “Wanna bet?” muttered Horrid Henry.

  The good news was that Horrid Henry was playing Gotcha, the world’s best board game. Horrid Henry loved Gotcha. You rolled the dice and traveled round the board, collecting treasure, buying dragon lairs and praying you didn’t land in your enemies’ lairs or in the Dungeon.

  The bad news was that Horrid Henry was having to play Gotcha with his worm toad crybaby brother.

  The worst news was that Moody Margaret, the world’s biggest cheater, was playing with them. Margaret’s mom was out for the afternoon, and had dumped Margaret at Henry’s. Why oh why did she have to play at his house? Why couldn’t her mom just dump her in the garbage where she belonged?

  Unfortunately, the last time they’d played Gotcha, Margaret had won. The last two, three, four, and five times they’d played, Margaret had won. Margaret was a demon Gotcha player.

  Well, not anymore.

  This time, Henry was determined to beat her. Horrid Henry hated losing. By hook or by crook, he would triumph. Moody Margaret had beaten him at Gotcha for the very last time.

  “Who’ll be banker?” said Perfect Peter.

  “Me,” said Margaret.

  “Me,” said Henry. Being in charge of all the game’s treasure was an excellent way of filling up your coffers when none of the other players was looking.

  “I’m the guest so I’m banker,” said Margaret. “You can be the dragon keeper.”

  Horrid Henry’s hand itched
to yank Margaret’s hair. But then Margaret would scream and scream and Mom would send Henry to his room and confiscate Gotcha until Henry was old and bald and dead.

  “Touch any treasure that isn’t yours, and you’re dragon food,” hissed Henry.

  “Steal any dragon eggs that aren’t yours and you’re toast,” hissed Margaret.

  “If you’re banker and Henry’s the dragon keeper, what am I?” said Perfect Peter.

  “A toad,” said Henry. “And count yourself lucky.”

  Horrid Henry snatched the dice. “I’ll go first.” The player who went first always had the best chance of buying up the best dragon lairs like Eerie Eyrie and Hideous Hellmouth.

  “No,” said Margaret, “I’ll go first.”

  “I’m the youngest, I should go first,” said Peter.

  “Me!” said Margaret, snatching the dice. “I’m the guest.”

  “Me!” said Henry, snatching them back.

  “Me!” said Peter.

  “MOM!” screamed Henry and Peter.

  Mom ran in. “You haven’t even started playing and already you’re fighting,” said Mom.

  “It’s my turn to go first!” wailed Henry, Margaret, and Peter.

  “The rules say to roll the dice and whoever gets the highest number goes first,” said Mom. “End of story.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  Henry rolled. Four. Not good.

  “Peter’s knee touched mine when I rolled the dice,” protested Henry. “I get another turn.”

  “No you don’t,” said Margaret.

  “Mooom! Henry’s cheating!” shrieked Peter.

  “If I get called one more time,” screamed Mom from upstairs, “I will throw that game in the trash.”

  Eeeek.

  Margaret rolled. Three.

  “You breathed on me,” hissed Margaret.

  “Did not,” said Henry.

  “Did too,” said Margaret. “I get another roll.”

  “No way,” said Henry.

  Peter picked up the dice.

  “Low roll, low roll, low roll,” chanted Henry.

  “Stop it, Henry,” said Peter.

  “Low roll, low roll, low roll,” chanted Henry louder.

  Peter rolled an eleven.

  “Yippee, I go first,” trilled Peter.

  Henry glared at him.

  Perfect Peter took a deep breath, and rolled the dice to start the game.

  Five. A Fate square.

  Perfect Peter moved his gargoyle to the Fate square and picked up a Fate card. Would it tell him to claim a treasure hoard, or send him to the Dungeon? He squinted at it.

  “The og…the ogr…I can’t read it,” he said. “The words are too hard for me.”

  Henry snatched the card. It read:

  The Ogres make you king for a day. Collect 20 rubies from the other players.

  “The Ogres make you king for a day. Give 20 rubies to the player on your left,” read Henry. “And that’s me, so pay up.”

  Perfect Peter handed Henry twenty rubies.

  Tee hee, thought Horrid Henry.

  “I think you read that Fate card wrong, Henry,” said Moody Margaret grimly.

  Uh oh. If Margaret read Peter the card, he was dead. Mom would make them stop playing, and Henry would get into trouble. Big, big trouble.

  “Did not,” said Henry.

  “Did too,” said Margaret. “I’m telling on you.”

  Horrid Henry looked at the card again. “Whoops. Silly me. I read it too fast,” said Henry. “It says, give 20 rubies to all the other players.”

  “Thought so,” said Moody Margaret.

  Perfect Peter rolled the dice. Nine! Oh no, that took Peter straight to Eerie Eyrie, Henry’s favorite lair. Now Peter could buy it. Everyone always landed on it and had to pay a ransom or get eaten. Rats, rats, rats.

  “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, look, Henry, I’ve landed on Eerie Eyrie and no one owns it yet,” said Peter.

  “Don’t buy it,” said Henry. “It’s the worst lair on the board. No one ever lands on it. You’d just be wasting your money.”

  “Oh,” said Peter. He looked doubtful.

  “But…but…” said Peter.

  “Save your money for when you land in other people’s lairs,” said Henry. “That’s what I’d do.”

  “OK,” said Peter, “I’m not buying.”

  Tee hee.

  Henry rolled. Six. Yes! He landed on Eerie Eyrie. “I’m buying it!” crowed Henry.

  “But Henry,” said Peter, “you just told me not to buy it.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to me,” said Henry.

  “MOM!” wailed Peter.

  Soon Henry owned Eerie Eyrie, Gryphon Gulch, and Creepy Hollow, but he was dangerously low on treasure. Margaret owned Rocky Ravine, Vulture Valley, and Hideous Hellmouth. Margaret kept her treasure in her treasure pouch, so it was impossible to see how much money she had, but Henry guessed she was also low.

  Peter owned Demon Den and one dragon egg. Margaret was stuck in the Dungeon. Yippee! This meant if Henry landed on one of her lairs he’d be safe. Horrid Henry rolled, and landed on Vulture Valley, guarded by a baby dragon.

  “Gotcha!” shrieked Margaret. “Gimme 25 rubies.”

  “You’re in the Dungeon, you can’t collect ransom,” said Henry. “Nah nah ne nah nah!”

  “Can too!”

  “Cannot!”

  “That’s how we play at my house,” said Margaret.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not at your house,” said Henry.

  “But I’m the guest,” said Margaret. “Gimme my money!”

  “No!” shouted Henry. “You can’t just make up rules.”

  “The rules say…” began Perfect Peter.

  “Shut up, Peter!” screamed Henry and Margaret.

  “I’m not paying,” said Henry.

  Margaret glowered. “I’ll get you for this, Henry,” she hissed.

  It was Peter’s turn. Henry had just upgraded his baby dragon guarding Eerie Eyrie to a big, huge, fire-breathing, slavering monster dragon. Peter was only five squares away. If Peter landed there, he’d be out of the game.

  “Land! Land! Land! Land! Land!” chanted Henry. “Yum yum yum, my dragon is just waiting to eat you up.”

  “Stop it, Henry,” said Peter. He rolled. Five.

  “Gotcha!” shouted Horrid Henry. “I own Eerie Eyrie! You’ve landed in my lair, pay up! That’s 100 rubies.”

  “I don’t have enough money,” wailed Perfect Peter.

  Horrid Henry drew his finger across his throat.

  “You’re dead meat, worm,” he chortled.

  Perfect Peter burst into tears and ran out of the room.

  “Waaaaaaahhhhh,” he wailed. “I lost!”

  Horrid Henry glared at Moody Margaret.

  Moody Margaret glared at Horrid Henry.

  “You’re next to be eaten,” snarled Margaret.

  “You’re next,” snarled Henry.

  Henry peeked under the Gotcha board where his treasure was hidden. Oh no. Not again. He’d spent so much on dragons he was down to his last few rubies. If he landed on any of Margaret’s lairs, he’d be wiped out. He had to get more treasure. He had to. Why oh why had he let Margaret be banker?

  His situation was desperate. Peter was easy to steal money from, but Margaret’s eagle eyes never missed a trick. What to do, what to do? He had to get more treasure, he had to.

  And then suddenly Horrid Henry had a brilliant, spectacular idea. It was so brilliant that Henry couldn’t believe he’d never thought of it before. It was dangerous. It was risky. But what choice did he have?

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” said Henry.

  “Hurry up,” said Margaret, scowling.


  Horrid Henry dashed to the downstairs bathroom…and sneaked straight out the back door. Then he jumped over the garden wall and crept into Margaret’s house.

  Quickly he ran to her living room and scanned her games cupboard. Aha! There was Margaret’s Gotcha.

  Horrid Henry stuffed his pockets with treasure. He stuffed more under his shirt and in his socks.

  “Is that you, my little sugarplum?” came a voice from upstairs. “Maggie Moo-Moo?”

  Henry froze. Margaret’s mom was home.

  “Maggie Plumpykins,” cooed her mom, coming down the stairs. “Is that you–oooo?”

  “No,” squeaked Henry. “I mean, yes,” he squawked. “Got to go back to Henry’s, ’bye!”

  And Horrid Henry ran for his life.

  “You took a long time,” said Margaret.

  Henry hugged his stomach.

  “Upset tummy,” he lied. Oh boy was he brilliant. Now, with tons of cash which he would slip under the board, he was sure to win.

  Henry picked up the dice and handed them to Margaret.

  “Your turn,” said Henry.

  Henry’s hungry dragon stood waiting six places away in Goblin Gorge.

  Roll a six, roll a six, roll a six, prayed Horrid Henry.

  Not a six, not a six, not a six, prayed Moody Margaret.

  Margaret rolled. Four. She moved her skull to the Haunted Forest.

  “Your turn,” said Margaret.

  Henry rolled a three. Oh no. He’d landed on Hideous Hellmouth, where Margaret’s giant dragon loomed.

  “Yes!” squealed Margaret. “Gotcha! You’re dead! Ha ha hahaha, I won!” Moody Margaret leaped to her feet and did a victory dance, whooping and cheering.

  Horrid Henry smiled at her.

  “Oh dear,” said Horrid Henry. “Oh dearie, dearie me. Looks like I’m dragon food—NOT!”