Snake Surprise!

by J. E. Fison

  What can we do to help?

  ‘Come on, Ben,’ I call. ‘Let's get back to the houseboat.’

  There's only one way we can save our friends.

  ‘You pick it up,’ I say to Ben.

  ‘I'm not picking it up. It's your idea. You pick up the snake,’ Ben replies.

  Ben and I are on the houseboat looking at James Forsyth-Snugglebottom's pet. It hasn't changed much since we left an hour ago. I can see that breakfast will be going on for awhile.

  But we don't have much time.

  ‘Why do we need the snake?’ Ben asks.

  ‘Money Mad Iggy is terrified of snakes, isn't he?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says.

  ‘Even carpet snakes.’

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘If Money Mad Iggy sees the snake, he'll want to get off Breakneck Island as fast as he can. And never come back.’

  ‘What about his friend?’ Ben asks. ‘Let's hope he's scared of snakes as well,’ I say.

  I have to admit it's not the best plan. But it's the only one we've got. If we can just get the snake into the shed, Mimi, Lachlan and James Forsyth-Snugglebottom will have a chance to escape.

  ‘We'll have to carry it on the blanket,’ I suggest.

  ‘Just like a flying carpet,’ Ben says.

  ‘Yes, just the same, except it will be a blanket and it won't be flying. We'll be carrying it,’ I say. ‘Come on. Grab two corners and I'll get the other end.’

  The snake sits comfortably like some royal reptile. Ben and I sweat. We strain and struggle to get it off the houseboat and onto Breakneck Island. I slip, I stumble and trip, but I keep hold of the blanket. If I had other options I would have chosen a stronger partner for the job. I am certain I'm carrying most of the weight. But I don't have a choice. This is our only chance to save the others.

  ‘A Swiss Army knife,’ Ben shouts, when we are almost at the shed.

  A pocketknife is almost completely buried in the mud. Just a bit of red and a tiny Swiss flag are poking out.

  ‘Just leave it,’ I say. ‘We don't have time.’

  But the Stink Collector can't do that. It's just not possible to walk past such a fantastic gadget.

  ‘Every hero needs a Swiss Army knife,’ Ben insists. ‘I'll let you borrow it sometimes.’

  I have to admit, I'm tempted to drop the snake, take the pocketknife and forget about Money Mad Iggy and Mr Beachball Belly. Every hero does need a Swiss Army knife. And there's one right next to us. But we wouldn't be very good heroes if we abandoned our friends and went home with a pocketknife.

  ‘You'll have to come back for it,’ I say.

  I put my head down and walk on. Ben follows.

  ‘I need that letter,’ I can hear Money Mad Iggy saying when we finally reach the shed. ‘I want this island. I can make millions of dollars with a resort here. And I'm not going to let you spoil my plans. Tell me where the letter is … please.’

  I wait for an answer, my heart in my throat. If anyone reveals that the letter is in my pocket, Money Mad Iggy will be after me.

  There's silence. No one says a word.

  Ben and I trudge towards the back of the shed. We peek in to assess the situation.

  It doesn't look good.

  Money Mad Iggy is guarding the door. Lachlan and James Forsyth-Snugglebottom are tied to a post in the middle of the shed. Mr Beachball Belly stands over them. He's not carrying the soup anymore (which is a good thing), but he's got an angry look on his face and the baseball bat in his hand. If he starts waving that around, someone's going to get a nasty headache.

  Mimi is at the back of the shed. She helps herself to some cabbage soup.

  She actually likes that stuff?

  She takes a mouthful. A stern look crosses her face. She's either just realised that cabbage soup is actually the most revolting thing ever invented or she's just about to start a lecture.

  ‘You two should be ashamed of yourselves,’ she begins.

  The men are in deep doggy doo-doo now.

  ‘This is a sanctuary for koalas. They're safe here from cars and dogs and people. You can't just bulldoze the trees and build a resort. Koalas need it a lot more than you do. Where would they live if you cut down their trees and put up hotels?’

  ‘Hold on a minute …’ Mr Beachball Belly replies. ‘I'll get you a phone, so you can call someone who cares.’

  ‘Oh. I'm going to call someone who cares as soon as I get out of here. You two will be in a lot of trouble,’ Mimi says. She shovels a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

  Keep talking, Mimi. We just need a couple of minutes to get everything in place.

  ‘Hold on, Ben, we're nearly there,’ I whisper.

  My arms are aching. Ben groans. We manoeuvre the snake to the front of the shed. Who would have thought a carpet snake could weigh so much?

  ‘Hold the blanket a bit higher,’ I whisper. ‘It's dragging in the water. You're going to drown the snake.’

  ‘I don't care,’ Ben replies. ‘I can't carry it any further.’

  ‘One last bit,’ I urge. ‘Lift the blanket up over your head.’

  Inside the shed, I can hear Mimi lecturing the kidnappers.

  ‘And another thing …’ she continues.

  Now is our chance.

  I hoist the blanket and our royal bat-eating surprise high over my head. I burst through the front of the shed. But Ben has other ideas. He drops the blanket and sprints off.

  Mimi's lecture ends.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing!’ Mr Beachball Belly shouts at me.

  I thought I knew. Now I have no idea. I'm standing with a blanket in my hand. The snake is around my shoulders! It has swallowed its breakfast. Now it's on the move!

  Somersaulting sausage rolls! This wasn't part of the plan.

  Mimi uses the distraction to squeeze out through the hole in the back of the shed.

  Mr Beachball Belly spots her escaping. He follows. He gets his head through the gap. He gets the baseball bat out. He gets his arm out. But his belly is too big. He can't get it through. He can't move forwards and he can't move backwards.

  He's trapped.

  ‘Get me out of here!’ he yells.

  Money Mad Iggy can't help. He's rooted to the spot, staring at the bloated snake. His eyes grow wider. His ears grow red. He opens his mouth. I'm waiting for a scream to bring down the shed. But there's no noise at all. He puts his thumb in his open mouth. He sucks it like a toddler.

  ‘I think Iggy would like to see the snake,’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom says. He and Lachlan are watching the reptile show from the post in the middle of the shed. ‘Why don't you give him a closer look?’

  I stagger towards Iggy. He steps back. I move forwards. He edges backwards. He doesn't take his eyes off the snake. He doesn't take his thumb out of his mouth. Iggy moves backwards until he's trapped in the corner. There's nowhere to go.

  I edge even closer. The snake lifts its head to inspect Money Mad Iggy. Only centimetres separate the snake's eyes from Iggy's. Sweat is pouring down the man's face. Tears are building in his eyes. His whole body is shaking.

  ‘Over here,’ Lachlan calls as Ben and Mimi return to the shed. Ben is waving a muddy but unmistakable Swiss Army knife – every Stink Collector needs one.

  Ben hacks at the ropes around Lachlan's arms. Mimi pulls at the ropes on James Forsyth-Snugglebottom. The boat driver breaks free. A moment later Lachlan is also free. Ben is still hacking at a piece of rope that appears to be in no way attached to anyone.

  ‘I think it's time we left,’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom says. He ambles towards the door. ‘We'll take the speedboat.’

  I'd like to leave. I've been watching a grown man suck his thumb for five minutes. The slobbering is making me feel sick. But I can't go anywhere. I still have a snake-scarf draped around my neck.

  ‘Someone get this snake off me,’ I plead.

  James Forsyth-Snugglebottom wades towards me. He gently lifts the snake off me and eases it onto his own s
houlders.

  ‘Shall we go?’ he says.

  I look around. Money Mad Iggy is frozen in the corner of the shed, still shaking and sucking his thumb. Mr Beachball Belly is screaming. ‘Get me out of here! I'm going to starve to death.’

  ‘Why don't you try the cabbage soup?’ I reply. It's not very helpful at all. Then I head out of the shed and splash through the water towards the speedboat.

  ‘Well done my young friend,’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom says as I climb onto the speedboat. ‘You certainly sorted out Money Mad Iggy. Now welcome aboard.’

  I plonk down in a padded seat, next to Ben and my new friend Josephine the snake. I'm exhausted from carrying an overweight carpet snake across Breakneck Island, saving my friends and then sprinting to the boat to save myself. Mimi and Lachlan are sitting opposite me. They look as bad as I feel (Lachlan looks worse. He still has mud in his eyebrows from the barnacle mask he was wearing this morning).

  ‘Which way is home?’ James Forsyth Snugglebottom asks.

  Lachlan points down Hazard River.

  James Forsyth-Snugglebottom turns on the motor and a bank of screens comes to life. They ping and whir in front of me. There's a satellite navigation system, depth sounder and a whole lot of other things that I've never seen before. In the cabin is a television, microwave and a big bed. It looks so comfortable I could move in here tomorrow. In fact I might have to, if my parents find out what we've been doing all morning.

  ‘You know how to drive this boat?’ I ask.

  James Forsyth-Snugglebottom looks like the ‘steady as she goes’ kind of boatman, not the ‘look at me, I'm going so fast in my flashy boat’ kind of boat guy. But appearances can be deceptive.

  ‘Yes, I can drive it. I own it,’ he shouts over the engine. ‘I lent it to Money Mad Iggy a year ago, just after I bought it. He never bothered to return it. No matter. It didn't match my clothes anyway.’

  Well, that is true. There probably aren't too many boats that go with saggy white undies. A messy old houseboat is one. And there's a boat in the bush with a tree growing through the middle that might match. That's about it.

  ‘What will happen to the koalas?’ Mimi asks.

  ‘I'll be back to check on them tomorrow,’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom says. ‘They'll be safe there for the night.’

  ‘What about Money Mad Iggy and his mate?’ Lachlan asks. ‘Are you going to leave them in the shed for the night?’

  ‘I think I'll let them suffer for a while and then report them to the police. It's time I sorted out this mess with my brother,’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom replies. ‘It will be easier now I've got the letter to prove I own the island.’

  He feels around in his undies for the letter. There's a look of panic in his eyes, until I pull it out of my shorts pocket. I hand it over, making sure he has hold of it before I let go. It's not the sort of thing you want to see whipped away in the wind. James Forsyth-Snugglebottom opens a locker and tucks the letter safely inside.

  ‘Anyone like pancakes?’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom asks.

  Mum was cooking pancakes when we left to rescue Zingarra. I doubt there'll be anything left of those now. Dad has probably scoffed the lot.

  ‘I'll have mine with maple syrup and cream and chocolate sauce and strawberry sauce … please,’ Ben says.

  ‘I think we should get home, Ben,’ I say. ‘Mum will be wondering where we are.’

  ‘And I need to rescue my Zodiac before the birds decide to build a nest in it,’ Mimi says. ‘We left it in the mangroves hours ago.’

  ‘You don't need to have them now,’ James Forsyth-Snugglebottom says. ‘You can have them any time you like, as often as you like, with whatever sauce you like.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lachlan asks. ‘You like making pancakes?’

  ‘No. I own a restaurant that makes Australia's best pancakes,’ he says. ‘Paradise Pancakes. It's just across the river there. Go in whenever you like and have whatever you like. Just mention my name.’

  ‘Whenever we like?’ Mimi asks with disbelief.

  ‘You saved me. You saved Breakneck Island. You saved the koalas,’ he says. ‘You want pancakes. You've got them. It's my way of saying thank you.’

  I like James Forsyth-Snugglebottom's way of saying thank you. It's a lot better than a thank you said through clenched teeth. That's the way my music teacher says it, when I finish playing ‘Lightly Row’ on the flute. And it's much much better than a thank you said with a punch. That's the way Louis de Nastie says it, when he takes a chocolate muffin from my school lunch box. (Even though I wasn't planning to give it to him.) It's the best way of saying thank you that I can think of.

  ‘That's where I live, right there,’ Lachlan says pointing to his house. ‘Just drop us off on that jetty.’

  James Forsyth-Snugglebottom expertly pulls the speedboat in beside Lachlan's jetty. Lachlan, Mimi, Ben and I say farewell to the boat driver.

  ‘Don't forget Paradise Pancakes,’ he shouts as the boat roars off.

  Forget? Not a chance. I can't wait to go. I should leave it a day or two though. That will give me time to explain to my parents how I came by a lifetime supply of pancakes. On the other hand, maybe an hour or so will be enough. Saving the planet sure makes a kid hungry.

  I'm planning a stack of pancakes that's going to hit the ceiling, with strawberries, blueberries, bananas, ice-cream and syrup. And I'm planning on having it every day. I just hope James Forsyth-Snugglebottom isn't the type who gets tired of saying thank you.