Mascot Madness!

by Andy Griffiths

  ‘Right! Right!’ chanted the other Northwest West Academy thugs enthusiastically.

  ‘They’re probably right,’ said Newton in a small voice. ‘I think we should just go home.’

  ‘I think someone should help Mr Brainfright,’ said Jenny. She rushed off the bus and helped him to his feet. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves,’ she said to the Northwest West students.

  ‘You’re the one who should be ashamed,’ said Troy. ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves for being such losers! We’re just trying to save you from the disappointment of trying and losing again.’

  ‘Thanks for your concern,’ said Jenny, helping Mr Brainfright to his feet and brushing dirt off his suit. ‘But don’t worry about us. You should be worrying about yourselves, because this year you’ve got another thing coming!’

  ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S!’ yelled Mr Brainfright, punching his fist into the air. ‘Let’s go . . . BANANAS!’

  The Northwest West Academy students looked at each other . . . and laughed.

  It wasn’t exactly a promising start.

  And it was about to get even worse.

  35

  Inside the stadium

  Although we were all for staying on the bus, Jenny’s selfless action in assisting Mr Brainfright shamed us into getting off.

  But things didn’t look any more promising when we got inside the stadium.

  Instead of a small group of jeering Northwest West Academy students, there was an entire grandstand full of them.

  And if you thought GO HOME LOSERS wasn’t very nice, well, that was positively welcoming compared to the rest of their banners: NORTHWEST SOUTHEAST CENTRAL NINCOMPOOPS!, GREENBEARD’S GUTLESS WONDERS! and EVERYBODY HATES NORTHWEST SOUTHEAST CENTRAL SCHOOL! are the only ones I can print here because the rest contained words that are banned by our school handbook.

  In the middle of the field the Northwest West Academy brass band were playing their tuneless school anthem.

  It was hard to make out the actual words, but there was no doubt about the chorus, which the whole school sang enthusiastically:

  Northwest West!

  We are the best!

  Chuck out the rest!

  When put to the test,

  we are the best!

  Yeah! We are the best

  in the whole Northwest!

  We’re Northwest West

  . . . Academy!

  ‘Academy?’ said Fiona disdainfully. ‘That doesn’t even rhyme.’

  But worst of all—worse even than their offensive banners, their horrible music or their poor rhymes—were the scary Mr Constrictor and Chomp, the even scarier Northwest West Academy mascot.

  Although Mr Constrictor was supposed to be an ex-pro wrestler, you would never have known it to look at him. He was still heavily muscled and bald, and his face appeared to be permanently frozen into a scowl. All that was missing was his trademark snakeskin leotard.

  Mr Grunt, on the other hand, was not looking quite so strong.

  Arriving on the second bus, he entered the stadium limping, and had what looked like a ride-on mower tyre track across his face.

  We followed Mr Grunt to our seats in the stand and sat down.

  We had no school band.

  We had no banners.

  All we had was a dancing banana.

  36

  Banana power!

  Mind you, the dancing banana was doing its absolute best to get us all revved up.

  Mr Brainfright was jumping, punching, kicking, spinning on his back, moonwalking, twisting, turning and chanting with incredible energy. He looked more like a yellow tornado than a banana.

  The Northwest West Academy students responded to Mr Brainfright’s efforts with howls of laughter. They pointed, slapped their knees and pelted him with rubbish.

  ‘Hey, Banana Boy!’ yelled Mr Constrictor. ‘We’re going to make a smoothie out of you!’

  Mr Brainfright ignored them and just kept right on dancing.

  Even if you thought he did look silly, you had to admit that he had courage.

  ‘I’ll show you what we think of bananas around here!’ Mr Constrictor yelled. He produced a banana and tossed it in front of Chomp. The dog leaped upon it and tore it to shreds.

  Mr Brainfright stopped dancing and stared at Chomp.

  Chomp bared his teeth and stared back at Mr Brainfright, strings of foamy drool falling from his jaws onto the remains of the banana.

  ‘They’ve trained that dog to attack bananas,’ said Jack, puzzled. ‘How did they know we had a banana mascot?’

  ‘I’m scared,’ said Newton.

  ‘Join the club,’ said Jack.

  ‘There’s a club for scared people?’ said Newton.

  ‘No, Newton,’ said Gretel. ‘It’s just an expression. But if there were one, you’d be the president.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t,’ said Newton. ‘I’d be too scared. I’m scared of clubs.’

  Mr Brainfright backed slowly away from the dog.

  Our hearts sank.

  But just when it looked like Mr Brainfright was going to back right off the field, he stopped, took a fast run-up, and did a spectacular flip right over the top of Chomp.

  As Mr Brainfright flew over him, Chomp actually cowered. Then he sprang back up, looked around, and began barking. Mr Brainfright had succeeded—if only for a moment—in confusing his opponent!

  The effect on our school was electrifying.

  As one, we rose to our feet and rocked the foundations of the Northwest Stadium with a mighty cheer.

  ‘B-A-N-A-N-A-S!’ yelled Mr Brainfright, rising to his feet with us. ‘LET’S GO BANANAS!’

  We all joined in the chant, stomping our feet, the sound echoing like thunder under the metal roof.

  For the first time in memory the Northwest West Academy grandstand was silent.

  The sight of a giant banana taunting their mascot may not exactly have struck fear into their hearts, but it had certainly given them something to think about.

  At that moment the PA system crackled into life.

  ‘Welcome to the fiftieth annual Northwest interschool athletics competition!’ said Flip Johnson, a sporting journalist for the Northwest Times, who had called every one of the Northwest competitions since they’d begun fifty years earlier. ‘Let the games begin!’

  We roared as one again.

  Northwest West Academy roared right back, only louder.

  It was on!

  37

  Go, Newton, go!

  And when I say it was on, I’m not kidding. Northwest Southeast Central School went off like a rocket!

  And Newton Hooton was no exception.

  The first event was the one-hundred-metre sprint.

  ‘You’re up first, Hooton!’ growled Mr Grunt. ‘Just remember what I taught you.’

  ‘What was that?’ Newton asked, but Mr Grunt had already walked off.

  We all crowded around Newton, hoping to provide moral support.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ he said as Jenny gently guided him to the starting line. ‘I can’t!’

  ‘Why can’t you?’ said Jenny.

  ‘I’m scared!’

  ‘But that’s good,’ said Gretel. ‘If you’re scared, you’ll run faster.’

  ‘That’s one of the things I’m scared of,’ said Newton, crouched and quivering. ‘What if I run so fast I can’t stop?’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ said Jenny. ‘Remember how we chased the Northwest West Academy bus?’

  ‘Yes.’ Newton nodded, smiling nervously. ‘That was fun.’

  ‘So is this!’ I said. ‘And don’t forget you’ve visualised this race many times!’

  Newton nodded.

  ‘And Mr Brainfright is on your side!’ said Jack. ‘Just look at him go!’

  ‘Give me a NEWTON!’ yelled Mr Brainfright at the Northwest Southeast Central stand.

  ‘NEWTON!’ they roared back.

  ‘Give me a HOOTON!’

  ‘HOOTON!’ roared the cro
wd.

  ‘PUT THEM TOGETHER AND WHAT DO YOU GET?’

  ‘NEWTON HOOTON!’ roared the crowd. Then, at Mr Brainfright’s instigation, they went into a slow hand-clapping, foot-stomping chant. ‘NEW . . . TON . . . HOO . . . TON . . . NEW . . . TON . . . HOO . . . TON . . .’

  The syllables of Newton’s name echoed around the stadium. The chanting was so loud it even drowned out Chomp’s frenzied barking, despite Mr Constrictor’s best efforts to get him to bark louder.

  ‘Hear that, Newton?’ said Jack. ‘They’re chanting your name!’

  ‘I hear it,’ said Newton, who was crouched on the starting line, a determined look on his face. He was no longer quivering. He looked focused and strong.

  ‘We’re now ready for the first event of the day,’ announced Flip. ‘The hundred-metre sprint.’

  The starter raised her pistol and fired.

  Newton gave a little yelp and took off, crossing the finish line a full two seconds ahead of his nearest Northwest West Academy rival. And he wasn’t content with that, either. He kept running.

  And running.

  And running.

  38

  Stop, Newton, stop!

  ‘Look at that kid go!’ enthused Flip. ‘He’s faster than a stocking full of rabbits!’

  ‘I think he might be a bit freaked out by that stupid dog,’ said Gretel.

  ‘I’ll go get him,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Jack. ‘We need him. The day has only just started.’

  And what a start it was!

  In the first half-hour alone, Newton won both the one-hundred- and two-hundred-metre races, Gretel easily won the shot-put event for her age group, and David took out the long jump with ease.

  They even managed to stand on the winners’ podium without falling off, although Newton was swaying rather violently towards the end of the Northwest Southeast Central anthem, which consisted of Principal Greenbeard playing, ‘The Good Ship Northwest Southeast Central’ on his hornpipe. (It was basically the same tune as ‘The Good Ship Lollipop’ except that we substituted the words ‘Northwest Southeast Central School’ for the word ‘lollipop’. Yeah, I know—it doesn’t rhyme any better than Northwest West Academy’s anthem does, but it’s ours and we love it.)

  Only 5B students, of course, had been on the Brainfright Program for Sporting Excellence, but our early wins—as well as Mr Brainfright’s tireless mascotting—seemed to energise the rest of the school, and similar successes started piling up across all age groups and events.

  Even the first grade won its sack race, and if its current form continued, the egg-and-spoon race later in the day was already in the bag.

  Poor Chomp was beside himself.

  The more we won, the more crazy he became, growling and slavering and biting at his leash. In fact, at one point he bit right through it and charged straight at Jack.

  Jack, who was helping out at the pole-vaulting event, managed to use one of the poles to pole vault himself to safety, hanging onto the crossbar at the top while Mr Constrictor, reluctantly, brought Chomp back under control.

  This, of course, only made Chomp madder than ever.

  Meanwhile, Flip Johnson was so excited by the day’s events that he was having trouble finding words to describe what was happening.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’ he marvelled. ‘In the entire fifty years of this event, I’ve never known Northwest Southeast Central to get off to such an amazing start . . . or to have such an impressive mascot! They are certainly giving it everything they’ve got, and I have a feeling they’ve only just started. The strongest performers for Northwest Southeast Central so far have been Newton Hooton, who was faster than a bag full of rattlesnakes in the hundred-metre sprint. In shot-put, Gretel Armstrong proved she was stronger than a birthday cake with pink icing, and at the long-jump pit, David Worthy jumped longer than a rickshaw in a wind tunnel!’

  ‘A rickshaw in a wind tunnel?’ said Jack, who had joined us back in the grandstand. ‘Can anybody tell me what on earth he is talking about?’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But give the guy a break—he’s been doing this for fifty years now!’

  ‘Well he’s making about as much sense as a grandmother in a phone booth!’ said Jack.

  39

  Flip Johnson’s top ten ‘Flipisms’

  1. Faster than a stocking full of rabbits.

  2. More off course than a lemming in a shopping mall.

  3. Stronger than a birthday cake with pink icing.

  4. Louder than a washing machine full of gravel.

  5. Higher than a hairdresser on stilts.

  6. Hungrier than a barrel full of water buffalo.

  7. More determined than a dolphin eating doughnuts.

  8. Slower than a bathplug driving a stolen sports car.

  9. More sizzle than a sausage in a solarium.

  10. More excited than a lawn mower at a rock concert.

  40

  Troy vs Gretel

  Meanwhile, Mr Brainfright was jumping, clapping, punching, high-kicking, twisting, turning and somersaulting in an apparently inexhaustible blur of inspired cheerleading. He was still completely mad, but in this context his madness made a kind of mad sense.

  Our school loved it. The whole of the Northwest Southeast Central stand was imitating his every move—even the teachers.

  Flip Johnson was beside himself with excitement.

  ‘And now, we come to the final of the javelin toss,’ he announced. ‘Troy Gurgling and Gretel Armstrong are locked in a titanic battle for first place! In the past few years this event has been dominated by Troy Gurgling, but given the form that Gretel Armstrong demonstrated earlier with her shot-put, and her amazing showing in the javelin so far, I think there’s a good chance we will see that record broken here this morning.’

  Flip’s comments resulted in a fresh roar of derision—and a fresh round of plastic- and cardboard-cup throwing—from the Northwest West Academy stand.

  But it was down on the field that the real drama was shaping up.

  Troy was standing at the line.

  Grant was sitting in the stand with us, holding an enormous plastic ear to the side of his head.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Jenny.

  ‘It’s a Super-ear!’ said Grant. ‘My dad invented it. You can hear what people are saying no matter how far away they are!’

  ‘Wow,’ said Jenny. ‘That is so cool, Grant!’

  ‘What are they saying?’ I asked him.

  ‘Well,’ said Grant, concentrating, ‘Troy just said, “Look and learn, Armstrong!” And Gretel said, “What, learn how not to do it?” And Troy said, “You think you’re so funny!” And Mr Constrictor said, “Come on, Troy, show them what you’ve got!”’

  It was clear from the action on the field that this was one of Grant’s dad’s inventions that really did work the way it was supposed to.

  We could see Troy pawing the ground with his foot like a bull getting ready to charge . . . and then he ran, holding the javelin high above his head.

  Flip was beside himself. ‘Gurgling throws . . . Oh dear! A terrible throw! The pressure is obviously too much for Troy this morning. That javelin has gone more off course than a lemming in a shopping mall! Let’s see if Armstrong can hold her nerve and give it her best.’

  Gretel walked back to the line, her face a picture of steely resolve.

  The Northwest West Academy stand erupted with jeers and boos.

  Mr Brainfright countered this by starting up a javelin-tossing routine and cheer.

  When it comes to throwing metal,

  Nobody can beat Gretel!

  She can throw high.

  She can throw long.

  Give me a cheer

  for Gretel Armstrong!

  We cheered so loudly we completely drowned out Northwest West Academy.

  Gretel looked up at our stand and smiled.

  Then she ran and threw.

  We all watch
ed, open-mouthed and silent, as the javelin flew longer and higher than any of us had ever seen a javelin fly before.

  Flip broke the silence. ‘It’s the most amazing throw I’ve ever seen . . . It just keeps going and going . . . In fact, it’s coming towards the commentating booth! Folks, I can see the tip of that javelin, it’s shining like a missile, and it’s heading straight for . . . oh no . . . I don’t believe it . . . it’s heading straight . . . for . . . ME!!!’

  The javelin smashed through the window of Flip’s booth, no small feat given that he was on the first level of the stadium.

  Through the loudspeaker came the sound of shattering glass.

  We were horrified.

  Nobody said a word.

  Not even the Northwest West Academy students.

  Gretel was standing on the field with her hands over her mouth.

  ‘Do you think Flip is . . . ?’ asked Jack, unable to bring himself to say it.

  ‘Oh no! Oh no!’ Jenny was wringing her hands.

  ‘What a way to go!’ said Jack.

  41

  What a throw!

  ‘WHAT A THROW!’ shouted a voice through the PA. It was Flip, as alive—and as enthusiastic—as ever! He was leaning out of his booth with the microphone in one hand and the javelin in the other. ‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Gretel Armstrong has just hurled her javelin—and herself—into Northwest athletic history!’

  Mr Brainfright ran over to Gretel and bent down so she could climb onto his back for a victory lap of the stadium.

  Troy and Mr Constrictor stood dumbfounded on the field, trying to understand what had just happened. Most unusual of all, even Chomp had stopped barking and growling.

  Mr Constrictor didn’t stand around for long, though. He marched over to the judges’ table and began waving his arms, shouting and pointing repeatedly at Mr Brainfright.