Future Ratboy and the Quest for the Missing Thingy

by Jim Smith

  ‘That’s right!’ said Jamjar. ‘It comes with its own built-in gravity – that’s why the rubbish isn’t floating around everywhere.’

  Wheelie flapped his lid open and shut. ‘A WHOLE PLANET COMPLETELY DEDICATED TO BEING A BIN,’ he bleeped. ‘HOW GLORIOUS.’

  The Great Rubbish Chute rattled above us and spat out another serving of junk. ‘Argh, stupid leaf socks!’ cried Splorg, lifting one off his head. ‘How are we ever going to find that THINGY with all this rubbish everywhere?!’

  I waggled my ratty nostrils, pretending I could smell as well as Dr Smell. ‘Poo-wee, is that the stink of a quitter?’ I said. ‘Come on Splorg, I know you better than that!’

  Jamjar chuckled at my Dr Smell impression. ‘Ratboy’s right, Splorg. Let’s start looking,’ she smiled.

  And that’s when I spotted Dr Smell dressed up as an old lady, walking towards us.

  ‘Dr Smell!’ grinned Mr X. ‘What in the keelness are you doing here? That’s a nice dress you’re wearing!’

  Dr Smell wrinkled up his nose. ‘You must be mistaking me for my son, dear,’ he said in a high voice.

  We all looked at each other and sniggled. ‘You’re Dr Smell’s mum?’ asked Jamjar.

  ‘Professor Smell at your service,’ smiled the lady, shaking all our hands. ‘Welcome to Planet Bin!’

  ‘What’s a beautiful young lady like you doing up here all on her own?’ said Mr X, and I tried to work out how old Mr X must be, because Professor Smell didn’t look very young to me.

  ‘I’ve been living up here for years,’ warbled Professor Smell. ‘I came to do some research and never left – there’s just so much to sniff.’

  Splorg glanced around. ‘But you’re living in a BIN,’ he cried.

  ‘I know, isn’t it fantastic!’ said Professor Smell. ‘Apart from the Space Hedgehogs, of course.’

  bleeped Wheelie, sounding nervous.

  Professor Smell’s nostrils tilted into their serious positions. ‘Yes, nasty little critters,’ she whispered, looking around. ‘I say little – they’re the size of hover-cars!’

  ‘I DO NOT LIKE THE SOUND OF THOSE THINGS ONE TINY BIT,’ bleeped Wheelie, and Mr X put an arm round his plastic belly.

  ‘Don’t worry Wheelie,’ he smiled, giving him a cuddle. ‘I’ll protect you.’

  Jamjar, who’d been quietly staring at Professor Smell’s wrinkly old nose, glanced over at Mr X’s glistening brain like she was coming up with one of her plans.

  ‘What are you thinking, Jamjar?’ I asked, and she clicked her fingers.

  ‘I think I might’ve come up with a brilliant and smelly plan,’ she smiled.

  ‘What in name of nostrils are you talking about, young lady?’ said Professor Smell, peering down through her glasses at Jamjar.

  Jamjar explained everything that’d happened so far that day, all the way up to us searching for the THINGY on Planet Bin and meeting Professor Smell herself. ‘You’ve obviously got a top notch shnozzle,’ she said, pointing at the old lady’s nostrils. ‘Maybe you could sniff the THINGY out for us?’

  ‘I don’t know about that, Jamjar,’ said Professor Smell. ‘I’ve never even smelt a THINGY before – we always had toast for breakfast. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what I was sniffing for . . .’

  Jamjar smiled. ‘Not a problem,’ she said. ‘Just have a whiff of Mr X’s brain – he had that THINGY stuck inside it practically his whole life. It’s bound to still stink of it a bit!’

  Professor Smell’s nose drooped. ‘You want me to smell that ugly little man’s brains?’ she gasped.

  Mr X grinned up at her. ‘Please, be my guest!’ he said, giving his head a wobble, and the brain swished from side to side.

  Professor Smell gulped. ‘Well OK, I suppose it might be interesting,’ she said, tiptoeing forward. ‘But just this once.’ She lowered her nostrils down towards Mr X’s brain and breathed in gently.

  ‘Oh my goodness gracious me,’ she warbled, staggering backwards and collapsing on to the floor.

  ‘Professor Smell!’ cried Jamjar, helping her to her feet. ‘Are you OK?’

  Professor Smell blinked, dazedly. ‘Never before have I sniffed such a wretched combination of odours,’ she warbled.

  ‘Why thank you!’ smiled Mr X.

  ‘WHAT ABOUT THE THINGY?’ bleeped Wheelie. ‘DID YOU GET A WHIFF OF IT, MADAM SMELL?’

  ‘Hard to tell,’ said Professor Smell. ‘There was so much to take in . . .’

  Jamjar pushed her glasses up her nose for the eight million and oneth time that morning. ‘Try and remember if it was in there somewhere,’ she said.

  Professor Smell closed her eyes and waggled her nose. ‘Hmm, let me think,’ she said, as if she was re-smelling what she’d just smelled. ‘There were lots of different cheeses – all the smelliest, stinkiest ones, of course.’

  ‘Mmm, cheese – my favourite,’ smiled Mr X.

  ‘I didn’t know brains smelt of cheese,’ said Splorg.

  ‘And dog poo,’ said Professor Smell.

  ‘DOG POO?’ bleeped Wheelie. ‘HOW IN THE LID-FLAPS COULD A BRAIN SMELL OF DOG POO?’

  ‘Well I am always THINKING of dog poo,’ grinned Mr X. ‘I love it – it’s so squidgy!’

  Professor Smell twitched her nostrils some more. ‘The aroma of rotten mushrooms was quite strong. Oh, and off milk.’

  ‘Is anyone else’s mouth watering?’ said Mr X, beginning to drool.

  ‘And then there was the smell of . . .’ Professor Smell stopped talking and thought for a millisecond. ‘Well, I’ve never really smelt anything like it.’

  Mr X’s eyes opened wide. ‘Was it sort of like a spiky, cereal-y kind of whiff ?’ he said.

  Professor Smell clicked her fingers with her eyes still closed. ‘Exactly,’ she said, pointing at Mr X. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself !’

  ‘That’s the smell of THINGYS!’ grinned Mr X.

  ‘Hurry, Professor Smell!’ said Jamjar, guiding her over to the bit of Planet Bin where The Great Rubbish Chute had dumped us out. ‘Get sniffing for that THINGY!’

  Professor Smell, who still had her eyes closed, started to rummage her nose around like it was a hoover. ‘Nothing but leaf socks here,’ she said, snuffling frantically.

  ‘Get that hooter of yours right in there, Professor Smell!’ said Splorg, gently nudging the back of her head so that her nose dug right into the rubbish.

  ‘I’m getting something!’ said Professor Smell, digging her nose in deeper. ‘Spiky . . . cereal-y . . . I think it might be a . . . WAAAHHH!!!’

  Professor Smell whipped her shnozzle out of the rubbish and opened her eyes. ‘HELLP!!! It’s stuck to the end of my nose!’ she wailed.

  I Future-Ratboy-zoomed my eyes in on the end of Professor Smell’s nose and spotted something familikeels stuck to the end of it.

  ‘It’s the THINGY!’ I cried.

  Wheelie grabbed the THINGY between his rubber-gloved fingers and plucked it off Professor Smell’s nose. ‘IT’S A CURIOUS LITTLE SPECIMEN,’ he said, scratching his lid with his other hand.

  Mr X peered up at the THINGY. ‘We meet at last!’ he smiled, licking his lips.

  ‘Quick, slot it into Mr X’s brain!’ said Splorg.

  ‘NO!’ I screeched, sounding a bit like Not Bird.

  ‘Ratboy’s right,’ said Jamjar. ‘We don’t want to turn him back into a baddy just yet – not until we’ve returned to Shnozville and located Gozo.

  And that’s when we all realised something – The Great Rubbish Chute only sucked in one direction.

  ‘We’re stuck on Planet Bin!’ cried Splorg, staring up at the spinning tennis ball in the sky. ‘How in the unkeelness are we gonna get back to Earth?’

  We stood there in silence for a few milliseconds, trying to think. Then Professor Smell clicked her fingers.

  ‘I’ve got it,’ she grinned. ‘You can borrow my nose rocket!’

  ‘It’s just over here!’ shouted Professor Smell, stomping through the rubbish
towards a giant nose-shaped rocket I hadn’t spotted before. ‘Now, where did I put the key?’

  She patted her rucksack, which had about seventeen pockets on the front of it, none of which seemed to have the nose rocket key inside them.

  ‘No rush,’ smiled Mr X, peering out to space. ‘I’m just enjoying the view.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Jamjar. ‘There’s a giant vending machine monster eating his way through Shnozville with our best friends inside its belly – the sooner we get back and turn it off the better.’

  Professor Smell stuck her hand into her dress pocket and waggled it around. ‘I’ll have you out of here in a jiffy,’ she warbled, as a very loud snuffling sound snaked its way down my ratty earholes.

  ‘What in the name of unkeelness was that noise?’ I said, turning round and spotting a giant hedgehog trotting towards us.

  ‘Oh cripes, we must’ve woken one of the Space Hedgehogs up with all our chatter,’ said Professor Smell, opening up her rucksack and rummaging around inside.

  Splorg’s big blue head turned light turquoise. ‘What do we do now?’ he squeaked.

  ‘I’ll save you, gang!’ cried Mr X, wobbling off towards the Space Hedgehog, waggling his hands in the air. ‘Cooee, Mr Hedgehog! Eat my brains!’

  Jamjar sprinted after Mr X and grabbed him by the hood. ‘That’s ever so nice of you Mr X, but I’m afraid we need you in one piece,’ she said, dragging him back towards the nose rocket.

  The Space Hedgehog stopped trotting and snuffled his snout into a pile of rubbish, scratching his front legs on the floor like a bull.

  bleeped Wheelie.

  ‘They tend to do that when they’re about to charge,’ muttered Professor Smell, whipping old crumpled-up tissues and half-full packets of chewing gum out of her bag. ‘There it is!’ she beamed, holding up the key.

  The Space Hedgehog peeled its top lip back to reveal three rows of spiky silver teeth, glinting in the starlight.

  ‘Remind me not to RSVP to Mayor Goodhair’s birthday party next year,’ cried Splorg, grabbing the key out of Professor Smell’s hand and clambering up a ladder to the door inside the nostrils of the nose rocket.

  The Space Hedgehog let out a roar and started to charge. ‘Get into that hooter, children,’ wailed Professor Smell, lifting a trap door in the ground and jumping down into a little hole.

  ‘Give the key to Dr Smell and ask him to drop the rocket back tomorrow. Tell him I’ll make his favourite for tea!’ she smiled, as the trap door slammed shut and Splorg started the engine.

  ‘That was WAY too close,’ cried Splorg, as the nose rocket took off, the Space Hedgehog snapping at the bogie-shaped clouds of smoke puffing out of its exhaust pipe. ‘Nose rocket, take us back to Shnozville!’

  ‘OK, here’s the plan,’ said Jamjar. ‘As soon as we get to Bunny Deli we’ll shoot the THINGY into Mr X’s brain and turn him back to bad.’

  ‘There’s only one problem,’ I said. ‘Once we turn Mr X back into a baddy he’s not exactly going to want to help us out, is he?’

  Mr X grinned. ‘Just as well I happen to know a little secret about yours truly then, isn’t it?’

  ‘What’s the little secret?’ asked Splorg.

  ‘I’m ticklish!’ whispered Mr X.

  ‘SO?’ bleeped Wheelie.

  ‘So if you ever wanted to get me to do something I didn’t want to do . . .’

  ‘We tickle you until you give in!’ laughed Jamjar, and Mr X nodded.

  ‘I have to say,’ said Splorg. ‘I’m going to miss this new goody-goody version of Mr X.’

  ‘Me too,’ smiled Mr X, ‘but we have to rescue your pals from that horrible great big beast before it eats the whole of Shnozville!’

  ‘That’s a point,’ said Jamjar, whipping her Triangulator out of her pocket and pressing a button. ‘Where IS Gozo?’

  A beam shot out of the Triangulator and a hologram of Gozo appeared, stomping through Shnozville, popping a hover-lorry into his mouth like it was a chocolate bar.

  ‘Looks like he’s heading towards Bunny Deli – we’d better hurry,’ said Splorg, pushing a lever, and the nose rocket jolted forwards even faster.

  I straightened out my TV aerials and tried not to think about my mum and dad and little sister back in the olden days, hoping I’d show up for my birthday.

  ‘What’s on your mind, Ratboy?’ said Jamjar, and I blinked.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, as the nose rocket landed on the hover-pavement across the road from Bunny Deli.

  ‘Ahh, Bunny Deli my old friend!’ cried Splorg, glancing across the street. ‘Is that a sight for sore eyeballs or what?’

  I looked over at the little shop and smiled. Even though Bunny Deli wasn’t my real home, it was nice to be back. I tilted my head up to the top of the building and spotted the giant plastic Cheesebleurgher Meal Deal that sat on its roof, wondering to myself why Gozo hadn’t eaten that yet.

  ‘Hello gang!’ smiled Bunny as the doors whooshed open and we rushed in. Mayor Goodhair was standing behind her with mud splattered all over his face.

  ‘What happened to you, old pal?’ chuckled Mr X.

  ‘He’s not your pal, Mr X,’ said Bunny. ‘Not after everything he did to you.’

  Mayor Goodhair sighed, patting Norman the hover-scissors, who was having another nap in his pocket. ‘I’ve had a TERRIBLE morning,’ he warbled. ‘You do NOT want to mess with that monster, believe me!’

  ‘Looks like you got a taste of your own medicine,’ said Jamjar. ‘Bunny, did you get that straw?’

  Bunny held up a curly pink straw. ‘Will this do?’ she smiled.

  Jamjar grabbed the straw. ‘Good work, Bunny,’ she said. ‘Now we just have to find Gozo and we can turn Mr X back to bad.’

  Outside, the whole street went dark. ‘What’s going on?’ I cried.

  Splorg looked through the window and gasped. ‘M-m-m-monster!!!’ he wailed, as Gozo’s head appeared from behind a skyscraper.

  We all ran out on to the street and Gozo’s three eyes blinked down at us. Every single shelf in his window belly was filled up with stuff from Shnozville now – all except for one slot.

  I peered up at Twoface and Not Bird, trapped inside their plastic packet, and even though I was still in a bit of a bad mood with them, I felt my heart do a hiccup.

  ‘Wheelie – the THINGY!’ cried Jamjar.

  Wheelie passed Jamjar the THINGY and she handed it and the straw to the mayor. ‘Why don’t you do the honours, Mayor Goodhair?’ she said.

  The mayor looked down at the straw and the THINGY. ‘What in the name of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner is this all about?’ he said.

  Jamjar explained our plan.

  ‘What, you want ME to . . .’

  ‘Shoot the THINGY back into Mr X’s brain?’ said Jamjar. ‘Got it in one, Mr Mayor!’

  Mr X grinned at Mayor Goodhair. ‘For old time’s sake?’ he said, pointing at his shiny pink thinker.

  The mayor held the curly straw up to his mouth and slotted the THINGY in the end of it. ‘Time to get my statue back,’ he said, taking a deep breath.

  The THINGY shot through the air like a tiny, spiky nose rocket towards Mr X’s glistening brain.

  ‘Been nice knowing you, gang!’ smiled Mr X, blowing us all a stinky kiss as the THINGY struck the pink jelly-like globule with a thwunk and slowly sunk into it.

  Mr X’s eyebrows twizzled into their baddy positions and he blinked an evil blink. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ he growled, looking up at his vending machine monster. ‘Let’s get the keelness out of here, Gozo!’

  ‘QUICK, TICKLE HIM UNTIL HE TELLS US WHERE THAT HORRIBLE MUDDY BEAST’S OFF SWITCH IS,’ bleeped Wheelie, pincering both of Mr X’s arms with his rubber gloves.

  ‘Here, tiggy tiggy!’ sniggled Splorg, tiptoeing towards Mr X, his alien blue fingers waggling.

  Mr X squirmed. ‘No, not tickling!’ he wailed. ‘I’ll tell you where the OFF switch is!’

  ‘Well that was easier than I th
ought it’d be!’ I chuckled, forward-rolling over to Mr X and giving him a quick tickle under the chin, just for old time’s sake.

  Which was maybe not such a keel idea after all.

  ‘AH HA HA HA!’ giggled Mr X, his mouth opening wide. ‘HEE HEE HEE, NO, I CAN’T TAKE IT!’ he wailed, and he began to breath in in strange little bursts.

  ‘Stand back, he’s going to blow!’ cried Mayor Goodhair, as Mr X took one last little breath.

  ‘A-CHOO!’ he sneezed, and the THINGY flew out of his nostril, up into the air, did a loop-the-loop, then fell down into his mouth.

  Mr X swallowed the THINGY in one. ‘Cor, you’re not kidding about how spiky those things are,’ he said. ‘Funny tasting too, aren’t they!’

  We all stood in silence, watching Mr X patting his tummy. ‘Oops,’ he grinned. ‘I wasn’t supposed to do that, was I?’

  ‘Now what do we do?!’ cried Mayor Goodhair, flapping his arms like a chicken. ‘How are we supposed to turn Mr X back into a baddy if he’s eaten the last blooming THINGY?’