You're a Bad Man, Mr Gum!

by Andy Stanton

  ‘Friday O’Leary!’ she cried. ‘I’m well glad to meet you! My name is Jammy Grammy Lammy F’Huppa F–’

  ‘I think I’ll just call you Polly,’ said Friday.

  Chapter 8

  Some Things Happen

  Now I’ll tell you what. Friday O’Leary wasn’t the only character in this story with a mysterious house. Nobody knew where Jake the dog lived neither.

  ‘I bet he lives on a farm and plays with all the other animals,’ said Jonathan Ripples, the fattest man in town, rubbing his chins.

  ‘Maybe he lives in the house of a rich man who feeds him bones made of gold,’ said the little girl called Peter.

  ‘This is just a guess,’ said Martin Launderette. ‘But perhaps he lives on a farm, where he plays with all the other ani–’

  Suddenly Jonathan Ripples pounced on Martin Launderette and sat on him until he was wheezing for breath like a broken accordion.

  ‘That’ll teach you not to steal people’s ideas, you skinny rubbisher,’ said Jonathan Ripples. ‘Come on, Peter. Let’s go for an ice cream.’

  In any case, Jake didn’t live on a farm and he didn’t live in a rich man’s house. Nobody knew where he lived except me, and I’m not telling you. OK - I’ll tell you for a pound. OK, 50p. OK, 10p. Come on! 10p! It’s not much! Oh, go on! Oh, OK, you win. I’ll tell you anyway.

  He lived in the woods up a horse chestnut tree. He had built a great big nest up there and filled it full of old leaves which kept him warm at night. Someone had left an old radio lying around the woods and Jake had found it one day and taken it up to his nest even though it didn’t work. He was just a dog, after all.

  While Polly was searching for Jake, that very dog had been having a grand old time. He’d larked around with the cuckoos, gone cuckoo with the larks and bought some tinfoil off a magpie for a couple of horse chestnuts.

  After lunch he decided to go into town to play in a garden or two. He shimmied down the tree quicker than you can read this sentence and set off in a very happy mood. Off he went, strolling along in the sunshine with not a care in the world, barking and burping away and singing a song which went like this:

  Soon Jake came to the town. He passed Old Granny’s garden with its lovely soft lawn and pond full of friendly ducks. He passed the celebrated garden of the retired wrestler Marvellous Marvin, with its rockery in the shape of wrestling. He passed Beany McLeany’s garden, where everything rhymed and the flowers grew like towers. But there was only one garden Jake fancied romping in today, and that was Mr Gum’s.

  On he went, on his great furry legs. Soon he came to the high street. Watching secretly from behind his greasy window, Billy William laughed to think of the nasty surprise that awaited the unsuspecting hound. ‘It’s funty!’ he chuckled to himself as Jake walked down the road and out of sight.

  At last Jake came to the spiky fence that surrounded Mr Gum’s dirty house. It might have kept other dogs out. But Jake was one of those magnificent beasts who know not fear nor hesitation nor how to scramble eggs properly. He did a sort of a bouncing run and in no time a all he was over it. Well, obviously not in no time at all, of course it took some time. But not much. He landed in the garden in a shower of dirt and flowers, and barked his welcoming bark to let all his garden friends know he had arrived. His welcoming bark went like this:

  BARK!

  As opposed to his normal bark, which went like this:

  BARK!

  The animals all recognised Jake’s welcoming bark because it was so different from his normal one. Immediately the moles popped up out of their moleholes, the squirrels popped out of their squirrelholes, and the cats popped up out of their catholes. In Mr Gum’s kitchen the toast popped out of the toaster but Mr Gum saw it trying to escape and scoffed it up greedily.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he scowled – but then his eyes lit up horridly. ‘I bet it’s him!’ he exclaimed, spitting toast everywhere. ‘I bet it’s that fleabag dog!’

  Very carefully Mr Gum tiptoed over to the kitchen window and did secret spying with his unfriendly eyes. Outside, Jake was racing excitedly around the lawn chasing his own tail. The caterpillars were so happy to see him that they immediately metamorphosed into butterflies. One of the caterpillars was so happy that it metamorphosed into a donkey. The moles squeaked and the butterflies roared with pleasure. The birds came swooping out the trees chirping like good ’uns and the sun seemed to do magic tricks in the sky. Mr Gum watched the whole scene unfold from behind the curtains, hating all the joy that the world was having.

  ‘Come on, you meddler,’ he said under his bad breath. ‘Come on and eat them hearts.’

  Then it happened. Jake suddenly stopped barking. His nose twitched as he sniffed the scent of lemonade powder. Of course, the townsfolk were always putting out delicious treats for Jake so he thought his luck was in. He bounded over to the plate of cow hearts in the middle of the lawn. The other animals froze in horror as the big dog opened his mouth. One of the moles let out a warning squeak but he only got as far as the ‘squ’. It was too late. Jake’s doggy jaws had already closed around a heart.

  Chew, chew, chew! He chewed it up.

  Swallow, swallow, swallow! He swallowed it down. Go for another, go for another, go for another! He went for another heart.

  But before he could take another bite, he gave a sad woof and fell over on his side, his big furry belly moving rapidly in and out. Suddenly the sun was covered up by a dirty grey cloud the size of Sweden. Behind the curtains, Mr Gum was laughing like a robber.

  Chapter 9

  Polly and Friday

  Ride into Town

  Back at the cottage Polly was telling Friday O’Leary all about the danger Jake was in. Friday listened carefully, saying things like ‘hmm’ and ‘yes, I see’. Finally Polly finished her story and looked anxiously at her new friend. He was lost in thought, twirling an imaginary moustache which he thought made him look like a detective. Polly felt sure he was working on a brilliant plan.

  ‘Tell me, Polly,’ he said at last. ‘Do you fancy a game of tennis?’

  ‘Tennis?’ said Polly. ‘What about Jake?’

  ‘Surprised exclamation! I’d forgotten all about that!’ said Friday. ‘There’s no time to lose!’

  With that he disappeared into the cottage and slammed the front door shut. Five minutes later the door was flung open again and there stood Friday dressed as a tennis player.

  ‘Here,’ he said, handing Polly a racquet. ‘You can serve first because you’re the guest.’

  ‘But Mr O’Leary,’ said Polly as patiently as possible. ‘We’ve gots to save that big dog Jake like I told you millions of times just now.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ said Friday. ‘Sorry. Let’s go!’

  He threw down his tennis racquet, jumped on to his motorbike, kick-started the engine and zoomed off like the devil himself. But a good devil, not an evil one.

  ‘Hey!’ shouted Polly. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

  ‘Oops,’ said Friday, and returned to pick her up. Polly climbed into the sidecar and strapped on her helmet.

  ‘Hold on tight! THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE!’ shouted Friday – and away they went.

  It was a long ride into town. They passed hills and lakes and rivers and meadows and Scotland –

  ‘Oops,’ said Friday. ‘Wrong way.’

  And off they belted in the opposite direction.

  ‘Hey, Polly,’ shouted Friday over the noise of the engine. ‘What did you mean earlier, when you said that Jake had once saved your life?’

  ‘How do you know I said that?’ said Polly. ‘There wasn’t no one around when them words came out my lips.’

  ‘It’s all in this book I’m reading,’ said Friday, pulling a copy of You’re A Bad Man, Mr Gum! from his pocket. ‘You mentioned it in Chapter 5.’

  At that, Polly’s face grew excited and her hair grew longer.

  ‘Maybe it says what does gonna happen to big Jake in there!’ she said.

/>   ‘Don’t talk of what might be in the future, little miss,’ warned Friday. ‘’Tis unwise! ’Tis unwise!’

  ‘Oh, please, please, let’s look in that book!’ said Polly. And she sounded so upset that Friday stopped the motorbike at once.

  ‘OK,’ he said, opening the book to the same page that you are reading right now. ‘But ’tis unwise! ’Tis unwise!’

  No sooner had he said ‘’Tis unwise,’ than Polly read those very words on the page. As Polly read about herself reading about herself the strangest feeling came over her. It felt like diving into a swimming pool full of rice in complete darkness, only the swimming pool was inside a mirror and the whole thing was a dream in someone’s head. Well, it felt a bit like that, it’s hard to describe.

  With shaking hands Friday turned to the last chapter, only to find that the pages were completely blank.

  ‘The future hasn’t been written yet,’ said Friday, starting up the bike again. ‘’Tis not for us to know.’

  ‘’Twas unwise, ’twas unwise!’ said Polly.

  ‘Hey, I wanted to say that,’ complained Friday, revving the engine. ‘Don’t steal my lines. Anyway, how did Jake save your life?’

  ‘Oh, it was the usual sort of thing,’ said Polly as they zoomed off once more. ‘He rescued me from a burning centipede.’

  Eventually Polly and Friday O’Leary reached town. They was a-roarin’ and a-bumpin’ down the high street when they were spotted by Billy William the Third. Knowing how Friday was a force for good, Billy William jumped out from his shop and began pegging filthy old cuts of meat in their direction.

  ‘Ha ha!’ he laughed, as Friday swerved to avoid a cascade of grey hamburgers. ‘This is just like Butcher’s Darts!’ He picked up a bucket of tripe and sloshed it across the road. ‘Take that, you force for good!’ he shouted wildly.

  ‘Hold tight, Polly!’ yelled Friday as the bike went skidding in the slippery mess. ‘Tripe attack!’ Friday steered for his life but it was no use. The wheels got all gooed up with tripe and before you knew it he and Polly were thrown on to the pavement. They lay there helpless as Billy William advanced with a sack of kidneys.

  ‘Is this the end?’ cried Friday. ‘Woe, woe is me!’

  But at that moment something amazing happened. A gobstopper the size of a cannonball rolled down the street. It was quickly followed by another one even bigger than the first. Then another. All of them were hurtling with deadly accuracy towards Billy William. And they were being hurtled by none other than that wonderful seller of sweets, Mrs Lovely.

  ‘No!’ shouted Billy William.

  In desperation, he threw a kidney at her but it missed by miles and landed in a tree. Mrs Lovely didn’t bat an eyelid. On she came down the high street, humming a pretty tune about a waterfall and rolling the enormous, brightly-coloured gobstoppers before her. Soon the street was filled with them. Billy William hopped and dodged and swore like a footballer, but there were too many and down he went.

  ‘That woman’s amazing!’ said Friday, his eyes shining with admiration and tripe.

  ‘Come on, Friday! Jake needs us!’ said Polly, jumping back into the sidecar. ‘Mrs Lovely can sort this one out!’

  Friday jumped back on the bike, hit the gas and off they vammed down the road, the battle still raging behind them.

  ‘I made that happen!’ said Friday excitedly as they gunned along.

  ‘I magicked it so that Mrs Lovely would appear at just the right moment and save us!’

  Actually he had done nothing of the sort but he wanted to keep Polly’s morale up after those terrible scenes. (Also there was a tiny boastful streak in him which he couldn’t help, good as he was the rest of the time.)

  The two of them rode on in silence and soon they came to the high white fence that surrounded Mr Gum’s garden.

  Chapter 10

  Jake’s Darkest Hour

  Just like Jake that fence caused Polly and Friday no trouble at all. They just farted over it like blackbirds.

  ‘More meddlers!’ griped Mr Gum, dodging the angry fairy who was back with a vengeance and, of course, a frying pan. ‘Who needs it?’

  The motorbike screeched to a halt in front of the oak tree. Polly jumped out of the sidecar and ran up to Jake who lay on the lawn surrounded by his loyal animal friends.

  The moles shook their heads sadly. A squirrel blew its nose on a butterfly. The cats looked close to tears, for Jake was the only dog they had ever loved.

  Polly gasped when she saw him. The once splendid beast looked as weak as a baby. His fur had lost its shine and his eyes were rolled towards the heavens. He was a mere shadow of his former self, and his shadow was a mere shadow of his former self’s shadow.

  ‘Don’t die on us, Jake!’ she sobbed, throwing her arms around him. ‘You’re too fat and good to die!’

  Jake’s only reply was a feeble little woof which sounded like a door closing.

  ‘If it hadn’t been for that butcher we could’ve reached him in time!’ sniffed Polly.

  ‘Time?’ said Friday mysteriously. ‘What is Time, little miss? ’Tis unwise to talk of what might have been and what might have not. ’Tis unwise!’

  Polly was beginning to think that Friday was a pretty rubbish hero, but she had other things to worry about.

  ‘What are we a-gonna do?’ she wailed.

  ‘Just you wait and everything will turn out fine,’ said Friday, tapping his nose wisely. Actually he didn’t have a clue what to do but just then Mr Gum raced up, the fairy at his heels.

  ‘It’s no use, O’Leary!’ cried Mr Gum, like the world’s most evil seagull. ‘That dog’ll never bother no one again!’

  ‘We can still saves him!’ said Polly fiercely.

  ‘I don’t think so, horrible little girl,’ said Mr Gum. ‘Look at this.’

  He pointed to his own shirt, on which was written CHAMPION EXPERT DOG POISONER.

  ‘That don’t mean nothing,’ said Polly. ‘You just writ them words yourself in ketchup.’

  That shut Mr Gum up for a minute because it was true.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Friday, bending down to investigate Jake even though he was secretly a bit scared of dogs. Suddenly he stood up, his imaginary detective’s moustache back in all its glory.

  ‘Tell me, Gummy me boy,’ said Friday, twirling his invisible moustache cunningly. ‘What is the one thing that can cure that big whopper of a dog there?’

  ‘Why, you know as well as I do, you crazy turkey!’ chuckled Mr Gum. ‘The only thing what can bring a dog back from the brink is the tears of a man reunited with his long-lost brother. And that’s not going to happen, now, is it?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Friday grandly, wagging a finger like he imagined a detective would. ‘The tears of a man reunited with his long-lost brother, you say? Well, guess what, Mr Gum? YOU are my long-lost brother, and I have a picture of us together when we were small, and when you grew older you went over to the dark side and became a bad man and forgot all about me, your brother, who is a force of good and now look at what you have been reduced to: poisoning a happy bouncer of a dog just to avoid a whacking from a fairy like the cowardly, bitter old thing you have become, and now that I tell you this amazing information, something inside you is bursting forth and you are filled with love and compassion and dinner and you cannot help but shed tears all over this blimmin’ dog and wake it up from its terrible sleep! THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE!’

  Triumphantly, Friday handed Mr Gum a battered photograph from the old days. It showed Friday when he was but a lad, standing next to another boy.

  ‘That other boy is you!’ said Friday. ‘Now bring on those tears!’

  The animals gasped and Polly clapped her hands together in delight.

  Mr Gum peered closely at the photo. ‘Nah, that ain’t me,’ he said. ‘We ain’t long-lost brothers at all, you weirdo.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Friday. He turned to Polly miserably, his imaginary moustache drooping like an imaginary weeping willow.

  �
��Well, little miss,’ he said softly. ‘I did my best.’

  Suddenly it was all very quiet, like the sad bit of a story. No birds sang at that unhappy hour, no wind stirred. For once, even the angry fairy was silent. The only sound was Jake breathing in and out, weaker each time.

  ‘Goodbye, Jake,’ sniffed Polly, burying her head in his fur. ‘You was a good old boy, you was.’

  Just then someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up to see a little boy she had never seen before. Somehow, though, Polly felt as if she’d known him all her life. A feeling of great peace and warmth spread through her and –

  ‘It’s that nightmare from the sweetshop!’ Mr Gum exclaimed. ‘How did he get here?’

  ‘Turn again, turn again, Mr Gum!’ said the boy, with his beautiful honest face.

  Mr Gum backed away, his hands raised as if to ward off a ghost.

  ‘I don’t like it one bit!’ he said in a quivering voice. ‘Appearing out of nowhere an’ talking of turning again, I don’t like it!’

  ‘I know you can be good again,’ said the boy, offering him another fruit chew.

  That was enough for Mr Gum. He gave a terrified yelp, clambered over the fence and scooted off down the road, the boy’s words still ringing in his ears.

  The little boy turned back to Polly.

  ‘Child,’ he said, even though he was no older than she. ‘Listen carefully. You must zip into Mr Gum’s house and look inside the sailors’ chest which stands in the front hall. It is full of MAGIC CHOCOLATE WITH FANTASTIC POWERS,’ he whispered. ‘Do not tarry but bring me as much as you can.’