The Great Expanding Guinea Pig & Beware of the Snowblobs!

by Karen McCombie

  A second later I was sitting in a pod of an octopus tentacle with Jackson clambering in beside me.

  But uh-oh – something was wrong.

  Jackson had been grinning like a big baboon, but now he looked as sick as a Thing on a rollercoaster.

  ‘What?’ I asked, as the octopus began to move.

  ‘Your mum …’ he mumbled. ‘She said, “Here, I’ll take that for you”!’

  ‘Take what for you?’ I asked urgently.

  Just then, as we began to circle off, I spotted Mum. She was waving with one hand – and holding Jackson’s backpack in the other.

  ‘You left Thing with my mother?!’ I yelped, as we wheeled out of view.

  ‘I couldn’t help it! She grabbed the bag off my shoulder before I could stop her!’

  ‘Well, I suppose it’ll be all right,’ I said, trying not to panic as we zoomed by my waving mum again. ‘Thing will just stay still and the ride will be over in a minute.’

  ‘Aargh!’ groaned Jackson, spotting Mum on the third whirl. ‘She’s just dumped the bag down!’

  ‘Ouch!’ I winced, imagining Thing being thunked and clunked on to the ground.

  ‘Noooo!’ I gasped on the fourth whirl. Now Mum had picked up the bag and was opening it!!

  ‘What’s she looking in my bag for?’ Jackson yelped on the fifth whirl.

  ‘I don’t know, but she’s going to find Thing – that’s for sure!’

  On the sixth whirl, the ride slowed to a stop and we warily stepped out of the octopus.

  I’d expected to see my mum screaming or white-faced with shock.

  Instead, the bag was back on her shoulder and she was smiling cheerfully at us.

  ‘I have an apology to make to you, Jackson,’ she said, as we got closer.

  ‘Uh, yeah?’ he replied in a teeny-weeny voice.

  ‘I popped your bag down on the ground, and heard a funny squeaky sort of noise. I was scared I’d broken something; your mobile or DSi maybe, so I had a quick check.’

  Her face had gone all squishy, like grown-ups do when they see a cute baby or whatever.

  ‘And I spotted you’d brought your snuggly along,’ she said with a sympathetic tilt of the head. ‘But don’t worry – your secret’s safe with me!’

  Ha! Mum had no idea just what kind of secret she’d actually seen.

  But what were we going to do? We had a whole afternoon together, me, Jackson, Mum and Thing. It was only the first five minutes and I was already stressed out. I’d pass out with panic if this went on.

  ‘By the way, guys,’ Mum added. ‘Can I ask you a favour? I’m dying for a cup of tea. How about you two leave me in the café and have a wander round on your own?’

  You have never heard a boy and a girl yell ‘YES!’ more loudly.

  ‘Oh, well, great!’ said Mum, reeling from our enthusiasm. ‘Maybe meet me back here in half an hour? And while you’re away I can look after your bag, Jackson …’

  You have never heard a boy and a girl yell ‘NO!’ more loudly.

  ‘Thank goodness for that …’ I sighed, as Mum finally walked off in search of tea and cake.

  ‘We should go somewhere quiet and check on Thing,’ Jackson suggested, gently cradling his backpack.

  ‘But where?’ I asked, glancing round and seeing …

  And although I couldn’t see inside the Cuddle Barn, I knew there’d be crowds ’n’ queues galore, waiting their turn to hold and stroke small, furry somethings.

  Where on earth could we safely hold and stroke our own small, furry something?

  ‘I know!’ said Jackson, pointing to a signpost for the Maize Maze. ‘Follow me!’

  After a few minutes of weaving, bobbing, ‘excuse me’s’ and zigzags, we gladly found ourselves in a dead end.

  Here and there we could make out giggles and shouts of ‘This way!’ and ‘Help!’ but the voices were far enough away to make us feel safe.

  ‘Come on out!’ I said softly to Thing, unsnapping the clip and unzipping the zip of Jackson’s bag.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Jackson, as I cradled the woozy bundle of big-eyed red fur in my arms.

  ‘My head, it not feel very healthy and stroing,’ Thing purred, rubbing a spot behind its pointy left ear.

  ‘Oh, poor you!’ I said. ‘But you did brilliantly, Thing. You must have been so scared when my mum peeked in the bag.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Thing agreed. ‘I stay very, very still. I stay, very, very, very, very, very still. It hard when mum lady do this to my tummy.’

  Thing wiggled the little pads in its paws And giggled. (In case you want to know, the sound of Thing giggling is a lot like a kitten sneezing.)

  ‘She tickled you?’ asked Jackson.

  Huh? Why would Mum ‘tickle’ Jackson’s ‘snuggly’?

  ‘Mum lady say in small voice, “Where squeaker?”,’ said Thing. ‘What squeaker is, Rubby?’

  ‘Ah, she thought you were a toy, with something inside you that made a noise.’

  Thing experimentally pressed its tummy and we all undoubtedly heard a tiny noise – a miniature rumble.

  ‘Have you brought any jelly babies?’ I asked Jackson. Since there was no way to find an ice pack for Thing’s bumped head in the middle of a Maize Maze, I thought the next best thing for Thing was to distract it with food.

  ‘Sure! Red, green, yellow?’ he suggested, holding a few up.

  ‘Yes, please, thank you,’ replied Thing, grabbing them all.

  Phew. I could see it perking up nicely with every squidgy bite.

  Its moon eyes were taking in the straw-yellow ‘walls’ around us and its squirrelly ears were gently revolving, listening to the trills and yelps going on nearby.

  ‘What is here, Rubby?’ it suddenly asked.

  ‘We’re in a Maize Maze!’ Jackson answered instead, holding up the map he’d grabbed from a different teenager, this time in a panda outfit, on the way into the maze.

  ‘Maisie-zizz-zizZ?’ Thing blinked, its tiny tongue vibrating.

  ‘Maize is a big plant, and you can eat these parts,’ I explained, pointing to a ripening corn on the cob amongst the leafiness. ‘And the Petting Zoo has turned this field of maize into a maze.’

  ‘Which is all twisty and turny and people can get lost in it, which is a lot of fun!’ Jackson added enthusiastically.

  ‘Why lost is fun, Boy? Lost sad!’

  Thing blinked fast. It must be remembering the bad old days of the chainsaws and shrinking forest. The days it had to scurry to ever-shrinking chunks of the woods that it had never been to before.

  ‘Look, I’m guessing that you promised to take Thing along today so it could see all the animals, right?’ I said to Jackson.

  Jackson and Thing both nodded.

  ‘So how about we get out of here and head to the Cuddle Barn?’

  ‘Good idea,’ nodded Jackson, holding up the Maize Maze map and studying it.

  Then turning it round and staring hard.

  Then swivelling it upside down and biting his lip.

  Then giving it another quarter turn and looking worried.

  ‘Don’t you know how to get out of here?’ I asked him, alarmed.

  ‘It’s a bit confusing, that’s all,’ Jackson mumbled. ‘I mean, if I just knew where the wooden lookout tower was then I’d know where we were …’

  Our time was valuable. It would only be so long before Mum finished her tea/cake/relax and started angsting about us being late back to meet her.

  ‘Thing – if I hold you up so you can see over the top of the maize, can you tell us where the tower is?’ I asked, raising it high before it had a chance to answer.

  ‘Yes, please, Rubby. I do that for you – EEK!’

  I brought Thing straight back down.

  ‘What? What did you see?’ I asked.

  ‘A floaty pink bubble, like one Boy blew in mouth,’ Thing babbled. ‘But this made of longness, not roundness. And it have a face!’

  A bubblegum bubble that was long with a fa
ce?! What was Thing on about?

  ‘A balloon animal! Bet that’s what it was! Didn’t you see the guy making pink pigs?’ Jackson said very surely. ‘Hey, Thing – you know Ruby’s swimming cap?’

  Thing nodded. It loved the lookalike trampoline we’d made for it out of my old cap and a cake tin.

  ‘Well, that’s made of something called rubber. So are balloons. Balloons come very small, but if you blow air into them – like bubblegum – they get bigger and bigger!’

  ‘Oooh!’ Thing cooed, rubbing its paws together. ‘I see again, Rubby?’

  ‘OK, I sighed, holding it up once more. ‘But don’t forget to tell us where the wooden tower is so we can—’

  ‘EEK!’

  I brought Thing straight back down again.

  ‘Small boy human – it sit on head of big human, and see me!’ it babbled.

  But it wasn’t just Thing’s babbles we could hear. Over the wall of corn a kid’s voice was yelping, ‘Daddy! Someone has stolen a hamster from the Cuddle Barn! I just saw it!’

  Noooo!

  We had to get out of here, and fast, before me and Jackson got reported as pet thieves and Thing panicked and magicked us into mayhem.

  ‘What shall we do?’ I fretted at my large two-legged friend, as I bundled our little four-legged friend into the safety of the rucksack.

  Jackson – amazingly – suggested some magic of his own.

  ‘We walk through walls,’ he announced, and disappeared before my very eyes …

  If you try to walk through a brick wall, two things will happen …

  1. You will get hurt, and

  2. You will feel stupid.

  But if you try to walk through a wall made of maize, these two things will happen …

  1. You will find it a bit rustly and scratchy, and

  2. You will find yourself easily on the other side.

  So that’s what we did, me and Jackson.

  Walked though about twenty leafy walls, popping out of the maze with only a few light scratches and two big sighs of relief.

  And now here we were in the cavernous Cuddle Barn, home to tons of small furries, plus a few roaming geese and pot-bellied pigs.

  To be exact, we were huddled in a corner, me, Jackson and the backpack. The backpack was turned so its small mesh air panel faced out. That way, Thing – snuggled safe and unseen inside – got a great view of all the animals.

  It also had a great view of the gazillions of kids all squiggling impatiently on benches, waiting their turn for a hamster or gerbil or guinea pig to cuddle.

  But suddenly an announcement blasted over the speakers, making everyone – and everything – in the Cuddle Barn jump.

  ‘The Sheep Race is about to finish, folks, and will be followed in a couple of minutes by the Grand Pet Parade!’

  ‘What is a Sheep Race and a Pet Parade?’ Jackson asked me.

  I remembered the petting zoo’s Sheep Race from the time I came for my classmates’ birthday. Happy Valley staff hung numbers round all the sheeps’ necks then sent them running round a course.

  As for the Gala Day Pet Parade, I had no idea. Was everyone meant to grab an animal and conga along, cheering?

  ‘So anyone who wants to catch the Pet Parade, please make your way to the Farm Yard now!’ the announcement continued.

  There was major scuffling as kids with laps full of pets hurried to hand them back to the Cuddle Barn staff and run outside.

  ‘Nah,’ me and Jackson agreed together, knowing the Pet Parade crowd would be no fun for an easily squashable Thing in a bag. We’d stay right here.

  ‘HONK!’ a wandering goose called out, finding itself shooed out of the way by stampeding kids.

  ‘Rubby,’ I heard a voice purr softly.

  No one was within hearing distance of our corner, but to be on the safe side, I bent over and pretended to tie my shoelace.

  Seeing what I was doing, Jackson did the same. The big donut.

  ‘Yes?’ I whispered to the bag, trying to ignore my copycat friend.

  ‘These birdies … not like normal birdies,’ Thing said from the depths of the backpack. ‘Very, very big. Very, very, very, very, very big!’

  ‘Well, technically, they’re geese,’ I replied.

  ‘Peh! Birdies sing pretty. Big birdie geeses not sing pretty. They have sore throatie?’

  ‘HONK!’ the same grouchy goose called out at a snuffling, skedaddling, pot-bellied piglet.

  ‘And this giggly pig,’ Thing murmured, ‘it swallow beach ball, I think?’

  ‘Er, no,’ Jackson said with a grin. ‘It’s meant to be that shape. And that’s actually not a guinea pig. A guinea pig is much small—’

  ‘Here, sonny, do you want a turn?’ said a woman who was wearing a T-shirt with HAPPY VALLEY HAPPY HELPER! on the front, and holding a snuffling furry bundle in her hands. ‘This little darling is called Delilah.’

  And that’s how Jackson ended up with a puzzled-looking guinea pig sitting in his lap.

  ‘Sneet!’ Delilah squeaked, as Jackson stroked her. ‘Sneet! Sneet!’

  I glanced up, and saw that the Barn was emptying fast. Nearly all the kids and parents had gone to watch the Pet Parade, leaving just three Happy Helpers to pop the various furballs back into their cages.

  ‘Thing,’ I said softly to the bag. ‘What does “sneet” mean?’

  Well, I was curious, wasn’t I?

  Before Thing could answer, a bellowing from the speakers interrupted us.

  ‘Announcement: could we have all staff to the Farm Yard, please? Sheep numbers 6, 9 and 15 have escaped and are running amongst the Pet Parade.’

  With that, the Happy Helpers scampered out of the Barn, completely forgetting that one of their furries was still with us.

  Excellent.

  Now I could whip open the zip and let Thing scurry out and talk directly to that furry.

  ‘Not speak giggly pig, but will try,’ said Thing.

  ‘Sneet! Sneet-sneety-sneet-sneet!’

  While Delilah sneeted away in Jackson’s lap, Thing studied her intensely.

  ‘It say—’

  ‘Hey, what exactly’s going on outside?’ muttered Jackson, all of a sudden grabbing up the left-behind Delilah and turning to stare out of the window at the noise and bustle out there. ‘You know, looks like the Pet Parade is just a bunch of those teenagers in fancy dress, dancing badly to “Hakuna Matata” from The Lion King. With sheep.’

  Jackson made it sound pretty funny, but I couldn’t concentrate.

  Mainly because I could feel a familiar trembling going on.

  ‘Thing … what’s wrong?’ I asked quickly.

  ‘Rubby, giggly pig saying all day small humans squishy and squash her. Giggly pig grumpy!’

  Thing was rocking from side to side, rubbing its paws madly.

  ‘I worry, Rubby. Small humans maybe break giggly pigs and hammies and germbles?’

  ‘No, I think they’ll be OK, real—’

  ‘But they giggly pigs and hammies and germbles so small!’ Thing fretted on, feeling more trembly by the second. ‘Not healthy and stroing. If they bigger it better!’

  I tried stroking Thing, hoping I might calm it (and knowing I wouldn’t).

  ‘Yes, but—’

  Uh-oh.

  Amongst the snuffly furries and sawdust, the sparkles twinkled.

  Yep, the seriously spectacular weirdness had already started.

  Thing’s rubbish magic was filling the Cuddle Barn, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

  Flickers of light danced round us, as if someone had set off a sparkler, and that sparkler had gone cartwheeling off amongst the hutches and runs and roof beams.

  Then, just as soon as this amazing mini fireworks show started, it stopped.

  ‘Thing?’

  But I didn’t need to ask what it had done.

  Thing’s tiny mind had been filled with bubblegum and balloons lately, and it showed.

  Rising out of Jackson’s arms was a
great fat furry guinea pig, expanding by the second.

  At first Delilah was the size of …

  • a melon,

  • then a football,

  • then a pumpkin,

  • then the exercise ball that my mum uses for her Pilates class.

  ‘Sneet!’ squeaked Delilah, as she rose higher and higher the rounder and rounder she became.

  And it was about to get worse.

  ‘Ruby – look over there!’ Jackson called out, pointing to the hutches and runs.

  Help …

  All of the hamsters and gerbils and guinea pigs were starting to expand too. They looked a little like floating, furry Christmas tree baubles.

  ‘Thing!’ I said, turning my attention to the creature sitting in my lap. ‘Turn them back now, before someone comes in and sees this!’

  But as usual, Thing didn’t know how to reverse its rubbish magic.

  And it would have been too late, even if it did – because someone had just walked in.

  ‘Excuse me – anyone seen any sheep in here?’ asked the giant squirrel.

  ‘’

  I slapped a hand over Thing’s mouth but heard the rest of the ‘’ on my palm.

  I could also – – feel the vibrations beginning again.

  ‘Nope! No sheep here,’ said Jackson.

  Amazingly, the giant squirrel (and the teenage girl inside the costume) turned and hurried out, without noticing the giant expanding guinea pig bobbing above her head.

  ‘Didn’t she see?’ I said incredulously.

  ‘Not with that animal head on,’ Jackson answered. ‘She could only peek out through those tiny eyeholes. Which is lucky for—Oh no! What’s happening now?’

  The shock of seeing a squirrel – a really huge squirrel – had given Thing the heebie-jeebies.

  The seriously spectacular weirdness had started again.