The 26-Story Treehouse (The Treehouse Books)

by Andy Griffiths

  “I’ll have one with everything, thanks, Edward,” says Terry.

  “One-with-everything-coming-right-up,” says Edward Scooperhands as his scooper hands go into super, high-speed scooping mode.

  Finally, Terry’s ice cream is ready.

  “That’s a lot of scoops!” I say.

  “I know,” he says. “But the readers all suggested different flavors and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, so I decided to have them all.”

  “Make sure you don’t eat it too fast,” I say. “You don’t want to get brain-freeze.”

  “I won’t,” says Terry. “I’ll eat really slowly while you tell the story.”

  “All right,” I say, “here goes…”

  “Hey,” says Terry. “I’ve got a pair of inflatable underpants!”

  “I know!” I say. “Because that boy was you!”

  “Oh, that’s right, and the boy in the pedal boat was you! You rescued me! And that’s how we met. I love stories with a happy ending.”

  “But that’s not the end,” I say.

  “It’s not?”

  “No, because then we were captured by Captain Woodenhead.”

  “Who’s Captain Woodenhead?” says Terry.

  “You know,” I say. “Captain Woodenhead, the pirate.”

  “Pirate?!” says Terry. “I hate pirates!”

  “Speaking of pirates,” says Jill, coming into the kitchen carrying Captain Woodenhead’s wooden head, “what do you want me to do with this?”

  “It would make a great head for our scarecrow,” says Terry.

  “I didn’t know you had a scarecrow,” says Jill.

  “We don’t,” says Terry, “but if we did, this head would be perfect!”

  “No way,” I say. “I don’t want to see that man’s head ever again. I hated him.”

  “Yeah,” says Jill, “so did I.”

  “Oh, did you know him, too?” says Terry.

  “Yes! Don’t you remember? I was on board his ship when you and Andy were captured. I’ll never forget my first sight of you, Terry! You looked like you were wearing a diaper!”

  “It wasn’t a diaper,” says Terry. “I was wearing emergency self-inflating underpants. They get a bit baggy when they deflate.”

  “And Andy was so scared he was crying,” says Jill.

  “I was not crying,” I say. “It was just spray from the sea.”

  “But how come you were on Captain Woodenhead’s ship in the first place, Jill?” says Terry.

  “Well, that’s kind of a sad story,” says Jill.

  “Oh, goody,” says Terry. “I love sad stories.”

  “Okay,” says Jill, “but you’ll have to wait until the next chapter.”

  “Oh,” sighs Terry, disappointed.

  “Don’t worry,” says Jill. “You won’t have to wait long—it’s just on the next page.”

  “Yay!” says Terry.

  CHAPTER 7

  JILL’S STORY

  The only thing her parents were interested in was having parties with their fancy friends on board their luxury super yacht.

  “Hey, that’s like the name of your cat!” says Terry.

  “That’s because it is my cat!” says Jill. “That’s how Silky and I met. This is my story. Remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” says Terry. “I got so caught up, I forgot.”

  “But why was Silky floating on an iceberg in the middle of the ocean?” I say.

  “Unfortunately, thousands of unwanted kittens are abandoned on icebergs every year,” says Jill, tears in her eyes. “And not just kittens—it happens to lots of other animals, too. Just listen to the rest of my story and you’ll see…”

  “What happened then?” says Terry. “Did you all drown?”

  “No, we didn’t drown,” says Jill. “We saw a ship.”

  “Thank goodness!” says Terry.

  “Yeah, that’s what we thought at first,” says Jill. “But it turned out to be a pirate ship! And that’s how I—and all the animals—came to be captured by the terrifying, horrible, and hideous pirate, Captain Woodenhead!”

  “I hate pirates!” says Terry.

  “Me, too,” says Jill.

  “And me,” I say.

  CHAPTER 8

  WHY WE HATE PIRATES SO MUCH

  Now, in case you’re wondering why we hate pirates so much, it’s because—as both Jill and I have already mentioned—we were all captured by a pirate. And not just any pirate. We were captured by the worst pirate of them all: Captain Woodenhead.

  Do you remember that wooden head we found in the shark? If you don’t, go back and have a look.

  If you do remember the wooden head, then you’ll already know what a horrible-looking pirate Captain Woodenhead was and you can go straight to the start of the next paragraph and read the rest of our story—then you’ll understand why we hate pirates so much.

  Captain Woodenhead’s headless body was staggering angrily around the deck, wildly swiping the heads off any crew members unfortunate enough to get in his way.

  The trouble was, so was the pirate ship.

  It was surfing down the wave right behind us.

  Anyway, that’s the story of how we all met and how we came to be living here and why we hate pirates so much.

  “Wow,” says Terry. “You’re so good at telling stories, Andy. As you were describing the storm, I could practically feel the wind and the rain, see the lightning, and hear the thunder!”

  “Yeah, me too,” I say.

  “Guys,” says Jill, “I hate to tell you this, but the reason you can feel wind and rain, see lightning, and hear thunder is not because Andy is such a good storyteller, but because there really is wind and rain and lightning and thunder. There’s a very big storm headed our way!”

  Uh-oh. Jill’s right. Looks like we’re in for a rough night. We’d better stop doing the book for a while and make sure the treehouse is okay. Stay dry, and see you when the storm’s over.

  CHAPTER 9

  FLOTSAM, JETSAM … AND CASTAWAYS

  Oh—there you are. Hello! What a night—that was some storm, huh? Hope you didn’t get too wet.

  We got a lot wet, and there’s quite a bit of damage to the treehouse, which is why we’ve come down to the beach this morning to scavenge a few bits and pieces to help us fix it up again.

  And there are a lot of bits and pieces down here because a ship was wrecked during the night.

  It’s quite a coincidence, actually, considering that I had just been telling you the story of how we—and Captain Woodenhead and his crew—were shipwrecked here, but I guess it’s not so surprising because it is a very dangerous coastline and that was a very rough storm.

  Everything we need is here. There are planks of wood, torn pieces of sail, barrels, wooden chests, heaps of rope, piles of potatoes … and even a cannon!

  “Cool!” says Terry. “I’ve always wanted a cannon!”

  “Why?” says Jill.

  “Because they’re really useful.”

  “Really useful for what?”

  “I don’t know … lots of stuff,” says Terry. “Say if you needed to deliver something in a hurry, like … say … a book to your publisher, you could put it in the cannon and fire it over.”

  “Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that,” says Jill.

  Terry and I collect armfuls of wood and rope and load them into Jill’s flying-cat sleigh.

  “Hey, you guys,” calls Jill from farther up the beach. “Come here, quick!”

  Terry and I run to join her. She’s standing in front of a body lying facedown on the sand.

  “He must be one of the sailors from the ship,” she says.

  “Look, here’s another one,” says Terry.

  “And here’s another one,” I say, rushing down to the water to pull a waterlogged body onto the sand.

  And then we find another …

  and another …

  and another …

  and another …

  and another …<
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  and another …

  and yet another …

  until we’ve found ten in all.

  “Do you think they’re dead?” says Terry, poking one with a stick.

  “Ouch!” says the body.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say. “At least not that one.”

  The body rolls over, sits up, and blinks.

  We all gasp. And not just because we’re surprised he’s alive, but because of his appearance. He’s horrible.

  Although the ship was only wrecked last night, this sailor looks like he’s been in the water for months. He’s got mold all over his face and there are barnacles attached to his chin. And he doesn’t smell too good, either—he stinks of a weird combination of rotten fish and moldy old cheese.

  “Who are you?” he says, staring at us strangely.

  “I’m Andy,” I say, “and this is Terry and that’s Jill. Who are you?”

  “I’m the captain of the ship that was wrecked in the storm last night.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll look after you,” says Jill. “I’ll get my flying cats to airlift you and your crew back to the treehouse.”

  “I’m sorry,” says the captain. “I must be delirious … I thought you said flying cats.”

  “I did,” says Jill. “This is Silky and her twelve flying cat friends.”

  “Silky?” says the captain. “I once knew a cat called Silky. But she was just a kitten. She couldn’t fly, of course. Made a great slave, though.”

  “Slave?” says Jill, sounding shocked.

  “Did I say ‘slave’?” says the captain. “I meant … sailor. Like I said, I must be delirious.”

  “I don’t want to be rude,” says Terry, “but what happened to your head?”

  “It’s a long story,” says the captain, “and not a particularly pretty one.”

  “Oh goody,” says Terry. “I love long stories … especially not particularly pretty ones.”

  “Well, all right,” says the captain. “I’ll tell you if you want, but don’t say you weren’t warned.”

  CHAPTER 10

  THE PIRATE CAPTAIN’S STORY

  “Gorgonzola!” says Jill.

  “That’s right,” says the captain. “Exactly like gorgonzola.”

  “No, I mean its name was Gorgonzola!” says Jill.

  “The very one!” says the captain. “But how would a landlubber like you know about a thing like that?”

  “Jill knows everything there is to know about animals,” says Terry.

  “Is that right?” says the captain, studying Jill carefully before going on with his story.

  “We knew a Captain Woodenhead!” says Terry.

  “Did you now?” says the captain, turning his gaze on Terry.

  “Yes,” says Terry. “But he wasn’t very nice. He captured us and then turned us into slaves.”

  “Well, shiver me timbers, that must have been the very captain I’m talking about! Were you boys in a pedal boat by any chance?”

  “Yes!” I say. “A swan-shaped one!”

  He turns to Jill. “And don’t tell me—you were floating on an iceberg with a bunch of animals?”

  “Yes!” says Jill. “Two dogs, a goat, three horses, four goldfish, one cow, six rabbits, two guinea pigs, one camel, one donkey, and a kitten!”

  The captain looks at us, amazed. “Well, blast my non-wooden eyes!” he says. “It really is you! The story goes that you knocked the captain’s head off with a mop!”

  “Well … yes,” I say, “but he was trying to slice mine off with a sword. We escaped and he chased us, but then we all got caught in a terrible storm. Our pedal boat and the pirate ship were smashed to pieces on the rocks. We were the only survivors. We used the wreckage of the pirate ship to build our treehouse. Look, you can see it up there!”

  “A pirate ship?” the captain says slowly. “You used a PIRATE ship to build yourselves a cubbyhouse?”

  “Not a cubbyhouse,” says Terry, “a treehouse. A thirteen-story treehouse.”

  “Twenty-six, actually,” I say. “We recently added thirteen more stories.”

  “But you had no right,” says the captain. “That ship didn’t belong to you.”

  “No, but it was wrecked and the captain and all his crew were dead,” says Terry.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he says. “You didn’t let me finish the pirate captain’s story.”

  “Sorry,” says Terry. “What happened next?”

  “Well, if you’ll just be quiet for the next fourteen pages, I’ll tell you…”

  Oh, that fish’s belly was a foul and friendless prison in which to be trapped. They say that beast ate everything in its path and, judging by the contents of its disgusting stomach, it was all too true. It was like a sea-going garbage dump in there!

  Fishing rods, seagulls, shipping containers, wet suits, surfboards, Jet Skis, luxury super yachts, old World War II sea mines, barrels of dynamite, experimental armored miniature bicycle-powered submarines … you name it, it was there. But among all the flotsam and jetsam in that stinking stomach, the captain found one thing of such incredible value that he wept when he saw it …

  “Excuse me,” says Jill, “did you say my original ship? Are you Captain Woodenhead?”

  “Aye,” says the captain. “You’re a smart girl. Captain Woodenhead and myself are indeed one and the same.”

  “RUN!” yells Jill. “It’s Captain Woodenhead!”

  “Where?” says Terry, looking around.

  “There!” I say, pointing at the pirate captain.

  “Him?” says Terry. “But he doesn’t have a wooden head.”

  “Weren’t you listening, Terry?” says Jill. “He just told us the whole story. He found his original head in Gorgonzola’s belly!”

  “Yikes!” says Terry. “Let’s get out of here!”

  “Not so fast,” says Captain Woodenhead, jumping up and grabbing us in a pirate hug (which is just like a bear hug, only pirate style). “Now I’ve got you, and I’m going to make you pay for what you did to me!”

  “But it was all your fault!” I say. “You started it by kidnapping us and making us into slaves!”

  “That may be so, but you knocked my head off with a mop and shipwrecked my boat and stole the pieces! So now, I’m going to claim your treehouse—and all who sail in it—in the name of Captain Woodenhead!”

  He turns to the other castaways. “All right, you scurvy mongrels, get up! The treehouse is ours!”

  At the captain’s command, his crew stagger to their feet. The captain hands us over to three of the biggest ones while the others obediently begin climbing up the cliffs toward the treehouse.

  We kick and struggle against our captors but it’s no use. They are too strong.

  “Well, I guess that’s it,” I say. “No more treehouse.”

  “Never fear,” says Terry, lifting his T-shirt. “My emergency self-inflating underpants are here! Watch this!” He pulls at a small cord hanging down the front of his trousers.

  Terry’s underpants inflate so quickly and with such force that the pirates holding us are thrown backward onto the sand.

  The three pirates jump back up, cutlasses in hand.

  “Hold on to me,” says Terry as he steps toward them.

  “What are you doing, Terry?” says Jill. “You’re wearing inflatable underpants and they’ve got really sharp swords!”

  “I know,” says Terry. “That’s the idea!”

  Before I can ask him what the idea is, there is a loud

  followed by an enormous whoosh of air and we are blasted up into the sky.

  We loop once … twice … three times …

  and then …

  We’re hanging from the branch of a tree.

  A big tree.

  I don’t believe it.

  It’s our tree!

  “Sorry about the rough ride,” says Terry. “I don’t really know how to fly these things.”

  “That’s quite okay,” I say
, untangling myself from the tattered shards of rubber. “But what I want to know is why were you even wearing your emergency self-inflating underpants?”

  “Because all my normal underpants are dirty,” says Terry. “That’s why I was washing them, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say. “That seems like so long ago now.”

  “It’s only been two hundred pages,” says Terry.

  “Two hundred and thirteen, actually,” says Jill. “But there won’t be many more pages in this book if we don’t protect the treehouse against the pirates. Look! They’re already here!”

  We look down. Jill’s right. The pirates have already scaled the cliffs and surrounded the trunk of our tree.

  CHAPTER 11

  TEN UNLUCKY PIRATES

  “Open up!” yells Captain Woodenhead, pounding on the door.