Artie and the Grime Wave

by Richard Roxburgh

  ‘RABBITS!!!’ he bawled, and at the same time he spun the necklace around Jaynee Grime’s huge hand, lassoing it to his own ankle.

  ‘What the—’ The musclebound woman was momentarily befuddled.

  Artie swung straight back down.

  ‘Take my wrists!’ he cried to Gladys.

  The petrified girl grabbed at Artie.

  ‘Right, I’ve had enough!!!’ snarled the monstrous lady. And with a flourish, she released her grip and let the two children plummet to their deaths.

  The moment that Jaynee Grime tried to let go, she realised her wrist was shackled tight to Artie’s ankle. She couldn’t let go of him! Meanwhile, Gladys tumbled, screaming, but Artie grasped hold of her wrists. For a brief time, the two of them precisely resembled the tiny figurines of Artie’s dad’s pendant.

  Mrs Grime was now doubled over the edge of the railing, the combined weight of the children dragging her down. The chain binding her to Artie’s ankle tore at her hand.

  ‘AAAARGH. AAAARGH. SOMEBODY HELP ME. GET THEM OFF ME. I’M STUCK … HEEEEEEELP!!!

  In seconds, Maggie and Zoran arrived at the top of the stairs. Yanking hard on Mrs Grime, they forced her backwards until Artie slid up over the railing, bringing Gladys with him.

  All of them collapsed in a huge heap on top of the herculean woman.

  ‘GET ORF ME! ALL OF YEZ!!!’ yowled Mrs Grime.

  But Maggie was sprawled out and holding on to Artie as though she would never let him go again.

  ‘Mum … Mum! That’s actually hurting … quite a lot,’ he finally protested.

  Zoran, meanwhile, seemed to be sobbing and laughing at the same time, and gripping Gladys in a huge bear hug, completely oblivious to the fact that he was squatting with his immense bottom perched on Mrs Grime’s cheek.

  ‘GET ORF ME!!!’ came a muffled croak.

  At that moment, way below them, Nate Grime decided to take matters into his own hands. He lifted the nozzle of the Super-Snotter, aimed it directly at Aunty-boy and Macaroni, and pulled the trigger.

  BLAAT-BLAT-BLAT-PLAARP!!!

  The machine blew a fat torrent of snot straight back into his own face. Artie looked on from the balcony as Nate, yelping and spluttering, seemed unable to switch the Super-Snotter off. It continued to spray him as he ducked and jigged all around the room, until it eventually appeared to run dry, by which time Nate Grime, curled in a corner and coated head to foot in congealing yellow slime, resembled a humungous booger.

  Artie turned to Aunty-boy in amazement.

  ‘How did you do that?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, one never invents a weapon without an emergency reverse-switch, does one, cherry puffs!’ called the old lady. And with that, she clacked out her dentures and waddled out of the building, her faithful canine trotting along behind her.

  In the distance came the sound of police sirens. Up on the balcony, and still crouching on Mrs Grime’s head, Zoran let go of Gladys long enough to say, ‘Has someone called the polices?’ At that moment, Lola arrived at the top of the stairs. She held her phone up.

  ‘Oh, everything’s already online. I’ve uploaded videos of the whole shebang to all the emergency services. They’ll be here in…’ she glanced at her phone, ‘about two minutes,’ she said brightly.

  Maggie beamed as Lola came over to hug her, flopping down with the others on top of Mrs Grime.

  ‘Get off me. I told yez…’ came the feeble voice beneath them.

  Gladys turned and gazed deeply into Artie’s eyes.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, simply.

  Artie Small felt as if his heart might burst.

  Chapter 32

  Well, I imagine, dear reader, that you're thinking this is the part where we talk about how perfect everything was for Artie Small from that moment on. The truth is, very much like life itself, there were pros and cons to Artie's new world…

  Mayor Grime, Mrs Grime, and the Grime Gang went to prison for a very, very long time.

  Nate Grime was sent to live with an aunt who was, by all accounts, very dull and very strict.

  Maggie Small, who had hardly spoken a word for so many years, now would not stop talking! Having not spoken at all about Artie’s dad since he died, Maggie was now forever telling stories about him. It was as if a fire hydrant of words had burst and was spraying the world in general, and Artie and Lola in particular, with endless thoughts and comments. This was wonderful, but sometimes the brother and sister really had to take a stroll outside for a bit of peace and quiet.

  Since Artie’s dad died, the very mention of him had been all but forbidden in the Small house. But now, the Small family lounge room was decorated with dozens of framed photos of him performing his feats of daring in the circus.

  The Unpronounceable-enkos, who the whole town now knew as the ZatserklyannayaTsekmistrenkos, would visit Artie and his family for dinner every Sunday night, along with Aunty-boy, Macaroni and Bumshoe, with his brother Angus. Once, Maggie made the mistake of inviting the entire Bumshoe clan to one of these nights. It was as if the house had been overrun by a particularly cheerful invading army. Everything in the house that could be eaten was eaten, and even some things that should not, as Maggie noted with alarm when she saw that every bar of soap had disappeared, the pencils looked shorter, and the flower arrangement seemed to have been trimmed.

  Maggie tended to oversee these dinners because she claimed Artie still had quite a lot to learn about flavour combinations. Macaroni would sit under the table and Artie would feed the dog little tidbits.

  The best thing about these nights was that Artie could sit next to Gladys. Sometimes she would take his hand under the table, which was a bit freaky. In a nice sort of way.

  Lola stopped yelling and stomping around the place, and began making documentaries with Angus Bumshoe. One of these, entitled Artie and the Grime Wave, told the entire story of Artie’s adventures at the hands of the Grime family, and won numerous awards. After that, rather than putting up with Lola’s anger anymore, Artie now just had to put up with her swanning about thinking that she was the best thing ever. But Artie did put up with it. Because Lola was happy. And secretly, that made Artie happy too.

  Aunty-boy was awarded a medal for bravery, as were Artie, Bumshoe, Maggie and Zoran. Macaroni too received a medal, but was far happier with the gigantic bone he was given after the presentation. At the formal ceremony at Government House, Aunty-boy clacked her false teeth out at the governor.

  ‘Would you care to see my Fartex?’ she enquired, and offered him a powder lolly. The worried governor was quickly ushered away by his security detail.

  Bumshoe hand-delivered his Christmas present to Artie that year. Unwrapping it, Artie at first had no idea about the two weird objects sitting in the cardboard box in front of him. But then a huge smile spread over his face, and soon he was falling about with laughter.

  ‘What on earth are they?’ enquired Maggie, peering over their shoulders, bewildered.

  ‘Paperbark shoes,’ said the boys together, and they burst out laughing once again.

  ‘It’s a long story …’ Artie explained

  And what of Artie Small?

  Well … Artie now had to do homework, which was terrible, and boring. He also had to shower every day, and occasionally clip his toenails rather than letting them die of old age, as he was accustomed to. But complain as he might, there was no escaping any of it… his mum seemed to be very particular about these things. Maggie also insisted on taking him shopping for clothes, and he would pretend to be bored to death (he was twelve years old, after all!). But in fact, he was so relieved and happy to have his mum back that he really didn’t mind. He didn’t mind at all.

  I’d like to thank Louise Schwartzkopf and Monique Farmer at Spectrum magazine in the Sydney Morning Herald, who for reasons best known to themselves gave me an opportunity to write publicly for the first time.

  Thank you to my literary agent, Grace Heifetz at Curtis Brown, for the many funny phone calls
, and her unstinting good advice, and good taste.

  Thanks to all the good people at Allen and Unwin, and special thanks to my editor, Anna McFarlane, for challenging me, making Artie better, and for helping me understand that there may feasibly be a limit to the number of gratuitous fart jokes a novel can withstand. Who knew?

  Liz Seymour, the designer, who was somehow able to work with both my innumeracy and illegible scrawls, and fashion such beautiful pages.

  Thank you to Kate Whitfield, my copy editor, who managed to hack her way through my jungle of dangling modifiers, and always come up with a better, clearer, simpler, less chaotic, more organised, less repetitive idea with fewer repetitions or commas, or repetitions, or indeed other punctuation points, than, for instance, I might have used otherwise.

  Thanks to Mona Vale Library, where the bulk of Artie was dreamed of and written. What a joyous, bustling hub. What a testament to our civilisation! There are not many places on earth that afford the opportunity to be stared at by water-dragons while working. Mona Vale Library is one of them. When I am the President of Australia my first act will be to ensure that every town and village has such a delightful community resource.

  Thank you to Raphael and Miro Roxburgh. For blessing me with their lives.

  Thanks to my brothers and sisters, who will recognise at least some of the material in Artie!

  Josh and Jo Yeldham – fellow travellers, thanks for your creative generosity.

  Most of all thanks to Silvia Colloca. Tutto questo e ancora di più.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RICHARD ROXBURGH is one of Australia’s best-loved and most versatile actors. For his work in films like Moulin Rouge! and Van Helsing, to the lead role in TV’s Rake, as well as his many highly acclaimed performances with the Sydney Theatre Company, Richard Roxburgh has become a household name.

  Richard has been successful on the other side of the camera too. He directed the feature film Romulus, My Father and was co-creator of the award-winning television series Rake. Richard has always drawn and written stories to entertain himself, but Artie and the Grime Wave is his first book for children.