by Duncan Ball
Suddenly there was a newsflash on the radio.
‘We interrupt this program to say that there’s an emergency at Bogusville Primary School. The librarian has barricaded herself in the library and is threatening to blow it up. A Special School Crisis Coordinator is due to arrive soon. We now return you to “The Screaming Mimis’ Greatest Hits”.’
‘That must be Camilla Bonzer, the school librarian!’ Selby thought. ‘I wonder what happened? This is terrible! She’s really nice. I wonder if Mrs Trifle knows about it.’
Selby turned off the radio and went into the lounge room where Gary Gaggs was trying out some of his newest corny old jokes on the Trifles.
‘Did you hear about the race between the rabbit and the echidna?’ Gary asked.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘Well, the rabbit was the first across the finish line but the echidna won on points,’ Gary laughed, adding a ‘Woo! Woo! Woo!’ as he often did at the end of a joke.
‘The echidna won on points! That’s really funny!’ Selby thought as he fought back a giggle.
‘The other day I was cutting the grass with my lawn-mooer -’ Gary started.
‘Don’t you mean your lawn-mower?’ Mrs Trifle asked.
‘No, I mean my lawn-mooer — my pet cow,’ Gary said. ‘Woo! Woo! Woo! But seriously folks, that evening the light in the lounge room burnt out. I was delighted!’
‘De-lighted!’ Selby thought. ‘The light went out! That’s so funny!’
‘By the way,’ Gary said, ‘have you rung my Gagg Bag telephone number yet?’
‘Is this a joke?’ Dr Trifle asked.
‘No, I’m serious,’ Gary said. ‘You ring the number and you can hear a recording of all my latest jokes.’
‘What a good idea,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘That way people who can’t see your show can still hear your jokes.’
‘That’s right,’ Gary said. ‘And there’s nothing sick bird about it.’
‘Sick bird?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Well an ill eagle is a sick bird. But there’s nothing illegal about my Gagg Bag!’ the comedian said, suddenly strutting around the room and pumping his elbows up and down like a chicken. ‘Woo! Woo! Woo! Got you that time.’
‘His jokes are absolutely terrible,’ Selby thought as he struggled not to smile. ‘But they still make me laugh. I just can’t help myself.’
‘I’ve got a million of them,’ Gary said. ‘You could ring my Gagg Bag number on your mobile phone when you’re having a bath,’ Gary added. ‘But if you did you’d be ringing wet. Woo! Woo! Woo!’
‘I’m not sure I get that one,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘I’d tell you the one about the ceiling but it would be over your head’ Gary said. Suddenly he looked at his watch. ‘Heavens! I’ve got a plane to catch. See you the next time I’m in Bogusville. But do ring this number.’
After Gary Gaggs had told them his Gagg Bag phone number and driven away, the phone rang.
‘There’s an emergency at the school,’ Mrs Trifle told Dr Trifle when she’d put the phone down. ‘Camilla Bonzer, the school librarian, is having a bit of a crisis. Could you come along?’
Selby bolted into the back seat of the car and, on the way to the school, listened to Dr and Mrs Trifle’s conversation.
‘This librarian,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘have I met her?’
‘Yes, you have. We had all the teachers around for a barbecue last year, remember?’
‘Was she the one who was tying everyone’s shoelaces for them?’
‘No, that was one of the infants’ school teachers.’
‘Then maybe she was the one with a pocket full of chalk?’
‘No, that was a primary teacher.’
‘Not the one with all the keys to everything?’
‘No, that was the principal,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Camilla’s the librarian — the one with glasses. The one wearing the badge that said: “Librarians Run on Hugs”. She helped you with the washing up. She reorganised all the dishware and cutlery.’
‘Of course! How could I forget?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘It took ages to put things right again. The spoons ended up in saucepans and we found the forks in the fridge.’
‘That’s because she organised them alphabetically,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Librarians are very alphabetically minded.’
‘It’s a wonder the glasses didn’t end up in the garbage,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘Oh, so that’s what happened to them,’ Mrs Trifle said, as they pulled up in front of the school and got out of the car.
The street was littered with books. From behind parked cars, people peered over at the school. Suddenly there was a scream from inside the library and the sound of breaking glass as another book came hurtling out. Sergeant Short and Constable Long were huddled behind their police car. A woman stood beside them.
‘Camilla, can you hear me?’ the woman yelled. ‘My name is Frieda! Frieda Gho! I’m from the Department of Education and I’m here to help you!’
Suddenly Selby caught a glimpse of Camilla standing at a window with a big black bomb in one hand and a match in the other.
‘Take a hike, duster-head!’ Camilla screamed. ‘One step closer and I’ll blow the place to smithereens! If I light this fuse it’ll be snowing overdue notices for a week! Go ahead, make my day!’
‘My goodness!’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘She’s going to blow herself up along with the library!’
‘What a strange-looking old-fashioned bomb,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘The last time I saw one of those was in one of those Bruce the Bomber comic books that all the kids read.’
‘I can’t understand why she’d want to do this,’ Mrs Trifle said, crouching down behind the police car. ‘She seemed such a quiet, peaceful person.’
‘Librarians,’ Frieda said, shaking her head. ‘They think nobody wants them. They’re all quiet and peaceful till they chuck a wobbly. It usually happens around Book Week. By the way I’m the SSCC from the Department — the Special School Crisis Coordinator.’
‘And I’m the mayor,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No, this is a departmental matter,’ Frieda said. ‘And quite frankly, I don’t fancy our chances on this one. I think we’ve got a boomer on our hands.’
‘A boomer?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘You mean you think she’ll really blow the place up?’
The coordinator nodded.
‘You’ll never take me alive!’ Camilla screamed and another book sliced the air, this time catching Frieda Gho on the ear.
‘That does it!’ Frieda groaned, as she dialled her mobile phone. ‘I’m calling in the SSTS — the Special School Tactical Squad. They’ll have to take her out.’
‘You mean out of the library?’ Mrs Trifle asked.
‘No, I mean like blammo, blasto, and goodbye Camilla,’ the coordinator said. ‘We’ve got librarians coming out of our ears. It’s the books I’m worried about. We can’t afford to lose another library.’
‘Poor Camilla,’ Selby thought. ‘She seemed so sweet and sensitive at the barbecue. She even held me on her lap and patted me. And now the SSTS is going to … Gulp, I don’t even like to think about it.’
Selby moved closer for a better look and then suddenly a light went on in his head. In a second he’d circled the school and crept up to the back of the school office.
‘While everyone’s watching the library, I’ll break in through the office and then get into the library that way,’ Selby thought as he collected a stack of books and piled them up under the window. ‘If I can get close enough, I’ll grab the bomb and throw it out the window. I’ll creep in as quietly as a cat. She won’t know what’s happening till it’s happened.’
Selby hopped up on the books and in a second was lowering himself onto the floor of the principal’s office. From there he tiptoed down the hall and up to the library door.
‘So far, so good,’ he thought, as he pushed the door open and peered
in at Camilla, who was facing the other way. ‘Now I’ll slink across the room before she sees me.’
Selby crept around the room, sliding under tables and scooting from bookcase to bookcase until he was directly behind the upset librarian.
‘Now to grab the bomb,’ Selby thought, getting ready to make his dash. ‘Of course when I do it Camilla will know that I’m not an ordinary dog. I mean, ordinary dogs don’t grab bombs in their paws and throw them out windows. On the other hand, what does it matter? Nobody will believe her. In fact, they’ll think that she threw the bomb.’
Selby took another step closer.
‘Hmmm, it is a strange bomb. It is just like the one in the Bruce the Bomber comics. In fact it even has “BOMB” written on the side.’
Just then there was the sudden sound of a helicopter landing behind the building.
‘What’s that?’ Camilla said, spinning around to look out the back window and seeing Selby. ‘Goodness! How’d you get in here? Why, you’re Selby, the mayor’s dog, aren’t you?’
Selby was about to grab the bomb out of her hands when the librarian put it down and picked him up instead and started patting him.
‘Selby,’ Camilla said. ‘You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
Selby watched as people in flak jackets jumped out of the helicopter and took up positions in the playground.
‘I’ve got to keep them from attacking,’ Selby thought. ‘But staying on Camilla’s lap seems to be calming her down — and what she needs is calming down.’
‘Oh, Selby,’ Camilla said, with tears running down her cheeks. ‘I’m just sick and tired of being a librarian: teachers borrowing books for class projects and never returning them, kids forgetting their library bags, re-painting the kids’ Book Week posters, fixing up Book Week parade costumes.’ Camilla blew her nose. ‘And all those books that make you unhappy,’ Camilla sobbed. ‘I wish I had a real bomb — I think I really would blow up the library.’
‘A real bomb?’ Selby thought, as he looked around the room and spotted the Bruce the Bomber poster. ‘It’s not a real bomb! It’s a fake! It’s from a Bruce the Bomber Book Week display! Some kid made it out of papier-mâché. Camilla has only been pretending she’s going to blow up the school. I’ve got to do something fast before the SSTS attacks.’
Selby suddenly jumped off Camilla’s lap and ran for the door. In a second he was on the principal’s desk, dialling Gary’s Gagg Bag number. In another second he’d put the telephone next to the principal’s microphone and was broadcasting Gary’s greatest gags all around the school and the playground.
‘But seriously, folks,’ Gary’s voice boomed. ‘The other day my hair was a mess. I tried to borrow a comb from a friend but he wouldn’t part with it. Then I went to the hairdresser. He said, “Do you want a haircut?” and I said, “No, I want them all cut.” These are the jokes, folks. They don’t get any better. I read about a guy who got caught stealing a calendar. He got twelve months. Woo! Woo! Woo!’
Selby ran back to the library and peeked in at Camilla, who was listening to the jokes with a baffled look on her face.
‘I went for a job as a printer,’ Gary went on, ‘but they told me I was the wrong type. So I decided to raise ducks instead. Years later a friend asked me if business was picking up and I said, “No, silly, business is picking down.” Woo! Woo! Woo!’
‘Oh, I get it,’ Camilla muttered. ‘Picking down — like duck down. That’s good. Who is this fellow?’
‘But seriously, folks,’ Gary continued. ‘Everything always goes wrong at my house. Why, just the other night I was teaching myself to tap dance and I fell in the sink.’
‘Tap dance — fell in the sink!’ Camilla laughed. ‘That’s great!’
‘I have so much trouble with pets,’ Gary went on. ‘I tried to play water polo but my pony nearly drowned. I had to take him to the horse-pital. Then my dog got sick and I had to call a dogter. I said, a dog-ter.’
By now, Camilla was giggling and slapping her legs. And from all around the school, Selby could hear the sounds of people laughing. Selby walked back through the library and lay on the floor at Camilla’s feet.
‘You’re back,’ she said, patting him again. ‘Listen to this, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!’
‘Are you with me, folks?’ Gary said. ‘Then my pig got sick. I had to call a ham-bulance. Woo! Woo! Woo! But seriously, I’ve got a cat that likes to go to the beach at Christmas. I call him Sandy Claws. I’m the kind of guy who always brings a spare sock when I play golf just in case I get a hole in one. Woo! Woo! Woo!’
Selby reached out and grabbed the fake bomb in his teeth, giving it a good chomp and breaking it in half. Bit by bit he chewed until there was nothing left but wet newspaper. By now Gary had got cornier and cornier and Camilla was screaming with laughter. Finally she got up and opened the front door, waving to the people outside.
‘The other day I went to the bank,’ Gary said, ‘and the bank manager was outside, sawing a limb off a tree. He must have been the branch manager. It was a dog-wood tree. I could tell from the bark. I drove away and came to a fork in the road. I ran over it and got a puncture. These are the jokes, folks. They don’t get any better than this —’
Within minutes, Camilla, Dr and Mrs Trifle, the Special School Crisis Coordinator and the Special School Tactical Squad were all having a friendly chat.
‘I’m terribly sorry about the trouble I’ve caused,’ Camilla said. ‘But I’m okay now. Is it all right if I stay on as librarian?’
‘Certainly,’ said Frieda, wiping away tears of laughter. ‘What I’d like to know is how you got the idea to put those jokes over the public address system?’
‘Me? I thought you’d done it,’ Camilla said. ‘Whoever did was very clever indeed. Anyway, I’ve decided to make a fresh start and get rid of all the boring books and the sad books. From now on I’m only going to buy funny ones.’
‘What a good idea,’ thought Selby. ‘There are some books about a talking dog that she might like.’
Paw note: That word is pronounced paper mashay.
S
DAGGERS OF DEATH
Selby had a problem: on the one hand (or paw, in his case) he struggled to keep his talking a secret forever. One little slip of the tongue and he could be in for a lifetime of answering telephones, mowing lawns and doing other chores for the Trifles. But, on the other hand, every now and then he wanted to be the centre of attention. So when Ralpho the Magnificent came to town and asked to borrow him for his magic show, Selby was delighted — at first.
‘This is great!’ Selby thought. ‘I’ll be up on stage and everyone will be looking at me!’
‘What exactly do you want Selby to do?’ Mrs Trifle asked Ralpho.
‘Nothing,’ Ralpho said. ‘I just want to throw daggers at him, that’s all.’
‘Gulp,’ thought Selby. ‘Did he say that he wanted to throw daggers at me? Real daggers?’
‘Throw what at him?’ asked Dr Trifle.
‘Daggers. You know — knives.’
‘I’m sorry but I don’t think we can let you do that,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘Why not?’ asked the magician.
‘Because we’d miss him terribly if anything went wrong.’
‘Go wrong?’ Ralpho said. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’
‘Is he kidding?’ Selby thought. ‘With him, everything always goes wrong!’
‘I’ll give you a demonstration. Just watch this,’ Ralpho said, hanging a large target on the wall. ‘You’ll see how safe it is.’
Ralpho held up a dagger and then made a quick throwing motion.
‘One!’ he cried and a dagger suddenly appeared, sticking into the edge of the target.
‘Goodness!’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘You threw that so fast that I didn’t even see it go!’
‘Neither did I,’ Dr Trifle chimed in.
‘Because it didn’t go,’ Ralpho said. ‘I didn’t actually throw it. The
target isn’t just a target but a very clever invention. The daggers are all inside the target, connected to levers. They pop out, handle first, when I yell a number. Everyone thinks that I’ve thrown them but it’s all an illusion.’
‘That’s great!’ thought Selby. ‘Finally, he has a trick that actually works!’
Ralpho lifted Selby up to the target, put his legs in the four clamps and shouted, ‘Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!
Daggers popped out all around Selby as fast as bullets. Then, with the tenth one, the clamps automatically released and Selby dropped to the floor.
‘Wow!’ Selby thought. ‘What an invention! That’s brilliant!’
‘Very clever,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Of course you can borrow Selby.’
That night, Ralpho’s show was a total disaster, as usual. In his Disappearing Chicken Trick, the box blew up in his face and a very angry chicken pecked him on the nose. He tried card tricks but kept guessing the wrong cards. He juggled three cactuses in pots but he caught one of them by the wrong end and spent five painful minutes picking needles out of his hand. When he tried to saw himself in half (because no one from the audience would volunteer), he sawed through the box and then through his pants and he only stopped when the saw grazed his knee. And, if all of this wasn’t bad enough, he nearly drowned during his Chains Under Water Trick. The key that he’d hidden under his tongue to open the padlock and escape was the wrong key. It was his car key. Fortunately, three people from the audience leapt in and dragged him from the tank.
When Ralpho had recovered he placed a large mirror at one end of the stage.
‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, for my Ralpho Through the Looking-Glass Trick,’ he cried. ‘I will jump through this piece of glass and shatter it into a million pieces without getting a single scratch.’
‘No! Don’t!’ came the cries from the audience. ‘You’ll kill yourself!’
Ten minutes later, the audience had talked him out of doing the mirror trick.
‘Poor Ralpho,’ Selby thought. ‘He’s been pecked, pricked, scorched, feathered, grazed and drenched and everyone’s laughing at him but he still keeps going.’
