“No, not the beard,” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “I mean I’ve got an idea. We are in a story, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” said Stinkbomb. “Most of the way through Chapter Three.”
“Right,” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “So to find the badgers, we need someone who knows about stories!”
“Of course!” said Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face together.
“Yes!” said King Toothbrush Weasel dramatically. “So, we need to go to . . . the post office!”
“Oh,” said Stinkbomb. “I thought you were going to say the library.”
CHAPTER 4
IN WHICH
OUR HEROES DON’T GO TO THE POST OFFICE
Just then, it began to rain.
It was not an ordinary rain. It was a horrible, inky-splattery, thick wet rain that left dark splotches on the ground and smelled faintly of bananas.
“What’s happening?” said King Toothbrush Weasel.
“I bet it’s got something to do with those badgers!” said Ketchup-Face.
“Why?” asked Stinkbomb, putting up an umbrella he had just found in his pocket.
“Because,” explained Ketchup-Face patiently, “they’re the bad guys.”
“That settles it!” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “To the royal carriage—quickly!”
Outside the gate, waiting patiently, was a little shopping cart with a sticker saying ROYAL CARRIAGE stuck to its handle, and a small gray cat wearing a red soldier’s jacket and a bored expression.
“Starlight!” said Ketchup-Face delightedly, for this was none other than the little shopping cart who wasn’t actually called Starlight at all, who had helped them in their last adventure.
“And Malcolm the Cat!” she added, for the cat was none other than Malcolm the Cat, who was a small cat named Malcolm the Cat, but who was also the entire army of the little kingdom of Great Kerfuffle.
“Hello,” said the little shopping cart shyly as they got in. “Where to, Your Majesty?”
“To the post office!”
commanded King Toothbrush Weasel.
“Certainly,” said the little shopping cart. “Um . . . why are we going to the post office?”
“Because,” said King Toothbrush Weasel impatiently, “we need someone who knows about stories, and that means a butcher, and where would we find a butcher but in a post office?”
“Ah,” said the little shopping cart wisely, setting off at a squeaky-wheeled gallop, and before this sentence had finished they were pulling up outside the Loose Pebbles Library.
“Here we are,” said King Toothbrush Weasel. “The post office! Filled from end to end with all manner of books, and run by the person who knows more about stories than anyone else—the butcher!”
“But it’s the—OW!” said Ketchup-Face, as Stinkbomb jabbed her sharply in the ribs. “What did you do that for? I was only going to say that it’s the—OW! Stop it! Why don’t you want me to say that it’s the—OW!”
“Shhh!” explained Stinkbomb.
“It’s not the OW,” King Toothbrush Weasel said sternly. “It’s the post office. And this is where we’ll find out how to stop the badgers doing their evil and wicked doings.”
“But it’s the—OW!” yelped Ketchup-Face crossly.
“It doesn’t matter what we call it,” Stinkbomb hissed, rubbing his elbow. “Let’s just go in and find the librarian.”
“All right,” muttered Ketchup-Face. “But it is the—OW!”
The Loose Pebbles Library was the grandest building in Great Kerfuffle—much grander than the Royal Palace, which was really just a small cottage with a couple of thatched turrets stuck on and a cat in a soldier’s jacket standing guard outside. This was because the only sensible king that Great Kerfuffle had ever had—who was called King Sensible—had realized that libraries are much more important than palaces.
So King Sensible had ordered every spare penny in the kingdom to be spent on building a wonderful library. And a hundred years later, the only sensible queen that Great Kerfuffle had ever had—who was called Queen Fairly Daft, because her parents considered Queen Sensible a silly name—had ordered it to be filled with books. This came as a great relief to the librarians, who had been sitting around for a hundred years waiting for something to do.
Now Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face and King Toothbrush Weasel and Malcolm the Cat were gazing up at this majestic building, hearts filled with awe, as the sinister banana-scented rain splottered and spattered around them.
CHAPTER 5
IN WHICH
OUR HEROES ENTER THE LIBRARY AND MEET MISS BUTTERWORTH
Their feet went click, click, click on the marbled flooring as they entered the library.
At least King Toothbrush Weasel’s did. Ketchup-Face’s went tic, tic, tic because she was lighter and wasn’t wearing impressive and kingly shoes, and Stinkbomb’s went boing, boing, boing because he was wearing his favorite boots with the bouncy soles, and Malcolm the Cat’s went , , because he was a cat.
Inside, the library was like a vast and silent cathedral of knowledge, except for the children’s section, which was full of toddlers and their parents who had come for
Bouncy Sing & Clap Story Time with Miss Tibbles,
and which was more like a brightly colored and noisy cathedral of dribbly fun.
“I wonder where the librarian is?” whispered Stinkbomb.
“I am here,” murmured a voice like the tinkling of wind chimes, and suddenly, magically, the librarian appeared among them.
“OW!” said Malcolm the Cat.
“Oh, sorry,” said the librarian, looking down and taking her foot off Malcolm the Cat’s tail.
The librarian was tall and thin, and dressed in black clothing of fine silk. From a sash around her waist hung a long sword. A black hood and scarf covered her head so that nothing could be seen of her face except for a pair of very sensible glasses, behind which twinkled wise, kind eyes.
She put her hands together and bowed her head in greeting. “I,” she said, “am Miss Butterworth of the Ancient Order of Ninja Librarians. Greetings to you, Stinkbomb, Ketchup-Face, King Toothbrush Weasel, and Malcolm the Cat.”
Stinkbomb was most impressed. “How do you know who we are?” he asked.
Miss Butterworth bowed again. “I am a librarian,” she said. “We are keepers of all knowledge. We are guardians of all books and stories. Plus, we read a lot in our lunch hour. I enjoyed your first book very much. How may I help you?”
“We want to know how to find the badgers,”
Stinkbomb told her.
“They’re making it rain a big blobby splatty rain,” Ketchup-Face explained.
“Which smells faintly of bananas,” Stinkbomb added.
“Yes!” said Ketchup-Face. “If we don’t catch them soon, all of Great Kerfuffle will smell faintly of bananas, and it’ll get invaded by monkeys and gorillas and elephants and hammerhead sharks.”
“Hammerhead sharks don’t like bananas,” Stinkbomb pointed out.
“They would if they tried them,” Ketchup-Face said. “If their mommies said, ‘Eat up all your bananas or you won’t get any sailors,’ then they’d try them, and then they’d like them, and then they’d invade Great Kerfuffle.”
“They don’t eat sailors, either,” said Stinkbomb, who was very interested in interesting things like facts. “They’re bottom feeders.”
“Ewww,” said Ketchup-Face, who didn’t know what a bottom feeder was, but could think of one or two horrid things it might be. “So would their mommies say, ‘Eat up all your bananas or you won’t get any bottoms’?”
“No,” Stinkbomb explained. “It means they eat whatever they find lying on the bottom of the sea.”
“Oh,” said Ketchup-Face. “So if a sailor and a banana fell out of a boat, which would they eat first?”
; “I don’t know what hammerhead sharks have to do with anything!” interrupted King Toothbrush Weasel. “Nasty little creatures with too many legs. The point is, what are we going to do about the badgers?”
“Well,” said Miss Butterworth slowly, “there is one book which might help. To fetch it will be dangerous—but perhaps it is our only hope. And somebody did knock over the library garbage can last night, and it took me ages to clear up the mess.”
She took a deep breath, as if summoning her courage in preparation for some great ordeal—and then she wasn’t there.
“Where did she go?” asked King Toothbrush Weasel.
“There she is!” cried Stinkbomb. Far above them, Miss Butterworth was scaling the tall bookcases toward a high shelf marked 451: FORBIDDEN BOOKS.
Nimbly she climbed, dodging the traps that some ancient and long-forgotten librarian had left: a great stone ball on a chain that smashed into the bookshelf just where she had been a moment before; poisoned darts that buried themselves in the wall with a cascade of angry phuts; boiling lava that erupted in deadly fountains from a copy of Top Traps to Keep Your Forbidden Books Safe; and tribes of angry mice that appeared from behind a large encyclopedia and poked her with tiny pitchforks.
Then she was at the top of the highest bookcase, pulling a book from the very end of the topmost shelf. As she did so, the whole bookcase shook violently. Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face gasped as Miss Butterworth was thrown backward into empty space, fifty feet or more above the ground.
CHAPTER 6
IN WHICH
MISS BUTTERWORTH IS PERFECTLY ALL RIGHT, AND THERE IS NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT—EXCEPT FOR THE BADGERS, OF COURSE
Oh, dear!” said King Toothbrush Weasel, but even as he spoke, the Ninja Librarian skillfully turned her fall into a somersault. Like a gymnast, she twisted through the air to rebound off a large copy of The Boingiest Trampoline in the World. Down she came, leaping gracefully from shelf to shelf, until she alighted on the ground next to them with barely a sound.
“OW,” said Malcolm the Cat.
“Oh, sorry,” said Miss Butterworth, looking down and taking her foot off Malcolm the Cat’s tail. Then she held up the book she was clutching. It was called STINKBOMB AND KETCHUP-FACE AND THE QUEST FOR THE MAGIC PORCUPINE.
Stinkbomb gasped. “Is that the story we’re in now?” he asked, reaching for it.
Miss Butterworth held it out of his reach. “You must not!” she said seriously. “No one without the training of a Ninja Librarian should try to read a story while they are in it. Otherwise great calamity will befall, endangering the very fabric of time and space!”
Stinkbomb thought about this. The idea of great calamity befalling and endangering the very fabric of time and space certainly sounded interesting, but he wasn’t sure he would actually like it. So he stuck his hand back in his pocket.
Ketchup-Face, meanwhile, was staring up at Miss Butterworth in awe. She thought that the fetching of that book was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen, and she was suddenly filled with hero worship. “I’ve written a song about libraries,” she announced. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes, please,” said Miss Butterworth.
“Oh,” said Ketchup-Face, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t written a song about libraries after all. However, she wasn’t going to tell Miss Butterworth that, because it would be embarrassing. Instead, she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and waited to see what came out.
What came out was:
“I like libraries
More than climbing trees
More than bits of cheese
More than the nice lady
in the sweet shop
Who’s got hairy knees
And if you ask me please
Whether I’d like to go and
sit in the freeze . . . er
I’ll say:
No, ’cause I want to go to the
library instead because it’s not as cold as
the freezer and it’s got lots of interesting
books and stuff like that and you can use the
internet and all the librarians are really nice
especially Miss Butterworth and it’s all
amazing and anyone can borrow
the books and take them
home and read them . . .
Except the badgers!!!
That’s a song about libraries,” she added.
“Well done,” said Miss Butterworth politely, and Stinkbomb gave her a brotherly pat on the back.
“Now,” Miss Butterworth continued, “stand back. Be still and quiet. What I am about to do is extremely dangerous.” Very carefully, she opened the book. Immediately, a strange humming filled the air.
“Excuse me,” said Miss Butterworth sternly, looking at King Toothbrush Weasel.
King Toothbrush Weasel blushed, and stopped humming. “Sorry,” he said.
Miss Butterworth returned her attention to the book.
“Does it tell us how to catch the badgers?” Stinkbomb asked.
Miss Butterworth nodded. “But I cannot tell you yet.”
“Why not?” Ketchup-Face asked.
“Because first you must say, ‘Why not?’”
“I just did,” Ketchup-Face pointed out.
“Yes,” Miss Butterworth agreed, “but until you say it again, I cannot tell you how to catch the badgers.”
“Why not?” Ketchup-Face asked.
“Because it is written,” Miss Butterworth said, “and all must happen as it is written.”
“But now she has said it again,” Stinkbomb said. “So can you tell us how to catch the badgers?”
“Not yet,” said Miss Butterworth. “More must first come to pass.”
“Oh,” said Stinkbomb. “Well . . . what else has got to happen?”
Miss Butterworth returned her eyes to the book and flicked silently through its pages. “Many things will happen before the secret is revealed,” she said. “King Toothbrush Weasel will say, ‘Eh? What?’; a mysterious stranger in a raincoat will enter the library; the Number 94 bus will go past outside; the chapter will end, and a new one must begin; Malcolm the Cat will say ‘ow’; and then, on page 46, I may at last tell you what you must do.”
“Right,” said Stinkbomb. “Well, we’d better get on with it. Come on, Your Majesty.”
“Eh? What?” said King Toothbrush Weasel, who hadn’t been paying attention.
Just then, a mysterious stranger in a raincoat entered the library. He crossed the room and took a book from one of the shelves. Then there was silence, except for the rumble of the Number 94 bus going past outside.
“It’s all going very well, isn’t it?” said Ketchup-Face happily. “What’s the next thing?”
“Next,” Stinkbomb reminded her, “it’s the end of the chapter.”
CHAPTER 7
IN WHICH
WE FIND PAGE 46, AND OUR HEROES LEARN WHAT THEY MUST DO
Oh, yes,” said Ketchup-Face. “So it is. And the beginning of the next one.”
“What was the next thing, again?” Stinkbomb asked.
“Let me see,” said Miss Butterworth, opening the book again and taking a step toward him.
“Ow,” said Malcolm the Cat.
“Oh, sorry,” said Miss Butterworth, looking down and taking her foot off Malcolm the Cat’s tail.
“Yes, that was it,” said Stinkbomb.
“And then we can get to page 46 and you can tell us the secret,” said Ketchup-Face.
“But we’re only on page 43,” Stinkbomb pointed out.
So they waited for a bit.
“That’s no good,” Stinkbomb said eventually. “It’s hardly gotten us any closer to page 46 at all. I suppose we’ll have to do something.”
“I could sing my song again,” Ket
chup-Face suggested.
“Yes, all right,” agreed Stinkbomb. So Ketchup-Face sang her song again.
“Bother,” said Stinkbomb, when she had finished. “That didn’t get us much further either.”
“I know!” said Ketchup-Face. “I could shout something
REALLY REALLY LOUDLY!”
“GOOD IDEA!”
yelled Stinkbomb, even more loudly.
“Shhh!” said Miss Butterworth.
“But it’s working!” protested Ketchup-Face.
“Perhaps,” Miss Butterworth said, “but as a Ninja Librarian, I have made vows to preserve the quiet dignity of the library, with exceptions only to be made for Bouncy Sing & Clap Story Time with Miss Tibbles.”
“Oh,” said Stinkbomb. “What would happen if I just went on shouting anyway?”
“Then,” Miss Butterworth said sadly, “I would have to chop your head off with my big sword.”
Stinkbomb thought about this. The idea of having his head chopped off with Miss Butterworth’s big sword certainly sounded interesting, but he wasn’t sure if he would actually like it. So he decided to be quieter.
“Well,” he said softly, “what are we going to do to get us to page 46, then?”
“I know!” said Ketchup-Face. “We could ask that nice Mr. Ricks to draw us a great big picture of a duck-billed platypus.”
“That wasn’t a duck-billed platypus!” Ketchup-Face said indignantly. “That was a hippotatomouse!”
“It looked like a duck-billed platypus to me,” said King Toothbrush Weasel.
“Never mind that!” said Stinkbomb excitedly. “Look! It’s page 46! Now Miss Butterworth can tell us how to catch the badgers!”
Miss Butterworth checked the page number, bowed her head in silent agreement, and opened the library’s copy of STINKBOMB AND KETCHUP-FACE AND THE QUEST FOR THE MAGIC PORCUPINE to page 46.
Stinkbomb and Ketchup-Face and the Quest for the Magic Porcupine Page 2
