That was when Charlie got his second bright idea, and soon he was on his feet and climbing on to one of the big kitchen tables.
BLARRR-BLARRR-BLAAAARRRRRR!
‘Oi! You can’t climb up there!’ yelled Pimples through his paper megaphone. ‘I never said anyone could get on the table. Get off at once.’
‘Shut up,’ shouted Charlie, ‘and listen to me, everyone.’
TA-TARAA-TARAAAAA!!!
‘You can’t talk to me like that,’ bristled Pimples.
‘Well, I am,’ countered Charlie and carried on ignoring him. ‘Stop work, all of you. I have important news.’
BLAH-BLAAOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFF!!
The battered trumpet suddenly went quiet. Charlie had picked up a large potato and carefully lobbed it down the trumpet, jamming it up. Pimples was so taken aback he just sat and stared at his silenced instrument in dismay.
The children stopped what they were doing and turned to Charlie, who glanced at them nervously before launching into a speech.
‘This place is a nightmare,’ he told them. ‘You are stolen children, working like slaves. Outside this dreadful prison is a world full of sunshine and freedom. The only thing keeping you here is fear of the monsters.
Do you like working here? Do you like being pushed around all the time by those monster bullies?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Do you want to escape to freedom and go back to your parents?’
‘Of course we do!’ they answered.
‘Good, because there are actually more of you than there are monsters. We can overcome them, and this is how we are going to do it.’ Charlie began to outline his plan and slowly the children in the kitchen gathered round him, hooked on his every word. By the time Charlie had finished they were in state of great excitement.
‘Do you really think we can do that?’ asked a small girl in a scrappy frock and no shoes.
‘Yes,’ nodded Charlie. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to do this if we didn’t have a good chance of success. But I have to warn you that some of us might get hurt.’
There was a lot of murmuring and then another child piped up. ‘We’re already getting hurt and it’s got to be better than working here all our lives.’ And soon they were all repeating that.
‘Yeah, it’s got to be better than here! Those monsters are always pushing us around.’
Pimples pushed himself forward. ‘What are you going to do about Krankenstein?’ he demanded and a terrified hush fell on the crowd. Everyone turned and looked at Charlie.
Charlie swallowed hard. It was very hard to think how to deal with a monster that nobody had actually seen. Everyone had heard of Krankenstein, and they could only imagine what he was like. Their imaginations drew horrible, terrifying pictures in their minds and the children were very afraid.
Inside Charlie’s pocket he felt the little mouse give a wriggle. Charlie smiled. He lifted his head and looked straight back at the frightened faces around him. ‘Krankenstein is a monster just like the others. He has been made like the others, by The Stitcher. No matter how big he is, he will have the same weakness as the others.’
Charlie reached inside his pocket and brought out the little mouse, nose and whiskers twitching with interest.
‘You see this mouse? Do you see how small it is? Just half an hour or so ago this little creature scared off four monsters at once. FOUR MONSTERS! If one tiny mouse can do that to four of them, just imagine what we can do!’
A murmur of approval ran through the crowd. It grew and grew until it became an excited babble. Soon the children were laughing and shouting at each other.
Charlie looked at the sea of excited faces and realized that he had a small army ready to help him. Inside he was grinning like mad and for now all his fear seemed to have vanished.
‘We wait until midnight,’ he told his new army. ‘Carry on as usual, as if nothing has happened. And tonight we shall strike, when most of the ogres are snoring their heads off.’
As Charlie’s new-found friends went back to scraping pans and boiling cabbages, Charlie curled up in a corner and took a break. He was feeling quite upbeat. He wondered if this was how Charles Dickens had felt when he tried to save child slaves. Charlie went on musing for a few seconds and then he was asleep. He was going to need all his wits and energy for the night.
He was woken by a shake. Pimples was standing over him.
‘You stuffed a potato down my trumpet,’ he said, miffed. ‘And I can’t get it out.’
‘Sorry,’ muttered Charlie. ‘You were too noisy. It wasn’t anything personal.’
‘Nobody’s ever escaped from The Stitcher and her monsters,’ Pimples went on huffily. ‘Can’t be done.’
Charlie yawned. ‘Has anyone ever tried?’
‘No, but –’
‘How do you know it’s not possible then?’ Charlie asked, surprised at how forward he was becoming. Maybe it was because he’d managed to escape from the monsters earlier.
Or perhaps it was because he had come to understand the difference between himself and Ben. Charlie never even tried to do anything that he thought was scary or difficult. Ben always had a go. Sometimes he failed. Sometimes he got hurt. And sometimes neither of those things happened and he succeeded. It was worth the risk and, besides, he couldn’t go home without Ben.
Pimples pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘I think you’re mad,’ he muttered.
‘Yes,’ agreed Charlie. ‘You’re right. I’m scared too, but I’m not nearly as scared as I was when I thought I was all on my own. So, are you going to join us?’
A smile crept on to the big boy’s face. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘’Course I am. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I reckon it’s midnight – that’s why I woke you.’
‘Great! So, let’s see if we can get that spud out of your trumpet. We’re going to need that.’
While they successfully restored the trumpet, Charlie and Pimples discussed what their tactics should be for their attack. Finally Charlie went to the kitchen door and summoned his troops. The kitchen warriors swarmed round him, the smallest ones clattering about noisily on their tin shoes.
‘You can take those off for a start,’ ordered Charlie. ‘Our attack has to be a surprise.’
Finally all was ready. Charlie stood at the kitchen door and took a deep breath. ‘Do you remember what to do?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’
‘Are you ready to do it?’
‘Yes!’ they repeated eagerly.
‘What’s the most important thing to remember?’ demanded Charlie.
‘SILENCE!’ they roared. Charlie hurriedly put a finger to his lips. ‘Silence,’ they whispered.
‘OK, follow me,’ Charlie ordered, and one by one they crept out of the kitchen and headed for The Stitcher’s Chamber of Horrors.
11 Explosions, Fanfares and, Finally – KRANKENSTEIN!
They massed outside The Stitcher’s room. Charlie could feel his heart galloping like a mouse with a cat on its tail. He wondered if it was possible for ten-year-olds to have heart attacks. He decided it was more than likely, if they were in his situation. His fear was returning but at the same time he was gripped with excitement, unable to do anything except follow his own instructions.
‘You know what to do,’ he whispered to his motley army. ‘I’m going inside. Hopefully they’ll be sleeping. I’ll start work on the nearest monster. I’ll give you a signal if it’s clear. Unplug as many wires as you can. If it looks like I’m about to be captured, then rush in and we’ll just have to fight things out with them.’
The rag-bag army gave a collective gulp and hoped that all the monsters would be asleep. Charlie eased the door open and peered in. Monsters lay all over the place, propped against each other, lying on tables or crumpled in corners. Loud snores rumbled round the room like a thunderstorm that was closing in. Only Grumpfart lay alone in a mouldy corner, gently piffing.
Charlie slipped into the room, his eyes searching for The Stitcher and
Small-Tall. He soon spotted the old crone, sprawled forward across her desk and fast asleep, but there was no sign of her traitorous little spy. That could be a problem.
Then Charlie saw Ben, still tied to the great chair, but surrounded by monsters. They had placed the synthesizer right next to him and a saucepan all wired up and ready to go. Ben’s sleeping head lolled forward, open-mouthed, with his tongue flopping out.
Charlie got on his hands and knees and crawled towards the monsters. He muttered to himself in his head. I am not afraid. I am NOT afraid. I might FEEL afraid, but I’m not really. I might LOOK afraid, but I’m not really.
He edged closer and closer towards Pizza-Face, sleeping with a finger stuck up one nostril and green froth bubbling out of the other. Charlie shuddered. Actually, I AM afraid.
I don’t mind admitting it. I am so VERY, VERY AFRAID I shall probably wet myself. I want to go home, but I can’t leave Ben here.
Charlie crouched down beside the snoring shocker and carefully unplugged as many wires as he could from the saucepan attached to Pizza-Face’s head. He glanced back at the door and signalled to the others to come in and start on the other monsters.
Soon the room was full of kitchen kids, quietly pulling out leads or simply rearranging them. Little by little they edged towards Ben until at last Charlie was beside him. There were still a few monsters that needed reprogramming, but Charlie was triumphant that he had got this far. All he had to do now was wake Ben up without disturbing The Stitcher or any of the others.
He carefully set about untying Ben but had only done one arm when a pinched face slid out from behind the chair and grinned at Charlie.
‘Well, ain’t you the clever one, Charlie-boy?’ hissed Small-Tall. ‘Nah, not really. Did you really fink you could escape The Stitcher, an’ take all them kiddies with you? I don’t fink so! There’s all these monsters behind me you ain’t touched yet, an’ The Stitcher too, an’ all I have to do is wake ’em up wiv one shout.’
Charlie didn’t waste time thinking of an answer. With a lightning move he grabbed the saucepan beside Ben and rammed it on to Small-Tall’s head. At the same time his other arm shot out and pressed the red button on the humming synthesizer.
FWATANNNGGGGGG!
Small-Tall almost hit the ceiling, hovered there briefly with a ghastly green glow and then crashed back down on to Ben’s lap, waking him at once. Ben’s head jerked up and he opened his eyes.
‘Charlie!’ he yelled. ‘You came back for me!’
And, of course, everyone who was asleep woke up.
There was instant chaos! The monsters stumbled to their feet. If they weren’t tripping over the ones that had had all their wires removed, they were crashing into each other, hitting out wildly and tugging at anything that got in their path. Stitching quickly unravelled in all directions.
‘I make-a ice cream of you all!’ thundered Dracolio. ‘Big-a ice cream!’ And then both his arms fell off. He stared at them lying on the floor and then set up a wail. ‘Oh, mamma, I’m armless!’
Grumpfart was in such a state of panic her bodily explosions had taken over entirely.
SPPPPPPPPPPPRGH! PIFFFFFFFFFFF! ‘Oh dear!’ URRRRKK! HICC! HICC! HICC! SPLUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP!!! ‘Oops! Pardon!’
As for Weatherman, he had been completely re-tuned and was now picking up advertisements. ‘Dumpers disposable nappies now have Ping-String to give that extra bit of elastic for even more comfort. Use Dumpers, the only nappy with Ping-String.’
TA-TARA-TATA-TARARRRR!
Pimples’s trumpet had never sounded so splendid. Urged on by trumpet calls, the kitchen kids hurled themselves at the ogres. Soon the monsters that were working properly found themselves having to deal with all the monsters that weren’t.
A battle was taking place, with monster struggling against monster. Meanwhile, the children swarmed all over them, tripping them up, climbing up their backs and blindfolding them and generally adding to the noisy confusion. Small-Tall was back on her feet and wandering around in a complete daze.
‘Have you any chocolate?’ she kept asking everyone, friend or foe, while the battle raged around her. ‘I’d really like some chocolate.’
BLARR-DE-BLARRR! ‘Get that big one over there!’ yelled Pimples. ‘Watch out behind you, Charlie!’ TA-TA-TA-TAHHH!!
And in the midst of all this, arms, legs, heads went flying in all directions. Ears whizzed across the room like mini UFOs. Noses got squashed underfoot. Ogres fell in every direction. It was all going amazingly well.
UNTIL THEY HEARD THE STITCHER!
‘Fools!’ she screamed, suddenly waking in her chair and sitting bolt upright. ‘Do you think you can escape? Do you think I only have these puny, useless monsters at my command?’ She thrust her tea-trolley into top gear, shot across to the freezer and yanked open the door.
‘BEHOLD! Krankenstein!!’
12 The Stitcher Gets Cooking
Clouds of ice-air billowed from the fridge, filled with an eerie blue light. And out stepped the colossal Krankenstein. His legs were as massive as an elephant’s. His seven arms were like the deadly tentacles of a huge octopus (but with one missing). His head was a mighty, upturned bucket.
‘Go!’ screeched The Stitcher. ‘Go and spifflicate the lot of them! And start with that wretched child right there!’ The Stitcher pointed a thin, bony finger directly at Charlie.
Krankenstein slowly turned towards Charlie. He took his first step. He took his second step. He was closing in. What a monster! He towered over everything. His thunderous steps made the entire building shake. Charlie began to back away. He couldn’t think what to do. As a last resort he pulled the little mouse from his pocket and held it in front of him. Krankenstein took no notice.
The Stitcher screeched triumphantly. ‘At last I have created the monster of all monsters, a monster who is scared of nothing. With Krankenstein by my side I shall take over THE WHOLE WORLD! Ha ha!’
TA TA-TA TA TARRRRR! went Pimples and his trumpet. ‘Get the rope!’ he bellowed down his paper megaphone at the troops. ‘Wrap it round his feet!’
The kitchen kids quickly untied Ben and then rushed forward with the rope. Now they whizzed round Krankenstein’s enormous feet, round and round, tighter and tighter until, with his next step, Krankenstein tripped. He fell.
It was like watching a skyscraper collapse. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster and with more and more noise. He toppled forward until finally he crashed against the wall. The ancient bricks crumbled and gave way as the monster demolished half the wall.
Off came his head. Four of his arms fell off and he was left, stunned, still and silent on the rubble-strewn ground. Light from the world outside poured into the House of Horrors, lighting up every dingy corner.
‘Noooooooooooooooooo!’ shrieked The Stitcher, as she was overwhelmed by cheering kitchen kids. ‘My wonder-child!’
It was over. Charlie and Ben hugged each other, filled with relief and triumph. They hugged until they thought it was getting too soppy so they stopped and just gazed at each other with silly grins and a lot of embarrassment.
The kitchen kids couldn’t believe they had been so successful. They had fought monsters and won! Monsters! No more washing-up. No more potato peeling and carrot scrubbing. No more toiling over huge pans of boiling water and working with hot ovens. They had stood up to the monsters and now they were free!
Within minutes they had taken over the building. They found a switch in the fuse box that turned on all the lights. The place was suddenly flooded with brightness, light that made the monsters cringe and squirm – that is, if they had any limbs left to cringe and squirm with.
The children marched the captured monsters and The Stitcher down to the kitchen and ordered them to set about cooking a feast for them. Pimples climbed back on his stepladder, barking orders down his megaphone and blowing his trumpet.
BLARRR! BLARRRR!! ‘Get those spuds peeled, you lazy vampire! Oi! Pizza-Face, throw those cabbages ou
t and bring us something decent to eat!’
As for Small-Tall, she was still wandering about asking for chocolate. They left her alone. The kitchen kids had never been so happy, nor as pleased, and they kept thanking Charlie and Ben for what they had done.
This was nice for the boys, but they had something more important on their minds.
‘I want to go home, Ben,’ Charlie told his friend.
‘Me too. I’ll tell you something, Charlie, I was frightened in there. When I was tied in that chair, on my own. I was really scared because you weren’t there and I didn’t know if you’d come back for me.’
Charlie grinned. He couldn’t think what to say, so he kept quiet, but inside his heart was bursting again, and this time it was because he was so pleased, and proud of himself too.
‘I still don’t know how we’re going to get back,’ Charlie said eventually. ‘I think everything depends on these pyjamas.’ He quickly explained what had happened when he was hiding, with the magic messages. He showed Ben the little mouse too.
‘But I still don’t know how we’re going to get back,’ he repeated. ‘We’re stuck here.’
The mouse sat on the palm of Charlie’s hand, washing its whiskers. When it finished, it ran up Charlie’s sleeve.
‘Where’s it off to now?’ Charlie wondered.
‘Look!’ cried Ben. ‘Right where it’s sitting. That picture is flashing.’
‘What picture?’
‘The one of that building THERE that looks like YOUR HOUSE!’ Ben yelled excitedly.
They bent over the pyjamas. A small building was trembling with light. Charlie was gobsmacked. ‘Ben, that IS MY HOUSE!’
‘I KNOW, YOU PLONKERNOODLE! I JUST TOLD YOU!’ screamed Ben. ‘WHAT DO WE DO?!’
Krankenstein's Crazy House of Horror Page 6
