Lick'd. Susan Berran

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      “Thank you Mrs Duckson.” Yep I reckon it shouldn’t take too long to get her under control.

      Back to the plans.

      By the end of the week we were ready to put together our very first top-secret, one of a kind, totally wicked, Mini-Pellet-pooper-shooter. Jared had collected up plenty of their guinea pig pellet poop. Wow, those little guys seemed to pump out poop all day long. I don’t think they even slept. Food was constantly being sucked in one end and leaving out the other. We tried drying it out, but it crumbled before we could load it. We tried keeping it wet, but that just made it swell up and then we had to moosh it into the tube. We must have tried mixing it and rolling it in a hundred different ways. But finally we found that the best pellet poop AMMUNITION was if it was so fresh that it was still warm.

      We used the tube of a clear pen and carefully filed out both ends. Then, using an ear bud, the inside was coated with cooking oil to make the tube nice and slippery. Jared loaded his shooter with three pellets. It was working; they slipped in easily, sliding back and forth in the oily tube.

      “OK Jared, take a deep breath and blow,” I directed. In a split second and obviously without thinking, Jared raised the tube to his lips and sucked in a huge breath …

      “Hhhhhh, gulp, gulp, gulp!! ” In an instant, all three pellets disappeared from the tube and shot straight down his throat …

      “You suck up a breath before putting your mouth to the tube you idiot!” I said as I fell to the ground laughing. He then went on to swallow another dozen before realising that he just wasn’t getting the hang of it.

      I could see that he wasn’t going to get the hang of it right from the start. But I didn’t want to say anything because it really was ssooo funny to watch.

      We went back to the drawing board and added a spring to power the shooter. Now we were ready.

      Monday morning Jared gathered up a nice big bag of fresh warm AMMUNITION for each of us. We got to school way early and set up our command post under the bushes opposite the toilet block. The trap was set, we waited for our prey.

      Fifteen minutes to the bell; the clapped-out old rusty minivan that runs on a secret mix of alcohol and pig poop and is used on weekends to take sheep to the sale yards, rattles up with farmer Nick Young behind the wheel. Nick is the oldest hippie around here. He doesn’t say much and he has this bushy grey moustache and beard that a troop of Scouts could get lost in. He also wears this faded worn-out rainbow beanie with a couple of feathers on the side. No one has ever seen his head without it. Jared reckons his hair has actually grown all through the beanie and so now it’s permanently part of his scalp. The door of the van slams back to cover the faded ‘peace’ symbol. The usual amount of sheep dung drops to the ground as a dozen kids stumble out.

      Eight minutes to the bell; the kids have all divided up into their ‘herds’. The girls are discussing how they did at pony club. The boys are wandering around choosing a blade of grass to chew on for the day.

      Four minutes to the bell; Jared and I open up our ammO bags and lay the pellets out on the ground ready for quick reloading. We check the springs … and wait.

       Ding ding ding!!!

      Here they come! The mad dash of bodies racing to the toilets as the bell rings. Their arms and legs flapping about. All trying to get ahead of each other so as not to be last into the toilet.

      We lifted our small but deadly loaded pooper-shooters and took careful aim … ppttt ppttt ppttt … ppttt ppttt ppttt … Bullseye!!

      Booga Boris stopped dead in his tracks. He looked up and around into the trees above him as he picked a splattered pellet off the back of his neck. He studied the glob closely. We could see him stretching it in and out between his finger and thumb, trying to work out what it was. He sniffed at it twice, then touched it delicately to his tongue. Looked at it again, sniffed it, then he threw it into his mouth and with one crunch it was gone … eewww!!!

      I thought my stomach was going to burst all over Jared like a water balloon full of runny porridge. I had to put both hands tightly over my mouth to hold in the laughter … and last night’s dinner. I looked across to Jared. He too had both hands locked solidly over his mouth and tears of laughter rolling down his puffed-up cheeks. I thought he’d give us away for sure.

      Booga then disappeared into the toilet, still looking completely puzzled. Although for him that was pretty normal.

      We reloaded …

      … ppttt ppttt ppttt … ppttt ppttt ppttt

      … missed … reload …

      … ppttt ppttt ppttt … ppttt ppttt ppttt

      … Yes, a direct hit!!

      We got Dopey Sophie; she was Crabby’s personal suck up.

      “ Eeeeeeee, something bit me! ” she squealed. Then she started to spin faster than a hamster in a runaway wheel as her squeals started to break the sound barrier … and our eardrums. Everyone around her was shoving their hands over their ears while Dopey kept slapping at the back of her neck and spinning around faster and faster. Finally she picked out a piece from her hair and put it up to her face … “ Eeeewww pooohhhh!!! ”

      She was hopping around like a flea on a hot plate. We couldn’t hold it in any longer, we both cracked up laughing. The tears poured down our cheeks, making it hard to see. It was time to sneak out of our hidey-hole and get to class. We left our WEAPONS under there so that we could come back for another go at lunchtime.

      Poking our heads right down, we started to crawl through the dirt and out from under the bush, snickering all the way. Just as we began to emerge into the light, I noticed someone had left their shoes there … their nice clean shoes

      … their nice clean shoes with legs … their nice clean shoes with big hairy legs in them … big, bulging hairy legs and one foot tapping so hard that the dust was flying up.

      Our laughter was stopped dead. And as we raised our eyes they were met with the staring bloodshot eyes and vein throbbing fire-engine red face of Mrs Duckson.

      My office, NOW!! echoed through my head as we shuffled off with the sound of Dopey’s shrieking still ringing in our ears. As we sat outside the office, we only heard parts of the phone conversations with our mums. But it all added up to the same thing, detention! Which we’d be seeing quite a bit of, as Mrs Duckson put it.

      Later that afternoon, we sat in the classroom alone and bored to death. We were staring out the window when we saw the strangest thing; apart from TOFFEE THOMAS doing ballet, which was also a really weird and disturbing sight to see. A group of animals were wandering up the road. Heaps of them all together and they seemed to know exactly where they were going. But these weren’t the local cows and sheep taking a stroll. It was the pets that all the kids had got from the little pet shop on the side of СКАЧАТЬ