The Trophy of Champions. Cameron Stelzer

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СКАЧАТЬ passes to Horace on the right wing. WHAM BAM! What a racket pass to full forward … Captain Black Rat makes contact with his foot … The ball is on its way … Fluffy soars through the air … Dog and ball collide … Coooeee! It’s a fluff-fest. The goal is saved by a perm.’

      The spectators roared with delight. Fluffy hurled the ball into the crowd before the Captain could attempt a second shot.

      ‘… And the ball is back in play,’ Chatterbeak screeched. ‘Bartholomew Brawl receives a short pass from Sam and takes off down the centre of the field … Wait a minute, folks. Something is happening. I haven’t seen this before, but Brawl is wedging the ball into his … mouth?’

      There was a startled gasp from the crowd.

      Ruby threw her paws in the air and howled in protest, ‘It’s a penalty offence. Send the cheat off!’

      The referee, as equally baffled as the spectators, looked to Gustave for a response. Gustave gestured to an extended list of rules on the commentary table.

      ‘Brittle birdseed!’ Chatterbeak exclaimed, peering down at the list. ‘According to the rules, it’s perfectly legal for players to carry the ball in their mouths, as long as it remains visible at all times.’ He pointed his wing at Brawl’s powerful jaws. ‘With chompers like those, I doubt anyone will get the ball out!’

      Ruby stamped her foot in frustration. Bartholomew Brawl growled with satisfaction and took off towards the goal. With his four legs free for running, he barged through Whisker and Horace like a runaway stagecoach.

      The Sea Dog captain continued his charge, colliding with Fred in the goal box. As the two of them tumbled to the ground, Brawl spat out the ball and Scallywag Sam sent it spinning through the goal.

      The crowd leapt to their feet and cheered in jubilation.

      ‘One-nil,’ Chatterbeak announced. ‘The Sea Dogs take the early lead.’

      The rest of the first half continued in a similar fashion. The Sea Dogs used their strong jaws to carry the ball from one end of the field to the other and, despite their determined efforts, the Pie Rats were unable to wrench it free. Frustrated to be cursed with such insignificant jaws, incapable of holding even the smallest of Death Balls, the rats had to wait until late in the period before they could mount a comeback.

      Winning the centre bounce, Ruby ran in circles around the tired dogs and eventually passed the ball to the Captain, who scored in the top right corner of the goal. When the half-time whistle sounded moments later, the Pie Rats were down five goals to one.

      Snapping and snarling at their opposition, the thirsty dogs trotted over to their water bowls and quickly drained the contents. The Pie Rats trudged off the field with slumped shoulders and downcast frowns and sat in a sombre line on the bench.

      ‘Not the start we were looking for,’ Horace said gloomily, lowering his water flask. ‘We’re helpless against Bartholomew make-up-your-own-rules Brawl. He’s got the jaws of a crocodile and the ferocity of a charging rhino.’

      Granny Rat looked down the line of long faces and pointed to her bonnet. ‘Use your brains, you thick-skulled sardines. Fight fire with fire! If Brawl’s twisting the rules then twist them back again. Surely one of you nincompoops can think up a cunning plan to get us out of this mess.’

      In unison, all eyes flashed to Whisker, the go-to rat in desperate situations. With his water flask to his lips, Whisker almost choked on a mouthful of water.

      He coughed and spluttered for some time before pointing to the water dribbling down the side of his mouth.

      ‘Granny’s right,’ he gasped. ‘We’ll have to fight fire with fire …’

      ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Pete exclaimed. ‘You’re not a lava spitting dragon!’

      Wasting no time on an explanation, Whisker turned to the row of spectators behind the reserve bench. Horace’s three sisters fluttered their eyelashes and puckered their lips, trying to win his attention. Whisker smiled politely and forced himself to stay focused.

      ‘Mama Kolina,’ he said with an air of urgency, ‘I have a small favour to ask.’

      ‘Yes, of course, my dear boy,’ she replied. ‘What can I do for you?’

      ‘If it’s not too much trouble,’ Whisker said, removing a gold coin from his drawstring bag. ‘I’d like to order some half-time refreshments for our thirsty opponents.’ He leant closer, handing the coin to Mama Kolina and whispered his request in her ear.

      ‘Certainly, Whisker,’ Mama Kolina said with a broad grin. ‘I’ll rustle up your order at once. Is there anything else you require?’

      Whisker glanced across at the Sea Dog’s bench.

      ‘Well,’ he said, a little embarrassed, ‘there is one other thing we could use: a charming young waitress – preferably dressed in blue.’

      ‘Of course,’ Mama Kolina laughed, putting her arm around her youngest daughter. ‘My charming Aphrodite looks fabulous in blue and she has packed every dress she owns.’

      

      Old Dogs, New Tricks

      As the half-time break drew to a close, Mama Kolina shuffled into the stadium with the rest of the spectators. Slightly out of breath, she squeezed into her seat and handed Whisker a small wicker basket.

      ‘Thanks,’ he whispered, peering over the rim at six tiny red pods.

      ‘The rest of the refreshments are on their way,’ she panted. ‘The line at the tavern was so long I thought we would miss the second half.’

      As Whisker handed each of his teammates one of the red pods, he noticed Aphrodite moving down an aisle with a large wooden bucket in her paws. She looked prettier than ever in her sky-blue dress, white apron and elegant drop earrings, and it was no surprise that wolf-whistles echoed from both sides of the crowd.

      She reached the dogs’ reserve bench as the last grains of sand fell through the half-time hourglass.

      ‘Yoo hoo, Mr Brawl,’ she called out in an innocent voice. ‘I’m such a huge fan. Have you got a moment?’

      The Sea Dogs were already making their way onto the field, but Bartholomew Brawl stopped in his tracks when he heard her sweet voice.

      ‘Hello, li’l lady!’ he exclaimed, wagging his tail excitedly. ‘I’d love to chat with an adoring fan, but I’m kinda busy winnin’ right now.’

      ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Of course you are. I don’t mean to hold you up, but I noticed your drinking bowls are all empty.’ She held up her bucket. ‘It would be an honour to fill them up for you. I’d hate for you to be thirsty during the second half.’

      ‘Mighty kind of you, luv,’ Brawl replied. ‘You can fill up my bowl any time you want.’

      Aphrodite giggled. ‘Good luck, Mr Brawl, I hope you have a scorching second half.’

      Lingering СКАЧАТЬ