Barry Loser and the trouble with pets. Jim Smith
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Название: Barry Loser and the trouble with pets
Автор: Jim Smith
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Природа и животные
isbn: 9781780318011
isbn:
Stuart. So I squidged in with them,
feeling like even more of a loser than
my surname.
And in the boys’ changing rooms on Wednesday when we were getting ready for P.E. and Bunky, Darren and Anton spent the whole time shouting over the wall to Nancy, Sharonella and Fay.
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‘Can you keep the noise down please,’ I grumbled, sounding like an old granny. ‘I’m trying to get changed.’
‘Keep your pants on, Loser!’ snarfled Darren, blowing Sharonella a kiss which rebounded off the wall and fell into one of his stinking shoes.
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Then on Thursday at break time when I headed over to the corner of the playground to peer through the fence into the back garden of the old lady me and Bunky spy on while she talks to her plants.
‘What in the name of unkeelness is SHE doing here?’ I gasped, spotting Fay Snoggles’s bum next to my best friend’s. Both of them were bent in half, looking through the fence and sniggling.
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Fay turned round and grinned her annoying grin. ‘Hi Barry,’ she said. ‘Afraid there’s only room for two.’
‘Yeah I know,’ I said, walking off. ‘Me and Bunky.’
And don’t even get me started about Friday, when we were walking home from school and I pointed out a ginormous dog poo on the pavement right in front of Bunky’s foot.
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‘Hey Bunky, why don’t you tread in that great big stinking old pile of dog poo!’ I giggled.
Me and Bunky are always telling each
other to tread in dog poos like that on our walks home - it’s part of what makes us so hilarikeel.
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Bunky zig-zagged round the poo and was just about to do a sniggle about what I’d said when Fay walk-leaned against him. ‘Yuck, I hate treading in dog poos,’ she said. ‘They stink.’
Bunky nodded all seriously. ‘Yeah, they are pretty disgusting,’ he agreed, and because of the way
I was staring at him in disbelief while gasping at the same time, I almost trod in the dog poo myself.
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‘Oh yeah, because I was really being
serious about Bunky treading in it,’
I said, hearing a squelching noise
behind me. I twizzled round and
spotted Anton’s foot, squidged right
in the middle of the poo I was just
talking about.
‘Well that’s blinking brilliant isn’t it,’
said Anton in his non-robot voice.
He hobbled over to the kerb and
scraped his shoe against it. ‘Just
my flipping luck.’
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Nancy chuckled, the way she used to when I trod in dog poos back in the good old days. ‘You’re funny, Mr Mildew,’ she smiled, which is what she’d started calling him.
‘Thank you, Mrs V,’ he said. ‘But that’s not going to stop my blooming trainer from smelling of poo, is it.’
We carried on walking and I noticed a gooseberry bush sticking its branches through a fence, trying
to grab passers-by.
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I picked one of its prickly green fruits. ‘A gooseberry for a gooseBarry,’ I mumbled to myself, because ‘gooseberries’ are what people call other people who haven’t been paired up with someone else.
A lamp post was standing next to me and I spotted a sign stuck to it, telling people not to let their dogs do poos on the pavement.
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