Barry Loser Hates Half Term. Jim Smith
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Название: Barry Loser Hates Half Term
Автор: Jim Smith
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: The Barry Loser Series
isbn: 9781780314310
isbn:
‘Call you when I get there!’ cried my mum, reversing out of the driveway, and we all waved. She’d thrown her travel bag into the back seat of her car, seeing as Great Aunt Mildred lived about eight million miles away and she’d have to stay until she was better, which might be all week.
‘B-but, Maureen . . .’ warbled my dad, bending over to pick up Desmond Loser the Second. ‘What about my bad back? I can’t look after Barry and Desmond all on my own!’
‘Oh don’t be pathetic, Kenneth!’ said my mum, honking the horn, and she was gone. Which meant . . .
‘PARTY TIME!’ I shouted, running back into the sitting room. I forward-rolled on to the sofa and flopped my legs over the back of it, settling down to watch the rest of Future Ratboy, upside-down-stylee. ‘This half term is gonna be AMAZEKEEL!’
‘It is NOT party time!’ shouted my dad, marching into the room and plonking Desmond on the carpet. ‘ARGH, MY BACK!’ he cried, taking about three hours to straighten up again.
Future Ratboy ended and I flipped myself backwards off the sofa, somersaulting through the air and landing bum-first on the coffee table. ‘I know - let’s jump up and down on my mum and dad’s bed!’ I cried, waggling my hands around like a tree.
‘Keelness times a millikeels!’ shouted Bunky, and me, him and Nancy all ran upstairs.
‘THAT’S ENOUGH!’ boomed my dad, barging into the bedroom once we’d been bouncing up and down on the bed long enough for his bedside table to have juddered halfway across the room. He plonked Desmond down and something went snap. ‘MY BACK!’ he screamed again, waddling over to the bed and flomping down on it, bent in half like an L.
‘POOWEE, what’s that stink?’ snuffled Bunky, jumping off the bed and waggling his nose in the air, and we all looked at Desmond.
Desmond’s face had turned red and his eyes were rolling in their sockets.
‘Er, Da-ad? I think Desmond’s doing another poo-oo?’ I said, sniggling to Bunky and Nancy, and they both bent in half like Ls too, except out of laughter instead of pain.
‘RIGHT, THAT’S IT!’ shouted my dad from the bed. ‘BUNKY, NANCY, YOU’RE GOING HOME!’
‘Apologies for my father - I’ll call you later,’ I said, as Bunky and Nancy walked off down the road, and I slammed the front door and stomped back upstairs to my mum and dad’s room. ‘THANK YOU VERY MUCH INDEED!’ I shouted, once I got there.
My dad was lying on the floor, wiping Desmond’s bum. ‘I can’t do this, Barry . . .’ he whimpered, still bent in half like an L.
‘You look like you’re doing fine to me,’ I said, thinking how there was no way I was EVER going to have a baby, seeing as it’s bad enough wiping my OWN bum, let alone someone else’s too.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ said my dad, passing me a plastic bag full of poo.
‘What DID you mean, then?’ I said, except it came out as ‘Dot DID do deen, den?’ because I’d stuffed two of my spare fingers up my nostrils.
‘I can’t look after you and Desmond on my own, Barry,’ said my dad. ‘I think you might have to go to Pirate Camp for the rest of half term . . .’
‘But I don’t WANT to go to Pirate Camp!’ I shouted for the millikeelth time, thirteen and three quarter hours later. It was Monday morning and I was sitting in the back seat of my dad’s car on the way to Mogden Pier, which is where the ferry for Mogden Island leaves from.
‘Why not?’ said my dad. ‘I thought you LOVED Pirate Camp.’
‘I USED to love Pirate Camp, but not any more . . . it’s for BABIES!’ I cried, and Desmond, who was sitting next to me in his baby seat, started giggling.
‘You should fit in there just perfectly, then!’ said my dad, and I screwed my face up and stared at him in the rear-view mirror.
‘What in the unkeelness does THAT mean?’ I whined.
‘You’re a big brother now, Barry,’ said my dad. ‘You can’t go screaming round the house acting like a kiddywinkle any more . . .’
‘I am NOT a KIDDYWINKLE!’ I shouted, stomping my feet on the car’s carpet and crossing my arms.
‘Yes, well, until you can prove you’ve grown up a bit, I’m afraid you’ll need to stay on Mogden Island with all the other little babies,’ said my dad.
‘I bet MUM wouldn’t send me to Pirate Camp!’ I shouted.
‘As a matter of fact, I spoke to your mum on the phone this morning and she thinks it’s a great idea,’ said my dad. ‘Who knows - maybe you’ll surprise yourself and enjoy it!’
‘Maybe you’ll surprise YOURself !’ I shouted, which didn’t really make sense, but I wasn’t in the mood to care. ‘Thanks for ruining my half term!’ I grumbled, and I stared out of the window at the ginormous billboard we were driving past.