Barry Loser Hates Half Term. Jim Smith

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      25

      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.

      26

      ‘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.

      27

      ‘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.

      28

      ‘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!’

      29

      ‘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.

      30

      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.

      31

      ‘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 . . .’

      32

      ‘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.

      33

      ‘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.

      34

СКАЧАТЬ