Badger the Mystical Mutt and the Crumpled Capers (2 page)

He filled up the Wim-Wim's fuel tank, shoogled it a bit more and waited. But nothing happened. It didn't clatter. It didn't clang. It didn't pant or putter. Instead, the rotor blades on top wilted a little bit more.

Badger frowned

“Okay, I'm worried now. It isn't like the Wim-Wim at all. This calls for one of my Badgical-Magical spells.”

He rubbed his paws together then rummaged in his favourite plant pot for the perfect potion. He pulled out some nuts and bolts, tools and soap, and a pile of pongy old cloths, then set them out alongside the tin can of Haboba Juice and closed his eyes.

Sparkles of light appeared around him as he uttered the magic words.

“Monkey wrench and soapy cloths
,

Spanners and sparkles, and juice that froths
.

Make the Wim-Wim stop its tilting
,

and save its rotor blades from wilting.”

Badger opened his eyes and stood back feeling very pleased with himself.

The Wim-Wim spluttered and stuttered,
and glowed faintly. Badger held his breath and hoped.

But then, the Wim-Wim faded into silence again.

“Once more,” he sighed. “And this time, with Badgical-Magical gusto.”

“Monkey wrench and soapy cloths
,

Spanners and sparkles, and juice that froths.”

Badger shook his paws and shimmied his bottom. He scrunched his eyes shut.

“Make the Wim-Wim stop its tilting …”

He whispered the last line with a determined spirit.

“…and save its rotor blades from wilting.”

Badger opened one eye and saw the Wim-Wim's weather vane whirr weakly.

“Come on!” he urged. “
Please
get better.”

The bottom of the Wim-Wim chugged and chuttered, and its rotor bearings rattled with the vibration.

Badger hopped from paw to paw, swishing his tail.

“I've done it, I've done it, I've done it! My spell worked. Wooftastic! Wait till I tell Timmy.”

As Badger was busy dancing around his garden in delight, the Wim-Wim dwindled, the whirring weakened, the rotor bearings rattled no more, and the weather vane wobbled to a stop.

“Oh no, without my trusty Wim-Wim, I
can't help Timmy.”

Badger put his head in his paws.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the lane, Timmy, the snotty-nosed cat with the crumpled ear, was facing his own challenge.

The gang had Timmy pinned up against the fence. Pogo Paws held Timmy's left paw while Pickle gripped his right. Lennie held Timmy's legs tight. Snif stood in front of him smugly.

“So, you think
you
— a cat — can join our gang of
dogs
? Why would a sneezy cat with a crumpled ear want to do
that?”
sneered Snif.

Timmy puffed out his chest. “Because I'm every bit as good as you, and I don't see why not.”

He tried to wriggle free. Pogo Paws and Pickle held on tighter, but Lennie, who was busy daydreaming, lost his grasp.

“Oh no! I'm in charge of legs. Don't move!” shouted Lennie nervously.

“Get a grip, Lennie,” snarled Snif.

“I don't know why I've been given
two
legs, when Pogo Paws and Pickle have only got one paw each,” he moaned.

“Zip it, Lennie!” sighed Snif.

“So, Timmy,” continued the gang leader, “isn't there a mob of manky moggies like yourself that you could be hanging around with?”

“They probably won't let him in with that crumpled ear,” barked Pogo Paws.

“He's not exactly pretty, is he?” scoffed Pickle.

“I don't think he looks too bad,” said Lennie.

“Zip it, Lennie!” shouted the gang altogether.

Lennie's shoulders hunched and he held on tightly to Timmy's legs.

“Now, if you really want to join, we need to see if you're up to being a member of our
gang, so you need to pass our test,” said Snif.

“Okay,” said Timmy eagerly. “What do I need to do?”

“Can I let go yet? My paws are sore,” asked Lennie.

Snif ignored Lennie and turned away from Timmy and the gang. He thought for a moment, then spun round.

“Got it! Right, we'd like to do some trampolining. So your mission, should you wish to accept it, is to find us a tyre … a
big
tyre … a
really
big tyre … and bring it back to us here, before dark.”

“How on earth can I carry a great big tyre?” asked Timmy.

“Find a way!” snarled Snif.

Timmy struggled to get free from the vice-like grip of Pogo Paws, Pickle and a slightly slumped Lennie. Suddenly, he felt a tickling in his nose.

“Uh oh,” he winced. “I can feel a sneeze coming. Aaah, aah, aah …”

Pogo Paws and Pickle looked up in
horror. Lennie put his paws over his head.

“Aaaah, aaah, aaah …”

Snif ducked.

“Aaaaah, aaaah, aaaah …”

The gang waited for the final explosion.

“Choooooooooooooooooooo ooooooo!”

“Yuk!” yelled the snot-covered gang, as they ran away in disgust.

Timmy slid down the fence, shook
himself and headed for Badger the Mystical Mutt's garden.

“Badger!” shouted Timmy excitedly. “I can do it. I can join the gang.”

“Wow” said Badger. “How did you manage that? I've been worrying about getting the Wim-Wim to work, so that I could take you to the Crystal Cave, and we could work out a plan. And now, it's all sorted. Toastastic!”

“Ah!” said Timmy. “There's just one
tiny
thing I have to do, and then I can join.”

“Oh?” said Badger, raising his eyebrow. “I have a feeling I'm not going to like this.”

“It's easy-peasy lemon squeezy,” said Timmy. “I've just got to find a really big tyre, and carry it back to them.”

“Hmmm,” said Badger frowning. “The last time I checked, tyre-carrying wasn't in my
Book of Normal Cat Activities
. How exactly will you transport it with your small paws and sharp claws?”

“Erm … I haven't thought that far ahead yet,” said Timmy, stroking his whiskers.

“That task is impossible for a cat. Snif's being cruel. It looks like we definitely need the Wim-Wim,” said Badger. “But I don't really understand why you want to join a gang like that anyway.”

“What's wrong with the Wim-Wim?” asked Timmy, ignoring Badger's question. “Maybe I can take a look?”

“Please do,” said Badger hopefully.

Timmy walked around the Wim-Wim and examined it carefully.

“I'm just going to tickle its reverse check plunger and see if its orbital gears are greasy enough,” said Timmy seriously.

“I never knew you were skilled in mechanics, Timmy.”

“I'm not. But I do have six
and a half
senses, Badger. I am a cat after all.”

Timmy tapped his paw and poked his claw into the body of
the Wim-Wim. Suddenly, its rotor blades started to whirr and its weather vane whirled.

Badger smiled expectantly.

Then everything flopped again.

“When did the Wim-Wim have its last service, Badger?” asked Timmy.

“Um … er … never. The Wim-Wim has always worked,” replied Badger.

“Well then, it's as I thought,” said Timmy knowingly. “The freezing temperature has affected its orbital gears. The Wim-Wim needs a full service with a proper Wim-Wim mechanic. It's time for its Magical Orbital Transplant.”

“It's MOT? But that's not due until Jupiter eclipses Pluto.”

“It's not that simple,” said Timmy. “It needs to be done now. Really, Badger, if you don't get it sorted, you may have to scrap the Wim-Wim.”

Badger gasped. The thought of losing his Wim-Wim filled him with sadness and fear. Without it, he couldn't visit the Enchanted
Forest and the Crystal Cave, and couldn't be as Badgical Magical as he wanted to be.

He rubbed his neckerchief in anguish. Suddenly, sparkles of light appeared around him, as his neckerchief unfurled from his neck and pointed upwards in the shape of a giant capital “C”.