Charlie and the War Against the Grannies (11 page)

You and I both know that when someone asks you to do something to them that seems like it could hurt them, it really means that it's going to end up hurting you.

‘Okay,' I said.

When something really awful happens to you, sometimes it feels like the really awful thing happens in slow motion. (I read that is because when the really awful thing happens your brain goes into overdrive and remembers so much information about what has happened that it feels like everything is in slow motion. I know, I don't quite get it either. But it's true.)

That's definitely what happened when I tried to pinch Hils.

I raised my right arm and my brain started getting my thumb and forefinger into a pinching position. (I can't remember ever being taught to pinch. It must just be something we know. Like how to breathe. Or that teachers aren't always right especially if they say they are.)

As my fingers got ready to pinch, the wart that's growing just below my knuckle got a little bit redder. (The school nurse has offered to freeze the wart off for me free of charge but I read that warts could be cured by rubbing them against a toad so I am going to wait and try that first. I don't meet a lot of toads so I may be waiting a while. It will be worth it though.)

I lifted my eyes up to look at where I was going to pinch Hils. I thought about pinching her on the cheek but it occurred to me that she would be expecting that because that's where she had pinched me. Then it occurred to me that she would know I would think that and maybe she would be thinking that I was going to pinch her somewhere other than the cheek because she had just pinched me on the cheek. So would pinching her on the cheek be more of a surprise than pinching her somewhere else?

I decided I was going to pinch her on the ear. It is close enough to the cheek that Hils might think I was going to pinch her on the cheek but then get taken by surprise when I actually pinched her ear.

My hand – fingers ready to pinch – was halfway between her cheek and ear when the next thing I knew I was lying on the ground with my hand up behind my back and Hils was standing over the top of me.

Hils didn't seem to understand that really awful things are meant to happen to you in slow motion. She just went in really fast motion.

‘That's how you defend yourself against someone who is trying to pinch you.'

‘Ouch,' I said.

‘Do you need me to show you again?'

‘Ouch,' I said.

I had no idea what Hils had done and I had no idea how to defend myself against someone who was trying to pinch me, but I did not want her to show me again.

‘Are those false teeth?' I said as Hils took what looked a lot like a bunch of false teeth out of her backpack.

‘Affirmative.'

‘Where did you get them?'

‘Evan's Everything Emporium.'

‘Why did you get them?'

‘They're part of our training,' said Hils. ‘They're one of the weapons the Stinkly Wrinklys will use against us.'

Something occurred to me.

‘How do you know so much about the weapons the Stinkly Wrinklys are going to use against us?'

‘I read a book called
Grannies At War!
It seems Stinkly Wrinklys have been involved in a lot of wars – going right back to the days of ancient Mesopotamia.'

‘I had no idea we were going to start a war against some Stinkly Wrinklys who knew a lot about war. Especially from the days of ancient Mesopotamia.'

Hils then took something else out of her backpack. It looked like a really little fishing net.

‘What's that?' I said.

‘It's a hairnet.'

‘What's a hairnet for?'

‘Stinkly Wrinklys put it over their hair.'

‘Why?'

‘No idea.'

‘When you get old, does your hair try and run off your head and you have to try and keep it from escaping with a net?'

‘I have no intel on that.'

That's the army way of saying, ‘No idea'.

‘There wasn't anything about hairnets in the
Grannies At War!
book?'

‘There wasn't anything about why they wear them on their heads. What was in the
Grannies At War!
book was this.'

Hils took all the false teeth and dropped them into the hairnet. She tied the open end of the false-teeth-filled hairnet in a knot.

‘That looks like it could really hurt someone,' I said.

‘Affirmative. It's called a “gnashing gnet”.'

‘What do you do with it?' I said.

‘What do you think you do with it?' said Hils.

‘I think you grab the end with the knot in it and swing it round and round above your head until it's going really fast and then you hit someone with it and it really, really, really hurts.'

I was right.

Hils grabbed the end with the knot in it and swung the gnashing gnet round and round above her head.

Then she hit me with it.

I was exactly right.

It really, really, really hurt.

‘You're probably wondering,' said Hils, ‘why I have brought you to the middle of a really big park for the next phase of our training?'

‘I've spent the whole walk over here trying not to wonder that,' I said.

‘It's because of this.'

Out of her backpack Hils took a square-something wrapped in a heavy brown cloth. She laid it on the ground and slowly removed the cloth. Sitting in the middle of the cloth was a square of white . . . stuff. Actually, it wasn't really white at all. It was the sort-of-white that white things become after they've been used for a whole lot of stuff that white things shouldn't be used for. Some bits of the sort-of-white thing were flat, some were bumpy. There were sticky-outie bits, there were sticky-downy bits.

‘What is it?'

‘All Stinkly Wrinklys carry handkerchiefs,' said Hils. ‘They're always using their handkerchiefs to wipe their noses. Their handkerchiefs get covered in Stinkly Wrinkly snot. The snot dries. The handkerchiefs become rock hard. They transform from hankies into rock-hard, super-sharp-edged throwing weapons.'

Hils picked up the rock-hard-super-sharp-edged-throwing-hankie. It looked dangerous. Rock-hard-super-sharp-edged-throwing dangerous.

‘Where did you find out about these?'

‘You don't want to know,' said Hils.

She was wrong. I did want to know. I really did want to know. I also really didn't want to know.

The really-didn't-want-to-know bit won.

‘You're right. I don't want to know.'

Hils moved the rock-hard-throwing-hankie back and forth and it flashed in the sun.

‘That looks very dangerous.'

‘See that tree at the other end of the park?' said Hils.

I had never felt sorry for a tree before. I did now.

‘Watch this,' said Hils.

She slowly pulled her arm back and then whipped it forward and threw the rock-hard-super-sharp-edged-throwing-hankie straight at the tree. The throwing-hankie sliced through the air like a cross between an arrow and a frisbee but with none of the fun parts of a frisbee and all the sticking-into-you-and-you-dying parts of an arrow.

The throwing-hankie hit the tree.

Well, I think it hit the tree. The tree was such a long way away that it was difficult to tell.

Hils and I walked over to the tree.

We reached the tree. There was the throwing-hankie. Stuck right into the tree. Deep into the tree.

‘If it can do that to a tree, imagine what it could do to you.'

‘No,' I said. ‘I will not imagine that.'

It was lunchtime. Hils was talking to me about training. I didn't want Hils to be talking to me about training.

Luckily for me Hils was distracted by Simon Bolivar screaming as he fell off the climbing frame. Simon always screamed whenever he fell off the climbing frame. Actually, Simon screamed when pretty much anything happened to him.

If Simon got hit by a ball, he screamed.

If Simon failed a test, he screamed.

If Simon got sandwiches he didn't like, he screamed.

‘I wonder if he's broken his leg again?' I said to Hils.

We turned to see. Last time Simon broke his leg you could see the bone sticking out.

It didn't look like he had broken his leg.

When we turned back to start talking again there was The Lurker standing right between us.

‘You should leave, Duncan,' said The Lurker. ‘Hils and I have very important business to discuss.'

I didn't like The Lurker but it made me feel bad that he clearly didn't like me either. Why was I worried that someone I didn't like didn't like me?

I confused me sometimes.

‘Don't worry about him,' Hils said, pointing at me. ‘He's cleared to hear anything you have to say.'

The Lurker frowned.

‘That thing you wanted me to find,' said The Lurker. ‘I found it. Obviously.'

‘You don't have to call it “that thing”,' I said. ‘I know you're talking about the Stinkly Wrinklys' headquarters.'

‘Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not,' said The Lurker.

‘You are,' I said.

‘No, I'm not.'

‘Yes, you are.'

‘
No
, I'm
not
!'

‘What
are
you talking about then?'

‘I'm talking about a big pile of poo,' said The Lurker. ‘That looked exactly like your face.'

‘Guess what?' I said.

‘What?' said The Lurker.

‘I saw a squished donut with maggots all over it that a dog had peed on after a cat had been sick on it and it looked exactly like
your
face except that the maggoty, stinky, sick-covered donut looked better.'

‘Well guess what?' said The Lurker.

‘HALT,' said Hils. ‘Mission accomplished, Leon. Well done.'

The Lurker blushed.

He really did look like a maggoty, stinky, sick-covered donut. Only worse.

‘You'll find your fee in the usual place,' said Hils.

The Lurker nodded.

Hils smiled.

The Lurker blushed.

I felt sick.

The Lurker left.