Horrid Henry and the Mega-Mean Time Machine (9 page)

Horrid Henry was outraged. No one called him chicken and lived.

“Course not,” said Horrid Henry. “I’d love to eat snails.” Naturally it would turn out to be fish or something in a smelly, disgusting sauce, but so what?
Escargots
could hardly be more revolting than all the other yucky things on the menu. Steve would have to try harder than that to fool him. He would order so-called “snails” just to show Steve up for the liar he was. Then wouldn’t he make fun of stupid old Steve!

“And vat are ve having tonight?” asked the French waiter.

Aunt Ruby ordered.

“An excellent choice, madame,” said the waiter.

Dad ordered. The waiter kissed his fingers.

“
Magnifique
, monsieur, our speciality.”

Mom ordered.

“Bravo, madame. And what about you, young man?” the waiter asked Henry.

“I’m having
escargots
,” said Henry.

“Hmmm,” said the waiter. “Monsieur is a gourmet?”

Horrid Henry wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. Stuck-Up Steve snickered. What was going on? thought Horrid Henry.

“Boudicca! Eat your vegetables!”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Boudicca! Stop slurping.”

“Yes, Mom,” snapped Miss Battle-Axe.

“Boudicca! Don’t pick your nose!”

“I wasn’t!” said Miss Battle-Axe.

“Don’t you contradict me,” said Mrs. Battle-Axe.

The waiter reappeared, carrying six plates covered in silver domes.

“Voilà!” he said, whisking off the lids with a flourish. “Bon appétit!”

Everyone peered at their elegant plates.

“Ah,” said Mom, looking at her squid.

“Ah,” said Dad, looking at his stuffed tomatoes.

“Ah,” said Peter, looking at his beet mousse.

Horrid Henry stared at his food. It looked like—it couldn’t be—oh my gosh, it was…SNAILS! It really was snails! Squishy squashy squidgy slimy slithery slippery snails. Still in their shells. Drenched in butter, but unmistakably snails. Steve had tricked him.

Horrid Henry’s hand reached out to hurl the snails at Steve.

Stuck-Up Steve giggled.

Horrid Henry stopped and gritted his teeth. No way was he giving Steve the satisfaction of seeing him get into big trouble. He’d ordered snails and he’d eat snails. And when he threw up, he’d make sure it was all over Steve.

Horrid Henry grabbed his fork and plunged. Then he closed his eyes and popped the snail in his mouth.

Horrid Henry chewed.

Horrid Henry chewed some more.

“Hmmm,” said Horrid Henry.

He popped another snail in his mouth. And another.

“Yummy,” said Henry. “This is great.” Why hadn’t anyone told him that Le Posh served such thrillingly revolting food? Wait till he told Rude Ralph!

Stuck-Up Steve looked unhappy.

“How’s your maggot sauce, Steve?” said Henry cheerfully.

“It’s not maggot sauce,” said Steve.

“Maggot maggot maggot,” whispered Henry. “Watch them wriggle about.”

Steve put down his fork. So did Mom, Dad, and Peter.

“Go on everyone, eat up,” said Henry, chomping.

“I’m not that hungry,” said Mom.

“You said we had to eat everything on our plate,” said Henry.

“No I didn’t,” said Dad weakly.

“You did too!” said Henry. “So eat!”

“I don’t like beets,” moaned Perfect Peter.

“Hush, Peter,” snapped Mom.

“Peter, I never thought
you
were a fussy eater,” said Aunt Ruby.

“I’m not!” wailed Perfect Peter.

“Boudicca!” blasted Mrs. Battle-Axe’s shrill voice. “Pay attention when I’m speaking to you!”

“Yes, Mom,” said Miss Battle-Axe.

“Why can’t you be as good as that boy?” said Mrs. Battle-Axe, pointing to Horrid Henry. “Look at him sitting there, eating so beautifully.”

Miss Battle-Axe turned around and saw Henry. Her face went bright red, then

purple, then white. She gave him a sickly smile.

Horrid Henry gave her a little polite wave. Oh boy.

For the first time in his life was he ever looking forward to school.

And now for a sneak peek at one of the laugh-out-loud
stories in
Horrid Henry’s Stinkbomb

“I hate you, Margaret!” shrieked Sour Susan. She stumbled out of the Secret Club tent.

“I hate you too!” shrieked Moody Margaret.

Sour Susan stuck out her tongue.

Moody Margaret stuck out hers back.

“I quit!” yelled Susan.

“You can’t quit. You’re fired!” yelled Margaret.

“You can’t fire me. I quit!” said Susan.

“I fired you first,” said Margaret. “And I’m changing the password!”

“Go ahead. See if I care. I don’t want to be in the Secret Club any more!” said Susan sourly.

“Good! Because
we
don’t want you.”

Moody Margaret flounced back inside the Secret Club tent. Sour Susan stalked off.

Free at last! Susan was sick and tired of her ex-best friend Bossyboots Margaret. Blaming
her
for the disastrous raid on the Purple Hand Fort when it was all Margaret’s fault was bad enough. But then to ask stupid Linda to join the Secret Club without even telling her! Susan hated Linda even more than she hated Margaret. Linda hadn’t invited Susan to her sleepover party. And she was a copycat. But Margaret didn’t care. Today she’d made Linda chief spy. Well, Susan had had enough. Margaret had been mean to her once too often.