Mr Gum and the Secret Hideout (4 page)

‘Feel how hot it’s gettin’, Billy, me old funnel?’ said Mr Gum as they walked along.

‘Yeah,’ laughed Billy William. ‘The air’s as thick as muck. An’ look,’ he remarked, snatching up a gigantic fly with bright blue wings and about eight million legs and poison dripping from its jaws. ‘Dirty tropical weirdies everywhere!’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Mr Gum, kicking a nearby tarantula in the face. ‘An’ it’s all down to the miracles of poisonous gases an’ pollution!’

Laughing softly, Mr Gum and Billy William crept through the night, and all around them strange insects and animals buzzed and flapped and hooted. But after quite a bit of creeping, Mr Gum realised something was wrong.

‘Billy,’ whispered Mr Gum. ‘Here we are, creepin’ along, an’ all this time we forgot about the First Rule of Evil.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Billy, slapping himself on the forehead. ‘What is it again, I forgot.’

Mr Gum regarded him with a frown. ‘You really are an idiot, Billy. The First Rule of Evil is:

Whenever you are goin’ creepin’
through the darkness,
Sing an evil song as you go by!

‘Oh, yeah,’ laughed Billy. ‘Now I remember.’

And with that, the two villains started up with their evil song, and though they sung it soft on the wind, all over town children suddenly started having nightmares, and all the milk turned bad, and a horse in a nearby field went mad and started frothing at the mouth, and then a moth flew by and the horse started frothing at the moth. For the song was indeed a terrible evil affair, and it went a little bit sort of something like this:

THE TEN RULES OF EVIL

CHORUS:

It’s the Ten Rules of Evil
It’s the Ten Rules of Evil
An’ you jus’ will not believe all
Of them tricks we like to play!

Rule One, whenever you are
goin’ creepin’ through the darkness
Sing an evil song as you go by!
Rule Two, if you see happy children
watchin’ cartoons
Turn the channel over so they cry!

Rule Three, if you see insects,
pick ’em up in a bag
An’ chuck ’em in people’s food!
Rule Four, if there’s a knock
at your front door
Open it an’ shout out
somethin’ rude!

CHORUS:

It’s the Ten Rules of Evil
It’s the Ten Rules of Evil
Oh, you jus’ will not believe all
Of them tricks we like to play!

Rule Five, if there’s a great big
circus comin’ to town
Beat up all the clowns an’ all their friends!
Rule Six, if you see somebody readin’ a book
Rip the last page out so they
can’t find out how it ends!

Rule Seven, if you ever meet
the Devil in the moonlight
Kick him in the tail an’ run away!
Rule Eight, if he tries to come after you
Run away a little bit more!

CHORUS:

It’s the Ten Rules of Evil
It’s the Ten Rules of Evil
Oh, you jus’ will not believe all
Of them tricks we like to play!

Rule Nine, if you should ever
get invited to a party
Puke on all the guests an’ make a fuss!
An’ as for Rule Ten, well, we ain’t gonna tell ya
Cos we don’t want you to end up
Quite as evil as us!

(Two hour drum solo played on Billy’s head with a ‘silk handkerchief’)

FIN

‘What a brilliant song that was,’ said Mr Gum.

‘Yeah,’ said Billy William. ‘What a brilliant song that was.’

‘Yeah,’ said a voice in the darkness. ‘What a brilliant song that was.’

‘Who’s there?’ shouted Mr Gum, turning this way and that, his bashing fists at the ready.

‘I’ll – oh, it’s you.’

‘That’s right! It is I!’ said Surprising Ben, jumping out from a bush.

‘I pop up here, I pop up there! Surprise! Surprise! I’m everywhere!’

And off he ran, giggling like a moonbeam.

‘I’m gettin’ sick of Surprisin’ Ben,’ growled Mr Gum. ‘Anyway, who cares – here we are at last.’

Yes, folks, Mr Gum and Billy had come to the Lamonic River, which is like the rest of Lamonic Bibber, only wetter and with more crisp packets floating around on it.

Swisheroo. Swisheroo. Swisheroo.

The soft waters lapped against the riverbank. The insects buzzed overhead. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Or maybe the dog was actually much closer than that, and just barking quietly to pretend it was further away than it seemed. Dogs can be crafty like that.

‘Whadda we do now?’ whispered Billy as they stood there on the hot, steaming riverbank, toads and vagabonds dribbling on their boots.

‘Now we give the signal,’ grinned Mr Gum, and he looked so awful in the smog and the fog that even Billy felt afraid and fell back a step. Still grinning, Mr Gum removed his hat to reveal an enormous candle made of sheep fat stuck on his pointy head.

‘Light me up, Billy me boy,’ whispered Mr Gum, so Billy lit a match by just looking at a match and hoping it would somehow light. Then he lit the candle on Mr Gum’s head and all at once it blazed up with a horrible green and orange glow, like a Halloween pumpkin who simply will not behave. The ghastly light spilled over the scene, cutting through the smog and making Billy see all sorts of shapes and phantoms in the mist.

‘Ha ha,’ said the shapes and phantoms in the mist. ‘We are shapes and phantoms in the mist.’

And then there was a whisper from downriver – ‘That’s it, lads! There’s the signal!’

And something came gliding through the murky waters to meet them.

S
wisheroo. Swisheroo. Swisheroo.

The waters lapped gently in the hot tropical night.

Chug. Chug.

The dark shape came slowly down the river.

Bzzzz. Bzzzzzzzz.

Swarms of mosquitoes, drawn to the candlelight, circled lazily around Mr Gum’s head.

Phwick! Snark! Slurrrrp!

Billy flicked out his tongue and scoffed one down.

And lying hidden beneath a pebble, watching the whole horrid scene unfold, were Polly and Friday. Their eyes widened as the candle spat out the last of its grisly light.

‘So Crazy Barry Fungus was right,’ whispered Polly. ‘There’s well mysterious goin’s on goin’ on! An’ it looks like Mr Gum’s behind it all!’

Chug chug chug.

Slowly the thing on the river came into sight. It was an old-fashioned steamboat, its battered, patched-up sides lurching drunkenly in the moonlight. A paddlewheel on the side turned as it chugged along, and a huge funnel bloated out clouds of greyish-black smoke into the night sky. A ragged flag hung from the prow, showing a pig’s skull with two pork chops crossed beneath.

‘Shudder!’ whispered Friday. ‘They’re flying the “Jolly Rasher”! They’re I.M.P.s!’

‘Imps?’ said Polly. ‘Like them little spiky things what runs round kitchens ruinin’ the pancakes?’

‘No, not imps,’ said Friday. ‘I.M.P.s! International Meat Pirates!’

And then, all of a sudden a voice boomed out, a voice that chilled the blood in Polly’s veins and froze the marrow in her vegetable patch.

‘Fifty degrees starboard! Pump the pedals! Throw the ropes! Stoke the engine! Starbuck – make me a cup of coffee, semi-skimmed milk, two sugars! Look lively, lads! All hands on deck!’

And now Polly could see him, a puffed-up little dandelion of a fellow standing at the helm, his grey hair teetering on his head and his right arm thrust forward, pointing the way. He looked a lot scruffier than when she’d last met him, and his nose hadn’t been polished for quite some time. But there could be no mistaking who it was.

‘It’s George Washington!’ trembled Polly. ‘I mean – it’s Captain Brazil!’

And Polly was right to tremble, because Captain Brazil was an absolute CRAZER. He was the terror of the high seas and his adventures were legendary. For instance, he had once killed a sailor just by looking at him for ten minutes. And then shooting him through the heart with a pistol. And you know the Lost City of Atlantis that lies beneath the ocean waves? Well, it was Captain Brazil who had lost it. It had fallen out of his pocket when he was playing marbles. Once he had commanded the Nantucket Tickler, a fine sailing ship indeed, but lately he had fallen upon hard times and was reduced to this, a grotty little steamer called the
Sirloin
which stank of sweat and rum.

‘What on earth’s he doin’ here?’ whispered Polly. ‘He’s as mad as a bulldozer’s cousin!’

‘Stop the boat!’ commanded Captain Brazil, so loudly that his hair automatically stuffed itself into his ears to stop him from going deaf.

‘Aye aye, sir!’ said Starbuck, the Second Mate.

‘Now quickly start the boat again and then stop it so everyone falls over!’ commanded Captain Brazil.

‘Aye aye, sir!’ said Starbuck, quickly starting the boat and then stopping it so everyone fell over.

‘Now say, “That was completely pointless!”’ commanded Captain Brazil.

‘That was completely pointless!’ said the crew.

‘Good work, men. Right. Lower the gangway – and look lively about it!’

‘Aye aye, sir,’ laughed one of the sailors, an enormous hulking nit by the name of Brendan Jawsnapper. His muscular arms bulged as he turned the handle, and down creaked the gangway on to the riverbank.

‘Make way, make way!’ cried Captain Brazil, disappearing from sight. ‘I am coming ashore!’

For a couple of minutes nothing happened. The
Sirloin
sat bobbing gently in the water, its engine purring quietly and its funnel miaowing loudly.

‘What’s takin’ him so long?’ snarled Mr Gum. A couple more minutes passed. Then a couple more. Then there was a long flushing sound and finally Captain Brazil stepped ashore, wiping his hands on Nimpy Windowmash, the First Mate.

‘Sorry about that, I was doing a poo,’ said Captain Brazil with a graceful bow. ‘Now, Mr Gum. What brings you back so soon?’

But then he spotted Billy William and a look of astonished wonder came over his weather-beaten face.

‘Elizabeth!’ cried Captain Brazil, throwing his arms wildly about the startled butcher. ‘My dear Elizabeth! What mean you, turning up like this after all these years? You broke my heart once – must you come back now to break it all over again?’

And kissing Billy passionately on the lips, the little captain threw himself down into the long grass and began weeping uncontrollably.