Brian Jacques by Seven Strange & Ghostly Tales

Author:Seven Strange & Ghostly Tales [Strange, Seven & Tales, Ghostly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-02-08T16:18:39+00:00

Five days had passed in which Henry Mawdsley revelled in his new-found powers. Taxi drivers conveyed him freely everywhere he wanted to go, merely at the mention of his sick granny. Sweetshops, soda fountains and pizza parlors threw open their doors wide to the poor boy who had not eaten for a month. The manager of the Palace Cinema kept the best seat in the house permanently vacant for Henry with his rare eye condition. An open-mouthed senior school football team sat riveted as Goal-line Mawdsley related his match-winning tactics. Once he even set the Townswomen’s Guild atwitter, telling how he, Needles Mawdsley, had knitted a full two-tone house cover, complete with door and window flaps. There was not a police patrol in town that would not have willingly relinquished its eyeteeth to have the latest hot bank robbery tipoff from Mawdlsey the Lip.

Late on the evening of the sixth day Henry was coming out of his local restaurant, full of chocolatefudgecheesecreamburger (now the speciality of the house since Coolcat Mawdlsey had invented it) when he walked straight into the middle of a bunch of street-corner toughs. There were ten of them, and they tried the usual excuse to beat him up.

“C’mere, kid.”

“Who, me?”

“Yeah, you. We don’t like the way you’re lookin’ at us. D’you think you’re funny or somethin’?”

“I’m Henry Mawdsley, of course I’m funny. Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side, of course.”

Henry swaggered off, leaving the would-be muggers doubled up on the pavement, tears streaming from their eyes as they held their ribs. “Hahahaohohohoheeheehee! To get to the other … hoohoohoo that’s a good one. Why did the ch … hahahahaha!”

Henry Mawdsley sighed, a deep sound of boredom and frustration. Life had been much more rewarding when he was forced to work hard at making his lies believable. Now it was all too easy.

The vicar raised his hat respectfully as Henry slouched by the rectory gate.

“Good evening young man. How did your mission to the wilds of Ungamunga fare?”

The last thing Henry needed was a discussion with the vicar on bringing the good word to untamed regions of the world. He quickened his pace.

“Er, I converted all the Ungamungians, Vicar.

“Scuse me, I’m late for my flight. Just jetting off to sort that lot out in Cannibolia. Lots of heathens out there, y’know.”

The reverend gentleman waved his Sunday sermon notes at the receding figure. “Fight the good fight, Henry. Keep up the splendid work, m’boy.”

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