Bug Eyed Monsters (5 page)

As they neared the school gates a strange, knobbly figure appeared, dressed in bright red Lycra. It was Mr Snitcher, doing his jogging. He ran with his knees up in the air and his feet splayed out.

‘That's him,' hissed Harry. ‘The one we were telling you about.'

‘The poor man with the eye?' said Gran.

‘No,' said Harry, ‘the other one.'

‘The alien?' Granddad turned to watch as Mr Snitcher went jogging off through the gates. ‘Ye-e-e-s. I see what you mean!'

‘Hey!' Joe had hung back. They turned, to let him catch up. ‘Did you notice that thing on his wrist?' said Joe. ‘That little black box thing? You don't think – ' He looked first at Harry, then at Granddad.
‘You don't think it could have been a cloaking device, do you?'

‘Absolutely!' said Granddad. ‘I should say that's exactly what it was.'

‘Oh, Arthur, for heaven's sake,' cried Gran, ‘don't be so silly!'

Joe and Harry could hardly wait to get back and give the others their news.

‘Man!' cried Ryan, when he heard. ‘That is awesome!'

‘Awesome,' agreed Bal. He chortled. ‘The plot thickens!'

‘Reckon it's all the proof we need. Couldn't hardly believe it,' said Joe. ‘Little black box thing, strapped on his wrist!'

‘Right out in the open,' marvelled Harry. ‘You'd have thought at least he'd keep it somewhere people couldn't see.'

‘Shows he doesn't care,' said Joe. ‘Just cos we're not as advanced as his lot, he
prob'ly thinks we don't know about UFOs and stuff.'

‘Yeah.' Ryan nodded. ‘Like we're so dumb we can't recognise a cloaking device when we see one.'

There was a pause.

‘I suppose it
was
a cloaking device?' said Bal.

Joe looked at him in some annoyance. ‘What else could it be?'

‘I dunno! A watch, maybe?'

‘Wasn't a watch,' said Harry.

‘Compass? In case he gets lost?'

‘How could he get lost, just running down the road?'

‘Could if he didn't have any sense of direction. Like if aliens don't understand left and right same as we do.'

‘There was that one time,' said Ryan, doubtfully, ‘when he told us the right hand didn't know what the left hand was doing. I mean, what's that about? You'd have to be pretty stupid, not knowing what your hands were doing.'

‘Not if you were an alien,' said Bal. ‘Just means you're built different. Like maybe on his home planet he goes by smell, or something. Vibrations. Like an insect, sort of thing. So then he comes to Earth and he gets all confused. Has to have a compass. That's all I'm saying.'

‘Yeah, well, you weren't there,' said Joe. ‘You didn't see it. We did. Anyway, Harry's granddad reckoned it was a cloaking device. Didn't he?'

‘He did,' said Harry.

It was true that Gran had told him not to be so silly, but what did Gran know? She'd probably gone to an all-girls' school where they didn't have aliens. Or if they did, she wouldn't have recognised them. He wasn't being sexist! Miss Beam didn't like it when they were sexist. He just reckoned Granddad knew a bit more about aliens than Gran.

‘'cording to Harry's granddad,' said Joe, ‘there's always been aliens on the staff. Didn't even look human, half of ‘em.
That's what he said. What was the name of that one? Gottleby, or something?'

‘Gorraby,' said Harry. ‘Mr Gorraby.'

‘What kind of name is that?' said Bal.

‘Kind of name,' said Joe, ‘that'd appeal to an alien. Same like Snitcher. I bet what they do, I bet they Google on their computers for lists of human names, then pick out the ones they like. Stands to reason they'd like different ones from us.'

‘Why?' said Bal.

‘Cos they're aliens!'

Bal said, ‘Mm. Maybe.'

‘Dunno why you always have to
argue',
said Joe. And then, very quickly, before Bal could start up again, ‘Know what we ought to do? See if we can find this Gorraby guy in a school photo. See what he looked like.'

Even Bal was prepared to admit that this was a good idea. In the main corridor at St Bede's there were photographs of boys and teachers going back almost eighty years.

‘How old's your granddad?' said Joe. ‘When d'you reckon he was here?'

Harry wasn't sure. He thought about … fifty years ago? Maybe more.

‘More?' said Ryan.

‘He's pretty ancient,' said Harry.

‘Let's go and see if we can find him,' said Joe. ‘I want to see this Gorraby guy!'

They discovered Harry's granddad, sitting cross-legged in the front row of a photograph that had been taken fifty-three years previously. Fifty-three years! They gazed upon it, in awe.

‘To think he's still walking around,' said Ryan.

‘They do,' said Joe. ‘Hey, look! I reckon that's Mr Gorraby, that one there.'

The others crowded round to look where Joe's finger was pointing.

A large man with a face like a potato stared back at them.

‘Reckon that's him,' said Joe.

‘Could be this one.' Bal pointed excitedly at another candidate: a sad, droopy man with eyes half way down his face and ear lobes so long they almost reached his shoulders.

‘How about this?' squeaked Ryan.

‘Or this?' said Harry.

Aliens stared out from all over. There were noses like door knockers, eyes like satellite dishes. Teeth that stuck out, mouths that sucked in. Necks like flagpoles, or no necks at all. Heads the size of peanuts, heads sunk into shoulders.

‘Blimey,' said Joe. ‘I reckon your granddad was right!'

Harry slowly nodded. ‘I reckon.'

It was true that as well as telling Granddad not to be silly, Gran had also told him not to tease. Granddad did enjoy pulling Harry's leg occasionally, like the time he had asked him if he would care for some dates and
when Harry had said yes, please, Granddad told him, “Go and take some off the calendar, then!” and roared with laughter at his own wit. You couldn't always trust Granddad to be quite serious.

Still, it was strange how these rumours had come down over the years. You didn't have rumours for no reason.

‘Tell you what,' said Harry. ‘Let's make a list!'

Joe, immediately, said, ‘List of what?'

‘Facts,' said Harry. ‘Stuff we know.'

Joe, just a tiny bit resentful, pointed out that he had already done a list for Miss Beam. What was the point of doing it all over again?

They wouldn't be doing it all over again, said Harry. Miss Beam's list had been about UFOs. His list would be about Mr Snitcher.

‘Known Facts,' said Harry. ‘So's we can work out where we're at.'

The trouble with Harry, he had a brain like a filing cabinet. He liked everything to be neatly labelled and sorted. Joe's brain
was more like a fizzy water fountain with ping pong balls bouncing up and down. Joe was an action man. He didn't see the need for lists. But Harry wanted to make one, and Harry was his friend, and Harry's gran and granddad had, after all, treated them to a really good tea.

‘Yeah, OK,' said Joe. ‘We can do one, if that's what you want.'

This was Harry's list:

 

KNOWN FACTS ABOUT MR SNITCHER

Fact no.1: He does not look like a real human being

Fact no.2: He speaks an alien language

Fact no.3: His eyes go red in the dark

Fact no.4: He foams at the mouth

Fact no.5: He wears a cloaking device.

 

‘I reckon that just about wraps it up,' said Harry. ‘I reckon that's proof enough for anyone.'

Even Bal didn't argue. The question was, what did they do next?

What they did next, said Joe, was stay on the case. There were bound to be more clues if they just kept their eyes peeled.

‘Bound to be stuff we've missed… could be just lying there, right under our noses.'

Stuff was indeed just lying there, under their noses. It was Joe himself who drew attention to it.

‘Ever noticed,' he said, ‘how he eats the same thing for breakfast every morning?'

‘Yeah.' They nodded. ‘Sunflower seeds.'

‘I put it to you,' said Joe. ‘That's normal?'

Now that he mentioned it, they all agreed that it obviously wasn't.

‘Might be normal for parrots,' said Bal.

‘Might be normal for aliens,' said Joe. ‘Who knows what sort of stuff they like to eat?'

‘That's exactly what I said in my essay.'
Harry couldn't resist reminding him of it. ‘What kind of food do they eat? You said it wasn't important.'

‘Yeah, well, it's not,
as such,'
said Joe. ‘Can't prove someone's an alien just cos they eat sunflower seeds.'

‘He never eats proper lunches, either,' said Ryan. ‘I've seen him. Like the other day, when we had fish and chips? He was sat there, with a bunch of lettuce leaves? Next to Miss Beam, he was.'

Beautiful Miss Beam! They all sighed. What bliss to sit next to Miss Beam!

‘She was eating her chips,' said Ryan, ‘while he was munching on lettuce. Instead of chips!'

‘Yeah, he doesn't eat chocolate pudding, either,' said Harry.

He took out his list. ‘That's another fact.' He added it, as no.6.

 

Fact no.6: Doesn't eat chocolate pudding or chips.

 

‘This is weird,' said Bal. Chocolate pudding and chips were the closest they ever came to proper food.

‘Obviously something we're going to have to investigate,' said Joe.

It was Bal, at breakfast next morning, who dared to ask the question.

‘Sir, do you like sunflower seeds, sir?'

Mr Snitcher raised mournful eyes from his plate. ‘You think I eat these things for pleasure?'

‘You mean, you don't enjoy them, sir?'

‘Would you?' said Mr Snitcher.

‘I don't think I would, sir.'

‘Well, there you go.' Mr Snitcher popped a seed into his mouth and chewed, glumly.

‘Sir!' Joe leaned forward. ‘If you don't like them, sir, why don't you eat a normal breakfast same as everyone else, sir?'

Mr Snitcher said, ‘Huh!' And then, with an air of morbid satisfaction, ‘That is because I am not the same as everyone else.'

Excuse me??? Harry choked on his porridge. Mr Snitcher was
admitting
it?

‘I am cursed,' said Mr Snitcher, ‘with allergies.
Multiple
allergies. Allergies without number! There is practically nothing,' said Mr Snitcher, proudly, ‘that I am able to consume without putting my life in danger. If I were to swallow but
one peanut,
my face would blow up like a beach ball and I should die. If I were to eat the merest
sliver
of cheese, my tongue would swell in my mouth and suffocate me. As for wheat — ' Mr Snitcher gave an elaborate shudder. ‘Do not speak to me of wheat! Just one grain and I should be immediately and violently ill. I am not,' said Mr Snitcher, with a sad, suffering smile, ‘a normal human being.'

He was! He was actually admitting it!

As Bal said later, ‘The plot grows even thicker…'

Harry couldn't sleep. He heard the church clock, down in the village, striking midnight, and still he tossed and turned and thumped at his pillow.

Something was bothering him. Something they had talked about with Gran and Granddad. He had this feeling there was a question that needed to be asked, but the more he tried to think what it could be, the more his brain tied itself into knots until he felt that the inside of his head was buzzing with a swarm of bees.

Maybe he should go to the bathroom. He didn't need to go to the bathroom, but
just getting out of bed and walking down the corridor might help.