Just Annoying!
Authors: Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton
Andy Griffiths discovered a talent for annoying his parents at an early age. Since then he has gone on to annoy many other people including friends, neighbours, teachers and complete strangers with his silly noises, idiotic questions, stupid comments, bad jokes, inappropriate behaviour and pointless stories. His most recent book,
Just Tricking!,
was published in 1997.
Terry Denton hates writing illustrator biographies. He finds them annoying. So he draws them. The problem with this is . . . what do you draw about yourself? Well, what about your most annoying points? Terry has four of them.
Oh, by the way, Andy is right. He is very annoying. Typical author!
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Also by Andy Griffiths
and illustrated by Terry Denton
Just Tricking!
Just Annoying!
Just Stupid!
Just Crazy!
Just Disgusting!
The Bad Book
The Cat on the Mat is Flat
Also by Andy Griffiths
The Day My Bum Went Psycho
Zombie Bums from Uranus
Bumageddon: the Final Pongflict
Also by Andy Griffiths
(with Jim Thomson and Sophie Blackmore)
Fast Food and No Play Make
Jack a Fat Boy: Creating a healthier lifestyle
for you and your children
Pan Macmillan Australia
These electronic editions published in 1998 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000
Text Copyright © Andy Griffiths 1998
Illustrations Copyright © Terry Denton 1998
The moral rights of the creators have been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.
National Library of Australia cataloguing-in-publication data:
Griffiths, Andrew, 1961â.
Just annoying.
1. Short stories, Australian. I. Denton, Terry, 1950â . II. Title.
A823.3
Adobe eReader format 978-1-74197-007-4
Microsoft Reader format 978-1-74197-208-5
Mobipocket format 978-1-74197-409-6
Online format 978-1-74197-610-6
ePub format 978-1-74262-216-3
The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Typeset in l2/16pt New Aster by Post Pre-press Group
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ad?'
âYes?'
âAre we there yet?'
âNo.'
âNow?'
âNo.'
âNow?'
âFor goodness sakes!' growls Dad. âWill you stop it!'
Alright,' I say. âDon't get your knickers in a knot.'
We've been in the car for two days now. Mum and Dad are at breaking point.
Don't get me wrong. I don't
want
them to get mad at meâit just happens.
Like it or not, when you go on a long drive there are times when you just have to stop.
And my parents do not like it.
But what's the alternative?
Do they want me to starve to death? To wet my pants? To be sick all over the back seat?
I think any of these would be a lot more annoying and inconvenient than the few stops it takes to prevent them. I'm actually doing them a favour.
Mum and Dad should save their energy for really annoying things. Like the fly that has been buzzing around in the car for the last half hour. It's driving me mental. I'm going to do us all a big favour. I'm going to get rid of it.
I wind the window down. The fly jumps away.
It's hiding, just waiting for me to wind the window back up again.
I have to lure it out.
I start doing my best fly-call.
âBzzzz! Bzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz!'
Still no fly. Have to do it louder.
BZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZZ!'
âAndy!' yells Dad. âI can't concentrate with you making that stupid noise. Do you want us to have an accident? Do you want us all to be killed?'
I hate it when Dad asks dumb questions like that. What does he expect me to say? âYes, Dad, I want us to have an accident. I want us all to be killed.'
But I don't say that. It might cause Dad to have an accident. We might all be killed.
âAlright, Dad,' I say instead. âDon't get your knickers in a knot.'
âAnd stop telling me not to get my knickers in a knot!' he explodes.
âOkay,' I say. âDon't get your trousers in a twist.'
Dad hunches over the steering wheel. His knuckles whiten. Tiny drops of perspiration appear on the back of his neck.
He knows he's been outsmarted once again. It must be frustrating for him having a son as clever as me. It must be hard knowing that he can never win.
The fly lazily cruises in front of my eyes. It's asking for trouble. Well, it's come to the right man.
I once saw a movie where the door of an aeroplane opened mid-air and everybody was sucked out by the vacuum it created. I don't need a vacuum quite that powerful, but maybe if I open and close the door I'll be able to create one strong enough to suck the fly out.
I squeeze the door handle as carefully and slowly as I can so that it doesn't make any noise. I swing it open, then shut.
Open, shut.
Open, shut.
âWhat do you think you're doing?' screams Dad.
âI'm creating a vacuum,' I say.
âWhat?'
âA vacuum! I'm trying to get a fly out of the car.'
âShut the door! And keep it shut!' shouts Dad. âI'm warning you. If you don't behave yourself, I'll stop the car and you can get out and walk. Do you understand?'
âBut, Dad . . .' I say.
âNo buts! Do you understand?'
âYes, Dad.'
Dad's knuckles are really white now. He's gripping the steering wheel so hard that his bones are practically breaking through his skin.
I hear a buzz. It's coming from behind me. The vacuum didn't work. I turn around but I can't see the fly. Hang onâthe noise is coming from outside.
I undo my seatbelt and kneel up on the seat to get a better view.
There's this crazy-looking guy riding an old black Harley. He's got a long red beard, a black bowl-shaped helmet and a pair of old-fashioned plastic riding goggles. They make him look like a fly. And his motorbike sounds like one. Only much louder.
Suddenly the fly shoots across the window.
Showdown time!
I try to cup it in my left hand and hook it out of the window.
That's my plan, anyway.
But the fly has other ideas. It skates across the window to the far corner. And then back again. I'm chasing the fly back and forth across the window when I notice that the bikie is making hand signals.