The Girl Who Blew Up Her Brother and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls (2 page)

The best fun of all was checking out the old cars. Brett and Dave always started by smashing out the windows. Brett really liked front windscreens because sometimes he'd get two shots. First a small rock to make a hole. And then a brick to finish it off.

Once inside the cars, they'd muck around for hours. Dad was always yelling at them for being late home for tea.

One day, Brett was fooling around in the back seat of an old Ford when he got this really dreamy look on his face.

‘Wouldn't it be excellent,' said Brett, ‘if we could get one of these cars going one day?'

‘You serious?' asked Dave. ‘Dad would kill us.'

‘Not to drive, stupid, just to rev the guts out of it,' said Brett. ‘And maybe make a pretend machine or something.'

But Dave could tell Brett wasn't thinking ‘pretend' anything. You see, sometimes, Brett could be very, very naughty.

And from that day on, Brett started to really check the cars out. And Dave helped him.

Poor Dave. He knew Brett was planning something naughty, but what could he do? Brett was his brother! His older brother. The best brother a kid could ever have.

Brett knew heaps about engines from helping his dad fix the tractor all the time. Well, sort of helping. His dad would have called it getting in the way. Brett reckoned that if some of the cars only had little things wrong with them, then maybe he could take the best bits from lots of cars and build a new one.
A car that actually went.

It made him excited just to think about it. So, for the next four weeks, every night after school, Dave and Brett went through every old car they could find. It wasn't too hard getting the good bits out because they borrowed Dad's best tools. They didn't tell him but it wouldn't have mattered because he had boxes of them.

You should have seen all the bits that Brett and Dave found. Enough to build six engines.

‘Well,' said Brett, ‘I say we connect it all together and just see what happens.'

‘Fair enough,' said Dave.

So, they bent and screwed and lifted and twisted and if something didn't fit, they hit it until it did. Softly at first and then really hard with a lump of steel. A couple of things smashed into a thousand bits but that was OK. They were having terrific fun and it had been really hot so the tip smelt great.

Finally, there it stood. The… Well, what could you call it?
The thing.

There were bits of pipe and wires and batteries and pieces of engine all over the place. And two huge pieces of pipe tied together on top like a helicopter's propeller.

‘You ready?' said Brett.

‘What for?' asked Dave.

‘To hop in and see if it starts,' said Brett.

‘Hop in?' said Dave. ‘It might explode!'

‘No way,' said Brett. ‘Trust me.'

Dave always knew whenever Brett said ‘trust me' something bad was going to happen.

The two brothers got inside. Brett took a deep breath, leant forward and pressed the starter button. Nothing.

Dave felt like shouting, he was so relieved.

But Brett pressed the button again.

‘Oh, cool!' said Brett. ‘I think I heard something.'

Although Brett wanted it to start, he sort of didn't at the same time. He was excited but secretly scared as well. He pressed the button again.

This time there was a louder sound. A much louder sound. The sound of an engine starting. And the sound of helicopter blades going around.

‘Oh no!' said Brett again. But this time he really meant it.

Dave's eyes were almost popping out.

‘Brett!' he screamed. ‘I think we're moving. I think we're moving up!'

And they were. This was no pretend helicopter.

Brett and Dave Porter were flying.

‘Don't panic,' said Brett. ‘Dad always says not to panic.'

Dave had never been really sure what ‘panic' meant. And right now he didn't care. He was too busy wishing he'd been to the toilet. Brett pushed and pressed at every lever he could find but they just kept going up.

‘Make it stop!' screamed Dave.

But Brett didn't know how.

‘Hang on,' said Brett.‘I've found something!

If I push this lever we go sideways… And if I push this one we go forward.'

‘Just find one to go down! Please!' yelled Dave.

‘I'm trying,' said Brett.‘But I can't. We're just going to have to stay up here till the petrol runs out.'

Now Dave needed to go to the toilet for two reasons. He was going to be sick.

But someone else was starting to feel better. Much better. Brett Porter,
ace helicopter pilot.

Brett leant forward, and with a crazy look in his eyes, pushed a lever that he knew would make the engine go faster.

Much
faster.

‘Hang on, Davey-boy,' said Brett. ‘We're going for a spin.'

Meanwhile, Mr Porter was having a lovely day. The sun was shining, he was driving his favourite tractor and the birds were singing. And the birds were flying about, too. Big birds. In fact, one very big bird. Make that a huge bird.

Headed straight at him!

‘Oh no!' shouted Mr Porter. ‘A space ship!'

He flung himself under the tractor, waited till it had whooshed past, then raced inside.

Brett was cacking himself laughing so much he almost crashed into a tree. And then, splutter, cough and the engine stopped. As quickly as the ride had started it was over.

Now, if you've ever seen a rock fall from the edge of a cliff you'll have some idea of how quickly their fantastic flying machine dropped into the middle of Dad's dam. Never to be seen again.

Luckily, Brett and Dave were to be seen again. Sore, wet and very sorry.

As they walked slowly back to the house, their dad rushed up to tell them the news. He didn't even notice they were wet.

‘You'll never guess,' said Dad. ‘I just saw a flying saucer.'

‘Really?' said Brett. ‘Who was flying it?'

‘Creatures from outer space,' said Dad. ‘Ugly-looking things.'

That night, Brett and Dave told their dad the truth. Their dad said that telling the truth was always best because you don't have to carry the lies around with you forever.

He always punished them. But at least the brothers knew it was over. Then they could start fresh and do something else naughty.

Their punishment was hard, but probably fair. No playing at the tip for a year, and jobs every night after school for six weeks picking up potatoes for no money. And Brett said a big sorry to Dave. It was all his fault, he said. They could have been killed!

Dave said not to worry. They were brothers, weren't they? Mates.

All the same, Dave wished Brett would stop his latest hobby of reading Do-It-Yourself books. Especially the one called
Submarines
for Two.

John
the
Joker

John Tait loved playing jokes. Practical jokes, where someone ends up looking like a fool. And the rest of us laugh.

Trouble was, in John's mind, no joke ever seemed funny enough. No trick ever seemed quite as naughty as it should be. So John's jokes became worse. And worse.

One time, John's dad had to do a really important talk at work. When his dad opened his briefcase in front of thirty-seven people, guess what popped out? A pair of his undies. Used ones. With skid-marks.

Another time, John chose a couple of the most interesting-looking bits from a school rubbish bin and stuck them with chewing gum underneath the teacher's desk. The smell was terrible. Poor Mr Lampard, his teacher. He must have checked his shoes a hundred times that day.

Of course, John got into heaps of trouble for his jokes. But it didn't stop him. The more trouble, the better the jokes must have worked, thought John.

John used to think up the best jokes for his sister, Jane. He loved teasing Jane, especially if she cried. One day, John was mucking around under the house when he found a nest of baby snakes. Guess what popped out from under Jane's pillow that night? But Jane was getting smarter. She worked out that every time she cried, John would get a smack, so it didn't take much to set her off.

As mentioned, John's jokes became worse. But he just wasn't having as much fun as he thought he should. So, he wondered, might it be better to forget about lots of little jokes and instead plan one huge one?

One
mega-naughty monster?

Here's what happened. John put his hand up at school one day and said, ‘Excuse me, Mr Lampard, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm not going to do jokes anymore because I've realised they're not funny.'

Mr Lampard almost fell off his chair. ‘I'm pleased to hear that,' he said. ‘But I'm very interested to know what might have changed your mind.'

‘Well,' said John, ‘I used to think that scaring people was cool fun, but I got scared myself the other day and realised it's not cool. Not at all.'

‘Scared of what?' asked Mr Lampard.

‘The ghost,' said John. ‘The ghost that lives in this room.'

‘Go on,' said Mr Lampard.

‘You know how I had to stay back after school the other day,' said John, ‘for bringing my dog to school and telling it to rip the principal's arms off? And you know how I had to stay back again the next day for lighting a fire under the school fish tank to see if any of the fish jumped out? Well, on both days, sitting here by myself, I saw a ghost.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Mr Lampard,‘and what did this ghost look like?'

‘You're not going to believe this,' said John, ‘but it was really hard to tell – you see, he only had half a face.'

‘You're right, I don't believe you!' shouted Mr Lampard.‘You're just up to your old tricks again and for that you can stay back again after school. At least you won't be alone – you can speak to your friend. Half a face meets half a brain!'

Mr Lampard was not a happy man.