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Gangsta Granny. David Walliams
Читать онлайн.Название Gangsta Granny
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007371457
Автор произведения David Walliams
Издательство HarperCollins
Ben wasn’t at all sure that Raj was right about Granny. That night it was the same old story. Granny served up cabbage soup, followed by cabbage pie and for dessert it was cabbage mousse. She even found some cabbage-flavoured after-dinner chocolates* somewhere. After dinner, Granny and Ben sat down together on the musty sofa as they always did.
“Scrabble time!” exclaimed Granny.
* Cabbage-flavoured chocolates are not as nice as they sound, and they don’t sound that nice.
Great, thought Ben. Tonight’s going to be a million times more boring than last week!
Ben detested Scrabble. If he had his way, Ben would build a rocket, and blast all the Scrabble boards in the world into outer space. Granny pulled out the dusty old Scrabble box from the sideboard and set up the game on the pouf.
What seemed like decades later, but was probably just hours, Ben stared at his letters, before scanning the board. He had already put down:
He had an ‘E’, an ‘M’, an ‘I’, a ‘U’ and a ‘D’. Granny had just put down ‘Murraymint’ (double word score) so Ben used the ‘T’ at the end to form the word ‘tedium’.
“Well, it’s nearly eight o’clock, young man,” announced Granny, looking at her little gold watch. “Time for your beddy-byes, I think…”
Ben groaned inwardly. Beddy-byes! He wasn’t a toddler!
“But I don’t have to go to bed until nine o’clock at home!” he protested. “And not until ten o’clock when I haven’t got school in the morning.”
“No, Ben, off you go to bed, please.” The old lady could be quite firm when she wanted to be. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth. I’ll be up soon to give you a bedtime story, if you like. You always used to love a bedtime story.”
Later, Ben stood at the sink in the bathroom. It was a cold damp room with no window. Some of the tiles had fallen off the wall. There was just one sad little frayed towel and a very worn bar of soap that looked like it was half soap, half mould.
Ben hated brushing his teeth. So he pretended to brush his teeth. Pretending to brush your teeth is simple. Don’t tell your parents I told you, but if you want to try it for yourself, all you have to do is follow this handy step-by-step guide:
1) Turn on the cold tap
2) Wet the toothbrush
3) Squeeze a tiny amount of toothpaste on to your finger and place finger in mouth
4) Move the trace of toothpaste around your mouth with your tongue
5) Spit
6) Turn off the tap
See? It’s so easy. Nearly as easy as brushing your teeth.
Ben looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was eleven years old, but shorter than he wanted to be, so he stood on his tiptoes for a moment. Ben was aching to be older.
Only a few more years, he thought, and he would be taller and hairier and spottier, and his Friday nights would be very different.
He wouldn’t have to stay at boring old Granny’s any more. Instead Ben would be able to do all the thrilling things the older kids in the town did on Friday nights:
Hang around with a gang of friends outside the off-licence waiting for someone to tell you off.
Or alternatively, sit at the bus stop with some girls in tracksuits and chew gum and never actually get on a bus.
Yes, a world of mystery and wonder awaited him.
However, for now, even though it was still light outside and he could hear boys in the nearby park playing football, it was time for Ben to go to sleep. In a hard little bed in a damp little room in his granny’s rundown little bungalow. That smelled of cabbage.
Not just a little bit.
A lot.
Sighing, Ben got under the covers.
Just then, Granny gently opened the door to his bedroom. He quickly shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. She lumbered over to the bed, and Ben could feel her standing over him for a moment.
“I was going to tell you that bedtime story,” she whispered. The old lady had often told him stories when he was younger, about pirates and smugglers and master criminals, but he was far too old for all that nonsense now.
“What a shame you’re asleep already,” she said. “Well, I just wanted to say that I love you. Goodnight, my little Benny.”
He hated being called ‘Benny’ too.
And ‘little’.
The nightmare continued, as Ben sensed his granny bending over to give him a kiss. The prickly old hairs on her chin bristled uncomfortably against his cheek. Then he heard the familiar rhythmic quacking sound as her bum squeaked with every step. She squeaked her way back to the door and closed it behind her, sealing the smell in.
That’s it, thought Ben. I have to escape!
“Aaaahhhhkkkk… pfffttttt… aaaaaahhhhhhkkkkkk … ppppppppfffffffffffttttttt…”