Bubble in the Bathtub by Jo Nesbø Page A

He would need it if he was going to reach the fence before that beast of muscles and horns that was rapidly approaching him from behind. So he very quietly called “help” one more time, before he accepted that no matter how much air he had left, he was not going to reach the fence first, that very soon he would be dangling from one of those massive barbecue skewer horns. So Nilly prepared himself and then leaped up into the air, tucked his legs up, wrapped his arms around them, curled himself into a ball and screamed (without saving any breath): “Cannonball!”
    With that, the tiny little boy disappeared. The bull stopped and stared down at the hillside that wascovered with tall Bermuda grass, wild begonias, lily of the valley, and other stuff that grows in French meadows and that the bull didn’t even know the name of. The bull rummaged around in this salad with one of his horns, all the while realizing that he was feeling even madder. Where the cow buttocks had that unbelievably irritating little chap gone?
    Nilly wriggled through the grass, and he didn’t stand up again until he was sure that he had crawled under the fence and past it. He turned toward the bull, who was still standing out there in the meadow sniffing the ground.
    â€œHey, yoo-hoo! Hey, Mr. Beef, Medium Well!”
    The bull raised his head and stared at Nilly, who put a thumb in each ear and wiggled his fingers and said “nyah, nyah” as he stuck out his tongue and gave a Bronx cheer. The bull responded by blowing hot steaming air out of his splayed nostrils, positioning his legs on the ground, and lowering his head.
What an
insufferable, poorly behaved, rude young man,
he thought. Then he came barreling. But he never made it to the red-haired boy. Seconds later, his enormous bull horns struck that idiotic bathtub that for some reason or other had suddenly appeared in the meadow. The bathtub was lifted up into the air, whirled around, and then came down to land upside down so that all the water and soap bubbles ran out.
    Nilly was going to laugh, but instead he stiffened. He dug around desperately in his wet pockets, but found only small things that started with
P
: a parking stub, a plum pit, and a sealed plastic bag of fartonaut powder. But not what he was looking for. Of course not, because Lisa was the one who had brought the jar of time soap. All he had was an empty time-traveling bathtub! How was he ever going to get back?
    Nilly stuck his index finger into his ear, rotated it around and pulled it out again.
Plop!
But even that didn’t help. His brain didn’t give him any answers. Hewas doomed. So Nilly wasn’t laughing, not one bit.
    But there were some other people who were.
    Nilly turned to see where the laughter was coming from. And saw a short, thin man who was lying on his back in the grass with a blade of grass in the corner of his mouth. He was wearing a blue bicycling jersey with a number on it.
    â€œGreat sprint.” The man laughed. “You ought to take up biking, kid.”
    â€œThanks,” Nilly said. And since he was a born optimist who also liked company and a good conversation, his outlook on the situation had already started to improve a bit.
    â€œDo you know why bulls like that get so mad?” Nilly asked. “Did I do something to that sack of beef, or what?”
    The guy said, “Red hair” and pointed at Nilly’s head. “Bulls see red when they see red.”
    Nilly cocked his red-haired head to the side andlooked at the man. “Um, how come you’re speaking Norwegian?”
    The man laughed again. “I’m speaking French, my friend. And so are you.”
    â€œI am?”
    â€œYou’re certainly a very funny clown. What’s your name?”
    â€œNilly. And I’m not a clown.”
    â€œYou’re not?” the man said. “You’ll really have to excuse me, Nilly. I thought that was a clown nose.”
    Nilly