other sheets back into his pocket.
“Why’s this one here?” he asked, more to himself than to Betty.
“For your thoughts, Cashper.” She leant over and tapped a white finger on Casper’s forehead. “What’sh on yer mind, there?”
One thing in particular was on Casper’s mind. “That stupid Time Toaster. If Lamp had never invented it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Betty clicked her false teeth. “Yeh’ll feel a lot better once yeh’ve got it out. Write it down, Cashper.”
“Guess I could…” So he picked up a pencil and wrote:
Why the Time Toaster Should
Never Have Been Invented
by Lamp Flannigan
Casper found out the date from Betty, and added that below –
18 November 2112
A boy who can’t tie his own shoelaces should not be a master of time and space.
I think we might have set in place the downfall of Corne-on-the-Kobb, by giving Briar Blight his evil grandmother and the world’s most gullible inventor.
Lamp Flannigan is my friend, but sometimes when he does things like building giant robots, I feel angry towards him, even though it’s not his fault.
I don’t like that.
I don’t even like toast that much.
Casper put down his pencil and read it back. Betty was right, he did feel a little better.
Betty read it over his shoulder. “Finished?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Betty. I do feel a little better.”
“Heh, no problem!” Then she picked up the pencil, snatched the paper from the table, rocketed over to the other side of the kitchen and slammed it down into the toaster, before finally pulling the lever and grinning.
Casper looked on, bewildered, as the paper burst into flames. “What on earth was that for?”
Betty popped a jelly bean in her mouth and sucked gleefully. “’Bout a hundred years ago, your friend Lamp’s about to be gettin’ some toasht.”
The old woman had gone barmy. “What’s that got to do with you burning my paper?”
“Cor, do I ’ave to do all the work for yeh? The Time Toashter gets toasht from all acrosh time,” she said dreamily, waving her wrinkly arm above her head. “Jusht so happensh that the piece of toasht it’s about to get ain’t a piece of toasht at all. It’s a piece of paper. That piece of paper.”
By the look of Betty’s excited grin, Casper knew he should be remembering something. And then it came to him. “The article,” he said, his brain working overtime, “the one we got from the Time Toaster back in Lamp’s garage. ‘ By Lamp Flannigan ’,it said. We thought that meant Lamp wrote it. But the paper was burnt, all covered in flecks of ash…” Casper thought back to the title of the note he’d just written. Why the Time Toaster Should Never Have Been Invented by Lamp Flannigan. “His name was just part of the title!”
Betty grinned. “And it made yer come ’ere, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. After that message, we knew Lamp was on to something. But…” Casper took a long blink. Time travel wasn’t his best subject. “How did you know to toast that article?”
“It’s all circular, like the wheels of me chair,” sighed Betty.
Casper was mid-headache when Chrys and Flanella burst through the front door, alive, un-breaded, but without Lottie or Andrea.
“They got them,” grunted Chrys.
Malcolm let out a bloop of disappointment from under Flanella’s arm.
“Just the four of us left. Hope you’ve got a plan, Casper.”
He didn’t. He had a headache.
Then Betty opened a cupboard, pulled out a second toaster, wheeled over to the table and plonked it in front of Casper.
There was an alarm clock strapped to the front of the toaster and dozens of watch faces boinging around on little springs. Casper had hardly finished his last gasp, before it was long past time for another one. “The Time Toaster! But it melted…”
Betty popped in another jelly bean. “You got work to do, Cashper.”
“Why does everyone seem to know what’s going on around here except for me?” cried Casper,
“Why’s this one here?” he asked, more to himself than to Betty.
“For your thoughts, Cashper.” She leant over and tapped a white finger on Casper’s forehead. “What’sh on yer mind, there?”
One thing in particular was on Casper’s mind. “That stupid Time Toaster. If Lamp had never invented it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Betty clicked her false teeth. “Yeh’ll feel a lot better once yeh’ve got it out. Write it down, Cashper.”
“Guess I could…” So he picked up a pencil and wrote:
Why the Time Toaster Should
Never Have Been Invented
by Lamp Flannigan
Casper found out the date from Betty, and added that below –
18 November 2112
A boy who can’t tie his own shoelaces should not be a master of time and space.
I think we might have set in place the downfall of Corne-on-the-Kobb, by giving Briar Blight his evil grandmother and the world’s most gullible inventor.
Lamp Flannigan is my friend, but sometimes when he does things like building giant robots, I feel angry towards him, even though it’s not his fault.
I don’t like that.
I don’t even like toast that much.
Casper put down his pencil and read it back. Betty was right, he did feel a little better.
Betty read it over his shoulder. “Finished?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Betty. I do feel a little better.”
“Heh, no problem!” Then she picked up the pencil, snatched the paper from the table, rocketed over to the other side of the kitchen and slammed it down into the toaster, before finally pulling the lever and grinning.
Casper looked on, bewildered, as the paper burst into flames. “What on earth was that for?”
Betty popped a jelly bean in her mouth and sucked gleefully. “’Bout a hundred years ago, your friend Lamp’s about to be gettin’ some toasht.”
The old woman had gone barmy. “What’s that got to do with you burning my paper?”
“Cor, do I ’ave to do all the work for yeh? The Time Toashter gets toasht from all acrosh time,” she said dreamily, waving her wrinkly arm above her head. “Jusht so happensh that the piece of toasht it’s about to get ain’t a piece of toasht at all. It’s a piece of paper. That piece of paper.”
By the look of Betty’s excited grin, Casper knew he should be remembering something. And then it came to him. “The article,” he said, his brain working overtime, “the one we got from the Time Toaster back in Lamp’s garage. ‘ By Lamp Flannigan ’,it said. We thought that meant Lamp wrote it. But the paper was burnt, all covered in flecks of ash…” Casper thought back to the title of the note he’d just written. Why the Time Toaster Should Never Have Been Invented by Lamp Flannigan. “His name was just part of the title!”
Betty grinned. “And it made yer come ’ere, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. After that message, we knew Lamp was on to something. But…” Casper took a long blink. Time travel wasn’t his best subject. “How did you know to toast that article?”
“It’s all circular, like the wheels of me chair,” sighed Betty.
Casper was mid-headache when Chrys and Flanella burst through the front door, alive, un-breaded, but without Lottie or Andrea.
“They got them,” grunted Chrys.
Malcolm let out a bloop of disappointment from under Flanella’s arm.
“Just the four of us left. Hope you’ve got a plan, Casper.”
He didn’t. He had a headache.
Then Betty opened a cupboard, pulled out a second toaster, wheeled over to the table and plonked it in front of Casper.
There was an alarm clock strapped to the front of the toaster and dozens of watch faces boinging around on little springs. Casper had hardly finished his last gasp, before it was long past time for another one. “The Time Toaster! But it melted…”
Betty popped in another jelly bean. “You got work to do, Cashper.”
“Why does everyone seem to know what’s going on around here except for me?” cried Casper,
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