Fizzlebert Stump by A. F. Harrold

Stinkthrottle on his own.
    Kevin ran over and turned the telly off while Fizz ran up to the old man, who, as you’ll remember, was sat on the sofa.
    He had his eyes shut, so Fizz prodded him. He would have preferred to use a stick or something (anything so as not to have to touch the old man), but he didn’t have one and so he tapped his shoulder with the very tipmost tip of his finger. Mr Stinkthrottle opened his eyes and, with a puzzled frown, immediately noticed the television wasn’t on. He banged the remote control on his knee and jabbed at the buttons.
    Fizz stepped in between him and the telly and the old man finally noticed him.
    Our hero dangled the pocket-watch on the end of its silver chain and started swaying it back and forth.
    ‘Look at the watch,’ he said, trying to get the right calm tone that Dr Surprise always used. ‘You are getting sleepy.’
    Mr Stinkthrottle certainly did the first part. His eyes focussed on the shining watch face and followed it as it swung to the left and then to the right.
    ‘You are getting sleepy,’ Fizz repeated.
    ‘What?’ Mr Stinkthrottle looked up at the boy for a moment, before looking back at the watch.
    ‘You are getting sleepy,’ Fizz said, a bit louder.
     

     
    ‘Eh?’
    The old man reached up behind each of his big ears and tapped his hearing aids. There was a squeak and a whistle and then they settled down again.
    ‘I said, “You are getting sleepy”!’ shouted Fizz.
    ‘I’m getting what ?’
    It looked so easy when Dr Surprise did it in the show, when he’d hypnotised people and made them do his bidding. But it didn’t seem to be working now. This had been Fizz’s one chance, to hypnotise the old man into opening the front door. Then Kevin and he could have just run away. They’d be free. But the old man seemed to not want to be hypnotised.
    Kevin nudged Fizz in the back.
    ‘Come on,’ he whispered loudly, ‘is it working or not?’
    Mr Stinkthrottle reached out before Fizz could answer and grabbed the watch in mid-swing. He held it where it was, with Fizz still holding the chain up above, and looked at it closely.
    ‘That’s my watch,’ he said loudly. ‘I know that watch. That’s mine. I lost it ages ago. That’s my missing watch! You’ve found my watch.’ For a moment he looked grateful, pleased to have found this thing he clearly treasured, but then his moustache quivered as if blown by an angry breeze and he snapped at Fizz: ‘You’re a thief! A little thief! Give me my watch back!’
    Upstairs the toilet flushed.
    All round the house pipes clanked and burbled and chugged, and the whole building seemed to shake. Piles of paper shifted across the floor. A plate fell off the wall and smashed. But worst of all, it was their warning that Mrs Stinkthrottle would be coming back very soon.
    As the house shook, a new plan popped up inside Fizz’s head. If the old man had his heart set on this watch, maybe he could use it to make some sort of bargain.
    Fizz snatched the watch away. He yanked the chain so hard it flew out of Mr Stinkthrottle’s snatching hands, and caught it in his own.
    ‘If you want this back,’ he said, ‘open the front door. Please.’
    ‘What? You little robber, you! Speak up,’ Mr Stinkthrottle snapped, cupping his hand behind his ear to hear better.
    ‘Just open the door, and I’ll give you your watch back.’
    ‘That’s mine that is. My pocket-watch. Give it back to me!’
    ‘Open the door, please!’
    Mr Stinkthrottle made a sudden grab for the watch, but Fizz ducked out of the way. The old man followed him, surprisingly quick on his feet. He clearly wanted his watch back.
    Fizz skipped a couple of steps backwards, heading towards the kitchen. This new plan was risky, but it might work. Anything was better than staying here in this horrible house with these horrible people.
    Mr Stinkthrottle followed him, grabbing for the watch but always missing.
    Fizz was in the kitchen and stood by the back door.