Horrid Henry and the Mega-Mean Time Machine by Francesca Simon Page B

Perfect Peter. “A nice
long
walk.”
    “NOOOO!” howled Henry. Plodding along in the boring old park was bad enough, with its moldy leaves and dog poo and stumpy trees. But at least the park wasn’t very big. But the
countryside?
    The countryside was enormous! They’d be walking for hours, days, weeks, months, till his legs wore down to stumps and his feet fell off. And the countryside was so dangerous! Horrid Henry was sure he’d be swallowed up by quicksand or trampled to death by marauding chickens.

    “I live in the city!” shrieked Henry. “I don’t want to go to the country!”
    “Time you got out more,” said Dad.
    “But look at those clouds,” moaned Henry, pointing to a fluffy wisp. “We’ll get soaked.”
    “A little water never hurt anyone,” said Mom.
    Oh yeah? Wouldn’t they be sorry when he died of pneumonia.
    “I’m staying here and that’s final!” screamed Henry.
    “Henry, we’re waiting,” said Mom.
    “Good,” said Henry.
    “
I’m
all ready, Mom,” said Peter.
    “I’m going to start deducting money from your allowance,” said Dad. “Five cents, ten cents, fifteen cents, twenty—”
    Horrid Henry pulled on his boots, stomped out the door, and got in the car. He slammed the door as hard as he could. It was so unfair! Why did he never get to do what
he
wanted to do? Now he would miss the first time Rapper Zapper had ever slugged it out with Terminator Gladiator. And all because he had to go on a long, boring, exhausting, horrible hike. He was so miserable he didn’t even have the energy to kick Peter.
    “Can’t we just walk around the block?” moaned Henry.
    “N-O spells no,” said Dad. “We’re going for a nice walk in the countryside and that’s that.”
    Horrid Henry slumped miserably in his seat. Boy would they be sorry when he was gobbled up by goats. Boo hoo, if only we hadn’t gone on that walk in the wild, Mom would wail.

    Henry was right, we should have listened to him, Dad would sob. I miss Henry, Peter would howl. I’ll never eat goat’s cheese again. And now it’s too late, they would shriek.
    If only, thought Horrid Henry. That would serve them right.
     
    All too soon, Mom pulled into a parking lot, on the edge of a small forest.
    “Wow,” said Perfect Peter. “Look at all those pretty trees.”
    “Bet there are werewolves hiding there,” muttered Henry. “And I hope they come and eat
you!
”

    “Mom!” squealed Peter. “Henry’s trying to scare me.”
    “Don’t be horrid, Henry,” said Mom.
    Horrid Henry looked around him. There was a gate, leading to endless meadows bordered by bushes. A muddy path wound through the trees and across the fields. A church spire stuck up in the distance.
    “All right, I’ve seen the countryside, let’s go home,” said Henry.
    Mom glared at him.
    “What?” said Henry, scowling.
    “Let’s enjoy this lovely day,” said Dad, sighing.
    “So what do we do now?” said Henry.
    “Walk,” said Dad.
    “Where?” said Henry.
    “Just walk,” said Mom, “and enjoy the beautiful scenery.”
    Henry groaned.
    “We’re heading for the lake,” said Dad, striding off. “I’ve brought bread and we can feed the ducks.”
    “But
Rapper Zapper
starts in an hour!”
    “Tough,” said Mom.
    Mom, Dad, and Peter headed through the gate into the field. Horrid Henry trailed behind them walking as slowly as he could.
    “Ahh, breathe the lovely fresh air,” said Mom.

    “We should do this more often,” said Dad.
    Henry sniffed.
    The horrible smell of manure filled his nostrils.
    “Ewww, smelly,” said Henry. “Peter, couldn’t you wait?”
    “MOM!” shrieked Peter. “Henry called me smelly.”
    “Did not!”
    “Did too!”
    “Did not, smelly.”
    “WAAAAAAAAA!” wailed Peter. “Tell him to stop!”

    “Don’t be horrid, Henry!” screamed Mom. Her voice echoed. A dog walker passed her and glared.
    “Peter, would you rather run a mile, jump a fence, or eat a country pancake?” said Henry