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HORRID HENRY READS A BOOK
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Miss Battle-Axe droned on and on and on. Horrid Henry drew pictures of crocodiles munching on a juicy Battle-Axe snack in his math book.
Snap! Off went her head.
Yank! Bye-bye leg.
Crunch! Ta-ta teeth.
Yum yum. Henry’s crocodile had a big fat smile on its face.
Blah blah blah books blah blah blah read blah blah blah prize blah blah
…PRIZE?
Horrid Henry stopped doodling.
“What prize?” he shrieked.
“Don’t shout out, Henry,” said Miss Battle-Axe.
Horrid Henry waved his hand and shouted:
“What prize?”
“Well, Henry, if you’d been paying attention instead of scribbling, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” said Miss Battle-Axe.
Horrid Henry scowled. Typical teacher. You’re interested enough in what they’re saying to ask a question, and suddenly they don’t want to answer.
“So, class, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—” she glared at Horrid Henry— “you’ll have two weeks to read as many books as you can for our school reading competition. Whoever reads the most books will win an exciting prize. A very exciting prize. But remember, a book report on every book on your list, please.”
Oh. A reading competition. Horrid Henry slumped in his chair. Phooey. Reading was hard, heavy work. Just turning the pages made Henry feel exhausted. Why couldn’t they ever do fun competitions, like whose tummy could rumble the loudest, or who shouted out the most in class, or who knew the rudest words? Horrid Henry would win those competitions every time.
But no. Miss Battle-Axe would never have a fun competition. Well, no way was he taking part in a reading contest. Henry would just have to watch someone undeserving like Clever Clare or Brainy Brian swagger off with the prize while he sat prize-less at the back. It was so unfair!
“What’s the prize?” shouted Moody Margaret.
Probably something awful like a pencil case, thought Horrid Henry. Or a bumper pack of school dish rags. “Candy!” shouted Greedy Graham. “A million bucks!” shouted Rude Ralph.
“Clothes!” shouted Gorgeous Gurinder.
“A skateboard!” shouted Aerobic Al.
“A hamster!” said Anxious Andrew.
“Silence!” bellowed Miss Battle-Axe. “The prize is a family ticket to a brand new theme park.”
Horrid Henry sat up. A theme park! Oh wow! He loved theme parks! Roller coasters! Water rides! Cotton candy! His mean, horrible parents never took him to theme parks. They dragged him to museums. They hauled him on hikes. But if he won the competition, they’d have to take him. He had to win that prize. He had to. But how could he win a reading competition without reading any books?
“Do comics count?” shouted Rude Ralph.
Horrid Henry’s heart leapt. He was king of the comic book readers. He’d easily win a comic book competition.
Miss Battle-Axe glared at Ralph with her beady eyes.
“Of course not!” she said. “Clare! How many books do you think you can read?”
“Fifteen,” said Clever Clare.
“Brian?”
“Eighteen,” said Brainy Brian.
“Nineteen,” said Clare.
“Twenty,” said Brian.
Horrid Henry smiled. Wouldn’t they get a shock when he won the prize? He’d start reading the second he got home.
Horrid Henry stretched out in the comfy black chair and switched on the TV. He had plenty of time to read. He’d start tomorrow.
Tuesday. Oh boy! Five new comics!
He’d read them first and start on all those books later.
Wednesday. Whoopee! A Mutant Max TV special! He’d definitely get reading afterward.
Thursday. Rude Ralph brought over his great new computer game, “Mash ’em! Smash ’em!” Henry mashed and smashed and mashed and smashed…
Friday. Yawn. Horrid Henry was exhausted after his long, hard week. I’ll read tons of books tomorrow, thought Henry. After all, there was tons of time till the competition ended.
“How many books have you read, Henry?” asked Perfect Peter, looking up from the
HORRID HENRY READS A BOOK
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Miss Battle-Axe droned on and on and on. Horrid Henry drew pictures of crocodiles munching on a juicy Battle-Axe snack in his math book.
Snap! Off went her head.
Yank! Bye-bye leg.
Crunch! Ta-ta teeth.
Yum yum. Henry’s crocodile had a big fat smile on its face.
Blah blah blah books blah blah blah read blah blah blah prize blah blah
…PRIZE?
Horrid Henry stopped doodling.
“What prize?” he shrieked.
“Don’t shout out, Henry,” said Miss Battle-Axe.
Horrid Henry waved his hand and shouted:
“What prize?”
“Well, Henry, if you’d been paying attention instead of scribbling, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” said Miss Battle-Axe.
Horrid Henry scowled. Typical teacher. You’re interested enough in what they’re saying to ask a question, and suddenly they don’t want to answer.
“So, class, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted—” she glared at Horrid Henry— “you’ll have two weeks to read as many books as you can for our school reading competition. Whoever reads the most books will win an exciting prize. A very exciting prize. But remember, a book report on every book on your list, please.”
Oh. A reading competition. Horrid Henry slumped in his chair. Phooey. Reading was hard, heavy work. Just turning the pages made Henry feel exhausted. Why couldn’t they ever do fun competitions, like whose tummy could rumble the loudest, or who shouted out the most in class, or who knew the rudest words? Horrid Henry would win those competitions every time.
But no. Miss Battle-Axe would never have a fun competition. Well, no way was he taking part in a reading contest. Henry would just have to watch someone undeserving like Clever Clare or Brainy Brian swagger off with the prize while he sat prize-less at the back. It was so unfair!
“What’s the prize?” shouted Moody Margaret.
Probably something awful like a pencil case, thought Horrid Henry. Or a bumper pack of school dish rags. “Candy!” shouted Greedy Graham. “A million bucks!” shouted Rude Ralph.
“Clothes!” shouted Gorgeous Gurinder.
“A skateboard!” shouted Aerobic Al.
“A hamster!” said Anxious Andrew.
“Silence!” bellowed Miss Battle-Axe. “The prize is a family ticket to a brand new theme park.”
Horrid Henry sat up. A theme park! Oh wow! He loved theme parks! Roller coasters! Water rides! Cotton candy! His mean, horrible parents never took him to theme parks. They dragged him to museums. They hauled him on hikes. But if he won the competition, they’d have to take him. He had to win that prize. He had to. But how could he win a reading competition without reading any books?
“Do comics count?” shouted Rude Ralph.
Horrid Henry’s heart leapt. He was king of the comic book readers. He’d easily win a comic book competition.
Miss Battle-Axe glared at Ralph with her beady eyes.
“Of course not!” she said. “Clare! How many books do you think you can read?”
“Fifteen,” said Clever Clare.
“Brian?”
“Eighteen,” said Brainy Brian.
“Nineteen,” said Clare.
“Twenty,” said Brian.
Horrid Henry smiled. Wouldn’t they get a shock when he won the prize? He’d start reading the second he got home.
Horrid Henry stretched out in the comfy black chair and switched on the TV. He had plenty of time to read. He’d start tomorrow.
Tuesday. Oh boy! Five new comics!
He’d read them first and start on all those books later.
Wednesday. Whoopee! A Mutant Max TV special! He’d definitely get reading afterward.
Thursday. Rude Ralph brought over his great new computer game, “Mash ’em! Smash ’em!” Henry mashed and smashed and mashed and smashed…
Friday. Yawn. Horrid Henry was exhausted after his long, hard week. I’ll read tons of books tomorrow, thought Henry. After all, there was tons of time till the competition ended.
“How many books have you read, Henry?” asked Perfect Peter, looking up from the
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