Just Annoying! by Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton
Authors: Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton
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apart.
This is my chance.
I sneak up behind him. I grab his neck chain and clip Sootyâs lead on to it.
I run to the opposite corner of the line, jump up and hold on.
Spot is still more interested in mangling the cat than in me.
âHey, Spot,â I call. âYour father was a sewer rat and your mother was a chihuahua!â
That gets his attention.
He looks up, rears up on his hind legs and starts chasing me.
The line takes off with a whoosh!
Spot is going crazy. They must have starved him for weeks. Either that or he has taken an even greater offence at my insult than I could have predicted.
Whatever the reason, I am swinging faster than I have ever swung in my life.
Iâm gripping the bar as tightly as I can. I feel like Supermanâarms straight out, head down. Iâm going so fast that Iâm practically horizontal. The wind is roaring in my ears. I wish Iâd thought to put more clothes on. Iâm freezing.
The familiar landmarks of the backyard are goneâthe shed, the old orange tree stump, the window of the kitchen where Mum and Dad are probably sipping their cocoa right at this moment. Itâs all just a blur of spinning colour.
Spot is huffing and barking as he chases me around.
Any moment now Mum and Dad are going to hear the racket. They are going to look out of the kitchen window and see me spinning faster than any human being has spun before.
Theyâll see.
Theyâll see that Iâm serious and that nothing will stop me.
But theyâre going to have to look soon, because the faster I go the harder it is to hold on. Itâs like being caught in a force 5 hurricane.
I canât keep this up much longer.
Iâm not used to this sort of pressure.
My fingers give out.
Iâm flying through the air.
Straight towards the kitchen window.
Iâm wondering whether itâs safer to crash through a window headfirst or break it with a fist, Superman-style.
It doesnât really matter, I guess.
If the window doesnât kill me, my parents will.
This is my chance.
I sneak up behind him. I grab his neck chain and clip Sootyâs lead on to it.
I run to the opposite corner of the line, jump up and hold on.
Spot is still more interested in mangling the cat than in me.
âHey, Spot,â I call. âYour father was a sewer rat and your mother was a chihuahua!â
That gets his attention.
He looks up, rears up on his hind legs and starts chasing me.
The line takes off with a whoosh!
Spot is going crazy. They must have starved him for weeks. Either that or he has taken an even greater offence at my insult than I could have predicted.
Whatever the reason, I am swinging faster than I have ever swung in my life.
Iâm gripping the bar as tightly as I can. I feel like Supermanâarms straight out, head down. Iâm going so fast that Iâm practically horizontal. The wind is roaring in my ears. I wish Iâd thought to put more clothes on. Iâm freezing.
The familiar landmarks of the backyard are goneâthe shed, the old orange tree stump, the window of the kitchen where Mum and Dad are probably sipping their cocoa right at this moment. Itâs all just a blur of spinning colour.
Spot is huffing and barking as he chases me around.
Any moment now Mum and Dad are going to hear the racket. They are going to look out of the kitchen window and see me spinning faster than any human being has spun before.
Theyâll see.
Theyâll see that Iâm serious and that nothing will stop me.
But theyâre going to have to look soon, because the faster I go the harder it is to hold on. Itâs like being caught in a force 5 hurricane.
I canât keep this up much longer.
Iâm not used to this sort of pressure.
My fingers give out.
Iâm flying through the air.
Straight towards the kitchen window.
Iâm wondering whether itâs safer to crash through a window headfirst or break it with a fist, Superman-style.
It doesnât really matter, I guess.
If the window doesnât kill me, my parents will.
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