time.”
“You sure say a lot of funny-sounding things,” Eddy mumbled and took out his puncture kit. “But at least you’ve given me back my desire to win.”
TWO MINUTES LATER, two cud-chewing sheep raised their heads as a bike passed them on the road just outside their fence.
“Did you see that?” the one cud-chewing sheep said to the other. “Two people on one bike. Isn’t that cheating?”
The other sheep blinked his eyes sleepily. “Baaa, why? It makes the bike even heavier when you’re going uphill. Besides, they’re dead last.”
“That’s not the point,” the one sheep said. “Is it allowed ?”
The other chewed his cud for a bit while he contemplated this.
“No idea,” he finally said. “I’m a sheep, you know? We don’t know that kind of thing.”
EDDY STOOD ON his pedals and pushed as hard as he could. Not just because standing on the pedals helped him go faster, but because his seat was occupied by a red-haired little guy with a nose clip who was screaming into his ear:
“Come on, Eddy! Faster, Eddy! You’re the best, Eddy!”
And when Eddy tried to ease up on the pace a little:
“Pull yourself together, Eddy! Do you want a licking, Eddy? Do you want this to be your Waterloo, Eddy? Do you want to be a full-time tyre-fixer, Eddy? You can do more! It feels gooood to be tired!”
And, truth be told, it was helping. Soon they started overtaking cyclists who stared open-mouthed at the strange two-man team with the little boy screaming:
“Push, Eddy! The other cyclists are even tireder! Think about the girls waiting at the top, Eddy. They have soft lips. Soooooft lips, Eddy. Faster, faster, otherwise I’m going to give you a noogie! And we’re not talking about a little love noogie, we’re talking about a massive, Yeti noogie!”
Eddy, who wasn’t really sure what a noogie was, but didn’t particularly want to find out either, pushed. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and his breath had started making a strange, rasping sound. But they were still passing cyclist after cyclist and had made it quite a way up the mountain, to where there were still patches of snow in the shadows. Even though Nilly’s clothes had dried in the sunshine, he was now so cold that his teeth chattered as he chanted his mixture of encouragement and threats. Until a wheezing Eddy interrupted him:
“I can’t do it . . .”
“What?” Nilly yelled through his chattering teeth. “Do you want a n-n-noogie, you B-B-Belgian waffle!”
“The finishing line is too close . . .” wheezed Eddy. “We won’t be able to pass everyone.”
“Nonsense,” Nilly said. “I said we would fart up this mountain and when Nilly says we’ll fart up a mountain, you’d darn well better—”
“Fart all you want . . .” Eddy groaned. His tongue was hanging down to the handlebars and the bike had started wobbling ominously. “Look at how steep this is.”
Nilly looked. The road was so steep that it looked like a wall. And way, way up ahead, high, high above them he saw the yellow jersey of the guy in front.
“Hm,” Nilly said.
“Hm what?” Eddy wheezed.
“I’m going to fart.” Nilly stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out a plastic bag, which he resolutely opened and then poured the contents into his mouth.
“What was that?” Eddy asked.
“That was a little carry-on item starting with P ,” Nilly said, and burped. “Hold on tight. Six – five – four – three – two . . .”
“Hold on . . . ?”
Eddy didn’t have a chance to say anything else. There was a bang so loud that it felt like the earwax was being pushed into his ears and his eyes bulged out of his head. And then there was a roar, like from a speeding rocket engine. The reason he thought of a rocket engine specifically was that they were rushing up the mountain sort of like – well, actually, exactly like – a rocket!
“Yippee!” Nilly cheered in his ear.
“Yippee!” Eddy cheered as they passed the cyclists
“You sure say a lot of funny-sounding things,” Eddy mumbled and took out his puncture kit. “But at least you’ve given me back my desire to win.”
TWO MINUTES LATER, two cud-chewing sheep raised their heads as a bike passed them on the road just outside their fence.
“Did you see that?” the one cud-chewing sheep said to the other. “Two people on one bike. Isn’t that cheating?”
The other sheep blinked his eyes sleepily. “Baaa, why? It makes the bike even heavier when you’re going uphill. Besides, they’re dead last.”
“That’s not the point,” the one sheep said. “Is it allowed ?”
The other chewed his cud for a bit while he contemplated this.
“No idea,” he finally said. “I’m a sheep, you know? We don’t know that kind of thing.”
EDDY STOOD ON his pedals and pushed as hard as he could. Not just because standing on the pedals helped him go faster, but because his seat was occupied by a red-haired little guy with a nose clip who was screaming into his ear:
“Come on, Eddy! Faster, Eddy! You’re the best, Eddy!”
And when Eddy tried to ease up on the pace a little:
“Pull yourself together, Eddy! Do you want a licking, Eddy? Do you want this to be your Waterloo, Eddy? Do you want to be a full-time tyre-fixer, Eddy? You can do more! It feels gooood to be tired!”
And, truth be told, it was helping. Soon they started overtaking cyclists who stared open-mouthed at the strange two-man team with the little boy screaming:
“Push, Eddy! The other cyclists are even tireder! Think about the girls waiting at the top, Eddy. They have soft lips. Soooooft lips, Eddy. Faster, faster, otherwise I’m going to give you a noogie! And we’re not talking about a little love noogie, we’re talking about a massive, Yeti noogie!”
Eddy, who wasn’t really sure what a noogie was, but didn’t particularly want to find out either, pushed. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and his breath had started making a strange, rasping sound. But they were still passing cyclist after cyclist and had made it quite a way up the mountain, to where there were still patches of snow in the shadows. Even though Nilly’s clothes had dried in the sunshine, he was now so cold that his teeth chattered as he chanted his mixture of encouragement and threats. Until a wheezing Eddy interrupted him:
“I can’t do it . . .”
“What?” Nilly yelled through his chattering teeth. “Do you want a n-n-noogie, you B-B-Belgian waffle!”
“The finishing line is too close . . .” wheezed Eddy. “We won’t be able to pass everyone.”
“Nonsense,” Nilly said. “I said we would fart up this mountain and when Nilly says we’ll fart up a mountain, you’d darn well better—”
“Fart all you want . . .” Eddy groaned. His tongue was hanging down to the handlebars and the bike had started wobbling ominously. “Look at how steep this is.”
Nilly looked. The road was so steep that it looked like a wall. And way, way up ahead, high, high above them he saw the yellow jersey of the guy in front.
“Hm,” Nilly said.
“Hm what?” Eddy wheezed.
“I’m going to fart.” Nilly stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out a plastic bag, which he resolutely opened and then poured the contents into his mouth.
“What was that?” Eddy asked.
“That was a little carry-on item starting with P ,” Nilly said, and burped. “Hold on tight. Six – five – four – three – two . . .”
“Hold on . . . ?”
Eddy didn’t have a chance to say anything else. There was a bang so loud that it felt like the earwax was being pushed into his ears and his eyes bulged out of his head. And then there was a roar, like from a speeding rocket engine. The reason he thought of a rocket engine specifically was that they were rushing up the mountain sort of like – well, actually, exactly like – a rocket!
“Yippee!” Nilly cheered in his ear.
“Yippee!” Eddy cheered as they passed the cyclists
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