Googol Boy and the peculiar incident of the Great Quiz Trophy by John Michael (classic books for 13 year olds txt) 📕

came up − flashing in all its vibrancy and glory for all the world to see. I wanted to be mad at Pacman for betraying me but I just couldn’t − how could I be angry at that gulping head? All the hours of fun and excitement that little yellow guy had given me.

Mum, on the other hand, had no trouble being mad at Pacman; she also had no trouble being mad at me as well. In fact, she went a bit berserk and started screaming at me to shut down the game. I couldn’t believe it − I was so close to my all-time high score... another five minutes and I would’ve had it! That wasn’t even the worst of it! As punishment, she said I would have to stay up all night until I had finished my speech. Bummer! She looked at me with eyes like daggers and then, without a word, stormed out of the room, slamming the door as she left. I heard her feet stomping down the corridor.

I just sat there − dumbstruck.

Then I heard Mum’s stomping feet again, this time she was coming back.

She had realised the error of her ways, her over-reaction, her crazy disciplinary measures. I was ready for her apology. She came in, looked around and took the bowl of cookies and left the room again without saying a word. Double bummer!

Then, right on cue, it started to rain... it was like the weather was reflecting my miserable mood. I felt sorry for myself and just wanted to sit there and sulk. Sulk away like I had never sulked before, so I focused really hard and put all my concentration into sulking. To be honest, I think I was doing rather well: I had the pout down pat, my brow was quite furrowed and I was angry how the whole world was against me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I have to say, the sulky look really suited me... but what was the point if there was no-one around to see you sulk and to take pity on you? I mean, sure I was feeling sorry for myself, but that wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

After five minutes I got bored of sulking... and there was still that speech to do. So I quit pouting, got up and sat at my desk and turned on my computer. Finally, after a while, the Googol site flickered to life on the screen. It wasn’t the best internet provider in the world, but it was the only one we had in Quockingpoll Flats. The creator, Archie Googol, invented the very first search engine but never patented any of his ideas and his garage operation was soon surpassed by the multi-billion dollar Silicon Valley high-tech corporations which used his technology. Not one to shy away from a bit of competition, Archie never gave up and kept his operation chugging along, using nothing more than a stack of motherboards, a couple of dozen 5¼ floppy drives and some rubber bands and lots of duct tape.

I was about to type in my topic but then I remembered that it was the computer that got me in trouble in the first place. Mum had blamed ME for not having done the stupid, boring, dumb speech − somehow it was all my fault! Can you believe that? Just because I partook in a little ‘rest and recreation’ to get away from the pressures of homework. Any kid out there, in the history of the universe, who has ever had parents, knows that there is only one adequate response to such injustice − to blame someone else of course!

Let me tell you, I was pretty good at shifting the blame. Just last week, Dad forced me to mow the lawn − apparently, we had this crazy strict rule in our house where you can’t get your allowance for the chores that you DON’T do. So there I was, mowing away in the blazing sun with a grumpy frown on my face when, out of the blue, I stubbed my toe on a stupid old rock. I started to hop around on one foot and bellow like grandpa at Christmas, after he had too much eggnog. And who did I blame? Well, I looked around and the nearest thing approaching a person was the garden gnome* who was just standing there like he didn’t have a care in the world.

To add insult to injury, he had a big fat grin on his smug face! I immediately attempted to kick the pudgy little fellow into the bushes, forgetting that the gnome was made out of concrete. I let out another bawling howl as I rolled around on the grass holding onto both of my feet... I now had two stubbed toes... one on each foot. Dad came running out and instead of pity, I got parental advice. “You need to be more careful! When you lose your toes, don’t come running to me!”

So, just as I was able to point the finger of blame at that smirking little gnome last week, I was able to conveniently blame the computer this week. I thumbed my nose at that glorified calculator and decided to do my work the old fashioned way... like in the Dark Ages. I grabbed a pencil, a sheet of paper and I started to scribble and before I knew it, the speech was writing itself:

Photosynthesis is made up of two words: ‘Photos’ and ‘Ynthesis’. It is very impotant to have photosynthesis becuase without it we would be flunged pitched into a world of darkness and scaryness. Trolls and Munsters would take over the Earth and we would be their there they’re slaves. But plants can save us with their weapons − they have madgic magick mamibranes, cool khlorofill, and terrific thighlakoids. That is why plants are our freinds.

I thought I had made a pretty good dent in