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

“Me thinks that yer barking up the wrong tree boy, like some mad dog that’s got them rabies.”

“Bud on closer insbection, the door had been smashed from the inside and you hab keys to all the doors on the schgool grounds, don’d you Red?”

“Now yer just graspin’ at straws yer cockamamie jackrabbit!”

“Den dere’s the issue of the baint flakes!”

“Paint flakes? What in tarnation are yer on about boy?”

“The baint flakes which you had in your hair the day after the burglary. I noticed dem floating down when you sgratched your head as you were offering to gib us a good thwacking with dat rake.”

“That there is codswallop! Me thinks that yer chimney’s clogged boy!”

“Yes, yes,” stated the principal. “I remember that as well but I just thought that you had got a bad case of the dandruffs.”

“Well Red, what aboud that beculiar smell on the day of the burglary?” I asked.

“Smell? Well I’ll be fangdangled! Now yer goin’ on about me sanitations?”

“Yes, that’s going a bit far there Howard,” interjected Mr Ditherington.

“No I didn’t mean it dat way. Coming from the brincibal’s office, from where the drophy was stolen, there was a disdinct smell of rodden eggs with a slight hint of garlic.”

“Hmm... yes,” nodded Mr Ditherington. “I do recall an unpleasant smell now that you mention it”

“Well it ain’t me... I don’t eats no eggs or garlics for me lunch!” protested Red.

“Dat may well be the case bud you were using a sulphur and phosphade based ferdiliser which you garried around in your hessian bag and were springling on the lawn the day before the burglary.”

The crowd started to murmur loudly and a few individuals were starting to point their accusatory fingers at the groundskeeper.

“I’ve just gots one thing to say,” hissed Red, “now listen and listen good. Yer all are a bunch of lousy, yella, stinkin’ varments and yer fancy airs don’t amount to a sack of beans!” On that note, he made a run for it by bulldozing through the crowd and, in the process, he knocked over a few toddlers and a pregnant mum while screaming, “Yer’ll never gets me alive!”

Luckily, Red didn’t get very far. His escape was short-lived as he made an immediate return back to the very spot from which he had tried to spring to freedom. Under each arm a pair of hands held onto him firmly as he was pushed back to the front area of the stage. And who were these two heroic individuals who had come to the rescue? Well, none other than the two policemen who were assigned to investigate the burglary in the first place.

“Well Roger, lucky that we just happened to come by the Great Quiz competition today,” stated the tall policeman as he tweaked his handlebar moustache.

“Oh lucky indeed Laurie,” replied the small and rotund policeman.

“Lets me go!” cried Red. “Yer is treating me like I was some flea-bitten, hobnailed yokel!”

“Redmond Herring!” interjected the principal. “We have always treated you like family!”

“Redmond Herring? Your name is Red Herring?” I proclaimed.

“Yeah! That’s right turducken! What’s it to yer?”

“Okay that’s enough now!” exclaimed the tall policeman. “Cuff him Roger!”

“Red Herring I am placing you under arrest,” stated the short policeman as he put the handcuffs around Red’s wrists. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney.”

“If you cannot afford an attorney,” interjected the tall policeman, “one will be provided for you, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“Oh! I gots somethin’ to say alrights!” cried Red. “Yer all has slurred me and pay me nickels and dimes for me job. Yer all has snickered behind me back, made fun of me hump, tarnished me reputation... and why? ’Cause me is a hunchback. Doesn’t a hunchback have eyes? Doesn’t a hunchback have hands, feet and dreams? Doesn’t a hunchback eat the same corn dogs, get thwacked with the same stick, get unwell with the same disease, get better with the same linctus, and feel sweaty in summer and freezin’ in winter just like all of youse fancy folk? If yer prick us, do we not bleed? If yer tickle us, do we not guffaw? If yer poison us, do we not go belly up? And if yer wrong us, shall I not haves me revenge?”

“Wronged you Red?” pleaded Mr Ditherington. “Who ever wronged you?”

“Who wrongst me? Yer dare to ask who wrongst me?” hollered Red as his face became even more animated. “Yer stole me trophy from me! My great-great-grandpa, Seamus O’Penny, was trickst into giving that trophy away... that was our family legacy. It brought luck and fortune to ma kinfolk but after we was swindled, nothing has gone right and we been penniless and dirt poor ever since and that was whys I tooks the orphanage money as well. I curse yer! All of yer!”

“Seamus O’Penny was your ancestor?” asked the principal in utter surprise.

“Yeah! That’s what I just saids ain’t it? Have yer got sand in yer ears yer fernackled galoot?”

“Okay that’ll be enough. Let’s go Mr Red Herring*,” instructed the tall policeman as he started to lead him through the crowd.

“I guess we have figured out the whodunit after all Laurie,” added the short policeman.

“Sure did Roger... looks like we can throw the book at him!”

“Whats yer mean? I’ve tolds yer me reasons. Thems are dandy reasons! I demands a pardon!” yelled Red.

“Tell it to the judge!” exclaimed the tall policeman as they dragged the groundskeeper away. The crowd responded with boisterous cheers and a round of applause.

Barney and I remained on the stage trying to absorb the events which had just transpired. It was almost too much to take in and didn’t seem real at all... it was like some bizarre pantomime within some strange movie within a crazy dream.

“Well then!” said Mr Ditherington as he broke the silence. “To be certain, you have had a most spectacular day Mr Howard Sootfell.