RETRO RODNEY



Retro Rodney in Bowel MovementParis glided past in her white Reebok Pumps, her wavy golden hair bouncing gently on the shoulders of her pink tee, her layered, orange, jelly-bean skirt fluttering in the breeze. I stared at her, wide mouthed, dumbstruck. She glanced in my direction, smirking.Then I smelt it! I’ve been crop dusted with a Silent but Deadly! ‘Eeeeeew!’ Things got worse when I felt a fly enter my mouth. I lurched forward, twisted and turned, held my nose and tried to cough up the intruder, all at the same time. All my classmates were laughing, some bent over, tears squirting from their eyes. Dougie raced over and started pounding me on the back. I spat the fly out after a few seconds that felt like an eternity. There it lay, on the floor, encased in my spit, buzzing. Yuk!Then Mrs. King appeared out of nowhere, yelling, ‘Rodneeeey!’ The laughing stopped. ‘That’s disgusting!’ she exclaimed. ‘Clean it up straight away, and sit down!’ Cheeks burning, I took a handful of tissues from the box, and wiped up the fly-and-spit gunk, and dropped the lot into the bin. As I walked back to my desk, I heard Paris whisper, ‘You’re disgusting, Rodney!’And that was how school began on the first day of Term 2. PI wasn’t the most popular kid in the place, but I was cool with that. I wore glasses, and I hated them because they kept sliding down my nose. I was the tallest in my class, skinny, and my hair was straight and brown. Whenever it got too long, my Dad would stick a bowl upside down on my head, cut the stray locks around the edges, and declare, ‘Perfect - and free of charge for you, boy!’ It wasn’t a trendy cut, but I didn’t care. Term 1 had been fantastic, and during it I’d made friends. And I mean real friends: Stu, Grace, Henry and Dougie. Stu was a chill legend, always up for anything, and always very calm. He had brown eyes, bright-red hair and freckles, and the kids often called him Blood Nut, Carrot Top or Blue. Even the teachers gave him nicknames. He didn’t care, though: Sticks and stones . . . Grace was a strong-minded science enthusiast, always questioning things. There had to be a logical solution for every problem. She had to wear glasses too, plaited her hair on both sides and always parted it exactly in the middle. RE was our most entertaining class, because Mrs King often ended up speechless and red faced during it whenever Grace asked, ‘Why should I believe in something I can’t see or measure, Mrs King? It doesn’t make any sense!’ Henry was one of six, and had many funny stories to tell. My favourite was the ‘bath time’ one. He and his brothers and sisters had had to line up for one bath, in order of age. Poor Henry had been the youngest, and water that’d turnedluke warm and yellowish-brown wasn’t sitting well with himOne night, at age five, he’d finally spat the dummy. His twin sisters had been in the bath just before him, and one of them had dropped a massive poop into it: one leg in . . . Plop! Their mum had told him she’d scooped it out intact and that the water was fine. Ever since, he’d been having the occasional sponge bath. His hair was usually greasy, and he smelt a bit, but we didn’t mind. Dougie was my best friend, and always had my back. He was very short, had a brown afro and was really smart. I reckoned he was the smartest of us all. He could build things. He once made an engine for my billy cart, transforming it into a go-kart. ‘I’ll time you,’ Stu said on the first day I climbed in. Grace and Henry gave me a push start. Dougie stood there, beaming with pride. Once the engine kicked in, boy, was it fast?! - so fast, in fact, that I missed taking a corner and drove straight into Mrs. Sheohmelian’s rose bushes. I was lucky, because being airborne, I flew right over them and landed on the grass, unhurt.The go-kart wasn’t so lucky, though: it went up in flames, along with Mrs. Sheohmelian’s red and white roses. Dougie ran over.The others stood about 200 metres away, in shock. I apologised to Dougie.He stood there in a daze, puffing and panting. ‘Oh: brakes,’ he announced; ‘I knew I forgot something.’ I ran to my place to tell Mum and Dad what’d happened.When I returned, the crime scene was surrounded by firefighters, police officers and angry parents. Smoke was rising from the extinguished fire. Mrs. Sheohmelian was sitting on her front steps, sniffing, wiping her eyes, and staring at her red and white roses that were now charcoaled black. Dougie managed to keep his cool as the questions kept being fired at him. He took the heat, not once mentioning the rest of us. My parents grounded me for a week, but even though Dad was angry, he was pretty impressed that at age 11, Dougie had made a working engine.PThe first day of Term 2, and everyone was talking about the new girl, Paris. Who’d name their kid a city? I thought to myself.Anyway, the word was she was pretty, and really cool. So what?! I told myself. There’s more to a person than her looks! That was until I saw her . . . and, well, we know what happened next - right?Anyway, afterwards, in the playground during recess, most of the other kids flocked to her and surrounded her so tightly I was surprised she could even breathe. They made a huge fuss of her, and all of them wanted her to join their group. My friends and I watched on, me sulking a bit, still embarrassed from my earlier performance. Then the massive group parted, and Paris started walking towards us. It was like the parting of the Red Sea we had learnt about in RE, Paris walking through the gap, just like Moses.‘This doesn’t make sense,’ Grace remarked.Paris continued walking towards us. I fixed my eyes on her, just like before. Her blue eyes sparkled in the sunshine. She came closer, holding her hands behind her back. I could faintly hear Dougie calling my name. Now she was at arm’s length, smirking. All very quickly, she brought her hands from behind; and threw literally nothing in my face; shouted, ‘CUPCAKE!’; and took off, her Reebok Pumps disappearing into the dust. Then I smelt it. ‘Eeeeeew! She cupcaked me!’ I pinched my nostrils and looked around for my friends, but they’d vanished. I could hear the accusation ‘You’re disgusting, Rodney!’ fading off into the distance. I couldn’t believe it: not again! Once the smell had gone, my friends re-grouped around me, all saying, ‘We tried to tell you, but you were dumbstruck – again!’Dougie, frowning, announced, ‘She’s targeted you! You need to fight back!’‘Right,’ I said, sucking in some fresh air, ‘but how?’‘Brussels sprouts and broccoli,’ Grace suggested.‘What?!’ we all gasped.‘Extra strength guaranteed,’ she explained: ‘perfect for this battle.’ PThe next day at school, Dougie asked, ‘Did you do it?’ I nodded. Then Stu confessed, ‘I thought you’d need back-up, so I ate some too.’‘I’m fully loaded,’ Grace put in.‘Armed and ready,’ Dougie chimed.‘Let’s kick some butt,’ Henry commanded.And, then Paris appeared – all smug and pretty, walking towards me in her white Reebok Pumps, her blue eyes sparkling, her wavy golden hair bouncing. She closed in. When she was arm’s length away, I let one rip. And so too did all my friends: RIIIIP! RIIIIP! RIIIIP! RIIIIP! RIIIIP!It was so impressive my eyes started watering. Paris, horrified, bolted, covering her nose and mouth. And then, from a distance, I heard her call out, ‘Respect!’PI was looking forward to Term 3 now, having made friends – and I mean real friends: Stu, Grace, Henry, Dougie and PARIS. ................
................

In order to avoid copyright disputes, this page is only a partial summary.

Google Online Preview   Download