Mr Gum and the Biscuit Billionaire (2 page)

Look! It's MASSIVE so I can impress people and get friends. It's MASSIVE.'

Polly looked up and there it stood, a-gleamin' and a-glitterin' in a blaze of floodlights.

‘Rimloff!' she exclaimed. ‘It's big enough for a king! Or two little kings. They could share it and play hide-an'-seek.'

‘But it's all mine!' laughed Alan Taylor. ‘I am so rich! I am so rich!' he sang, dancing around
in the grass and throwing banknotes at a passing aphid. ‘Do you like me, Polly? Do you want some money?'

‘I just told you,' said Polly firmly. ‘That's not what
friendship
is all about.'

‘Of course it is,' replied Alan Taylor with a frown. ‘But listen. Come round tomorrow afternoon, before the party starts. I'll show you my house and impress you THAT way instead.'

Well, the truth was, Polly did want to see inside that marvellous house. And she liked Alan
Taylor, even though he seemed a bit confused about money and
friendship
. So she thanked him graciously. Then she tried to curtsey but she didn't know how, so she just wiggled her arms around and shouted
‘CURTSEY!'
and hoped that would do.

‘Good try,' said Alan Taylor generously. ‘Well, I'd better get going. There's lots more people to invite and impress!'

And off he raced on his crunchy little legs,
leaving Polly too excited for words. So she said some numbers instead.

‘12! 93! 114!' she said as she made her way back home, and soon she was in bed, dreaming of gingerbread men and parties and all manner of wonderful things.

M
r Gum was standing in front of the cracked mirror in the lonely bedroom of his grimsters old house. Blow me down with an oil tanker, he was a horror. He hated children,
animals, fun and every cartoon ever made. What he liked was snoozing in bed all day. In fact, although it was eight o'clock in the evening Mr Gum had only just got up. For not only was he a horror, he was a lazer too.

So anyway. There he was in front of the mirror, getting ready to go out.

‘You're up early, you handsome devil,' he said to his reflection. ‘What do you fancy doin' today?'

‘I fancies bein' even more evil than usual,' replied his reflection with a nasty laugh.

‘Good idea, stupid,' said Mr Gum. ‘In that case, I better look me most frightful.'

He got a felt-tip pen and drew some extra scowls on his forehead.

Then he scruffed up his big red beard to make it as wild and frightening as possible. It wasn't quite
terrifying enough so he stuck a couple of beetles in it and a photo of a shark.

‘That should do it,' he growled. Then he sproinged downstairs, jumped on a skateboard he'd nicked off a six-year-old and headed into town.

On the high street, Martin Launderette was about to close up his launderette for the night when in came one last customer. It was Jonathan Ripples, the fattest man in town.

‘Martin, please be careful with these,' he said, handing over a bundle of clothes. ‘They're very delicate.'

‘No problem, Big J,' said Martin Launderette reassuringly. ‘I'll do them in cold water so they
don't shrink or anything.'

But as he was putting the clothes into the machine he noticed someone skateboarding badly along the high street, scowling as he went.

‘Look,' said Martin Launderette, ‘it's Mr Gum! And he's going into Billy William the Third's!'

‘Oh, dear,' said Jonathan Ripples nervously. ‘That can only mean trouble.'

While JR's head was turned, Martin Launderette secretly turned the washing machine up from COLD WASH to SUPER HOT
SHRINK WASH. Then he took out a red notebook and wrote:

 

That fatty Ripples thinks he's so clever but I'll have the last laugh! His clothes won't even fit ME after this!

 

Meanwhile Mr Gum had jumped off his skateboard. He smashed it to bits, pulled all the wheels off and left it lying on the pavement to show everyone he was the best.

‘I win again,' he smirked. Then he opened the door and went into Billy William the Third's Right Royal Meats.

Now Billy William was the most revolting butcher in England, and that's official.

A big greasy trophy stood in his shop window and here is what it said:

 

England's Most Revolting Butcher Trophy
Awarded to Billy William for the twentieth year running, in fact just keep the trophy forever – you always win, there's no point having the competition, you really are disgusting
.

So hardly anyone in town shopped there, even though it was the only butcher's around. Most people went to the next town to buy their meat or became vegetarian or only ate birdseed. But Mr Gum felt right at home there. Sometimes he wished the whole world could be exactly like Billy's: filled with entrails and slimy cow lips and rubbery old turkey necks. But he knew it would never happen. It was just a beautiful dream.

‘Mornin', me old suitcase,' said Billy William as Mr Gum wafted in. ‘Want some entrails?' he added, slurping up a load of bad meat off the counter with his grotty old tongue.

‘No time for that, Caterpillar Joe!' replied Mr Gum, which is what he sometimes called Billy when he was over-excited with evil.

‘You're over-excited with evil, ain'tcha?' said Billy. ‘I can always tell.'

‘It's true,' said Mr Gum, jumping up on the counter and dancing around in a bucket of pig's brains. ‘I fancies doin' some terrible bad deeds today an' no mistake!'

‘I know what'd be funty,' said Billy William, scratching his chin with a long unwashed finger. (He always pronounced the word ‘funny' in this way. Pronouncing words strangely was one of his hobbies, like collecting phlegm or trying to see up ladies' skirts.) ‘We could break a skateboard,' he suggested.

‘Nah, I already done that,' said Mr Gum impatiently.

‘OK,' said Billy William. ‘How about we stand out on the street an' step on butterflies?'

‘It just ain't evil enough, Billy!' said Mr Gum, kicking a cow's eyeball across the shop in frustration. ‘What we gonna do?'

Just then the door opened and in came Alan Taylor. He'd been all over town, inviting people to his party and giving out money (or ‘making
friends', as he called it). Unfortunately no one had warned him about Billy William's, otherwise he'd have kept well away. And as soon as he opened the door and slipped on an eyeball he knew he'd made a biffer of a mistake. But Alan Taylor was a gentleman born and bread, and he remembered his manners as best he could.