Authors: Duncan Ball
When Sergeant Short and Constable Long pulled up in their police car there were Willy and Billy, standing outside the SAA crying their eyes out.
‘Goodness me,’ Sergeant Short said. ‘What have we here?’
‘They appear to be Aunt Jetty’s sons Willy and Billy,’ Constable Long said. ‘They’re all wet and filthy and they seem to have misplaced their clothes. You don’t suppose they were trying to damage Dr Trifle’s new toilet, do you, Sergeant?’
‘Well if they were,’ the sergeant said. ‘I’m sure they’ll never try it again.’
‘We won’t do it again, honest!’ Willy cried.
‘I see,’ Constable Long said. ‘Well, I guess we’d better give them a lift home and tell their mother.’
‘Hold on a tick. Do you smell what I smell?’ Sergeant Short asked.
Constable Long stepped closer to the boys and then pulled back, quickly, holding his nose.
‘If I’m not mistaken,’ the constable said. ‘These boys are covered in … well in … you-know-what.’
‘Yes, and I think I smell what-do-you-call-ems too.
‘Do you really want our nice new police car to smell like you-know-what and what-do-you-call-'ems?’ the constable said.
‘No, I don’t think I do, Constable. Goodness me, look at the time! We’d better get back to the police station.’
Selby watched as the policemen walked back towards their car, laughing as they went.
‘You have to take us home!’ Willy screamed.
‘You can’t make us walk home in the nuddy!’ Billy screamed too.
‘Did you hear something?’ Constable Long said.
‘No, I didn’t hear anything,’ Sergeant Short said as they drove away.
Selby rubbed his paws together and giggled with delight as the police drove away and Willy and Billy started their embarrassing walk home.
‘Thanks to Dr Trifle’s invention, Willy and Billy just got the biggest surprise of their lives. And when they get home I think Aunt Jetty is going to get a nice surprise too!’ Selby thought. ‘Oh, joy, oh, joy. Isn’t life wonderful?’
Oh, Willy Willy Willy-woo
Forgive me for not liking you.
It isn’t nice; I know it’s silly,
But I don’t care for you – or Billy.
Sometimes I have an awful thought,
And wonder if I would be caught
If I should reach right down your snout
And pull your insides inside out.
I’d give you a karate chop
Just to see your eyeballs pop.
And then (and this is really mean)
I’d use you as a trampoline.
Oh, Willy Willy Willy-woo
Forgive me for not liking you.
I know it isn’t nice to hate
But in your case it feels just great.
‘I’m going to have to cancel the Farmers’ Fancy Dress Charity Ball,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘But why?’ Dr Trifle asked. ‘Bogusville needs the money that the Charity Ball raises.’
‘The farmers are all very generous but we end up paying more to put the hall back in order than we get in donations.’
‘Are you saying that the farmers trash the place?’
‘Of course not. Not on purpose, at least. The problem is that some of them drive great distances on dirt roads and by the time they get here they’re covered in dust.’
‘So what does a little dust matter?’
‘It all ends up on the dance floor. By the time they finish dancing the floor is so scuffed
and scratched that we have to have it polished and painted again. That costs more than the money we collect. What good is a charity ball when there’s no money left for charity?’
‘We could ask them to change into clean clothes and shoes before they go into the hall,’ Dr Trifle suggested.
‘That’s ridiculous. We’d have to provide dressing rooms. The next thing you’re going to say is that we should dip them.’
‘Dip them?’
‘The way farmers push sheep and cattle into water that’s filled with chemicals. That would get all the dirt and dust off them,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m just kidding.’
‘Kidding? No, I think you’re absolutely right.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly. Can you imagine all those people letting someone chuck them into a tankful of water before they were allowed into the hall? They simply wouldn’t have it.’
‘I’m not so sure. Just let me think about this for a while,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Hmmm. I think I still have some of the bits and pieces from that old car wash.’
‘It wouldn’t work because they’d all be
dripping wet and that wouldn’t be good for the dance floor either,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Besides, the Charity Ball is only a week away. I think we’ll have to cancel.’
‘Trust me, I’m an inventor,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I’ll have an answer before the week is out.’
‘Dr Trifle is a brilliant inventor,’ Selby thought, ‘but some how I think this is all going to go terribly wrong.’
For the next week Selby watched as Dr Trifle worked on his new invention, this time in the backyard.
‘This is the longest invention that Dr Trifle has ever invented!’ Selby thought. ‘It stretches all the way from the back door to the fence. I’ve never seen so many levers, knobs and dials in my life.’
Finally the invention was complete and Dr Trifle stood in his best suit and tie next to the strange machine.
‘I call it my Peep-Dipper,’ he announced.
‘Your what?’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘Well it’s like a
sheep
dipper only it’s for
people
so I could call it a People-Dipper. But I like just plain Peep-Dipper,’ Dr Trifle explained.
‘How does it work?’
‘Pretend that I’ve just driven fifty kilometres over dusty roads and I’m covered in dirt.’
‘You look perfectly clean to me,’ said Mrs Trifle.
‘We’ll soon change that,’ the doctor said, tipping a bucket of dirt over himself. ‘Is that better? Okay, here we go. First I’ll throw this switch.’
‘My goodness, that’s incredibly noisy,’ Mrs Trifle said, putting her fingers in her ears.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I SAID IT’S VERY NOISY!’
‘WHAT?!’
‘NEVER MIND!’
Selby and Mrs Trifle watched as Dr Trifle stepped onto the conveyor belt and was thrown headfirst into a trough of water. When he came out, he was squeezed between ten huge soft wheels covered in bath towels. After that he was blasted with hot air.
‘Ta-da!’ he cried, stepping out of the Peep-Dipper perfectly clean and dry but with his hair pointing every which way. ‘May I have the
pleasure of this dance, madam?’ he said, putting out his hand.
‘That’s amazing!’ Selby thought. ‘I was wrong. It actually worked!’
‘That’s brilliant!’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘But where does the dirty water come out?’
‘It doesn’t. This machine is very environmentally friendly. It recycles the water back into the same tank so it gets used over and over again.’
‘So all the dirt stays in the water,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘By the time a hundred people have gone through there they’ll be having mud baths.’
‘She’s got a point,’ Selby thought.
‘I’ve thought of that,’ Dr Trifle said pulling out a tray marked DIRT. ‘The Peep-Dipper filters the water and the dirt all ends up in the dirt tray. Good, hey.’
‘Your invention is marvellous,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘And we won’t have to cancel the Farmer’s Fancy Dress Charity Ball after all.’
Later that day, when the Trifles were out, Selby just had to try out the marvellous machine. So he turned it on, and jumped on the conveyor belt.
‘This is as much fun as a water slide!’ Selby cried as he was catapulted into the water and then dragged through the drying rollers. ‘But hang on, I’m not getting squozen dry. The rollers are too far apart for a little dog like me. I’ll have to squeeze them in.’
Selby came out dripping wet, ran around to the side of the machine, and began twiddling dials and pulling on all the levers to adjust the rollers.
‘That should do it,’ he thought. ‘Now I’ll turn up the air so that my fur gets perfectly dry.’
After two more goes and more twiddling and levering Selby came out sparkling clean and perfectly dry.
‘Perfect,’ Selby thought. ‘If the whole world was run by people like Dr Trifle it would be a wonderful place. Come to think of it, it’s not so bad the way it is.’
The next morning the Peep-Dipper was loaded on a council truck and unloaded at the front door of Bogusville Town Hall.
That night, as the guests arrived for the Charity Ball in their fancy dress, a dusty and
sweaty Mrs Trifle explained about the problems with the dance floor and showed them the Peep-Dipper.
At first they were quiet and then a woman yelled out, ‘Come on, you pikers, after me!’
Dr Trifle turned on the machine and one by one the farmers lined up and went through it into the hall. Just to be good sports, Dr and Mrs Trifle went through last. Suddenly the machine was turned off and there was total silence.
‘I wonder if it worked?’ Selby thought. ‘Why is everyone so quiet? I have a feeling that something’s gone dreadfully wrong.’
Selby ran around the machine and into the hall only to be greeted by the strangest sight he’d ever seen: there in the hall were Dr and Mrs Trifle and a hundred and fifty others standing silently in nothing but their underwear.
‘I-I don’t know how this could have happened,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘The rollers were much too tight. They weren’t supposed to pull our clothes off.’
‘Oh, no!’ Selby screamed in his brain. ‘I forgot to un-twiddle the diddles and un-lever the levers! The rollers were too tight and the air was too blasty! It’s pulled off everyone’s shoes and clothes! Oh, woe, it’s all my fault and now everyone’s going to blame Dr Trifle!’
‘I am terribly terribly sorry,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘My husband’s inventions don’t always work perfectly but—’
Suddenly there was a burst of applause.
‘This is brilliant!’ someone cried. ‘I feel so fresh and cool and clean. And who needs all those hot clothes on a warm night like this?!’
‘And our feet can’t scratch the dance floor!’ someone yelled as the music began. ‘Because we don’t even have our shoes on.’
‘Well it’s not exactly the way I’d planned it,’ Dr Trifle said with a blush. ‘But it seems to have solved the scratched floor problem.’
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Mrs Trifle said with a laugh. ‘We’ll just rename it the Farmers’
Casual
Dress Charity Ball. May I have the pleasure of this dance?’
‘Certainly,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘And I’ll bet that this year,’ Selby thought as he peeked into the DIRT box at the piles of shoes, clothing and lots and lots of loose money from people’s pockets, ‘the Charity Ball raises more money than ever before!’
‘These child-proof medicine bottles are getting harder and harder to open,’ Mrs Trifle said, struggling with the top of an aspirin bottle. ‘This one’s not just
child
-proof, it’s absolutely
adult-proof
.’
‘The problem is that little kids are getting smarter and smarter and medicine bottle makers have to come up with trickier and trickier tops to keep ahead of them,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘Come to think of it, you invented a better medicine bottle top not long ago.’
‘Yes. The Tricky Twist Medicine Bottle Company asked me to come up with a new one. I invented a whole new system based on a
different principle. It’s a real doozey, if I do say so myself. Almost no one could get the tops off. And Tricky Twist loved it!’ Dr Trifle said proudly.
‘Oh, I give up. This silly bottle top is making my headache worse,’ Mrs Trifle said putting it back in the medicine cabinet. ‘Goodness me! We have to be at Aunt Jetty’s garden party straight away. You’d better change those grubby clothes and get into some respectable ones.’
Selby sneezed three sneezes as the Trifles drove away. He had a heavy cold and he felt terrible. His throat was sore, he had a fever, and he’d sneezed his way through a whole box of tissues.
‘I hate being sick,’ he thought. ‘When Dr Trifle is sick he gets to lie around and Mrs Trifle brings him lots of hot drinks and goodies to eat. Nobody ever does that for me. I just have to suffer. It’s not fair.’
Selby sneezed his way through the last of the tissues and then looked in the medicine cabinet.
‘Now where’s some medicine to stop my nose from running? Crumbs, there’s nothing here,’ Selby thought. ‘I know, I’ll ring the
chemist shop and see if I can get them to bring some runny nose medicine.’
Selby picked up the telephone and dialled.
‘I’ll pretend I’m Mrs Trifle,’ he thought. ‘With a cold like this I won’t even have to imitate her voice because everyone sounds weird when they have a cold.’
‘Hello, Kline and Vine Pharmacy, Barry Kline speaking,’ the voice said. ‘How may I help you?’
Selby cleared his throat and then said, ‘This is Mrs Trifle,’ only it came out sounding more like ‘Dizziz bizziz Trifle.’
‘I beg your pardon? Oh, Mrs Trifle! What a strange voice you have.’
‘Bardon be but I hab a bizerable code.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I bill.’
‘You bill? I’m sorry but I don’t quite understand. Did you say that you
bill?
You don’t bill us — we bill you.’
‘I said, “Ibe … ill".’
‘Oh,
I’m ill.
I mean, you’re ill. Oh, sorry to hear it, Mrs Trifle. What can we do for you?’
‘I deed sub bedicine.’
‘You … deed … sub … bedicine,’ the man repeated very slowly. ‘If it’s
deeds
you want you should be ringing an estate agent, not a chemist.’
‘Dough.’
‘Did you say, “dough"?’
‘Dough — I mean yes.’
‘We don’t have dough here, Mrs Trifle. Have you thought of ringing the bakery? Or if it’s a sub you’re after you could ring the navy,’ the chemist added with a giggle. ‘Oh, sorry, that was a terrible joke.’
Selby could feel himself getting hotter and hotter as he struggled to make himself understood. He spoke as slowly and clearly as he could.
‘I said, I … deed … sub … bedicine.’
‘You’re sick in bed, is that it?’
‘Dough. I … deed … sub … bills.’
‘You’re still ill, is that it? Well, you can’t expect to get better in a minute.’
‘You don’t understab —
I deed bills!’
‘Bills.’
‘Diddle dings do put in by bouth.’
‘"Diddle dings do put in by bouth.” Hmmm,’ the chemist said.
‘Bills! Bills!’
‘Oh,
pills!
Why didn’t you say so? What sort of pills do you want?’
‘He understands me at last!’ Selby thought. ‘Now let’s see if he can understand this:
I deed somedink do keeb by doze frub ruddick.
‘
‘Now you’ve really lost me, Mrs Trifle.’
‘I hab a ruddy doze!’
‘Ruddy toes? Let’s see now, ruddy — that means red, doesn’t it? Red toes. I know, you’ve got athlete’s foot! We can give you some powder for that.’
‘Dough! — I bead, degative. Ibe got a code in da doze.’
‘Code? I’m not a spy, I’m a chemist,’ Mr Kline chuckled. ‘Or do you want to doze? Maybe you need some sleeping pills. You’ll need a prescription for those, I’m afraid.’
‘You don’t understab be,’ Selby said with a sneeze.
‘Someone stabbed you?’
‘I hab a code in da doze!
‘ Selby squealed.
‘I know! You’ve got a cold in the nose and you want some pills for it, is that it?’
‘Spot od.’
‘Good. A bedicine company — I mean a
medicine
company — just sent me a sample of a new, super good runny nose medicine. You can be the first to try it. It’s called
Super Snot Stop.
Not the prettiest name in the world but I guess it tells you what it does. There are two pills in the bottle. Just take one and your nose will stop running immediately. The pills are very strong. Anyway, don’t bother getting out of bed, I’ll swing by and drop the bottle in your letterbox.’
‘Dank kew. You’re berry kide.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I said, “You’re berry kide,"’ Selby repeated.
‘Yes, that’s my name, Barry Kline. Did you want something else?’
‘Debbor bide.’
‘Deborah Vine is my partner. Do you want to speak to her?’
‘Dope.’
‘Well, you could at least be polite about it. Just because I couldn’t understand you doesn’t mean I’m a dope. Goodness me, Mrs Trifle. Oh, well, I guess we all get a bit cranky when we’re sick. I’ll drop the pills around straight away.’
‘Dank you.’
Click.
‘Poor Mr Kline,’ Selby thought. ‘I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings.’
Fifteen sneezes later Selby watched as the chemist dropped the bottle of pills in the letterbox and then drove away. In a second, Selby had snatched the
Super Snot Stop
bottle and brought it into the house.
‘Thank goodness,’ he thought. ‘Now to get the top off this thing.’
Selby struggled with it for a minute without success.
‘This must be another one of those child-proof thingies,’ he thought. ‘Maybe you have to push it down and then turn it.’
Selby pushed and turned and pulled and turned and even tried to slide it to the side but the bottle wouldn’t open.
‘This is driving me bonkers!’ Selby thought. ‘This isn’t only child-proof and people-proof, it’s even
pet
-proof! I’d ring Barry Kline again and ask him how to open it but it’s no good — he’d never understand me.’
Selby threw the bottle on the hard kitchen floor only to have it bounce back up. He threw it again even harder and it bounced around the walls until it hit him on the head and dropped to the floor.
‘Youch! I’ll fix you!’ Selby said with a sneeze. ‘Where’s Dr Trifle’s big rock-smashing hammer?’
But before Selby could even think to blink he heard two big sneezes — and neither of them was his. He spun around to see Dr and Mrs Trifle coming through the door.
‘No wonder I had a headache,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It was a cold coming on. Now I’m —
ah-choo!
— all sneezy.’
‘Me —
choo!
— too,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘But look!’ Mrs Trifle exclaimed, picking up the medicine bottle. ‘It’s that new
Super Snot Stop
that’s had all the ads on TV. Where did it come from?’
‘I have no idea. I don’t remember buying it.’
‘You don’t remember lots of things, dear. But never mind, let’s see if it works as well as it’s supposed to.’
‘You’ll never find out because you’ll never
get the lid off,’ Selby thought as he watched Mrs Trifle struggling with the bottle top.
‘Here, let me try,’ Dr Trifle said, taking the bottle and opening it easily.
‘Crumbs,’ Selby thought. ‘How’d he do that?’
‘How’d you do that?’ Mrs Trifle asked.
‘First I pressed down, then I turned it one turn in the wrong direction, and then I pulled up and pushed it to the side. Nothing to it,’ Dr Trifle said, popping a pill into his mouth and handing the other to Mrs Trifle.
‘But how on earth did you know to do that?’
‘Simple: the bottle top is based on my new system — the one I came up with for the Tricky Twist Medicine Bottle Company,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Hmmm, this
Super Snot Stop
is great. I can feel my sniffles disappearing already.’
‘So can I,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘But tell me, how is anyone else supposed to figure out how to get the top off the bottle?’
‘Well you know how I said that little kids were getting smarter and smarter?’ Dr Trifle asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Well they still can’t read,’ Dr Trifle explained. ‘And the directions about how to take the bottle top off are written on the label. Nothing to it.’
‘Goodness me,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘You’re right. It’s all written right here. I guess I would have noticed it sooner or later.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Selby thought as he sneezed another sneeze and crept away to lie down. ‘The one thing I could have done — read the label — I didn’t do. I give up.’