The Bare Bum Gang Battles the Dogsnatchers

Contents

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1: A Rubbish Present

Chapter 2: Rude Words

Chapter 3: Some New Traps, etc., etc.

Chapter 4: Gang Dog, or not Gang Dog? That is the Question

Chapter 5: The Treasure Hunt

Chapter 6: A Gruesome Discovery

Chapter 7: Funeral Rites

Chapter 8: The Mystery Deepens

Chapter 9: Malcolm (My Teddy)

Chapter 10: The New Suspect

Chapter 11: Ray Quasar

Chapter 12: Brainstorming

Chapter 13: The Hunt Begins

Chapter 14: The Hunt Continues

Chapter 15: The Rescue

Chapter 16: The Catch

Chapter 17: Grounded

Copyright

About the Book

Ludo, Noah, Jamie, Phillip and Jennifer are
THE BARE BUM GANG
! They have an embarrassing name but a cool Gang Den, so things could be worse.

The newest member of the gang is Rude Word, the world's ugliest dog – and he's causing trouble. He's throwing up strange furry body parts . . . and Mrs Cake's dog Trixie is missing! Ludo and the gang have to turn detective and get to the bottom of this gross mystery. But when other pets disappear, they realize the mystery is bigger than they'd thought.

Can they get Rude Word off the hook?

 

 

 

To the BBG originals:
Graham Doran, Simon Morley
and Niall McGowan

Thanks also to Dylan and Declan
for lending Ray Quasar

No snakes were injured in the
writing of this book

I COULD TELL
Dad was excited about something. His face was shining like a light bulb.

‘I've got something for you, Ludo,' he said, looking at me and grinning.

I was with Mum in the kitchen. My baby sister, Ivy, was sitting in her high chair, making baby noises. She'd just learned how to make a raspberry sound, and that was her favourite. It went ‘
Ppprrrrraaaaaaaaapppppssssssst
' and she was very proud of it. It was quite similar to the sound of her filling up her nappy, but not as soft and squelchy, or as smelly.

Dad was late and we'd finished dinner. It was fishcakes, peas and chips. Dad's dinner was on a plate in the oven, and it was all brown and shrivelled up, like it had been zapped by an alien death ray. Mum always burned Dad's dinner when he was late. I think she did it on purpose as a way of helping him to remember to get home early.

‘A present?' I asked.

‘Yes, sort of. It's just what you've always wanted.'

Mmmmm . . . There were lots of things I'd always wanted. A radio-controlled model helicopter, a Swiss Army knife, a crossbow, an air rifle, my own canoe, a robot that tidied my bedroom and did my homework and conquered my enemies using mind control. Any of those would have been good.

‘What is it, Jim?' asked Mum. She didn't look like she thought it was going to be good. She looked like she thought it was going to be a disaster. Strange how mums always know these things.

‘It's in the car. I'll go and get it.' Then Dad went out again.

Mum looked at me and shook her head.

The next bit of Dad I saw was his backside. He'd pushed the door open with it, and was trying to drag in something heavy attached to a rope. The thing he was pulling made a noise that sounded a bit like ‘
Grrrrrlllllaaaahrachshtrsshh
'.

 

It wasn't the sort of sound you wanted to hear, except maybe in a film where you like being scared. If I had to say what it sounded
like, I'd say it sounded like a monster. A monster eating another monster.

Ivy said, ‘
Ppprrrrraaaaaaaaapppppsssssst
,' which I think was her way of talking to the monster. In baby language it probably meant something like, ‘I am the Leader of planet Earth. If you come in peace we will offer you the hand of friendship. But if it is war you seek, then planet Earth has powerful weapons and we will destroy you.'

Dad finally managed to pull the thing into the kitchen, and for a second I thought I was right. About the monster, I mean.

Mum screamed.

Ivy stopped going, ‘
Ppprrrrraaaaaaaaapppppssssssst
,' and started crying. Fine Leader of planet Earth
she
turned out to be.

‘What is it?' shouted Mum.

‘He's very friendly,' said Dad.

‘Get it out of my kitchen!'

Dad didn't seem to hear. ‘Had a bit of trouble with the old fellow. He didn't like being left in the car, and he . . . er . . . ate the gearstick. And part of the steering wheel. And . . . um . . . some of the seat. Quite a lot of the seat, actually.'

The thing he'd dragged into the kitchen wasn't a monster.

It was a dog.

The ugliest dog I'd ever seen. He had a short body, about the size of a microwave oven, and an enormous head as big as a toaster, and he had droopy, slobbering lips and only one and a half ears. His fur was black with brown splodges, and he had shiny pink gums.

This is my best drawing of him.

 

‘Do you like him, Ludo?' Dad asked.

I quickly thought again about all the things I wanted, meaning the helicopter, etc., etc., and then I saw Dad's face, how excited he was, how much he wanted me to like him.

‘Yeah, he's OK,' I said. ‘What kind of dog is he anyway?'

‘The man in the pub said he's a pedigree flugel hound.'

‘There's no such thing,' said Mum.

‘What's he called?' I asked, trying to stop the argument in its tracks.

‘His name? Ah, well, there's a slight problem there. The man who gave him to me said he was called . . . well, it was a rude word.'

‘What sort of rude word?' said Mum, sounding cross.

‘Really quite rude.'

Dad mouthed something at Mum so I couldn't hear it. Then he said to me, ‘We'll have to think of a new name for him.'

‘No we won't,' said Mum, ‘because he's not staying.'

‘But I paid fifteen pounds for him!'

‘You paid how much?' yelled Mum. ‘He should have paid you!'

And then there was no stopping the argument. In the end, after all the shouting, it was decided that I could keep him for a month on trial, but that I had to pay for part of his food out of my pocket money. And I had to take him for a walk twice a day, which was all a bit unfair as I didn't even want him in the first place. And if he ate any more of the car or any part of the house then Mum would take him straight round to the vet's to be put to sleep.

The dog ate Dad's burned dinner and Dad had some cornflakes.

AFTER THE DOG
had finished Dad's fish cakes, chips and peas, Mum said I had to take him for his first walk. I called the rest of the Bare Bum Gang before I set off, but the only one who was allowed to come out to play was Noah, and he didn't want to because he was scared of dogs. So I went by myself to the field near the park, where you are allowed to walk your dog as long as you bring a bag for the you-know-what.

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