The Day Our Teacher Went Mad and Other Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls (5 page)

‘What went wrong?’ they asked. ‘We lost control. And you’re back so soon.’

‘You’ll never believe it,’ said Jeffrey, ‘but I accidentally pushed a button which made me go even faster! And I suddenly discovered the strangest of places. You’ll think I’m mad, but everything was back-to-front! There were people who looked the same as us but, somehow, it was as if I was looking at them through a mirror. As if they were a reflection. And instead of having wars, they shared their land. And lollies tasted awful and vegetables tasted great. And North Melbourne was on top of the ladder and lending money to West Coast because they knew what it was like to struggle and —’

‘Stop!’ they shouted. ‘You’ve proved it! The anti-world is real. This is the most important discovery in history!’

‘Oh, really,’ said Jeffrey. ‘You’ll be wanting more, then?’

‘Absolutely,’ said the men. ‘Of course!’

‘Well, it’s going to cost you,’ said Jeffrey. ‘A million bucks.’

Cheering crowds had gathered to honour his brave journey. And as Jeffrey turned to wave to them, he saw a man and woman running to meet him.

It was his mum and dad, and his mum was crying out, ‘My baby! We thought we’d lost you.’

‘No worries, Mum,’ said Jeffrey. ‘Piece of cake.’

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ asked his dad.

‘Me?’ said Jeffrey. ‘I feel a million dollars.’

Jeffrey
did
get his million dollars. Mind you, he told some terrible lies to get it. Which shouldn’t have worried the government men too much. I’d be surprised if they could remember what telling the truth meant.

When Jasmine Downes’ parents said she could have a birthday sleepover with four of her best friends, Jasmine began immediately to make a list of the naughtiest, funniest, most disgusting girls she could think of.

‘Only good girls,’ warned her mum.

‘Yes, Mummy,’ said Jasmine.

Top of the list was Tanya Price. Tanya would have to be the loudest girl on the planet. Loud and funny and a teller of the rudest jokes. Once, on a school excursion, the driver threatened to throw her off the bus if she didn’t keep her foul mouth shut. And he did.

Next was Polly ‘Garbage Guts’ Graham. Polly’s job in life, it seemed, was to eat more than is humanly possible. Every day, for the rest of her life. If Polly didn’t have food in her mouth, it was time to check her pulse.

Next came Prue ‘Fluffer’ Fairlea. Now, I know some people think that girls don’t pass wind, but those of us who knew Fluffer would beg to differ. Especially coming off a roast leg of lamb the night before.
Phew!

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, came Margaret Morris, the naughtiest, funniest, best-liked kid in school. You see, Margaret just couldn’t resist playing terrible jokes on people. Some of which went awfully wrong. But it didn’t stop her. She’d get into trouble, of course, but as Margaret always said, ‘What is life if you can’t have a laugh?’

And so it was that Jasmine plus four complete and utter ratbags settled into her bedroom for the sleepover of the century.

‘Do you know what?’ said Jasmine. ‘I’m always such a goody-goody, but tonight’s my birthday! How about we try to be naughtier than we’ve ever been?’

‘Yes!’ screamed the other girls.

‘Good night,’ called Jasmine’s mother. ‘We’re going to bed. Remember — be good, lights out at ten and no talking after ten-thirty. Your father’s got Sunday bowls in the morning.’

Ten-thirty!
thought Jasmine.
That’s when the party begins.

Fluffer was the first. ‘Come with me,’ she whispered. She led the girls down the darkened hall, ever so gently opened the door to Jasmine’s parents’ room and quietly did one of the foulest smells imaginable.

Then the girls waited.

‘Harry!’ they heard Jasmine’s mother gasp. ‘I do believe you’ve forgotten to go to the toilet.’

Well, the girls thought their stomachs would burst. With their hands over their mouths, they scampered back to the bedroom and shrieked with laughter. And when they heard poor Jasmine’s father heading to the toilet, they fell about again.

Next was Polly, who decided she just had to eat. The eight chocolate bars, five bags of chips and three cans of drink she’d brought to the party had gone nowhere.

‘What’s in the fridge?’ asked Polly.

‘Let’s have a look,’ replied Jasmine.

So, again being as quiet as mice, they tiptoed to the kitchen.

‘Let me see,’ said Jasmine. ‘There’s my birthday cake for tomorrow.’

‘That’ll do for starters,’ said Polly. ‘But I feel like making something as well. Maybe a mixture of all my favourites.’

Using a huge pot, Polly mixed jam, baked beans, lemonade, cheese, biscuits, chocolate, ice-cream and peanut butter.

‘Better not give any of this to you, Fluffer,’ said Polly. ‘You’ll blow us all up!’

Next, Polly put the whole sticky mess into the microwave and set it on high. When the door almost blew off its hinges, Polly guessed it might be ready. And do you know what? She ate the lot. All by herself. Although not sharing with the others was never going to be a problem.
It looked like
a bowl of dog sick.

Of course, all this fun was making Tanya very excited and her voice quickly grew louder and louder. ‘Hey, everybody!’ yelled Tanya. ‘What’s the difference between my brother’s pimples and orange juice? Nothing.
They’re both squeezed fresh daily.’

‘Yuck!’ they all shouted.

‘And what about this one,’ yelled Tanya. ‘What’s got a huge bum and …’

But Tanya had to stop there, because standing at the kitchen door, looking angry to the max, was Jasmine’s mother.

‘I have never been so disgusted, so disappointed in all my life,’ she barked. ‘I said good girls could stay, not common little street-types like you. You girls are never to come to this house again. Do you hear?
Never.
I refuse to let my daughter get dragged down by good-for-nothing muck. Now, get out of my sight. You’re all going home — if you’ve got homes to go to — first thing in the morning.’

Jasmine was so embarrassed she cried. Yes, they had been naughty. Very naughty. But there was no need for her mum to be so cruel to her friends. Jasmine hated it when her mother spoke like that. About people being ‘common’ and ‘street-types’. As if some people are actually better than others. Born better.

It’s just so stupid,
thought Jasmine.
If I’d popped out of some African lady’s tummy or a Scottish lady or poor lady or rich lady, would it mean I’m suddenly any better or worse? More or less lovable? More or less human? Of course not.

Sometimes she wished their family would become really poor to bring her mum down a peg or two.

‘Don’t worry,’ the girls said to Jasmine. ‘We know we’re not good-for-nothings. Naughty, yes, but not muck.’

‘My dad says people who think like that miss out,’ said Tanya. ‘They think only about a tenth of the people in the world are good enough for them. But there are nice people everywhere. What a waste!’

Well, the girls certainly didn’t have much of a party after that. Nor did they sleep. They just lay there and felt sort of sick about the whole thing.

Except for Margaret. She was lying there thinking about Jasmine’s mother. Suddenly she remembered Jasmine once laughing about how her mum got out of going to the toilet at night, especially during winter, by keeping an old-fashioned pee-potty under the bed.

Guess who woke up grumpy and stood in it the next morning? Jasmine’s mother. The pee-potty was half-f too. Could someone have sneaked in and shifted it during the night to just the right spot? Next to the bed? Surely not.

Even worse, her mother’s foot stuck fast and Jasmine’s dad had to help her outside so he could break the potty with a hammer.

Watching Jasmine’s mother slosh down the hall with the pee-potty on her foot was a sight the girls will never forget. Not the classiest act they’ve ever seen.

These days Jasmine’s mother still thinks she’s better than everybody else. But Jasmine certainly doesn’t think that way. And I know who’s happier.

You’ll also be pleased to know that Jasmine’s father now makes sure he goes to the toilet just before bed. And so does her mother.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

When successful actor and screenwriter
Christopher Milne
became a father, he found himself reading books at bedtime to his two boys, Peter and Robert. He soon ran out of storiesto read, so he started making up his own.

He quickly discovered that if he told Pete and Rob about good boys and girls doing very good things all the time, they were bored stupid.

But if he told them about naughty kids doing
pooey, rotten, disgusting
things, his sons would scream for more. ‘We want more of those naughty stories!’

‘OK,’ Chris would reply. ‘But only if you’ve been good.’ And so the
Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls
were born…

For more info on Christopher Milne and his books, go to
www.ChristopherMilne.com.au