So Festy! Page 8

  Chapter Three

  As the boys were walking back to make the big confession to Reece’s mother they heard a commotion coming from Reece’s backyard. ‘Stop!’ floated over the fence. Then, ‘You give that back, d’you hear?’

  There was the sound of running feet.

  ‘You give those back, right now!’

  Woof!

  ‘Uh-oh!’ said Ned, turning to Baxter. ‘Betta take a look.’ Taking a few paces back to get a good run-up Ned hurled himself at the fence, and clung to the top. Scrabbling to get a toehold he hauled himself up. ‘Uh-oh!’ he said again.

  ‘What?’ whispered Baxter. ‘What can you see?’

  What Ned could see was enough to make him wish he’d never heard of hypnosis. The backyard looked like a cyclone had gone through. The washing line, now tilted at a weird angle, held only remnants, strips of material still attached by pegs. The other shredded bits littered the ground. A sheet, which had once been white, was decorated with muddy streaks and boasted vertical ventilation. Half a red bra clung to the line, the other half was nowhere to be seen. Shirts littered the yard, along with an assortment of half-chewed socks and undies.

  Ned gulped.

  ‘What?’ asked Baxter again. ‘What can you see?’

  ‘Cripes!’ was all Ned could answer as cries of Stop it! Get down! Reece! floated over the fence.

  Ned turned to the voice. Reece’s mum, draped in a towel and nothing much else, was running round and round the clothesline, trying to get a hold of…

  ‘Reece!’ gurgled Ned.

  But Reece could not hear. He was having the time of his life. A piece of rope was attached to the top of the clothesline and Reece had attached himself to it. The rope, wound round his hand and wrist, was short enough to suspend him in the air, his legs tucked up neatly underneath. Reece and rope were twirling and whirling, along with the line. Every so often Reece would lower his legs, take several running strides and launch himself back into the air, like he was on a merry-go-round.

  I’ve always wanted to do that, thought Ned.

  ‘Stop it!’ yelled Reece’s mother. ‘I said, stop!’

  ‘Reece!’ called Ned.

  But round and round Reece went.

  And round and round went his mother.

  Suddenly, Reece dropped, landing on hands and feet.

  ‘Reece!’ shouted his mother, again. ‘You naughty, naughty boy. What on earth has got into you?’

  Instead of cowering at the anger in her voice, Reece wriggled up to his mother in delight, snatched at her towel and started tugging.

  Ned watched in horror as Reece’s mum clung onto the towel in a game of tug-o-war. Reece’s mum was a rather—large—lady and Ned was getting flashes of skin he’d rather not know existed.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Baxter, tugging at Ned’s shorts.

  What can I say? thought Ned. How do you describe your best mate’s mum, naked, gripping her towel for dear life and your best mate…

  ‘Do something!’ hissed Baxter, his imagination running wild.

  ‘I will!’ Putting two fingers in his mouth Ned whistled, a hair-raising, eardrum-bursting whistle, the kind that was guaranteed to get Reece to stop. But Reece did not stop. With a final tug, he ripped the towel from his mother’s grasp, gave a yelp of delight at his victory and launched himself at the fence, doing an amazing amount of clawing and scuffling before finally pulling himself over.

  The last thing Ned saw was two giant white rumps, wobbling as Reece’s mum ran inside.

  ‘Gotcha!’ pounced Baxter, grabbing Reece by the neck and sleeve of his shirt as he toppled to the ground. ‘At last!’

  But Baxter was not prepared for the sheer burst of animal frenzy that drove Reece to twist from his grip and bound off down the street.

  ‘Hurry!’ yelled Ned, running after him. ‘Don’t let ’im get away.’

  But get away he did. With long, loping strides Reece bolted, leapt over a hedge, side-skirted a parked car and was gone. Ned looked down. There was half a red bra at his feet.

  Through the open window came sounds of weeping. ‘My boy,’ wailed Reece’s mum. ‘My poor little boy.’

  ‘We’ve got to find him and change him back,’ said Baxter in an urgent voice.

  ‘Grrrrr!’ answered Ned, giving a pretty good dog imitation of his own.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Geez, Ned. My mum’d kill me if I pulled a stunt like that,’ said Baxter as the boys jogged down the street after Reece.

  ‘Mine, too,’ said Ned.

  ‘My mum will kill me,’ corrected Baxter, ‘if she knows I’m involved.’

  ‘My mum’ll kill me, then boil me in oil,’ agreed Ned.

  ‘Let’s hope they never find out.’

  Ned bit his fingernails, deep in thought. He slowed to a jog. ‘We’re gonna have to think smart,’ he said with a frown. ‘I know! We have to think like trackers. Read all the signs.’

  Baxter knuckled him. ‘What signs, stupid?’ He pretended to be holding up a sign and reading it. ‘Reece was here.’

  ‘No, ya dead head. Other signs.’ Ned ran across the street and down a bit. He stopped to pick something up. It was a dirty sock. ‘Like this. Reece must’ve dropped it. C’mon. He’s gone this way.’

  The boys began to walk, carefully combing the street for signs. Their search was slow but methodical, going up streets, then down—up, down, up, down, then crisscrossing back over.

  ‘Hey!’ said Baxter, pointing down one street. ‘What’s that?’

  A bowl lay up-ended in the grass. It was bright purple with pink paw marks on it. Baxter flipped it over with his toe and Ned picked it up.

  ‘Cat food!’ said Ned, pulling a face at the congealed clumps that clung to the sides of the bowl.

  ‘Half-eaten cat food,’ said Baxter. He paused as a thought took hold, then looked at Ned, disgust written all over his face. ‘You don’t think…Do you?’

  ‘Blcchhh!!’ cried Ned, dropping the bowl. It landed with a clatter on the road. ‘He wouldn’t! He couldn’t!’

  ‘What if he could? And he did? We’ve got to find him,’ said Baxter, breaking into a trot. ‘We’ve got to help our mate.’

  The boys picked up their pace and were rounding a corner when a horn blasted the air and kept blasting till all the birds rose from the trees and left.

  Ned looked at Baxter. ‘D’ya think?’

  Baxter shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Ned.

  The boys came across a garbage truck stopped in the middle of the road. The driver had his hand on the horn and was yelling out the window.

  Ned ran around the truck and sure enough…‘Reece!’

  Reece was standing in front of the truck, refusing to move. It was his job to stop the big white monster from stealing the garbage and that’s exactly what he was doing.

  ‘Hey, Reece!’ called Baxter, lunging to grab an arm.

  ‘Good boy,’ said Ned, seizing the other.

  Together they yanked Reece over to the gutter.

  As he drove past, the driver stuck his head out the window and screeched, ‘Try that again and I’ll brain you!’

  ‘Might help,’ grunted Ned in reply. He and Baxter pulled Reece to the grassy verge and sat him down.

  ‘Quick,’ cried Baxter. ‘Do your hypno stuff.’

  ‘It’s not so easy,’ said Ned. ‘He’s gotta be quiet. He’s gotta listen.’

  ‘There, there,’ soothed Baxter, patting Reece’s head and trying to calm him down.

  ‘Ya gettin’ slee-e-e-py,’ droned Ned. ‘Ve-ry slee-e-e-py.’

  Reece grinned and rolled onto his back.

  ‘Atta boy,’ said Baxter, scratching Reece’s tummy.

  ‘Ya eyes are gettin’ heavy,’ went on Ned. ‘Ya hands feel like lead.’

  Reece gave Baxter his paw to shake.

  A note of desperation crept into Ned’s voice. ‘Take ya mind back to the park…’

  Woof!

  Reece
wriggled from his back, and started to slither, quickly forwards.

  As if he’s aiming for something, thought Ned, looking to see what it could be. Then, ‘No!’ He tried to snatch at Reece’s foot but Reece was too fast. ‘No!’ Ned called again, but his cry was in vain.

  With the intent of a hound on a hunt, Reece leapt onto a fresh pile of dog poo.

  ‘Erk!’ exclaimed Baxter, watching in disgust.

  Reece flipped onto his back…

  ‘Off!’ exclaimed Ned, snatching for a foot, again.

  ‘Woof!’ said Reece, thrashing around with delight.

  Ned and Baxter looked at each other. Together they cried, ‘Dirty!’

  Reece was having a wonderful time, rolling over and over. Dog poo stuck to his shirt. Dog poo clung to his shorts. There was a smear across his forehead.

  Ned called to Baxter, keeping his distance. ‘Get ’im.’

  ‘No, you get him!’ Baxter called back.

  ‘You!’

  ‘No, you!’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ said a voice, a girl’s voice. Sally’s voice. ‘You’ve certainly had a bit of an accident.’ Her voice was wary. ‘I can lend you a hose if you like…’

  By now Reece was sitting quietly in the grass, a very pleased look on his very grimy face.

  ‘I live just here,’ Sally went on, opening the gate to the front yard, and beckoning for him.

  Reece did not come. He was too busy sniffing and smiling at his new scent.

  Sally took a few steps back onto the footpath. ‘You’re serious!’ she said, her voice quiet as she turned to Ned with a puzzled look on her face. ‘He does think he’s a dog.’

  ‘Yup!’ answered Ned. ‘He does.’

  ‘Wait here,’ said Sally, dashing through the gate and heading down the side path. ‘Stop him if he tries to take off.’

  ‘You stop him,’ said Baxter.

  ‘No, you!’ said Ned.

  Minutes later, Sally returned with a bucket of warm water, some soap and a towel. ‘Take off your T-shirt,’ she said to Ned. ‘And give it to him.’ She pointed at Reece.

  ‘Ha, ha,’ said Baxter, knowing how much Ned hated to show his body. But then it was his turn.

  Sally added, ‘You can lend him your shorts.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ imitated Ned.

  Using a soothing voice, Sally called Reece over. ‘Water!’ she said, splashing some invitingly.

  As quiet as a dingo Reece sidled over and leant to sniff the water.

  ‘You must be thirsty,’ crooned Sally. ‘Now, let’s take off your shirt.’ With a tug and a flip, Reece stood, his torso bare, except for the skid marks on his forearms. Sally pointed to the water and soap. ‘Bath!’ she said.

  And to Ned and Baxter’s amazement, Reece stayed still as Sally lathered him up.

  ‘Not perfect, but it will do,’ said Sally a little while later as Reece stood with wet hair and clean clothes. She turned to Ned who was trying to cover his own bare belly with his bare arms. ‘It’s up to you, now. Hypnotise him back.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘When I count down to one, I will click my fingers and you will no longer be a dog. You will not even remember being a dog. Three…’ began Ned, positioning his fingers for a click. ‘Two…’

  At that same moment a car pulled up. ‘Reecie,’ called a voice. ‘Are you all right?’

  Woof!

  Not again! thought Ned, shaking his head in disbelief as Reece bounded over.

  ‘Shhhh!’ said Baxter, trying to hush Reece’s mother.

  ‘Say one and click!’ urged Sally.

  ‘Too late!’ said Ned.

  With a spring that would make a polevaulter proud, Reece jumped the gate and took off across Sally’s yard.

  ‘Get ’im,’ cried Ned.

  ‘Get him,’ cried Baxter.

  ‘After him,’ yelled Sally.

  ‘After him,’ yelled Reece’s mother, scrambling from her car.

  The four of them took off, but soon found that four people through one gate won’t go. Baxter lost his footing and slid to the ground, Ned and Sally knocked heads and Reece’s mum got wedged in the narrow opening.

  By the time they all entered the yard a quick check showed that it was empty.

  ‘Could he have gone inside?’ asked Reece’s mum.

  Sally shook her head as she replied, ‘Door’s locked.’

  ‘What about a garage?’ asked Reece’s mum. ‘Or a shed?’

  ‘We can check…’

  But Reece had disappeared.

  ‘Maybe he jumped the fence?’ said Ned. ‘Like he did at his house.’

  There was a sharp sucking in of breath. Reece’s mother turned on him asking, ‘Were you there?’ Her cheeks developed a rosy bloom as she gathered the folds of her dress to her body.

  Ned’s cheeks went out in sympathy.

  ‘Did you…’ began Reece’s mum. ‘Did you—see—anything?’

  Ned went the colour of cochineal. ‘W-e-ll…’ he said quietly, not knowing where to look.

  ‘Oh!’ Reece’s mum began fanning her face.

  Just then, Sally interrupted. ‘Don’t you think we should try to find Reece?’ She ran to the back fence and peered over. Nothing. The side fence. Still nothing. The front fence. Sally gasped.

  ‘Found him?’ asked Reece’s mum.

  Sally shook her head. ‘No, but he’s been there!’

  Ned, Baxter and Reece’s mum raced to the fence and peered over.

  The first thing they saw was a shredded garbage bag. Beside the garbage bag, strewn in all directions was a whole lot of empty containers: tins of baby food, tubs of nappy rash cream, bottles of baby oil.

  ‘How d’ya know it’s Reece?’ asked Ned.

  ‘Crows could’ve done that,’ said Baxter, trying to reassure Reece’s mum.

  ‘My Reecie wouldn’t make a mess like that,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘It’s not the mess,’ Sally intervened. ‘It’s the disposable nappy.’

  ‘What nappy?’ asked Baxter, peering at the litter.

  ‘Exactly!’ said Sally in triumph. ‘There is none! I put a pooey nappy in that bag about an hour ago.’

  Ned looked at Baxter. ‘He wouldn’t…’

  Baxter looked at Ned. ‘He couldn’t…’

  Sally stomped her foot. ‘Well, he did!’

  ‘What would Reecie want with a dirty nappy?’ asked his mother.

  On that, Sally, Baxter and Ned remained silent. It was too, too horrible to think about.

  ‘Find the nappy and you’ll find Reece,’ was all Sally said.

  So the great nappy hunt was on…

  They found the plastic sticker of the disposable nappy, but no Reece.

  They found the plastic outer cover of the disposable nappy, but no Reece.

  ‘Where’s the lining?’ asked Sally.

  Baxter shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t!’

  Ned shook his head, too. ‘He couldn’t!’

  ‘Too putrid to even think about,’ Baxter went on.

  ‘Totally foul!’ agreed Ned.

  ‘And it’s all your fault!’ said Sally in a fit of anger, giving both boys a shove.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Reece’s mum.

  It was up to the unfortunate Sally to explain the sequence of events, as little as she knew, to Reece’s mum. At first she looked intrigued, then shocked, and then horrified. ‘We have to get him back!’ she cried, then barked at Ned and Baxter, ‘We’ll deal with you two later.’ In a quieter voice Reece’s mum said to Sally, ‘Let’s see if he’s gone back to the park.’

  They all climbed in Reece’s mum’s car and sped to the park.

  ‘There he is!’ cried Sally.

  By the time they ran over there was nothing much left of the nappy liner except a few shreds of cotton wool. Fibres clung to Reece’s mouth and chin, making him look like he had a beard.

  ‘He ate a dirty nappy!’ crowed Ned. Finding the whole thing suddenly funny he burst into laughter.

 
‘What are you?’ growled Reece’s mum. ‘A boy or a beast? Now you shush your face and get my Reecie back.’

  So Ned got to work. ‘Three, two, one…’

  Click!

  Reece blinked. He shook his head. Only this time great gobs of spit did not come flying off. ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘I feel sort of—funny.’

  ‘Let’s just say something happened to your head,’ said his mother, giving him a cuddle.

  Yeah, thought Ned, smiling at the memory of Reece’s forehead smeared with doggie doo.

  ‘But it’s okay now,’ said Sally, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘Although you did do some strange things.’

  Yeah, thought Ned, grinning at the fluff still hanging from Reece’s mouth.

  ‘Let’s just say…ya went to Loony Land,’ said Ned, flinging his arm around Reece’s shoulder.

  ‘And if it wasn’t for Ned, you’d still be there,’ added Baxter.

  ‘Gee, thanks Ned!’ said Reece, flinging his own arm over Ned’s shoulders and giving him a tight hug.

  Ned pulled away, trying to avoid nappy mouth.

  ‘What a great mate!’ added Reece, and with that he pursed his lips and gave Ned a great big slobbery whiskery kiss!

  About the Author

  I run a small business catering to the needs of lyssophobic dogs. These animals, driven insane by their morbid fear of catching rabies, have been known to scamper across roads in the paths of oncoming cars, leap electronic fences and flea (the verb not the noun) from partly-chewed bones. My specialty is canine hypnotherapy. If just one dog overcomes their fear of drooling dribble and ferocious fangs my mission is accomplished.

  ‘A Real Dog’s Dinner’ is dedicated to Pooch, last seen campaigning for the re-introduction of the muzzle.

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