Barry Loser and the birthday billions. Jim Smith
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‘Why don’t you play with your other presents?’ he said, stuffing one of Desmond’s nappies into my SHNOZINATOR 9000 to soak up the wee.
‘Oh what, like my boring old Wolf Tizzler book?’ I mumbled. My mum looked sad for a billisecond, and I felt a bit bad.
‘You could at least have a look,’ she said. ‘Wolf Tizzler’s a very clever young man – you might learn something!’
‘Oh I’m SO sorry your loserish, big-nosed son isn’t all perfect like your darling Wolf Tizzler!’ I cried.
‘Don’t be silly Barry, you know you’ll always be my number one Snookyflumps!’ cooed my mum. ‘Anyway, it’s not like your Shnozi-whatsit’s working so you may as well give it a go.’
She passed me the book and plodded off into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. ‘Stupid rectangular cuboid,’ I said, opening it up and starting to read.
And to my surpriseypoos it immedikeely gave me one of my brilliant and amazekeel ideas.
‘Happy birthkeels to you!’ sang my best friends Bunky and Nancy Verkenwerken two hours, eighteen minutes and thirty-six seconds later, when I opened the front door and saw them standing there.
‘Did you get a SHNOZINATOR 9000?’ grinned Bunky. ‘Is it the keelest thing in the whole wide world amen? Why aren’t you wearing it right now? If I had a SHNOZINATOR 9000 I’d put it on and never take it off again for the rest of my life!’
I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.
‘Desmond Loser the Second used it as a potty so I ripped Clowny Wowny’s head off and dunked it in the wee,’ I said. ‘I just sewed his head back on. Back to front.’
Nancy and Bunky gasped.
‘I am SO sorry, Barry,’ said Bunky, leaning forwards and giving me a hug, which was weird. I don’t think Bunky’s ever given me a hug before.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said, wriggling out of his weirdo hug. ‘I’m comperleeterly over it.’
‘That’s good,’ said Nancy, giving me a funny look because the last time something bad like that happened to me, it took about nine years for me to recover.
‘Nice polo neck, by the way!’ she smiled. ‘You look like Wolf Tizzler!’
Bunky looked at my polo neck and scratched his bum. ‘Erm, what’re you doing with your yellow hoodie?’ he said.
‘I’ll put it back on later,’ I said. ‘I’m only wearing this because it’s my bday jumper.’
‘Can I wear it then?’ said Bunky. ‘Your yellow hoodie, I mean?’
I’ve always had the feeling Bunky secretly wanted my yellow hoodie, just from the way he looked at it. Now I knew I’d been right all along.
‘Er, no-o?’ I said. ‘Get your OWN yellow hoodie!’
‘I would if I could,’ said Bunky. ‘But my mum keeps on buying these stupid stripy ones!’ He pointed down at his stripy jumper. It was true, I’d never seen him wearing anything else.
‘Tough luck, Stripy,’ I said. ‘Nobody wears Barry Loserkeel’s yellow hoodie – apart from Barry Loserkeel!’
Bunky stomped his foot on the ground. ‘My name isn’t Stripy!’ he cried, as Nancy pointed at my book.
‘Er, what are you doing with that?’ she said.
‘It’s my new Wolf Tizzler book,’ I said, holding it up so they could read the title. ‘I’ve just been reading it!’
‘You read a BOOK?’ said Bunky, screwing his face up like used wrapping paper.
‘Well, the first chapter . . .’ I said.
‘What in the keelnees did you do THAT for?’ said Bunky.
‘I know, it’s weird,’ I said. ‘And what’s even weirderer is I’m actukeely quite enjoying it!’
Nancy rolled her eyes like a two-wheeled sellotape dispenser. ‘Shock horror!’ she chuckled.
‘Bunky, Nancy, I’ve got some bad news,’ I said, comperleeterly out of the blue.
Nancy’s eyebrows tilted into their worried positions. ‘What is it, Barry? Are you OK?’
‘Sorry, did I say BAD news? I meant GOOD!’ I smiled. ‘I was just trying to get your attention – it’s one of Wolf Tizzler’s tricks!’
I held up the page in HOW TO BE A GENIUS LIKE ME where Wolf Tizzler talks about saying things like ‘I’ve got some bad news’ to make people’s ears prick up.
‘So what’s your news?’ asked Nancy.
‘I’m becoming an inventor!’ I said, pulling at the neck of my polo neck.
I don’t know if you’ve ever worn a polo neck before, but it really clings to your neck.
‘An inventor? What for?’ said Bunky, already beginning to look bored. That’s the thing with people like Bunky who’ve got tiny brains – they can’t concentrate on things for more than three sentences.
‘Let me fill you in while we take a stroll,’ I said, tucking my book under one arm and my bright pink piggy bank under the other.
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