Horrid Henry's Stinkbomb (2 page)

Horrid Henry wrote and wrote and wrote. When he had filled up four pages with books and reports, and his hand ached from writing, he stopped and counted.

Twenty-seven books! Surely that was more than enough!

Miss Battle-Axe rose from her seat and walked to the podium in the school hall. Horrid Henry was so excited he could scarcely breathe. He had to win. He was sure to win.

“Well done, everyone,” said Miss Battle-Axe. “So many wonderful books read. But sadly, there can be only one winner.”

Me! thought Horrid Henry.

“The winner of the school reading competition, the winner who will be receiving a fabulous prize, is—” Horrid Henry got ready to leap up— “Clare, with twenty-eight books!”

Horrid Henry sank back down in his seat as Clever Clare swaggered up to the podium. If only he’d added Three Boys, Two Pigs, and a Rhinoceros to his list, he’d have tied for first. It was so unfair. All his hard work for nothing.

“Well done, Clare!” beamed Miss Battle-Axe. She waved Clare’s list. “I see you’ve read one of my very favorites, Boudicca’s Big Battle.”

She stopped. “Oh dear. Clare, you’ve put down Boudicca’s Big Battle twice by mistake. But never mind. I’m sure no one else has read twenty-seven books—”

“I have!” screamed Horrid Henry. Leaping and shouting, punching the air with his fist, Horrid Henry ran up onto the stage, chanting: “Theme park! Theme park! Theme park!”

“Gimme my prize!” he screeched, snatching the tickets out of Clare’s hand.

“Mine!” screamed Clare, snatching them back.

Miss Battle-Axe looked grim. She scanned Henry’s list.

“I am not familiar with the Boy and Pig series,” she said.

“That’s ’cause it’s Australian,” said Horrid Henry.

Miss Battle-Axe glared at him. Then she tried to twist her face into a smile.

“It appears we have a tie,” she said. “Therefore, you will each receive a family pass to the new theme park, Book World. Congratulations.”

Horrid Henry stopped his victory dance. Book World? Book World? Surely he’d heard wrong?

“Here are just some of the wonderful attractions you will enjoy at Book World,” said Miss Battle-Axe. “‘Thrill to a display of speed-reading! Practice checking out library books! Read to the beat!’ Oh my, doesn’t that sound fun!”

“AAAAAARGGGGGGGGG!” screamed Horrid Henry.

HORRID HENRY’S STINKBOMB

“I hate you, Margaret!” shrieked Sour Susan. She stumbled out of the Secret Club tent.

“I hate you too!” shrieked Moody Margaret.

Sour Susan stuck out her tongue.

Moody Margaret stuck out hers back.

“I quit!” yelled Susan.

“You can’t quit. You’re fired!” yelled Margaret.

“You can’t fire me. I quit!” said Susan.

“I fired you first,” said Margaret. “And I’m changing the password!”

“Go ahead. See if I care. I don’t want to be in the Secret Club any more!” said Susan sourly.

“Good! Because we don’t want you.”

Moody Margaret flounced back inside the Secret Club tent. Sour Susan stalked off.

Free at last! Susan was sick and tired of her ex-best friend Bossyboots Margaret. Blaming her for the disastrous raid on the Purple Hand Fort when it was all Margaret’s fault was bad enough. But then to ask stupid Linda to join the Secret Club without even telling her! Susan hated Linda even more than she hated Margaret. Linda hadn’t invited Susan to her sleepover party. And she was a copycat. But Margaret didn’t care. Today she’d made Linda chief spy. Well, Susan had had enough. Margaret had been mean to her once too often.

Susan heard roars of laughter from inside the club tent. So they were laughing, were they? Laughing at her, no doubt? Well, she’d show them. She knew all about Margaret’s Top Secret Plans. And she knew someone who would be very interested in that information.

“Halt! Password!”

“Smelly toads,” said Perfect Peter. He waited outside Henry’s Purple Hand Fort.

“Wrong,” said Horrid Henry.

“What’s the new one then?” said Perfect Peter.

“I’m not telling you,” said Henry. “You’re fired, remember?”

Perfect Peter did remember. He had hoped Henry had forgotten.

“Can’t I join again, Henry?” asked Peter.

“No way!” said Horrid Henry. “Please?” said Perfect Peter.

“No,” said Horrid Henry. “Ralph’s taken over your duties.”

Rude Ralph poked his head through the branches of Henry’s lair.

“No babies allowed,” said Rude Ralph.

“We don’t want you here, Peter,” said Horrid Henry. “Get lost.”

Perfect Peter burst into tears.

“Crybaby!” jeered Horrid Henry. “Crybaby!” jeered Rude Ralph. That did it.

“Mom!” wailed Perfect Peter. He ran toward the house. “Henry won’t let me play and he called me a crybaby!”

“Stop being horrid, Henry!” shouted Mom.

Peter waited.

Mom didn’t say anything else.

Perfect Peter started to wail louder.

“Mooom! Henry’s being mean to me!”

“Leave Peter alone, Henry!” shouted Mom. She came out of the house. Her hands were covered in dough. “Henry, if you don’t stop—”

Mom looked around.

“Where’s Henry?”

“In his fort,” sniveled Peter.

“I thought you said he was being mean to you,” said Mom.

“He was!” wailed Peter.

“Just keep away from him,” said Mom. She went back into the house.

Perfect Peter was outraged. Was that it? Why hadn’t she punished Henry? Henry had been so horrid he deserved to go to prison for a year. Two years. And just get a crust of bread a week. And brussels sprouts. Ha! That would serve Henry right.

But until Henry went to prison, how could Peter pay him back? And then Peter knew exactly what he could do.

He checked carefully to see that no one was watching. Then he sneaked over the garden wall and headed for the Secret Club Tent.

“He isn’t!” said Margaret.

“She wouldn’t,” said Henry.

“He’s planning to swap our lemonade for a Dungeon Drink?” said Margaret.

“Yes,” said Peter.

“She’s planning to stinkbomb the Purple Hand Fort?” said Henry.

“Yes,” said Susan.

“How dare she?” said Henry.

“How dare he?” said Margaret. “I’ll easily put a stop to that. Linda!” she barked. “Hide the lemonade!”

Linda yawned.

“Hide it yourself,” she said. “I’m tired.”

Margaret glared at her, then hid the jug under a box.

“Ha ha! Won’t Henry be shocked when he sneaks over and there are no drinks to spike!” gloated Margaret. “Peter, you’re a hero. I award you the Triple Star, the highest honor the Secret Club can bestow.”

“Ooh, thanks!” said Peter. It was nice being appreciated for a change.

“So from now on,” said Moody Margaret, “you’re working for me.”

“Okay,” said the traitor.

Horrid Henry rubbed his hands. This was fantastic! At last, he had a spy in the enemy’s camp! He’d easily

defend himself against that stupid stinkbomb. Margaret would only let it off when he was in the fort. His sentry would be on the lookout armed with a goo-shooter. When Margaret tried to sneak in with her stinkbomb— ker-pow!

“Hang on a sec,” said Horrid Henry, “why should I trust you?”

“Because Margaret is mean and horrible and I hate her,” said Susan.

“So from now on,” said Horrid Henry, “you’re working for me.”

Susan wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Then she remembered Margaret’s mean cackle.

“Okay,” said the traitor.

Peter sneaked back into his garden and collided with someone.

“Ouch!” said Peter.

“Watch where you’re going!” snapped Susan.

They glared at each other suspiciously.

“What were you doing at Margaret’s?” said Susan.

“Nothing,” said Peter. “What were you doing at my house?”

“Nothing,” said Susan.

Peter walked toward Henry’s fort, whistling.

Susan walked toward Margaret’s tent, whistling.

Well, if Susan was spying on Henry for Margaret, Peter certainly wasn’t going to warn him. Serve Henry right.

Well, if Peter was spying on Margaret for Henry, Susan certainly wasn’t going to warn her. Serve Margaret right.

Dungeon Drinks, eh?

Margaret liked that idea much better than her stinkbomb plot.

“I’ve changed my mind about the stinkbomb,” said Margaret. “I’m going to swap his drinks for Dungeon Drink stinkers instead.”

“Good idea,” said Lazy Linda. “Less work.”

Stinkbomb, eh?

Henry liked that much better than his Dungeon Drink plot. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself?

“I’ve changed my mind about the Dungeon Drinks,” said Henry. “I’m going to stinkbomb her instead.”

“Yeah,” said Rude Ralph. “When?”

“Now,” said Horrid Henry. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”

Horrid Henry opened his Stinky Stinkbomb kit. He’d bought it with Grandma. Mom would never have let him buy it. But because Grandma had given him the money Mom couldn’t do anything about it. Ha ha ha.

Now, which stink would he pick? He looked at the test tubes filled with powder and read the gruesome labels.

Bad breath. Dog poo. Rotten eggs. Smelly socks. Dead fish. Sewer stench.

“I’d go for dead fish,” said Ralph. “That’s the worst.”

Henry considered.

“How about we mix dead fish and rotten eggs?”

“Yeah,” said Rude Ralph.

Slowly, carefully, Horrid Henry measured out a teaspoon of dead fish powder, and a teaspoon of rotten egg powder, into the special pouch.

Slowly, carefully, Rude Ralph poured out 150 milliliters of secret stinkbomb liquid into the bottle and capped it tightly.