Selby Santa (4 page)

Selby fought against the rope as it tightened around his front paws and waist but every time he started to get it loose, the man threw another loop around him.

‘I’ve got to get away!’ Selby thought as he struggled around the bathroom. ‘I can’t let him
dog-nap me! If I’m gone when the Trifles get home, they’ll just think I wandered off. They won’t know that this monster has got me in his lab and is carving pieces off me!’

Selby remembered all the exercise he’d had at Sam’s, all the pushing, the pulling, the lifting, and even the kicking and punching. Drawing a huge breath, he flexed every muscle in his body and then, in one quick movement, he kicked the doctor in the shins.

‘
Ow
! Stop that!’ the man screamed as he hopped on one leg. But he kept pulling the rope tighter around the struggling Selby. ‘Stay still!’

Selby wiggled a paw free and swung it wildly, trying to hit the man’s head. Then he saw the bottle of Fruit 4 Brutes men’s aftershave. Quickly he punched the plastic bottle, sending a stream of aftershave into the doctor’s eyes.

‘Take that, you creep!’ Selby yelled in plain English.

‘
Yoooooowwwwww
!’ Dr Schnipskin screamed, letting go of the rope and clutching his eyes. ‘You talked! Hey, where are you?! I can’t see you!’

Quick as a flash, Selby was out of the house and down the street, running as fast as his feet could carry him, but when he turned his head he realised that he wasn’t alone.

‘He’s right on my tail! And he’s still got the rope! Hey! This guy is fast! And he’s twirling the rope like a cowboy.’

Selby tore along Lamington Drive and through street after street, the doctor hot on his heels.

‘I can’t believe you can talk!’ the doctor screamed. ‘Now I
have
to clone you! You’re the handsomest and smartest dog in Australia, and maybe even in the world!’

‘I may be the handsomest and smartest dog in Australia, but I can’t keep up this pace much longer,’ Selby thought. ‘He’s going to catch me! I’m about to be lassoed by a crazy clone doctor! Help!’

And that would have been the end of Selby if he and Dr Schnipskin hadn’t streaked past Rusty’s house. The dog started howling, barking and growling. This time it was too much for him and he ran so fast that he charged straight through the fence.

‘Oh, no!’ Selby thought. ‘Now I’ve got two monsters after me! I may be fit but I can’t outrun them! It’s only a matter of which one catches me first. Oh, woe woe woe.’

Just as Dr Schnipskin’s rope was about to lasso him again, Selby heard a terrible scream. He turned to see Dr Schnipskin on the ground and Rusty tearing at his clothes.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Selby thought. ‘Rusty’s got him! And I thought Rusty was after
me
! Wait a minute, it wasn’t me at all. He just hated the smell of that aftershave and that clone doctor was covered in the stuff!’

Later that night, Selby was safely home again and gobbling some of the Peanut Prawns he’d sneaked out of the fridge when Mrs Trifle came back from work.

‘It’s been a very unusual day,’ she said to Dr Trifle.

‘You can say that again,’ Selby thought.

‘Really? What happened?’ asked Dr Trifle.

‘Remember that strange man I told you about, the one who wanted to make copies of Selby?’

‘Yes, what about him?’

‘Well, someone saw him running out of town. His clothes were all torn and he was screaming something about a talking dog.’

‘A talking dog?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘He does sound strange.’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Trifle agreed. ‘Fancy him wanting to use Selby to start a whole new breed.’

‘Yes, fancy that,’ Selby thought. ‘Three Selbys are enough. Me, myself and I.’

Paw note: They wouldn’t be called that, of course, because my real name isn’t Selby.

S

‘We’re going to have to close down the Bogusville Stage Stompers,’ Melanie Mildew announced.

‘What?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘We can’t do that!’

‘I’m afraid we’ll have to,’ Melanie answered. ‘We’ve run out of money. There’s no point continuing if we can’t pay the rent for the theatre.’

‘But that’s awful’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Are you sure we have to close down?’

‘We have no choice.’ Melanie sniffed a big sniff. ‘And I’ll never act again.’

‘This is terrible,’ Selby thought. ‘The Stage Stompers is the only acting company in
Bogusville. So many people have come to see their plays over the years. Okay, so they weren’t always great plays but a lot of people enjoyed them.’

‘The worst thing of all is that the kids aren’t coming to the plays any more,’ Melanie went on. ‘Our Christmas-holiday plays used to be very popular. But I’ve been talking to Camilla Bonzer, the school librarian. She said the kids think the plays are boring.’

‘They’ve got a point,’ Selby thought. ‘Last year’s play was a shocker. Only ten kids came and half of them fell asleep.’

‘Last year’s play,
I Should Have Listened to My Mum
, was very educational,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It was about how your mother is always right and how you should do what she says. And the year before it was a play called
ABCs For You and Me.
That was all in rhyme, remember? It was very clever.’

‘It was dreadful,’ Selby thought. ‘I left after the letter G.’

‘And then there was that wonderful play
Eat Up
!’ Mrs Trifle went on. ‘It had a lovely message about how you should always finish
your vegies. And remember
Perfect Miss Patience
, about being good to your little brother, even if he’s a pain?’

‘Yes, and there was that one about the boy who didn’t brush his teeth and they all fell out,’ Melanie Mildew said. ‘But the kids don’t want to see our plays any more. They want to watch DVDs with car chases and monsters fighting aliens and planets blowing up. We can’t do those things in a little theatre with real actors.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Perhaps theatres are out of date. But I will miss it. It’s been such fun.’

Melanie and Mrs Trifle sat staring silently into their empty teacups. A sadness spread over them like a soggy blanket. A corner of that soggy blanket stretched across the room and weighed heavily on Selby, too.

‘I’ll miss it as well,’ Selby sighed. ‘I wish there was something I could do. But what could I do? I’m just a dog.’

The soggy blanket of sadness would have sat heavily on them for a while longer if Bogusville’s own comedian, Gary Gaggs, hadn’t arrived and lifted it.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, as he came through the door. ‘You look like you just found out that the world’s about to come to an end.’

‘It sort of is,’ Melanie said.

‘But that’s absurd!’ Gary cried. ‘The world can’t come to an end. Do you want to know why?’

‘Why?’

‘It can’t come to an
end
because it’s
round
,’ Gary said with a laugh. ‘Get it? It’s round, so it doesn’t have an end. These are the jokes, folks. So what’s the problem?’

‘The Stage Stompers Company is finished,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘What? That’s a tragedy!’ Gary cried. ‘It’s a disaster! A catastrophe! What happened?’

‘Kids don’t want to see plays any more.’

‘What’s wrong with them? When I was a kid, I loved any kind of show. Did I tell you that I once ran away with a circus?’

‘I didn’t know you’d run away with a circus,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘I did. But they made me bring it back!’

‘Oh, that’s good!’ Selby thought as he struggled not to smile. ‘This guy is soooo funny!’

‘When I was a kid, my family had a cuckoo clock,’ Gary said. ‘I used to wait till it struck the hour and the cuckoo came out. Then one day my mother saw me standing in front of the grandfather clock. She said, “What are you doing?” And I said, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m waiting for the grandfather to come out!”’

‘That’s great!’ Selby thought. ‘He thought there was a grandfather in the grandfather clock!’

‘Thanks for cheering us up,’ Mrs Trifle said, smiling slightly. ‘We certainly need it right now.’

‘Actually, I was trying out some of the jokes for my next show,’ Gary said. ‘I see that you’ve had some tea. I used to drink tea but it always gave me a pain in the eye.’

‘A pain in the eye?’

‘Yes. I went to the doctor and he said,“Have you tried taking the spoon out of the cup?” Woo woo woo! These are the jokes, folks. When I was a kid I wanted to get rich, so I took up playing the violin. Sure enough, before my second lesson, I was making heaps of money. The neighbours paid me not to play. Get it?’

‘Oh, yes, I get it!’ Selby thought. ‘The neighbours paid him
not
to play!’

‘But seriously, folks, I wanted to be a rubbish collector when I grew up. I thought they only worked one day a week. Woo woo woo!’ Gary said, strutting around like a chicken, the way he sometimes did when he’d told a joke. ‘The other day I went to the supermarket. I just had to have some cheese. I ended up buying that cheese that’s made backwards.’

‘Cheese that’s made backwards?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘I don’t get it.’

‘Edam cheese,’ Gary said. ‘Edam is
made
backwards.’

‘I get it!’ Selby thought, as he struggled even harder not to smile. ‘This guy kills me!’

‘When I got to the supermarket, I was desperate to go to the loo, so I raced up to the checkout counter and I said, “I’m in a hurry; could you check me out quickly?” The woman looked me up and down and said, “You’re not bad.”’

‘You’re not bad?’ Selby thought. ‘What does he mean? Oh oh oh! “Check me out! You’re not bad.” That’s great!’

‘I asked her where the loo was and she said, “Down the hallway you’ll see a sign that says
Gentlemen.
Pay no attention to it, just go right in.” Woo woo woo!’ Gary said. ‘Don’t mind me. I got up very early this morning. I got up at six o’clock. That’s what I call spiral time.’

‘Spiral time?’ Melanie Mildew asked.

‘Yes, six o’clock. I call it spiral time because it’s
twirly
.’

‘You’re a very funny man, Gary,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Hey, that’s it!’ Selby suddenly thought. ‘Why not get Gary to write a funny play for kids — like the vampire one he wrote for the Stage Stompers ages ago?’

‘You’re very entertaining,’ Melanie said. ‘I only wish we had an entertaining play for the kids.’

‘Get Gary to write one!’ Selby screamed in his brain.

Mrs Trifle sighed. ‘All the kids want these days is big action movies with things exploding.’

‘That’s not true!’ Selby thought. ‘They love funny things as well!’

‘I wish I could think of a way to help you,’ Gary said, pacing around the room.

‘I wish you could, too,’ Mrs Trifle said, pacing just behind Gary.

‘Me too,’ Melanie said, joining in the pacing parade.

‘I thought I was going to cheer you guys up,’ Gary said, ‘but now I feel as sad as you do. No more Stage Stompers.’

‘
Write a funny play for kids, Gary
!’ Selby thought.

Suddenly Gary stopped pacing and snapped his fingers.

‘I think he got my message!’ Selby thought.

‘I just remembered that I have to take my computer to be fixed,’ Gary said. ‘Gotta go, folks. Sorry about the Stage Stompers.’

‘Well, thanks for cheering us up,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Hey! Look at Selby!’ Gary said with a laugh. ‘That is the strangest look I’ve ever seen on a dog’s face?’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It looks like he’s concentrating.’

‘That reminds me,’ Gary said. ‘Did you know that I used to work in a fruit-juice factory?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘But they let me go because I couldn’t concentrate.’

‘Yes, very good, Gary.’

‘Then I worked at making cloth bags but they gave me the sack. Look at that — Selby’s face just changed. It’s almost as if he can understand me. Hey, Selby,’ Gary said, putting his face down next to Selby’s, ‘the other morning I was lying in bed when I heard a big noise. It must have been the
crack
of dawn.’

‘A big
noise
? The
crack
of dawn?’ Selby thought. ‘Oh, I get it!’

‘Or maybe it was the
break
of day,’ Gary went on. ‘I went outside. I didn’t know if it was going to rain or snow so I
hailed
a taxi.’

‘I wish he wouldn’t do this to me!’ Selby thought. ‘He’s going to make me laugh! Then they’ll know my secret!’

‘When I got to my office, it was raining cats and dogs,’ Gary continued. ‘Just my luck: I stepped
in a
poodle
. I think Selby liked that. It’s almost as if he knows what I’m saying.’

‘Gary!’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I just had a brilliant idea! Why don’t you write a funny play for kids?’

‘Finally,’ Selby thought.

‘What a great idea,’ Gary said. ‘Can it be about a detective? I’ve always wanted to write about a detective.’

‘Of course, as long as it’s funny,’ Melanie said. ‘How soon can you have it ready?’

‘How soon do you need it?’

‘By tomorrow. All we need is a very short play. Come on, it’ll be easy. You’ve been a funny man so long you could do something like this in your sleep.’

Gary thought for a minute.

‘I might have to,’ he said. ‘I’m that tired. Okay, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll try my hardest and see how I go. Oh,’ he said, turning to Mrs Trifle, ‘I forgot. My computer’s not working. Could I use yours?’

That afternoon, Selby lay on the floor of the Trifles’ study listening to Gary talk to himself as he started to write his detective play.

‘A police detective shows his badge to a robber and says, “I’m a plain-clothes detective and you’re under arrest.” And the robber says, “If you’re a plain-clothes detective, then why are
you wearing a uniform?” And the detective says, “Because it’s my day off.”
Ha ha ha
! No. No good.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Selby said to himself. ‘That was good.’

‘How about this one?’ Gary went on. ‘A detective says to his wife,“Today I caught a guy eating fireworks.” And his wife says, “Did you arrest him?” And the detective says, “‘No, I let him off.”
Ha ha ha
! Then the detective says, “I also caught a guy eating batteries.” And his wife says, “What did you do with him?” And the detective says, “I had to charge him.” No, not good enough.’

‘Of course it’s good enough!’ Selby thought. ‘He had to
charge
him.’

‘A detective says to a woman, “Excuse me, madam, but your dog was chasing a man on a bicycle.” And the woman says,“Don’t be silly — my dog can’t even ride a bicycle.”’

‘I like that one, too!’ Selby thought. ‘The kids are going to love this play.’

‘A boy goes to Missing Persons and says he’s lost his sister. The detective says, “What’s she like?” And the boy says, “She likes
chocolate cake with ice-cream.” And the detective says, “No, I mean what
is
she like, not what
does
she like?” And the boy says, “She’s sweet and kind and polite and totally honest.” And the detective says, “Now hang on. I remember your sister. She’s mean and nasty and tells lies all the time.” And the boy says, “Yes, but who wants
her
back?” No, not good enough.’

‘I love it!’ Selby thought.

‘A detective goes into the police station with a blanket over his head. His boss says, “What do you think you’re doing?” And the detective says, “I’m working under cover today.” No, no good.’

‘Come on, Gary,’ Selby thought. ‘That’s great!’

‘Maybe I’ll write about a
private
detective,’ Gary said. ‘Private eyes are more fun to write about than police detectives. Okay, what’s it going to be about? Let’s see now, anything about a private detective starts with the detective sitting in a messy office. Then someone comes in and asks him to do something. Okay, so a
woman comes in and she wants him to find her missing baby boy. Yes, I like that.’

Gary sat in front of the computer talking out loud as he worked on the story and made up jokes to go with it. The hours passed.

Finally, Mrs Trifle came into the study.