Selby Scrambled (11 page)

Selby looked around nervously. On the other side of the glass the producer was telling him to start talking.

‘Hello, folks,’ Selby started, ‘I’m your new DJ, Silvertone Selig. What don’t we like? I don’t know about you but I don’t like people who spit on the ground.’

The producer nodded and put the first caller through.

‘Hi there, Silvertone,’ the man said. ‘This spitting business: I wouldn’t spit if anyone was looking but if there’s no one there, what does it matter?’

‘It’s not just about people seeing you spit,’ Selby said. ‘It’s about germs. When you spit, germs go into the air and into the ground water and someone else can catch them.’

In the first commercial break, Richard said, ‘That was great, Selig. What are you going to talk about next?’

‘I don’t know,’ Selby said. ‘How about chocolate?’

‘What about it?’

‘It’s bad for dogs.’

‘Forget dogs. We’ve done them. What else?’

‘I could say that a little bit can be good for people but too much can be bad,’ Selby said. ‘Something like that?’

‘No, Selig, take my advice — you
hate
chocolate.’

‘I do?’

‘You do,’ Richard said. ‘People want strength, energy, strong opinions, Selig. They don’t want “on the one hand this and on the other hand that“. They want to know what makes you angry. Now why do you hate chocolate?’

‘I don’t know,’ Selby said. ‘At the movies people sometimes unwrap crinkly chocolate wrappers and make too much noise.’

‘Good one,’ Richard said. ‘Keep it up. You’re on in five, four, three, two, one …’

The producer pointed to Selby.

‘This is Silvertone Selig here and I
hate
chocolate,’ Selby said. ‘Sticky brown mucky stuff. What do
you
think? Do we have anyone on the line, Richard?’

‘I’ve got Emily here, Selig.’

‘Hi there, Selig,’ Emily said. ‘I like you much better than that Mike guy.’

‘Thanks, Em,’ Selby said. ‘What do you think about chocolate?’

‘I don’t mind it, Selig. And I like chocolate ice-cream, too.’

‘Have you ever had a chocolate bar melt in your pocket?’ Selby asked.

‘Well, yes, once. It made a terrible mess and I got into heaps of trouble.’

‘There you go,’ Selby said. ‘And you do know that too much chocolate can ruin your teeth and make you fat?’

‘That’s true,’ Emily said. ‘I guess you’re right, Selig.’

‘How was that?’ Selby asked the producer in the next break.

‘It was good, Selig, but try to get to the point. Say, “You love chocolate but look at yourself: you’re fat and your teeth are falling out!’”

‘But what if she’s thin and her teeth are okay?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll cut her off before she can say it and then you get stuck into her when she can’t answer. It’s an old trick of the trade.’

‘I’m not sure about this, Richard,’ Selby said.

‘Okay, it’s up to you, Selig. But here’s something that’ll make you boiling mad. There are some people trying to rip off country people.’

‘Really? How?’

‘They’re running a raffle. Buy a ticket and you win a car.’

‘That sounds okay,’ Selby said.

‘What they’re really out to do is to con people into buying lots of raffle tickets. Sure, the winner gets the car. But who gets the rest of the money? It goes straight into the greedy little pockets of the organisers.’

‘That’s terrible,’ Selby said. ‘That makes me really mad.’

‘I thought it would. It’s called the BHB Raffle. You’re on in three, two, one …’

‘This is Radio OK4U and this is Silvertone Selig,’ Selby said. ‘I’ve just learnt about a raffle called the BHB Raffle. Well, folks, it ought to be
called the RO Raffle because it’s a
rip-off.
Does anyone want to talk about this?’

A moment later the producer told Selby that Mrs Smith was on the phone.

‘You’re on the air, Mrs Smith,’ Selby said.

‘I just wanted to say that the BHB Raffle is a good thing. In fact, I’m one of the organisers and —’

‘Ahah!’ Selby said. ‘And you want to collect much more money than the cost of the car?’

‘That’s true but —’

‘And then you keep the extra money, don’t you?’

‘Well, that’s not exactly —’

‘And your name probably isn’t even Mrs Smith.’

‘No, it isn’t but —’

‘Cut her off, Richard!’ Selby boomed. ‘I’ve heard enough from this greedy, selfish woman!’

(Click)

‘She’s just out for herself and her mates. All she wants to do is take your hard-earned money so she won’t have to do a good day’s work for a good day’s pay. Well, I hate it. And I know you do, too.’

The producer made a wind-up signal with his finger in the air.

‘And that’s all from me, Silvertone Selig. I’ll catch you again tomorrow.’

‘That was excellent!’ the producer said when the program finished. ‘You made short work of that lying woman. You’re a natural.’

‘I kind of enjoyed it,’ Selby admitted. ‘It’s fun getting all angry. Do you really want me to do it again tomorrow?’

‘Absolutely! And the day after that and the day after that. If you keep going like this, everyone will want to advertise on this show. We’ll be rich! We can talk about money tomorrow. Hey, how about taking off the dog suit so I can see who you really are?’

‘I’m really a dog,’ Selby said. ‘A dog in a dog suit.’

‘You’re what?’ the producer looked puzzled and then he burst into laughter. ‘A dog in a dog suit. That’s a good one. See you tomorrow, Silvertone.’

That evening, Selby was lying on the carpet in the Trifles’ lounge room thinking of what he
was going to say the next day on his radio show. Mrs Trifle came in late from a meeting at the council. There were tears in her eyes.

‘What’s wrong?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘Oh, I don’t know. Everything is just too hard,’ she said. ‘And people can be so mean.’

‘Mean?’

‘Yes, I rang up the radio station today about the BHB Raffle — you know, the Bush Hospitals’ Benefit.’

‘Oh, no!’ Selby thought. ‘Mrs Smith was really Mrs Trifle!’

‘Why?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘The hospitals really need money to keep going,’ Mrs Trifle sniffed. ‘But instead of helping us, this new presenter attacked me.’

‘Gulp,’ Selby gulped. ‘Oh, no, what have I done?’

‘He attacked me and he attacked the raffle,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘We’ve only sold eight dollars in tickets so far and now no one’s going to buy any more. We’ll have to give away the car and we’ll end up losing thousands and thousands of dollars. And it was my idea for the raffle.’

‘Poor Mrs Trifle,’ Selby thought, as he lay
wide awake through the night. ‘And it’s all my fault. I got in front of that microphone and I suddenly got angry. I think I got mike rage! Oh, woe woe woe.’

The next day, Selby went to the radio station again.

‘What are you going to talk about today?’ the producer asked.

‘The raffle,’ Selby answered.

‘Do you have something new to say about

it?’

‘Yes, I certainly do.’

‘Okay, coming up now … five, four, three, two, one …’

‘This is Radio OK4U, coming to you from the Heart of the Bush and this is Silvertone Selig. Yesterday I talked about the BHB Raffle — only I was wrong, folks. I don’t mind admitting that I was wrong.’

Selby watched as the shocked producer opened the door into the studio.

‘What are you saying?’ he whispered.

‘BHB stand for Bush Hospitals’ Benefit,’ Selby went on. ‘The hospitals are in desperate
need of money and the raffle is to raise that money.’

‘Selig, they don’t want to hear that!’

‘So if you can possibly afford it, please buy as many tickets as you can. You could win a car, but even if you don’t, the money is all going to a worthy cause.’

‘And I’m going to turn your mike off!’ Richard yelled.

‘Oh, no, you’re not!’ Selby said, covering the switch with both paws. ‘And another thing, listeners,’ he went on, ‘if you have a dog, don’t buy him — or her — Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits. They’re mostly sawdust. I know, I’ve eaten tonnes of them!’

‘You what? You’re killing us, Silvertone!’ the producer screamed. ‘Who are you, anyway? I’m going to find out just who you are!’

The producer grabbed the head of Selby’s dog suit and started pulling.

‘You get your hands off me!’ Selby yelled.

Selby put his paws on top of his head but the producer was too strong for him. Slowly, the head of the dog suit came off.

‘A dog!’ the producer gasped. ‘What a
disguise! You put on a dog suit — and then you put on another dog suit! Now let’s see who you really are!’ he said, grabbing Selby’s real head and trying to pull it off. ‘Ouch! You bit me!’ he screamed, falling backward as Selby made for the door. ‘I can’t believe this! I’ve been bitten by the head of a dog suit!’

‘And you’re lucky,’ Selby thought, as he raced for home to hide the suit under the house again, ‘that I didn’t bite
your
head off!’

‘Did you know that it’s supposed to be good luck to carry around a rabbit’s foot?’ Dr Trifle said, looking up from the book he was reading.

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Mrs Trifle.

‘I don’t either,’ thought Selby. ‘It wasn’t good luck for the rabbit — he had four of them and look what happened to
him.
‘

‘Did you know that if you spill pepper you’ll have an argument with your best friend?’ Dr Trifle said, turning the page. ‘And if you dream about a lizard you have a secret enemy.’

‘I dreamt about a lizard once,’ Selby thought, ‘so I must have a secret enemy. It could be Willy or Billy but there’s no secret about them.’

‘If your nose itches it means that you’ll be kissed by a fool,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘Come to think of it,’ Mrs Trifle said, ‘my nose itched just before you kissed me yesterday.’

‘Is that true?’

‘No, just kidding, dear. Right now all I care about is collecting the money for the Bush Hospitals’ Benefit Raffle. We’ve asked everyone who wants tickets to leave the money in their mailbox by ten o’clock tonight. You and I have to collect it and give it to Camilla. She’ll be drawing the winner tomorrow morning at the Hospitals’ Benefit Breakfast. And, thanks to that nice man on the radio, lots of people are buying lots of tickets. The winner will get a new car and there should be heaps of money left over for Bogusville Hospital.’

‘Did you say that
you and I
have to collect the money? Aren’t Melanie Mildew and Postie Paterson going to help?’

‘Melanie is sick,’ Mrs Trifle said, filling out a raffle ticket for herself and putting it with some money in an envelope. ‘She caught a cold in the rain. She blames herself. She thinks that
she
made it rain.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know the saying that if you kill a spider it will rain? Well, she killed one in her garage last week.’

‘If that saying was true,’ Selby thought, ‘there wouldn’t be one spider left in Bogusville. The farmers would have killed them all to make it rain.’

‘What’s wrong with Postie?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘He fell down and hurt his back just after a black cat crossed his path.’

‘Yes, they say that’s bad luck,’ Dr Trifle said, opening his book again. ‘There are so many superstitions. Did you know that if your cheeks feel like they’re on fire it means someone is talking about you?’

‘The last time I felt like my cheeks were on fire,’ Selby thought, ‘they were. I was standing too close to the heater.’

‘What is that book you’re reading?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

‘It’s called
Half Your Luck.
It’s by our friend Madame Mascara,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘She’s a very superstitious woman.’

‘And a very rich one,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘She’s
had an incredible run of good luck.’

‘Here’s another one,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘Step on a crack and break your mother’s back’

‘If that was true,’ Selby thought, ‘every mother in the world would be walking around with a broken back.’

‘That actually did happen to a girl at my primary school,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘You mean she stepped on a crack and broke her mother’s back?’

‘Not exactly. She tripped on a crack and fell on her mother and hurt her mother’s back.’

‘Not quite the same,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘but it was certainly bad luck for her mother. Did you know it was also bad luck if you let milk boil over?’

‘I knew that,’ Selby said. ‘Last year Mrs Trifle let some milk boil over and it splashed on me. It nearly killed me!’

‘I knew that,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I boiled some milk over and a drop or two hit Selby. But he didn’t seem to notice.’

‘Madame Mascara’s book says that you should never have the head of your bed pointing north,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘Oh, give me a break,’ Selby thought.

‘We moved the bedroom furniture last week,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Hmmm. Let’s just have a look at it.’

Selby followed the Trifles into the bedroom.

‘Just as I thought,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It’s pointing north. And, look, you left your hat lying on the bed. That’s very bad luck — or so they say.’

‘And so are shoes lying upside down on the floor,’ Dr Trifle added. ‘Both of yours are upside down.’