cans. I gotta be ’lucinatin’.
Cushions. Cushions from Mr B’s livin’ room. Cushions with legs?
You know what? Ding dong! Call the men in white coats. These be bugs I am lookin’ at. Bugs the size of rugby balls. Freeze frame. Rewind. Zoom. I am lookin’ at bugs. Like when you see ’em crawlin’ aroun’ the wallpaper in your bedroom. But these bugs ain’t right. Like I say, they – what? Foot long? Ten inches wide? Even down here I see their nasty li’l legs wigglin’ as they make their way along the wall, their suckers – what’s the word? – proboscis feelin’ aroun’ like tryin’ to sniff out hot fresh blood to suck.
Hungry bugs.
I see them gettin’ all frisky as suddenly they begin crawlin’ in one direction, headin’ towards the same balcony.
It be our own balcony, with Connor still standin’ at it. The bugs start headin’ fast, zonin’ in like they got themselves fresh scent. Connor wavin’ down at me, lickin’ his lips like he already slurpin’ this ice cream by ozzymosis. I’m focusin’ in and all of them proboscises a-twitchin’ in Con-Con’s direction like they slurpin’ him by ozzymosis.
Con!
I yell up into the wind.
He don’t hear.
CON!
I wave my arms, still holdin’ the ice cream tub.
He rub his belly and lick his lips, do a little dance, wagglin’ his bottom.
Bugs zonin’ in on him.
Sabretooth beginnin’ to realize something seriously messed up, and he whinin’ next to me, trottin’ from paw to paw. I start whinin’ too.
CONNNN!
I pull out my phone and call Mum. Connor too young to have one of his own.
It rings and rings. Pick up. Pick up.
Marshy
says Mum,
did you forget—
Grab Connor! Pull him in!
Bugs suddenly stop dead.
What?
says Mum.
Flat three floors below, three balconies along. Door slightly open. I see a flurry of movement. Bugs – as one – jerk in that direction. Movement is curtains drawin’. A figure in a dressin’ gown. A lady.
It’s Mr B’s neighbour, one who yelled at me and Mus. She all ready for bed. It when you asleep you don’t know them bugs eatin’ at you. Don’t see ’em. Don’t scratch at ’em. Asleep you is the easy prey.
Bugs suddenly sprint in that direction, a flurry of skinny bootlace legs. In seconds, they in on that balcony three floors below. On it. Dartin’ one after the other through the open door, through the gap in the curtain. Into the dark.
Hello?
says Mum.
I drop the ice cream.
I run. Sabretooth look at me and look at the dropped ice cream like I am a maniac. I have to call him three times before he runs to catch up with me. Good boy. It take maximum doggie willpower to desert a whole tub of gently meltin’ choc chip.
I run up the stairwell two and three stairs at a time. I’m puffin’ and pantin’, almost ready to drop by the time I reach ours.
Mum! Mum!
I dash into the kitchen and grab hold of a spatula like a fool – what am I gonna do, flip ’em to death? Chuck the spatula down, pick up the fryin’ pan. Better . Grab the bread knife.
Mum! Grab a weapon! Quick! Quick!
What’s going on?
She look like somebody jus’ told her the aliens have landed, which not far wrong. I point my finger at Connor.
Bro, you stay here. Keep Sabre close. Watch the spaces beneath the door!
Mum has grabbed hold of the heavy-duty Megalite torch that she keep by her bed in case we ever have burglars.
Racin’ down the stairwell. Mum clamberin’ behin’ me, sayin’
What’s up? What is it? Is someone being attacked?
It’s the bugs, Mum
I say.
Great big killer bugs
.
What?!
Hammerin’ at the door with the fryin’ pan.
Open up! Open up!
I turn roun’ to my mum.
We gonna have to break down the door. Quick, smash it with your torch
.
Mum ain’t lookin’ too certain about that idea. Ain’t lookin’ too certain about any of this. I’m kickin’ at the door like a ragin’ donkey. It open wide. Woman standin’ there, wrapped in a dressin’ gown, blinkin’ and frownin’. I dash past. My eyes
Cushions. Cushions from Mr B’s livin’ room. Cushions with legs?
You know what? Ding dong! Call the men in white coats. These be bugs I am lookin’ at. Bugs the size of rugby balls. Freeze frame. Rewind. Zoom. I am lookin’ at bugs. Like when you see ’em crawlin’ aroun’ the wallpaper in your bedroom. But these bugs ain’t right. Like I say, they – what? Foot long? Ten inches wide? Even down here I see their nasty li’l legs wigglin’ as they make their way along the wall, their suckers – what’s the word? – proboscis feelin’ aroun’ like tryin’ to sniff out hot fresh blood to suck.
Hungry bugs.
I see them gettin’ all frisky as suddenly they begin crawlin’ in one direction, headin’ towards the same balcony.
It be our own balcony, with Connor still standin’ at it. The bugs start headin’ fast, zonin’ in like they got themselves fresh scent. Connor wavin’ down at me, lickin’ his lips like he already slurpin’ this ice cream by ozzymosis. I’m focusin’ in and all of them proboscises a-twitchin’ in Con-Con’s direction like they slurpin’ him by ozzymosis.
Con!
I yell up into the wind.
He don’t hear.
CON!
I wave my arms, still holdin’ the ice cream tub.
He rub his belly and lick his lips, do a little dance, wagglin’ his bottom.
Bugs zonin’ in on him.
Sabretooth beginnin’ to realize something seriously messed up, and he whinin’ next to me, trottin’ from paw to paw. I start whinin’ too.
CONNNN!
I pull out my phone and call Mum. Connor too young to have one of his own.
It rings and rings. Pick up. Pick up.
Marshy
says Mum,
did you forget—
Grab Connor! Pull him in!
Bugs suddenly stop dead.
What?
says Mum.
Flat three floors below, three balconies along. Door slightly open. I see a flurry of movement. Bugs – as one – jerk in that direction. Movement is curtains drawin’. A figure in a dressin’ gown. A lady.
It’s Mr B’s neighbour, one who yelled at me and Mus. She all ready for bed. It when you asleep you don’t know them bugs eatin’ at you. Don’t see ’em. Don’t scratch at ’em. Asleep you is the easy prey.
Bugs suddenly sprint in that direction, a flurry of skinny bootlace legs. In seconds, they in on that balcony three floors below. On it. Dartin’ one after the other through the open door, through the gap in the curtain. Into the dark.
Hello?
says Mum.
I drop the ice cream.
I run. Sabretooth look at me and look at the dropped ice cream like I am a maniac. I have to call him three times before he runs to catch up with me. Good boy. It take maximum doggie willpower to desert a whole tub of gently meltin’ choc chip.
I run up the stairwell two and three stairs at a time. I’m puffin’ and pantin’, almost ready to drop by the time I reach ours.
Mum! Mum!
I dash into the kitchen and grab hold of a spatula like a fool – what am I gonna do, flip ’em to death? Chuck the spatula down, pick up the fryin’ pan. Better . Grab the bread knife.
Mum! Grab a weapon! Quick! Quick!
What’s going on?
She look like somebody jus’ told her the aliens have landed, which not far wrong. I point my finger at Connor.
Bro, you stay here. Keep Sabre close. Watch the spaces beneath the door!
Mum has grabbed hold of the heavy-duty Megalite torch that she keep by her bed in case we ever have burglars.
Racin’ down the stairwell. Mum clamberin’ behin’ me, sayin’
What’s up? What is it? Is someone being attacked?
It’s the bugs, Mum
I say.
Great big killer bugs
.
What?!
Hammerin’ at the door with the fryin’ pan.
Open up! Open up!
I turn roun’ to my mum.
We gonna have to break down the door. Quick, smash it with your torch
.
Mum ain’t lookin’ too certain about that idea. Ain’t lookin’ too certain about any of this. I’m kickin’ at the door like a ragin’ donkey. It open wide. Woman standin’ there, wrapped in a dressin’ gown, blinkin’ and frownin’. I dash past. My eyes
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