Just Tricking! by Andy Griffiths Page A

‘Marvin!’
    Knowing Marvin, he’s probably doing homework.
    Finally he picks up the phone.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Marvin Bonwick?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Chris Robbins from Triple B FM here. How are you doing?’
    â€˜Good mate . . . What did you say your name was?’
    â€˜Chris Robbins. Your name’s been drawn this hour to play Beat the Bomb.’
    â€˜Beat the what?’
    â€˜Beat the Bomb!’
    â€˜What’s that, mate?’
    You know, our competition. You should know – you entered it. I’ve got an envelope here with your name on it.’
    â€˜I don’t remember doing that.’
    â€˜Well, maybe a friend did it for you. Would you like to have a go?’
    Yeah, mate,’ he says. ‘No worries, mate.’
    â€˜Well, stand by, we’re about to go to air. I’ll just play a couple of ads and a station ID and then you’re on. Oh, and by the way, Marvin?’

    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜Turn your radio off. We will be transmitting on a ten-second delay and it can get very confusing.’
    I point at Danny. He presses the tape-recorder. It starts into a jingle for Cheapies carpet-cleaning service. I put the phone right next to the speaker.
    â€˜I think we’ve got him!’ I whisper to Danny.

    The carpet ad finishes and one for a supermarket starts. Then the Triple B station ID comes on. It sounds really spacey – like comets and meteorites whizzing past your ears.
    â€˜Triple B – taking you back to the sixties and seventies . . .’ says the voice-over. The sound of the meteorites ends in a shower of xylophone notes. It’s the only exciting sound on the whole station.
    â€˜Good afternoon,’ I say. ‘Chris Robbins with you on Triple B, and to play Beat the Bomb this hour we have Marvin Bonwick on the line. How are you doin,’ Marvy?’
    â€˜Good, mate.’
    â€˜Great! What are you up to this afternoon?’
    â€˜Nothing much, you know.’
    â€˜Fantastic! Ready to play?’
    â€˜Yes, mate.’
    â€˜All right – now, you know the rules, Marvy?’
    â€˜No,’ he says.
    â€˜I’m going to start the clock ticking. You say stop when you think you’ve won enough, and it’s yours to keep. But don’t leave it too late. If the bomb explodes, you end up empty-handed!’

    â€˜Yeah, mate, no worries, mate.’
    â€˜Okay. Clock’s ticking.’
    Danny switches tapes and presses play.
    tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
    He picks up an empty Gladwrap tube and puts one end to the telephone and the other to his mouth.
    â€˜Twenty dollars,’ he says. The tube gives his voice the spacey echo of the real voice. It’s this sort of attention to detail that makes our practical jokes so special.
    tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
    Marvin says nothing.

    â€˜One hundred and sixty-three dollars,’ says Danny, obviously enjoying himself.
    â€˜Three hundred and fifteen dollars.’
    Silence. This guy’s got nerves of steel. Either that or he’s really greedy. Most people would have bailed out by now.
    â€˜Three hundred and eighty-three dollars.’
    Danny looks at me. I shrug.
    â€˜Four hundred and forty-four dollars!’ says Danny.

    tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
    â€˜Five hundred dollars.’
    â€˜Stop!’ says Marvin.
    I signal to Danny to stop the tape.
    â€˜Marvin?’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜Do you know what you’ve just done?’
    â€˜No, mate, did I do something wrong?’
    â€˜Wrong? Marvin, you have just won five hundred dollars! What do you think about that?’
    â€˜Oh, mate! That’s fantastic! I can’t believe it! Mum – I just won five hundred dollars!’
    Marvin’s mother starts squealing in the background. She’s so loud, I have to hold the receiver away from my ear. Danny can hear it too. He’s rolling around on the floor killing himself