enthralling.
Stephen and the dead wasp were still in the jar. So was a giant spider. The spider was enormous, and its jointed hairy legs splayed out in all directions, leaving very little space for Stephen, who was holding a new pin.
‘Kraggle! Kraggle! Kraggle!’ Zab was shouting again.
‘He’s saying
Kill! Kill! Kill!
,’ Colette realised, feeling sick. But this time Stephen would not oblige.
Colette could see that the spider wasn’t interested in Stephen; it seemed much keener on the dead wasp.
‘Kraggle! Flisterflay, iggly plop – kraggle !’ Zab commanded angrily, but Stephen held the pin behind his back.
‘Why should I?’ he said. ‘It hasn’t done anything to me.’
Zab was furious now. He unscrewed the lid of the jam jar and turned it upside down, shaking Stephen, the dead wasp and the live spider out on to the path.
The spider scuttled away. Stephen picked himself up and waved the pin angrily at Zab. ‘You’re evil!’ he shouted.
Zab lifted a foot to stamp on Stephen.
‘Stop!’ shouted Colette, grabbing Zab’s undone shoelace.
Zab wobbled, missed Stephen and kicked Colette instead. She fell to the ground.
‘Leave my sister alone!’ Stephen climbed on to Zab’s trainer and dug the pin into his ankle.
‘Askorp! Askorp, oy frikely plop!’ Zab yelped with pain as Stephen jumped off his trainer and ran down the path.
Colette picked herself up and watched Zab catch up with Stephen and step over him. Stephen dodged sideways, and ran towards an enormous wooden building. ‘It must be the giants’ garden shed,’ thought Colette.
The floor of the building was propped up by bricks. She saw Stephen run under it.
‘Pecky iggly plop!’ shouted Zab. He found a stick and started poking it under the shed.
‘Come on, Colette!’ shouted Stephen. ‘It’s safe under here!’
Colette ran down the path towards the shed. But Zab spotted her. He snatched her up. Then he looked around. Colette guessed he was looking for the lawn mower.
‘Queesh ez o strimpchogger?’ he said, and squeezed her angrily. It hurt.
‘Zab!’ came a voice from the house. It was the giant mother, calling him.
Without letting go of Colette, Zab poked the stick under the shed one last time. Colette kicked and struggled, desperate to escape his grip, but it only tightened. Then, in his nastiest voice, Zab shouted at Stephen:
‘Ootle rootle, iggly plop! Yahaw!’
He turned on his heel and strode towards the house, with Colette still in his hand.
17
Sweefswoof
Z AB STOMPED UP the stairs, clutching the girl iggly plop. He was angry with her, almost as angry as he was with the boy iggly plop. It would serve him right to be left out in the garden. Zab hoped that an owl or a fox would get him.
As for the girl, she was turning out to be pretty useless. She was a rotten fighter, and she had a cunning streak too: Zab was convinced that she had hidden the precious strimpchogger that he had sweefswoofed withJumbeelia for the iggliest plop. Now he wouldn’t be able to take it on holiday with him.
Zab wasn’t specially looking forward to staying with his grandfather. There wasn’t much to do there, and it would have been fun to have the strimpchogger to play with. Still, he thought, at least he would get more sweets, chocolates and crisps at Grishpij’s house than he did at home. And at least Jumbeelia wouldn’t be there. Also, Grishpij had a dog. It was a silly yappy thing, but to the iggly plop it would be bigger than an elephant. She would probably be terrified – especially now that the nasty iggly boy was no longer around to protect her.
Zab smiled at this thought. This miniature girl was the perfect victim for the experiments and tortures which he could only dream of inflicting on his life-size sister. He squeezed her more tightly as he carried her into his room. Still smiling, he zipped her up in his sponge bag, which he then put into his hold-all. Her muffled squawks and protests stopped when Mij came into
Stephen and the dead wasp were still in the jar. So was a giant spider. The spider was enormous, and its jointed hairy legs splayed out in all directions, leaving very little space for Stephen, who was holding a new pin.
‘Kraggle! Kraggle! Kraggle!’ Zab was shouting again.
‘He’s saying
Kill! Kill! Kill!
,’ Colette realised, feeling sick. But this time Stephen would not oblige.
Colette could see that the spider wasn’t interested in Stephen; it seemed much keener on the dead wasp.
‘Kraggle! Flisterflay, iggly plop – kraggle !’ Zab commanded angrily, but Stephen held the pin behind his back.
‘Why should I?’ he said. ‘It hasn’t done anything to me.’
Zab was furious now. He unscrewed the lid of the jam jar and turned it upside down, shaking Stephen, the dead wasp and the live spider out on to the path.
The spider scuttled away. Stephen picked himself up and waved the pin angrily at Zab. ‘You’re evil!’ he shouted.
Zab lifted a foot to stamp on Stephen.
‘Stop!’ shouted Colette, grabbing Zab’s undone shoelace.
Zab wobbled, missed Stephen and kicked Colette instead. She fell to the ground.
‘Leave my sister alone!’ Stephen climbed on to Zab’s trainer and dug the pin into his ankle.
‘Askorp! Askorp, oy frikely plop!’ Zab yelped with pain as Stephen jumped off his trainer and ran down the path.
Colette picked herself up and watched Zab catch up with Stephen and step over him. Stephen dodged sideways, and ran towards an enormous wooden building. ‘It must be the giants’ garden shed,’ thought Colette.
The floor of the building was propped up by bricks. She saw Stephen run under it.
‘Pecky iggly plop!’ shouted Zab. He found a stick and started poking it under the shed.
‘Come on, Colette!’ shouted Stephen. ‘It’s safe under here!’
Colette ran down the path towards the shed. But Zab spotted her. He snatched her up. Then he looked around. Colette guessed he was looking for the lawn mower.
‘Queesh ez o strimpchogger?’ he said, and squeezed her angrily. It hurt.
‘Zab!’ came a voice from the house. It was the giant mother, calling him.
Without letting go of Colette, Zab poked the stick under the shed one last time. Colette kicked and struggled, desperate to escape his grip, but it only tightened. Then, in his nastiest voice, Zab shouted at Stephen:
‘Ootle rootle, iggly plop! Yahaw!’
He turned on his heel and strode towards the house, with Colette still in his hand.
17
Sweefswoof
Z AB STOMPED UP the stairs, clutching the girl iggly plop. He was angry with her, almost as angry as he was with the boy iggly plop. It would serve him right to be left out in the garden. Zab hoped that an owl or a fox would get him.
As for the girl, she was turning out to be pretty useless. She was a rotten fighter, and she had a cunning streak too: Zab was convinced that she had hidden the precious strimpchogger that he had sweefswoofed withJumbeelia for the iggliest plop. Now he wouldn’t be able to take it on holiday with him.
Zab wasn’t specially looking forward to staying with his grandfather. There wasn’t much to do there, and it would have been fun to have the strimpchogger to play with. Still, he thought, at least he would get more sweets, chocolates and crisps at Grishpij’s house than he did at home. And at least Jumbeelia wouldn’t be there. Also, Grishpij had a dog. It was a silly yappy thing, but to the iggly plop it would be bigger than an elephant. She would probably be terrified – especially now that the nasty iggly boy was no longer around to protect her.
Zab smiled at this thought. This miniature girl was the perfect victim for the experiments and tortures which he could only dream of inflicting on his life-size sister. He squeezed her more tightly as he carried her into his room. Still smiling, he zipped her up in his sponge bag, which he then put into his hold-all. Her muffled squawks and protests stopped when Mij came into
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