Charlie and the War Against the Grannies (14 page)

‘You are a dumb poster,' I said. ‘You've given me cramp in my ears and I still don't know what you mean, also, I think it is cruel to make an innocent kitten hang from a rope just so it can be on a dumb poster that doesn't mean any-dumb-thing.'

‘I've found something,' shouted Hils from further down the tunnel.

‘I hope someone draws all over you,' I said to the poster.

I ran down the tunnel towards Hils and the something she had found.

The tunnel made a sharp right turn and as I came around the corner the tunnel started to get wider. I ran under a thick wooden arch. Beyond the arch the walls weren't rocky any more. They were smooth and white. The flaming torches had disappeared and now the tunnel was lit by large fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling.

Hils was standing under another thick wooden arch. She was staring into an enormous room that couldn't have looked less like a secret tunnel.

It looked like an office.

It was an office.

A normal sort of office with desks and computers and fuzzy nothing-coloured walls that didn't go all the way up to the ceiling and coffee mugs and things Blu-Tacked to other things and bored people sitting in office chairs doing boring office stuff.

It looked like the sort of place where a whole lot of mums and dads would work EXCEPT that it was underground and at the end of a secret tunnel.

‘Sign. Two o'clock,' said Hils.

In the army ‘two o'clock' means that something is up and to your right.

I looked up and to my right.

Hanging from the ceiling of the office was a sign that read:

Behind that was a sign that read:

Behind that was yet another sign:

‘Eleven o'clock,' said Hils.

There was a sign at eleven o'clock (up and to the left) which read:

Next to that – at one o'clock (up and a tiny bit to the right) – was this sign:

At
RECEPTION
there were only two things. An enormously wide, high reception desk and behind the desk a grumpy-receptionist wearing a telephone headset. Her face looked like an old crumpled bit of paper that someone had drawn a really grumpy face on. Someone who couldn't draw very well and was angry about not being able to draw well.

Ask her to confirm our coordinates,' said Hils.

That's how an army person says, Ask the grumpy-receptionist where we are.'

‘No. You do it.'

‘Negative.'

Suddenly I realised there was something amazing and scary about the grumpy-receptionist. Amazingly amazing and amazingly scary.

‘Hils,' I said.

‘Just go up to the desk and ask her,' said Hils.

‘Hils, I don't think that grumpy-receptionist is sitting at a desk.'

‘Of course she is sitting at a desk,' said Hils.

‘Have a closer look,' I said.

Hils had a closer look.

Hils's mouth fell open. Her mouth fell so wide open that it was like a castle letting down its drawbridge. I almost expected some knights on horseback to come riding out.

But the only thing that rode out of Hils's mouth was the word ‘Wow!'

Hils never said ‘Wow!'

The grumpy-receptionist wasn't sitting at a huge desk.

There was no huge desk.

There was just a huge grumpy-receptionist.

She was the hugest person I had ever seen.

She was probably the hugest person ever.

AND SHE WAS WALKING TOWARDS US.

My brain was still trying to do thinking about seeing the world's hugest grumpy-receptionist and now it also had to do more thinking about how the world's hugest grumpy-receptionist was walking towards us.

My brain did not want to do all that thinking.

She was walking towards us much faster than I'd imagined the world's hugest grumpy-receptionist could walk towards us.

‘
Visitors
,'
she shouted as she kept on walking towards us.

When she shouted the whole building shook. Actually, we weren't in a building we were underground. She was making underground shake.

‘
Visitors
.'

She was like a talking earthquake.

‘We come in peace,' I said.

‘The nearest exit is 15.7 metres in a south-easterly direction,' said Hils.

‘I don't know what that means,' I said.

‘
Visitors
.'

She was getting closer.

‘It means turn around and run. Really fast. NOW.'

‘
Visitors
.'

My ears got cramp. Again.

‘I don't want to die,' I said as I turned around and ran really fast while I grabbed my earlobes and started flapping them about.

I was running and flapping my earlobes when I smashed into the back of Hils.

‘WHY HAVE YOU STOPPED, HILS?'

‘The young lady has stopped because she collided with poor old me,' said a voice I had never heard before. It was an amazing voice. It was so smooth and so sweet. If a marshmallow could talk, it would have that voice.

I realised I had been running with my eyes closed. I kept them closed.

‘Hils, is that true?'

‘Affirmative.'

‘Who have you collided with?'

‘But I've been rude. Allow me to introduce myself.'

I opened my eyes. In front of us was a man in a silver suit with silver hair and silver eyes.

‘My name is Mr Norma Michaels. A pleasure.'

Norma is a lady's name and Mr Norma Michaels was clearly not a lady. I decided not to ask about that right now.

‘Young man,' said Mr Norma Michaels, ‘if I might be so forward as to enquire: why are you holding your earlobes and flapping your ears about?'

I was still flapping my ears.

I stopped flapping my ears.

‘I had ear-cramp.'

‘A nasty ailment no doubt,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

I looked behind me.

‘You met Phyllis our receptionist. She's such a sweetheart.'

I looked at Hils. I didn't know what to do. Or say. We were lost. We were underground.

‘RUDE,' shouted Mr Norma Michaels.

Hils and I both jumped.

Mr Norma Michaels had suddenly got really, very, super angry.

‘UNCOUTH. I told you my name, you discourteous little ingrates, and you have not told me yours.'

‘I'm Charlie Ian Duncan.'

‘I'm Hils. Not short for anything.'

‘Don't call her Hilary,' I said.

Just as suddenly, Mr Norma Michaels stopped being angry.

‘Young lady, young gentleman, I bid you welcome. I can only imagine you are teeming with questions. Ask away.'

I knew exactly what to ask.

‘Do you have a toilet?' I said. ‘I'm really busting.'

 

I'm sure you think there are a lot of other questions I should have asked Mr Norma Michaels.

• Where are we?
  
• What do you do in this office?
  
• Why is your secret tunnel so boring?
  
• Is Phyllis the biggest person in the world ever?
  
• Have you ever met a cannibal?
  
• Are you a cannibal?
  
• Are you going to eat us?
  
• Which one of us will you eat first?
  
• Are there vultures underground?
  
• Why is your name Norma?
  

But I was really busting.

Also, I really needed to have a secret conversation with Hils and the best way to do that was to use Flush Latin.

‘Here, for your relief, are the privies,' said Mr Norma Michaels.

‘What are the privies?' I said. ‘The latrines,' said Hils. ‘What are latrines?' ‘The toilets,' said Hils.