Horrid Henry Wakes the Dead (4 page)

“AAAIIIEEEEE!” screamed Peter. “Henry bit me.”

“Don’t be horrid, Henry!” shouted Mom. “Poor Peter.”

“Serves him right!” shrieked Horrid Henry. “You’re the meanest parents in the world and I hate you.”

“Go to your room!” shouted Dad.

“No allowance for a week!” shouted Mom.

“Fine!” screamed Horrid Henry.

Horrid Henry sat in his bedroom. He glared at the snot-green dinosaur scowling at him from where he’d thrown it on the floor and stomped on it. He hated the color green. He loved the color purple. The leader of the Purple Hand Gang deserved the purple Dinosaur Roar.

He’d make Peter swap dinosaurs if it was the last thing he did. And if Peter wouldn’t swap, he’d be sorry he was born. Henry would…Henry could…

And then suddenly Horrid Henry had a wonderful, wicked idea. Why had he never thought of this before?

Perfect Peter sat in his bedroom. He smiled at the purple dinosaur as it lurched, roaring around the room.

“RRRRAAAAAAAAA! RAAAAAAAAA! FEED ME!” bellowed the dinosaur.

How lucky he was to have the purple dinosaur. Purple was much better than green. It was only fair that Peter got the purple dinosaur, and Henry got the yucky green one. After all, Peter was perfect and Henry was horrid. Peter deserved the purple one.

Suddenly Horrid Henry burst into his bedroom.

“Mom said to stay in your room,” squealed Peter, shoving the dinosaur under his desk and standing guard in front of it. Henry would have to drag him away kicking and screaming before he got his hands on Peter’s T-Rex.

“So?” said Henry.

“I’m telling on you,” said Peter.

“Go ahead,” said Henry. “I’m telling on
you
, wibble pants.”

Tell on him? Tell what?

“There’s nothing to tell,” said Perfect Peter.

“Oh yes there is,” said Henry. “I’m going to tell everyone what a mean, horrid, wormy toad you are, stealing the purple dinosaur when I said I wanted it first.”

Perfect Peter gasped. Horrid? Him?

“I didn’t steal it,” said Peter. “And I’m not horrid.”

“Are too.”

“Am not. I’m perfect.”

“No you’re not. If you were
really
perfect, you wouldn’t be so selfish,” said Henry.

“I’m not selfish,” whimpered Peter.

But
was
he being selfish keeping the purple dinosaur, when Henry wanted it so badly?

“Mom and Dad said I could have it,” said Peter weakly.

“That’s ’cause they knew you’d just start crying,” said Henry. “Actually, they’re disappointed in you. I heard them.”

“What did they say?” gasped Peter.

“That you were a crybaby,” said Henry.

“I’m not a crybaby,” said Peter.

“Then why are you acting like one, crybaby?”

Could Henry be telling the truth? Mom and Dad…disappointed in him…thinking he was a baby? A selfish baby? A
horrid
, selfish baby?

Oh no, thought Peter. Could Henry be right?
Was
he being horrid?

“Go on, Peter,” urged his angel. “Give Henry the purple one. After all, they’re exactly the same, just different colors.”

“Don’t do it!” urged his devil. “Why should you always be perfect? Be horrid for once.”

“Umm, umm,” said Peter.

“You know you want to do the right thing,” said Henry.

Peter did want to do the right thing.

“Okay, Henry,” said Peter. “You can have the purple dinosaur. I’ll have the green one.”

YES!!!

Slowly Perfect Peter crawled under his desk and picked up the purple dinosaur.

“Good boy, Peter,” said his angel.

“Idiot,” said his devil.

Slowly Peter held out the dinosaur to Henry. Henry grabbed it…

Wait. Was he crazy? Why should he swap with Henry? Henry was only trying to trick him…

“Give it back!” yelled Peter.

“No!” said Henry.

Peter tugged on the dinosaur’s legs.

Henry tugged on the dinosaur’s head.

“Gimme!”

“Gimme!”

Tug

Tug

Yank

Yank

Snaaaaap.

Riiiiiiip.

Horrid Henry looked at the twisted purple dinosaur head in his hands.

Perfect Peter looked at the broken purple dinosaur claw in his hands.

“I want the green dinosaur!” shrieked Henry and Peter.

“No, no, no, no, no!” shouted Miss Battle-Axe. “Spitting is not a talent, Graham. Violet, you can’t do the cancan as your talent. Ralph, burping to the beat is not a talent.”

She turned to Bert. “What’s your talent?”

“I dunno,” said Beefy Bert.

“And what about you, Steven?” said Miss Battle-Axe grimly.

“Caveman,” grunted Stone-Age Steven. “Ugg!”

Horrid Henry had had enough.

“Me next!” shrieked Horrid Henry. “I’ve got a great talent! Me next!”

“Me!” shrieked Moody Margaret.

“Me!” shrieked Rude Ralph.

“No one who shouts out will be performing
anything
,” said Miss Battle-Axe.

Next week was Horrid Henry’s school talent show. But this wasn’t an ordinary school talent show. Oh no. This year was different. This year, the famous TV presenter Sneering Simone was choosing the winner.

But best and most fantastic of all, the prize was a chance to appear on Simone’s TV show,
Talent Tigers
. And from there…well, there was no end to the fame and fortune that awaited the winner.

Horrid Henry had to win. He just had to. A chance to be on TV! A chance for his genius to be recognized, at last.

The only problem was, he had so many talents it was impossible to pick just one. He could eat chips faster than Greedy Graham. He could burp to the theme tune of
Marvin the Maniac
. He could stick out his tongue almost as far as Moody Margaret.

But brilliant as these talents were, perhaps they weren’t
quite
special enough to win. Hmmmm…

Wait, he had it.

He could perform his new rap, “I have an ugly brother, ick ick ick/A smelly toad brother, who makes me sick.” That would be sure to get him on
Talent Tigers
.

“Margaret!” barked Miss Battle-Axe, “what’s your talent?”

“Susan and I are doing a rap,” said Moody Margaret.

What?

“
I’m
doing a rap,” howled Henry. How dare Margaret steal his idea!

“Only one person can do a rap,” said Miss Battle-Axe firmly.

“Unfair!” shrieked Horrid Henry.

“Be quiet, Henry,” said Miss Battle-Axe.

Moody Margaret stuck out her tongue at Horrid Henry. “Nah nah ne nah nah.”

Horrid Henry stuck out his tongue at Moody Margaret. Aaaarrgh! It was so unfair.

“I’m doing a hundred push-ups,” said Aerobic Al.

“I’m playing the drums,” said Jazzy Jim.

“I want to do a rap!” howled Horrid Henry. “Mine’s much better than hers!”

“You have to do something else or not take part,” said Miss Battle-Axe, consulting her list.

Not take part? Was Miss Battle-Axe out of her mind? Had all those years working on a chain gang done her in?

Miss Battle-Axe stood in front of Henry, baring her fangs. Her pen tapped impatiently on her notebook.

“Last chance, Henry. List closes in ten seconds…”

What to do, what to do?

“I’ll do magic,” said Horrid Henry. How hard could it be to do some magic? He wasn’t a master of disguise and the fearless leader of the Purple Hand Gang for nothing. In fact, not only would he do magic, he would do the greatest magic trick the world had ever seen. No rabbits out of a hat. No flowers out of a cane. No sawing a girl in half—though if Margaret volunteered Henry would be very happy to oblige.

No! He, Henry, Il Stupendioso, the greatest magician ever, would…would…he would wake the dead.

Wow. That was much cooler than a rap. He could see it now. He would chant his magic spells and wave his magic wand, until slowly, slowly, slowly, out of the coffin the bony body would rise, sending the audience screaming out of the hall!

Yes! thought Horrid Henry,
Talent Tigers
here I come. All he needed was an assistant.

Unfortunately, no one in his class wanted to assist him.

“Are you crazy?” said Gorgeous Gurinder.

“I’ve got a much better talent than
that
. No way,” said Clever Clare.

“Wake the dead?” gasped Weepy William. “Nooooo.”

Rats, thought Horrid Henry. For his spectacular trick to work, an assistant was essential. Henry hated working with other children, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. Was there anyone he knew who would do exactly as they were told? Someone who would obey his every order? Hmmm. Perhaps there was a certain someone who would even pay for the privilege of being in his show.

Perfect Peter was busy emptying the dishwasher without being asked.

“Peter,” said Henry sweetly, “how much would you pay me if I let you be in my magic show?”

Perfect Peter couldn’t believe his ears. Henry was asking him to be in his show. Peter had always wanted to be in a show. And now Henry was actually asking him after he’d said no a million times. It was a dream come true. He’d pay anything.

“I’ve got $6.27 in my piggy bank,” said Peter eagerly.

Horrid Henry pretended to think.

“Done!” said Horrid Henry. “You can start by painting the coffin black.”

“Thank you, Henry,” said Peter humbly, handing over the money.

Tee-hee, thought Horrid Henry, pocketing the loot.

Henry told Peter what he had to do. Peter’s jaw dropped.

“And will my name be on the billboard so everyone will know I’m your assistant?” asked Peter.

“Of course,” said Horrid Henry.

***

The great day arrived at last. Henry had practiced and practiced and practiced. His magic robes were ready. His magic spells were ready. His coffin was ready. His props were ready. Even his dead body was as ready as it would ever be. Victory was his!

Henry and Peter stood backstage and peeked through the curtain as the audience charged into the hall. The school was buzzing. Parents pushed and shoved to get the best seats. There was a stir as Sneering Simone swept in, taking her seat in the front row.

“Would you
please
move?” demanded Margaret’s mother, waving her camcorder. “I can’t see my little Maggie Muffin.”

“And I can’t see Al with
your
big head in the way,” snapped Aerobic Al’s dad, shoving his camera in front of Moody Margaret’s mom.