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Authors: Richard Glover

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‘Yes,’ I interrupted again, ‘dying to get in there.’

Grandad was on a roll now. ‘Yes, but I bet you don’t you the one about…’

‘How they refuse to bury anyone who lives around here — because you have to be DEAD to get in.’

Grandad had a good old laugh at that. He seemed quite pleased that I was such an expert.

‘So what’s the plan then?’ he asked.

‘It’s simple,’ Ben said, ‘you pretend you’re having a dinner to congratulate us for getting into our debating teams at school. (The week before our new schools had try-outs, and we’d both managed to snag a place on the teams.) Then we’ll invite Jesse’s dad, my dad, and Hattie and Mattie. With everyone’s help, we’ll be able to give it to the dads until it hurts!’

‘Sounds great,’ said Grandad. ‘As long as I’m allowed to do the graveyard joke.’

‘That joke,’ I said to Grandad, ‘is so old it should be in a graveyard itself.’

That afternoon, and every afternoon that week, Ben and I went to Grandad’s place. We dug holes, painted signs, hammered wood, copied music and hung curtains. We also recruited
Mattie and Hattie, and told them exactly what they had to do to make everything work.

Meanwhile Grandad tried to remember all his old jokes — the ones he used to tell until my dad made him stop. For years Grandad had held himself back from firing off Dad Jokes.

Not anymore.

FOUR

W
hen the big day finally arrived, Ben’s dad picked us up in his people mover. As soon as we got to Grandad’s we all leapt out of the car and filed up the front path. There was me and Dad, Ben and his dad, and Mattie and Hattie.

I forgot to mention that Mattie and Hattie look like identical twins. They are the same height and have the same haircut. They even like wearing the same clothes. It’s pretty strange that they look like twins because Ben and I look pretty different — he’s really tall and gangly, while I’m shorter and kind of stronger looking. But our sisters look so alike that some people call Mattie Hattie and Hattie Mattie.

Anyway, as we walked up the path my dad suddenly stopped to stare at a big road sign which had been put up next to the path. It was like the signs you see beside highways when there’s a big dip coming up in the road. Our sign said, ‘Dip Ahead’.

I turned to face Dad and tried to keep my face blank. No way did I want to tip him off by having a Joke Mouth of my own.

‘I hope you’ve brought a packet of corn chips, Dad,’ I said, holding my face very still.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, frowning.

‘Check out the sign. It says, “Dip ahead”. There’ll be a choice of Hummus, Guacamole or Spicy Mexican, so you’ll definitely need your corn chips.’

Dad groaned as if he was in pain. I’d hit him with a Dad Joke that he’d entirely forgotten — one that had come straight from Grandad. It was my first shot in the war against the dads.

A few steps further on there was another road sign stuck into the ground on the other side of the path, ‘Watch for cyclists’.

‘Shame you’re not riding a bicycle, Dad,’ I said.

‘Why?’ he asked, but suspiciously this time, like he knew he was going to be hit again.

‘Because you could have won a free watch. See, it makes the promise right there — “watch for cyclists”.’

Dad groaned again. ‘What’s wrong with you today, Jesse? These jokes are really terrible. And who dug up Grandad’s lawn to put in all these signs?’

We climbed up the steps to the front door. Ben’s dad went to press the bell but there was no way it could be used — it was covered up by a matchbox and masking tape.

‘What’s the story with the bell?’ he asked.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ said Ben. ‘Jesse’s Grandad has just been awarded the No-bell Prize.’

Both dads turned to look at Ben, and then shook their heads. Ben’s dad said, ‘That’s really terrible, son.’

‘We can still get in,’ Ben said, ‘he’s installed a new bell. It’s a musical one. You just press this button on this CD player…’

Ben’s dad pressed the button and a voice boomed out of the speakers. It was Ben’s dad singing one of his car songs. Ben had secretly recorded it on his Mp3 player, and then transferred it onto CD.

We all just stood around staring at the stereo. Ben’s dad sounded bad enough in the car, but with his voice ringing out in the silence of Grandad’s garden, it sounded really terrible.

On the recording, Ben’s dad was trying to sing a song by the band AC/DC, one of his old favourites. The real lyrics go, ‘It’s a long way to the top when you want to rock and roll.’ But Ben’s dad was belting out, ‘It’s a long way to the shop if you want a sausage roll.’

Everyone laughed, except Ben’s dad — he just looked really confused. ‘Why are you all laughing? It’s a song about these guys in a band. They are really hungry. And they want a sausage roll. But they are a very long way from the shop. What’s so funny about that?’

We just smiled at Ben’s dad, and I shook my head like he was a real sad case. Even Mattie and Hattie had the total giggles and were rolling around on the ground.

Just then Grandad opened the door.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said. ‘Are you looking forward to lunch?’

‘I’m starving,’ Dad said. Grandad shook his hand and replied, ‘Hi Starving, good to meet you. I’m Grandad.’

Dad tried to ignore the joke. ‘How long’s lunch going to be?’ he asked instead.

‘About ten centimetres,’ said Grandad, ‘it’s a sausage.’

I have to hand it to Grandad, he was pretty good at avoiding the Joke Mouth. But he was terrible afterwards — jumping around, slapping his thighs and yelling ‘Get it! Get it! You said “How long?” And I said “ten centimetres”. You see, you meant how long in time it was…and I…and I…’

BOOK: Joke Trap
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