Selby Scrambled (10 page)

Miles closed the door and opened a tall cupboard and threw in the envelope. But the cupboard was so full that piles and piles of envelopes and folders spilled out onto the floor. Some of the envelopes had things like FINAL NOTICE! and DEMAND PAYMENT and CAR PAYMENT DUE NOW! stamped on the front.

‘Wow!’ Selby thought. ‘This guy’s in worse trouble with his accounts than Mrs Trifle was.

He’s an accountant but he can’t look after his own money.’

‘Oh, Selby,’ Miles said, scooping up the papers and envelopes and piling them back into the cupboard, ‘what am I going to do?’

The next morning, back in Bogusville, Miles washed the Trifles’ breakfast dishes.

‘I haven’t quite finished my work on the council’s accounts,’ he said to Mrs Trifle. ‘But I should have them done in an hour or so. I think you’ll be surprised when you see how much money is in the council’s bank account.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Mrs Trifle exclaimed.

‘And here is the bill for my services.’

Mrs Trifle looked at it.

‘That’s very reasonable,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry about writing a cheque. I’ll just transfer the money directly from the council’s bank account to mine and then I’ll be off.’

‘It’s been a pleasure having you here,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘The house has never been this clean before.’

‘You’ve done a wonderful job,’ Mrs Trifle
said, giving him a huge hug. ‘And I know that Selby has enjoyed your company.’

No sooner were the Trifles out the door than Miles turned on the computer.

‘Now to transfer the money,’ he said. ‘Let’s see, here’s the account number and now to transfer …’

‘Hey, hang on!’ Selby thought as he looked at the computer screen. ‘That’s not the amount that he told Mrs Trifle. That’s much much more.’

Miles got up and started pacing around the room.

‘I can’t do it,’ he said out loud. ‘I just can’t do it. I’d hate myself too much. But I have to do it. Oh, Selby, what should I do?’

‘You could start by not stealing the council’s money,’ Selby thought.

‘If I don’t do it then I’ll lose my apartment, and my car — I’ll lose everything! Oh, me. Oh, poor me!’

‘Don’t do it, Miles,’ Selby pleaded in his brain. ‘You’re a good man, really. You’ve just let your life get out of control.’

‘I’m a good man, really,’ Miles said. ‘But I’m a desperate man. I simply have to do it.’

Miles was about to push the RETURN button on the computer when he started pacing again.

‘This is terrible!’ Selby thought. ‘I’ve got to do something — fast!’

Selby leapt up on the desk, knocking over a vase of flowers.

‘Selby!’ Miles cried. ‘Now there’s water all over the desk. Oh, well, I’ll just finish this off first.’

Miles was about to hit the RETURN button again when he suddenly stopped.

‘No, no, I can’t do it — at least not with this mess here. I’ll get a sponge.’

Miles went out to the kitchen.

‘That’s a start,’ Selby thought. ‘Now for the serious stuff. I’ve got to keep him from doing the evil deed.’

It was a diabolical dog that raced around the house, tipping over wastepaper baskets, furniture and flower pots and leaving greasy noseprints on the windows. By the time Miles returned with the sponge, there was mess everywhere.

‘Selby! What are you doing?’ cried the accountant, as he ran for a dustpan and brush.

‘Oh, no! Now you’ve stepped in your water bowl and you’re tracking dirt all over the place! What’s got into you?’

It was a stealthy dog that picked up the telephone just when Miles turned on the vacuum cleaner in the other room.

‘Is this Greg from A-1 Rentals?’ Selby said, putting on his best accountant’s voice. ‘This is Miles, Miles Manerd. I think I have the answer to my financial problems. There are just a few things

I’d like you to do. And would you send me back an email about it? Here’s the address …’

It was a relaxed dog that lay innocently on the carpet in the study when the mild-mannered accountant returned.

‘Now for the terrible deed,’ he said, ‘sitting down at the computer. What’s this? An email? For me? Let’s see what it says.’

And this is what it said:

‘Did as I instructed? I don’t remember asking him to do anything but I must have. And it’s the
answer to all my problems!’ Miles cried. ‘Sometimes I amaze myself. Now if I work hard and save and budget everything will be fine. I’ll just pay myself what the council owes me now.’

Selby watched as the accountant transferred the right amount of money.

‘Goodbye, Selby,’ he said, giving Selby a pat. ‘You were a very naughty dog just then but you kept me from making a terrible mistake. You’ll never know how much you helped me.’

‘No,’ Selby thought, as the accountant walked to his car,
‘you’re
the one who will never know how much I helped you. Goodbye and good luck.’

‘Let’s talk about school holidays,’ the man on the radio said. ‘Do kids need breaks from school? If you have any thoughts on this, give us a ring. This is Mike Balistik, known around here as Magic Mike, coming to you from Radio OK4U, the Heart of the Bush.’

‘Hey, I like the sound of this guy,’ Selby thought, as he lay in the lounge room listening to the radio.

‘Why do we pay for schools and then leave them empty for months of the year?’ Mike continued. ‘Wouldn’t kids learn more if they went to school every day?’

‘Good point, Mike,’ Selby thought.

‘And what do kids do on holidays? Nothing.

They watch TV. They sleep-in in the morning. Parents have to miss work to stay at home and look after them. They waste their time — and everyone else’s. Do they learn anything on their holidays? Of course not.’

‘That’s true,’ Selby thought. ‘I hadn’t ever considered that.’

‘And when they leave the house it’s to get into trouble. I say keep them in school and out of trouble. Okay, do we have any callers on the line, Richard?’

‘Putting Laurence through, Mike.’

‘Hello, Laurence.’

‘Hello, Magic Mike, I love your show,’ a man said. ‘It’s so great to hear someone who’s not afraid to speak his mind.’

‘Thanks, Laurence. There isn’t enough of it these days, is there?’

‘That’s for sure. Mike, you know how you were saying that kids should always go to school and that? Over in Bogusville some kids were on school holidays and they went back to their school and broke a window.’

‘Is that right, Laurence? Well, it wouldn’t happen if we kept them in school. Thanks for
that, Laurence.
(Click)
Anyone else on the line, Richard?’

‘I remember that broken window,’ Selby thought. ‘Willy and Billy did it and boy did they get into trouble!’

‘We’ve got Camilla on the line, Mike.’

‘Hello, Camilla. What do you think about getting rid of school holidays?’

‘Mr Balistik, I’m a teacher and I think that kids need time off from school. They need to get away from school work to get their energy back.’

‘Hey, that sounds like Camilla Bonzer,’ Selby thought, ‘the librarian at Bogusville Primary School. She’s got a point.’

‘Do you know what, Camilla?’ Magic Mike said. ‘I think you’re wrong. You just want the kids to have holidays so
you
can have lots of holidays.’

‘No, don’t you see how important it is —’

‘I can see all right! I can see that you’re an idiot! An idiot who only cares about yourself!’

‘But-but-but —’

‘But nothing. You’d let the kids off for half the year if it was up to you.’

‘No, I wouldn’t. It’s just that —’

‘Yes, you would! You’d have them going to school for one month every year so that you could go on holidays for the rest of the time. Well, it’s just not good enough. There are people who are right and there are people who are wrong and you are wrong wrong
wrong,
lady! Wake up to yourself! Cut her off, Richard, she’s an idiot.’

(Click)

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Mike said with a sigh. ‘I just think that people ought to do a good day’s work for a good day’s pay.’

‘Now wait, Mike,’ Selby thought. ‘Camilla had a point. You didn’t even listen to her side of it.’

‘And now let’s talk about dogs,’ Mike went on. ‘Filthy, nasty, flea-bitten, dangerous creatures — a bunch of do-nothings that poop all over footpaths. Why don’t we all get together and round them up and shoot them? Anyone out there want to talk about dogs?’

‘I do, Mike,’ Selby said, grabbing the phone and dialling Radio OK4U. ‘My name’s Sel — Selig. May I speak to Magic Mike, please?’

‘Putting you through.’

‘Mike, is that you?’

‘What is it, Selig?’

‘About dogs being filthy and nasty, and dangerous and that.’

‘What about it?’

‘Well, we’re not all like that —’

‘We?’ Mike laughed. ‘Did you say, we? Like you’re a dog or something?’

‘No, sorry, I meant
they.
You see most of what you say is really the owners’ fault, not the dogs’ fault.’

‘Wrong, Selig! Cut this guy off, Richard!’

‘Let me explain,’ Selby went on. ‘Take fleas for example —’

‘Cut him off!’

‘— the only thing dogs can do about fleas is scratch. And that doesn’t get rid of them. Only the owners can get flea medicine.’

‘Richard, cut this idiot off!’

‘A dog can’t just walk into a vet’s surgery and say, “I’d like some Flea-Off,” and then hand over the money, now can he?’

‘Richard, if you don’t hang up on this fool then I quit!’

‘Hear him out, Mike,’ Richard said. ‘I like the sound of this guy.’

‘The only sound I’d like from this guy is the sound of my foot on his backside,’ Mike said.

‘And as for dogs being do-nothings,’ Selby continued. ‘Where would farmers be without sheep and cattle dogs? Where would blind people be without guide dogs?’

‘Most dogs don’t do anything, Selig. What a stupid name — Selig. Richard, I’m warning you. Cut him off or I’m outta here!’

‘Dogs,’ Selby said calmly, ‘are faithful and loyal and loving and kind. They are the most wonderful creatures on earth. And why do I say this, Mike? Because they make people happy.’

‘Richard!’

‘Can you think of anything better than making people happy? Do you have any idea what might happen if we got rid of dogs?’

‘Okay, I’m outta here! You can take this stupid show and do whatever you want with it, Richie, old boy, because I’m heading back to the city! Goodbye and good riddance to all of you flyblown bush-bunnies.’

(Slam!)

Selby went on and on talking about the friendship between dogs and their owners. When he was finished Richard’s voice said, ‘Thank you for your call today, Selig. Could you hold while we go to a commercial?’

‘Sure.’

As the song for the Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits ad came on the radio, Selby heard Richard’s voice again.

‘Hi, Selig, this is Richard here, the producer. We’re not on air now. I wanted to say that you were very good. You have a great way with words.’

‘It’s just that I feel very strongly about dogs,’ Selby explained.

‘You probably feel strongly about a lot of things,’ the producer said. ‘Quite frankly I’m glad to see the end of Mike. He was getting very boring. We were losing our audience. Besides, how dumb is it to attack dogs when the Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuit Company pays for ads on this show? Get me?’

‘I think so,’ Selby said, not really sure that he did.

‘Now, Selig, I have an offer for you. How
would you like to be the new Magic Mike? We’ll call you Silvertone Selig, because you’re a smooth talker.’

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly.’

‘You’re good, Selig. Already the switchboard is flooded with calls from people who love you.’

‘Really? No, the thing is I have a bit of a problem with my appearance.’

‘Are you ugly or something? This is radio, Selig. No one will see you.’

‘No one but you,’ Selby said.

‘Oh, I get it,’ the producer said. ‘You want to keep your privacy, don’t you? You don’t want people to find out who you really are or where you live because they’d ruin your life forever.’

‘Spot on,’ Selby said.

‘Selig probably isn’t even your real name.’

‘Right again.’

‘I don’t care who you really are or where you live, just come in here with a bag over your head and do the radio show. How does that sound?’

‘It could be fun,’ Selby said. ‘I’ll think about

it.’

It was a strange sight. Standing at the studio door was what looked like a man in a dog suit. But of course we know that it wasn’t a man in a dog suit but a
dog
in a dog suit — Selby’s disguise.

‘That’s perfect!’ Richard said, shaking a paw of the dog suit, little knowing that there was a real paw inside. ‘No wonder you like dogs — you are one! Have a seat, Selig, you’re on the air.’