Selby Snaps (12 page)

‘What is it now
if dear,’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘It’s everything. There just isn’t enough of me to do all the work that needs to be done.’

‘What about the council workers?’

‘I can’t ask them to do any more. They’re as busy as I am. Besides, there are lots of things they just don’t know how to do.’

‘You take your work too seriously, you know,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Sometimes if you don’t do anything, everything works out okay.’

‘I hate it when you say that,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Do you seriously think that all the broken fences are going to fix themselves by magic?’

‘Fix fences? But there are farms all around Bogusville. There are fences everywhere. Half
the people in Bogusville could fix the fences in Bogusville if you asked them to.’

‘I’m not talking about barbed wire fences. Bogusville Hall has a historic iron fence that’s rusting away. Bogusville Park has a sandstone fence that got knocked over by the council truck. And then there’s the fence at the Rose Garden. That’s made out of carved wood. It’s very beautiful but it’s rotting.’

‘What you need is a master-builder who knows all about fences,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Surely there’s one in Bogusville.’

‘There isn’t,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘And I don’t know where to find one. It’s all just too hard.’

Selby lay there feeling helpless. Suddenly something occurred to him.

‘Poor Mrs Trifle,’ he thought. ‘She probably doesn’t know that you can find
anything
on the Internet.’

The next time the Trifles were out of the house, Selby dashed to the computer and turned it on.

‘Let’s see now, how do we find someone to fix all of Bogusville’s fencing?’

Selby typed the words
master builder
and
fencing.

‘Ooops, I’d better put Australia in there too. It wouldn’t be much good to find a fence fixer on the other side of the world.’

Selby clicked on the SEARCH button and waited. Soon one name came up: It said ‘Egon Toest — contact me for all your fencing needs’.

‘Great!’ Selby squealed. ‘Now I’ll email him and sign it Mayor Trifle.’

The plane glided to a stop and the next thing Selby knew a strange-looking man stepped out. He had a pencil-thin moustache and wore a pin-striped suit and white cotton gloves.

‘This guy looks weird,’ Selby thought. ‘But as long as he knows his stuff, who cares what he looks like.’

‘Meesees Trifle?’ he said, with a thick accent. ‘Is zat choo?’ ‘Yes. You’re Mr Toast, I presume?’ ‘I pronounce it
Terrrrrst,’
he said, making his mouth into a tiny O when he said it. ‘Not
toast.
Zat sounds like za bread you burn for breakfast,’ he said taking Mrs Trifle’s hand and kissing it. ‘And who is zeez gentleman?’

‘Mr
Terrrrrst,’
Mrs Trifle said, making her mouth into an even tinier O, ‘this is my husband, Dr Trifle.’

‘He makes fencing too, no?’

‘Well, no,’ Dr Trifle said, ‘that’s why we asked you to come.’

Mr Toest looked puzzled.

‘But ve all haff to know a leetle about fencing,’ he said. ‘I cannot teach people who know nussing.’

Now it was Mrs Trifle’s and Dr Trifle’s and even Selby’s turn to look puzzled.

‘We don’t want you to teach us anything,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘It eez simple: I am Egon
Terrrrrst,
fencing master. I come to deez leetle dry town to teach you fencing.’

‘Oh, no!’ Selby thought.
‘Fencing
is another word for swordfighting! He’s a fencing master! He teaches swordfighting! I put the wrong words in the computer!’

‘Fences, not fencing,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Why would we want to learn swordfighting?’

‘Maybe you want to fence wizz … wizz kangaroos … or zoze wallababy things. You ask
me to come, I come — all the way from Austria.’

‘Austria! Oh no!’ Selby
thought. ‘I must have typed
Austria
instead of
Australia!
He’s come halfway round the world and he’s the wrong person for the job!’

Suddenly Dr Trifle smiled broadly and then burst into laughter.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘What we really wanted —’

‘I don’t care what you wanted. You ask me to come — I come!’ Mr Toest interrupted. ‘You give me money for aeroplane and money for coming.’

‘But, don’t you see?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘It’s all a big mistake.’

‘Zen it is
your
beeg mistake,’ Mr Toest said taking off a glove and slapping Dr Trifle on both cheeks with it. ‘Take zat!’

Dr Trifle smiled.

‘You’ll have to get used to the flies,’ he said.

‘Fly-uz? Wot fly-uz?! I am not swapping fly-uz. I demand satisfaction!’

‘You demand what?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘Oh, no! Dr Trifle doesn’t understand that this dude is challenging him to a duel!’ Selby thought. ‘That glove thing — I saw it in
Swordfighters Three’

‘Tomorrow at sunrise over zair,’ Mr Toest said.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘For za dool. You shooz weaponz.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘What’s this about shoes?’

‘No, no. You shooz za weaponz zen we dool.’

‘I think he’s challenging you to a duel,’ Mrs Trifle whispered. ‘He’s saying something about choosing weapons.’

‘A duel?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Why?’

‘Because you insult me. You bring me here. You laugh at me. You apologise completely for all ziss stupid thing!’

‘How can I apologise when it’s not my fault?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘Zen you die like dog!’

‘But my husband isn’t a duelling sort of man,’ Mrs Trifle explained.

‘Zen he will be a dead sort of man! Tomorrow. When the sun come up. You and me. I bring weaponz. When zere is blood zen the other person win,’ Egon said, striding off.

‘Blood? I’m sure he’s not serious about the duel,’ Dr Trifle said once Egon Toest was gone. ‘No one fights duels anymore. He’s just angry. I’ll meet him tomorrow morning. By then hopefully he will have cooled down. If he hasn’t then maybe I’ll apologise. We’ll work things out.’

‘Hmmm,’ Mrs Trifle hmmmed. ‘I wonder who sent that email.’

‘The Trifles don’t know that this guy really is serious!’ Selby thought. ‘This is all my fault! I’m the one who should be fighting the duel! Oh, woe woe woe.’

That night when the Trifles were asleep, Selby paced around the loungeroom.

‘This is all my fault,’ he thought. ‘I’ve got to find this fencing guy and talk to him. I wonder if he’s staying at the Bogusville Motel. Come to think of it, the only place to stay in town
is
the Bogusville Motel.’

Selby picked up the telephone and dialled.

‘Hello?’ the voice said.

‘Is this Mr Toest?’

‘Terrrrrst.
Yes, it’s me.’

‘This is Dr Trifle,’ Selby said, putting on his best Dr Trifle voice. ‘I’d just like to say that I don’t want to duel tomorrow.’

‘Zen you are big sooky wimpy person!’

Click.

‘He hung up on Dr Trifle! — I mean, me,’ Selby thought. ‘I’ll fix that moustache-mouthed moron!’

Selby ran through dark streets till he got to the Bogusville Motel. He peered in the windows till he found the fencing master sleeping in one of the rooms. On a table were two swords and two sabres.

Selby quietly opened the window and climbed into the room. He gathered up the swords and sabres and climbed out again.

‘When I finish these will be so blunt they won’t even cut butter.’

Outside in the darkness Selby scraped the edges of the sabres on a rock until they were completely dull. Then he pounded the points of the swords on the same rock. When he was finished, he climbed back in the room and put them where he found them.

But just as he was about to leave again, he spied a wooden box and opened it.

‘Duelling pistols! What if Dr Trifle chooses pistols? I know, I’ll take the bullets out,’ he thought. ‘Hang on, if the pistols don’t shoot, old egg-face here will just put some more bullets in them. What’s this? One of them has
Egon Toest
written on it. That’s Egon’s pistol. I’ll take the bullet out of that one and leave the bullet in the other. Brilliant! I’m so clever I frighten myself.’

Selby took out the bullet. Suddenly Egon stirred and Selby jumped out the window again and ran towards home.

‘That was close!’ he thought. ‘Oh, no! The sun’s coming up! I’d better head for the airport.’

Half an hour later, Selby arrived at the airport and hid in some bushes. Soon Egon Toest climbed out of a taxi and the taxi sped away. In a moment, Dr Trifle got out of his car. He looked at the swords and the pistol box laid out neatly on the ground.

‘You shooz weaponz,’ Egon said. ‘Only if you shooz swords or sabres zen I win easy.’

‘You-you can’t be serious about this duelling,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘No talking!’ the fencing master interrupted. ‘Shooz your weaponz. Or you get down on knees and apologise to me and kiss my hand.’

‘I don’t mind apologising,’ Dr Trifle started, ‘but—’

Dr Trifle looked at the weapons.

‘No, I’m not going to apologise to you, you silly little man!’ Dr Trifle said. ‘I choose pistols!’ he said grabbing a pistol from the pistol box. ‘Prepare to die!’

‘Gosh,’ Selby thought. ‘I’ve never seen Dr Trifle like this. He’s sooooooo brave!’

‘You want to start dool?’ Egon asked.

‘Come on, you coward!’ Dr Trifle said.

‘Coward?! You call me coward?!’ the fencing master said, snatching the other pistol from the box. ‘We stop zeez foolishness only when you are lying bye-bye on the ground!’

The two men stood back to back and started walking as Egon Toest counted.

‘Vahn, do, tree …’

Dr Trifle giggled.

‘Vot is wrong?’

‘It’s just the way you say “one, two, three". It’s … well, it’s funny.’

‘You making funny of Egon?! I count more, four, fife, seex …’

‘It’ll serve that Egon guy right when Dr Trifle shoots him,’ Selby thought. ‘What am I saying? I don’t want Dr Trifle to shoot anyone!’

‘… sefen, eight, nine, ten!’ Egon said, turning and pointing his pistol at Dr Trifle.

‘Fortunately Dr Trifle is a hopeless shot,’ Selby thought. ‘What am I saying? What if he doesn’t miss?!’

The men stopped, turned and faced each other. Egon pointed his pistol at Dr Trifle. Dr Trifle smiled and pointed his at the fencing master. Suddenly Selby noticed something on the side of the pistol in Dr Trifle’s hand.

‘Oh, no! He took the pistol that has
Egon Toest
written on it! It’s the one without the bullet! I thought he’d take the other one! Egon’s gun has the bullet in it! He’s going to shoot Dr Trifle! I can’t let this happen!’

Selby leapt out of the bushes and snapped at the fencing master’s hand. The pistol fired up into the air.

‘Selby!’ Dr Trifle cried. ‘What are you doing here?!’

‘You stupid dog!’ Egon cried, grabbing his hand.

‘Now
I will apologise,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘This is my dog. He must have followed me here. I’m terribly sorry. Are you okay?’

‘Yes,’ Egon whimpered, rubbing his hand. ‘He just bump into it. Now all is no good.’

‘Shall we do it again?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘No, no. No more dools. I finish wizz dools.’

Dr Trifle smiled.

‘But you were only bluffing anyway, weren’t you?’ he said.