Selby Snaps (6 page)

‘But can’t we get the demo guys to blow it up?’

‘No can do, Dwaynie boy. If the bomb goes up it’ll take the dam out. Then the town will be hit by a wall of water.’

‘But why me?’

‘Because you’re the only one who’s been trained to defuse old bombs.’

‘Trained? Do you call watching some boring old movie called
Bomb Brigade
training?’

‘That’s more than we got, Dwayne. We didn’t even get to see the movie. Come on, mate, get a wriggle on. If this rain keeps up it’ll short it out and then it’ll go off anyway.’

‘Okay, I’m going to cut the black wire — just like in the movie.’

‘No, Dwayne, it was the white one,’ Selby mumbled.

Selby watched as Dwayne’s trembling hand picked up the wire-cutters and put them around the black wire.

‘The white wire!’ Selby whispered. ‘The white one!’

‘Did I hear someone say, “The white one!"?’ the soldier called out.

‘We didn’t say anything, Dwayne.’

‘I think it was the black one,’ Dwayne mumbled. ‘No, the white one. No, the black one.’

Selby’s head was spinning as he watched the terrified soldier move his wire-cutters from one wire to the other. Then he imagined himself
running across the field as a huge explosion threw a mountain of dirt into the air. The side of the dam burst and then a wall of water tore down the valley towards Bogusville.

‘No, I can’t let it happen!’ he said out loud. ‘Dwayne, it was the white one!’

Dwayne spun around. His uniform was soaked with sweat and his hands shook so much that his watch flew off. He stared at Selby.

‘Wha-What did you say?’ he asked. ‘Did you talk?’

‘I said, cut the white wire, Dwayne!’ Selby said. ‘I saw the movie, too. It was the white one, not the black one.’

Dwayne’s eyes slowly rolled up into his head and he collapsed in a faint.

‘Oh, great,’ Selby thought as he saw the rain water beginning to pour into the bomb. ‘Now I guess
I’ve
got to do something.’

Selby put on the headphones and grabbed the wire-cutters.

‘Talk to me, Dwayne,’ the voice said.

‘I’m talking,’ Selby said, doing his best imitation of the soldier’s voice. ‘And I’m about to cut the white wire.’

‘I thought you said it was the black one.’

‘I was wrong, it was the white one,’ Selby said putting the wire-cutters on the white wire. ‘I remember it now.’

Selby snapped the wire in two with the wire-cutters. The ticking suddenly stopped.

‘What’s happening? Talk to me, Dwayne.’

‘Mission accomplished,’ Selby sighed.

Selby had just put the headphones back on the soldier when he heard a loud buzz followed by a whirring noise.

‘Crumbs,’ Selby said. ‘I forgot about the firing pin! I’ve got to put a pencil in there! Hey, where am I going to find a pencil? Oh, no! Dwayne, do you have a pencil? Help! I’m only a dog — I don’t have anything to keep the bomb from exploding!’

It was a nervous bomb squad that crept slowly over the hill and peered down at the unexploded bomb. Next to the bomb lay the soldier, just waking up.

‘You did it!’ the captain said.

‘I did what?’

‘You defused the bomb and saved Bogusville. Great work.’

‘I-I did,’ he said. ‘I don’t remember anything.’

‘What do you mean you don’t remember anything? Hey, what’s this? Dwayne.’

‘What’s what?’

‘Where did you get this thing that’s between the firing pin and the trigger? Why it’s — it’s a dog’s collar. That’s a strange thing to carry around with you.’

Dwayne looked around for the dog but there was no dog in sight. In the distance a small blur fled over a distant hill towards town and disappeared. Dwayne rubbed his eyes.

‘It certainly is,’ he said with a smile. ‘Unless you’re a dog, that is.’

‘So what’s this new invention of yours?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

Mrs Trifle had been reading all morning, sometimes laughing out loud. Meanwhile Dr Trifle worked on his new invention on the loungeroom floor.

‘It’s going to be a Truth-ometer,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Let’s see now, this is the delicate part. I have to get this battery in here the right way around or it won’t work at all.’ ‘A Truth-ometer, very nice,’ Mrs Trifle said. She read for a moment and then laughed again.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘This book. It’s about a talking dog. Camilla Bonzer, the librarian at the primary school, lent me a few of them. She says they’re very popular with the kids.’

Selby suddenly gagged on a Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuit.

‘Uh-oh,’ he thought. ‘I should have known this would happen sooner or later.’

‘A talking dog?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘That’s absurd.’

‘I know but it’s just a bit of harmless fun.’

‘Do the other people — I mean, the people in the books — know that he can talk?’

‘No, he’s keeping it a secret. He doesn’t even want his owners to know. He can talk and can read and write, too. The one thing he can’t do is swim.’

‘Does this have anything to do with all those cards the kids swap?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘What’s his name?’ Dr Trifle asked looking over at Selby who was suddenly looking very guilty.

‘His name is Selby.’

‘Selby. Hmmm. It’s a pity his name isn’t Selby
,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Just like our little guy.’

‘Now you’re being silly. I told you that his name isn’t Selby, it’s Selby. And his owners are Dr and Mrs Trifle
’ but they’re nothing like us.’

‘How so?’

‘Well their name is completely different for starters,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘And they’re quite silly sometimes — not like us.’

‘Why does he want to keep it a secret that he knows how to talk?’ Dr Trifle asked.

‘He’s afraid that suddenly he’d be so famous that he’d never get any peace and quiet. There would be TV camera people everywhere, watching him. Bus loads of tourists would come to his house. And he might be sent off to a lab to be asked silly questions by scientists all day. He might even be dog-napped if he wasn’t careful.’

‘He’s got a point,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘But surely he could trust his owners not to tell anyone.’

‘He’s afraid that his owners would put him to work around the house if they knew.’

Dr Trifle looked over at Selby.

‘We wouldn’t do that to Selby, would we?’

‘No, of course not. We’d just treat him like one of the family. He could sit at the table and
eat people-food like us — if he liked people-food,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Yes, I do believe we would.’

‘Tell me, isn’t a Truth-ometer just a lie-detector
and haven’t they already been invented?’

‘No, no. A Truth-ometer is much better than a lie-detector. Lie-detectors only tell when someone is lying. There’s more to telling the truth than not lying.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure. If you say “yes” when the answer is “no” then you’re lying. And when you say “no” when you know that the answer is “yes” then you’re also lying. But what if the answer is yes or no and you just don’t say anything?’

‘Then you’re not lying,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Ahah! But you’re not telling the truth either. That’s the problem with lie-detectors: they want you to lie —
out loud.
If my Truth-ometer works it will be able to detect a lie when somebody doesn’t say anything.’

‘Now you’ve lost me,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Well the problem is that criminals sometimes don’t lie, they just refuse to talk,’ Dr Trifle said,
handing Mrs Trifle two wires. ‘Hold this one in your left hand and the other one in your right hand.’

‘I’m not going to get a shock or anything, am I?’

‘Certainly not. Now let’s pretend that I’m a police detective about to ask a question. And you’re going to refuse to answer but my Truth-ometer will get to the truth.’

‘Okay, ask away.’

‘Do you colour your hair, Mrs Trifle?’

‘That’s none of your business, young man!’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘You weren’t supposed to say anything,’ Dr Trifle objected. ‘If you said that, I’d know straight off that you did put colour in your hair. Now let’s try again. Do you colour your hair, Mrs Trifle?’

Mrs Trifle sat silently, trying not to move her face. Suddenly the needle on one of the dials on the Truth-ometer shot to the top.

‘Ahah!’ Dr Trifle said. ‘You
do
colour your hair.’

‘But you already knew that. There’s a little bit of grey creeping in and I just made it creep back out again, that’s all.’

‘Well, yes, but look — the Stroppiness Indicator shot right up.’

‘The what?’

‘The dial that shows how you felt when I asked you the question. You got very stroppy, I could tell. It went up to eighty Huffs.’

‘Well why shouldn’t I colour my hair? They don’t put people in jail for that, do they?’

‘Of course not. Now let’s pretend you’re a bank robber and the police come to ask you questions. They’d give you a lie-detector test. “Did you rob that bank?” they’d ask. If you didn’t say anything they wouldn’t know if you did or not. But if they were using my Truth-ometer they’d know immediately.’

‘What other dials are there besides the Stroppy one?’

‘Well there’s the Smarminess Indicator — that one’s measured in Smirks. And there’s the Embarrassment Indicator — that one’s in Squirms. And, of course, the Gigglement Indicator, which is in Gigs.’

‘Gigs?’

‘Yes. You know like when you’re trying not to laugh and there are these tiny little bits of giggle
trying to get out? Those are
Gigs.
Gigs aren’t actual giggles but sort of pre-giggles and with this invention I can not only detect them but measure them as well.’

‘I think I like this Truth-ometer,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘What a clever little person you are.’

‘Well thank you but it’s not quite right yet. I have to set the zeros on the dials.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I need someone who will have
zero
feelings — someone who won’t feel anything at all when I ask them questions.’

‘Why not ask Selby your questions?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘He won’t feel anything because he won’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Ooops, I don’t like the sound of this,’ Selby thought.

‘What a fantastic idea!’ Dr Trifle said, putting a wire between the toes of each of Selby’s front paws.