Authors: Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton
Andy Griffiths discovered a talent for being stupid at an early age. Since then he has amazed the world with a truly stunning array of minor mistakes, major miscalculations, idiotic acts, inane remarks, incomprehensible behaviour and extremely stupid stories. He has written two other titles in the Just! series—
Terry Denton was born in Venezuela in 1909. He sailed on the maiden voyage of the
in 1912 and was lost at sea. He came back to life in 1932, working as an ironing board for Mrs Ida Bugg of Wisconsin, USA. He would have been the first ironing board to conquer Mt Everest, but for a nasty bus accident on the way to the airport. Reincarnated (again) in 1963, he worked as a hostess on
Snail of the Century
, before retiring to illustrate children’s books. In 1985, he gave birth to quintuplets. He now lives a quiet life with his six quintuplets between the covers of this stupid book.
Also by Andy Griffiths
and illustrated by Terry Denton
The Bad Book
The Cat on the Mat is Flat
Also by Andy Griffiths
The Day My Bum Went Psycho
Zombie Bums from Uranus
Bumageddon: the Final Pongflict
Also by Andy Griffiths
(with Jim Thomson and Sophie Blackmore)
Fast Food and No Play Make
Jack a Fat Boy: Creating a healthier lifestyle
for you and your children
First published 1999 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
These electronic editions published in 1999 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000
Text Copyright © Andy Griffiths 1999
Illustrations Copyright © Terry Denton 1999
The moral rights of the creators have been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.
National Library of Australia cataloguing-in-publication data:
Griffiths, Andy, 1961–.
I. Denton, Terry, 1950– . II. Title.
Adobe eReader format 978-1-74197-010-4
Microsoft Reader format 978-1-74197-211-5
Mobipocket format 978-1-74197-412-6
Online format 978-1-74197-613-7
ePub format 978-1-74262-220-0
The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Typeset in 12/16pt New Aster by Post Pre-press Group
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’m in the supermarket trying to remember what groceries Mum wanted me to pick up, but I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything. I’m busting. And I don’t mean busting. I mean BUSTING!
I’ve got to find a toilet. Fast. Then I can come back and think about the shopping with a clear head. Or not so much a clear head as an empty bladder.
I haven’t got a second to lose. I run down the aisle and skid round the corner.
Straight into an old guy with a walking frame. He staggers forward and crashes into a stack of cans. They go rolling all over the floor. The old man is lying in the middle of them.
‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ he says. ‘Help me up!’
I reach down, take hold of his hand and pull him to his feet. Luckily he’s not very heavy. I stand his walking frame up for him. He’s muttering words I don’t understand.
The store manager appears. I can tell he’s the store manager because his pants are too tight. Plus he’s wearing a badge that says Store Manager.
‘What happened?’ he says.
Before I can say anything the old man answers.
‘This silly young boy knocked me over. It wouldn’t have happened in my day. When I was young we respected our elders.’
‘It was an accident!’ I say.
‘Were you running?’ says the store manager.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘but I’m . . .’
‘There’s no excuse,’ he says. ‘I think you owe this gentleman an apology. Then you can pick up all the cans.’
‘But I’m busting!’
‘You should have thought about that before you started knocking people over and destroying my displays,’ he says.
I get the feeling that I’m going to get out of here quicker if I just do what he says. I turn to the old man.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have been running and I hope you’re not hurt.’
He shrugs and mutters something else that I can’t understand. I start picking up the cans. I can’t believe how far they’ve rolled. Some have rolled at least two or three aisles away. And the store manager makes me pick up every last one.
By the time I’ve finished I’m seriously busting.
But I know better than to run out of the store. This time I just walk very quickly.
I get outside the supermarket and into the main shopping centre. I’m looking for a sign pointing to the toilets. I can’t see one.
There is a man selling pencils outside the supermarket.
‘Excuse me,’ he says. ‘Want to buy a pencil?’
‘No thanks,’ I say.
‘They’re cheap—twenty cents each.’
‘No thank you,’ I say.
‘Just one,’ he says. ‘One lousy pencil!’
‘I haven’t got time!’ I say.
‘You could have bought one by now,’ he says.