Just Stupid! (15 page)

   I look over at the gum tree to check on the magpie. I can’t see it, but I notice that the gum tree has long white pieces of papery bark curling off it. It gives me an idea. I could smear glue onto the bark, wrap it around the snail, and use the strands of chewing gum to hold it all together while the glue dries. Just like a plaster cast.

   ‘Stay there,’ I say to the snail. ‘I’ll be right back.’

   I sprint across to the tree.

   The bark is wet. I rip a few sheets off to get to the dry stuff underneath.

   ‘Hey you!’ says a voice behind me. ‘Can’t you read the sign?’

   I turn around.

   A man in green overalls is sitting in what looks like a little golf buggy. He must be the gardener.

   ‘What sign?’ I say, backing away from the tree and up onto the grass.

   ‘That sign,’ he says pointing at the base of the tree.

   I look at the little sign. It says
KEEP OFF THE GARDEN
.

   ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I just needed some bark.’

   ‘So does the tree,’ says the gardener. ‘In
fact, the tree needs it a whole lot more than you do.’

   ‘No, you don’t understand,’ I say. ‘It’s not for me, it’s for a snail . . .’

   But the gardener is not interested in my explanation. He’s already tearing off across the grass in search of more criminals.

   It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve got the bark. I head back towards the table.

   I realise I’m still wearing the container on my head. How embarrassing!

   I go to take it off, but suddenly the air is filled with the sound of flapping and clicking. It’s the magpie! Back already. I start ducking and weaving, but it doesn’t try to attack me.

   I look up. The magpie is heading back to its nest. What was that all about?

   I reach the table.

   I don’t believe it.

   The snail is gone!

   I know what that magpie was up to. It was on a snail-stealing raid. My poor snail is about to become baby magpie food.

   But not if I can help it.

   I run to the tree and start climbing.

   The magpie goes berserk. I bet nobody has ever dared come this close to its nest before. The bird does a mid-air U-turn and zeros in on me.

   I see a small blob falling through the air. My snail!

   It splashes into the pond.

   This is terrible. The pond is full of goldfish! My snail is in even more danger than before.

   I pull my gun out of my pocket and fire it at the magpie. The magpie flees skywards.

   I run to the edge of the pond. There’s something going on in the middle. The fish are all in the one spot. They’re probably fighting over who’s going to eat my snail.

   I take off my shoes and roll up my pants. I’m about to wade in when I hear the sound of a motor behind me.

   ‘Hey you!’ says the gardener through a megaphone. ‘Can’t you read the sign?’

   ‘What sign?’ I say.

   He points to the sign on the side of the pond. It says
NO SWIMMING
.

   ‘But my snail!’ I say. ‘I have to save my snail!’

   ‘I don’t care if you have to save your mother!’ he says. ‘The sign says no swimming!’

   He tears off again before I can argue. I’m getting really sick of this man and his stupid signs. He just doesn’t get it. This is not about saving my mother. This is an emergency. This is about saving my snail. If it’s not already too late, that is.

   I kneel down and lean forward to look into the pond. The ice-cream container falls off my head and splashes into the water. The fish scatter. I have a brilliant idea. I can use the container to scoop the fish up. I look around to check there’s no signs that say
NO SCOOPING
. No—only one that says
NO FISHING
. But I’m not going to fish—I’m going to scoop. I grab the container and use it to try to catch the fish, but I can’t reach them. The pond’s too deep.

   Then I have another brilliant idea. I go over to the
NO FISHING
sign. It is nailed to a wooden stake. I pull the stake out of the ground and remove the sign. I take out the nail and use it to attach my container to the stake. I now have a scoop that can reach right into the middle of the pond. And best of all, I won’t be breaking any rules. As far as I can see there is no sign around here saying
DO NOT DISMANTLE THE NO FISHING SIGN AND TURN IT INTO A SCOOP
.

   I scoop my container into the pond and catch two of the biggest and fattest goldfish I can find. One of the fish has big ugly boggle eyes. I pick it up. I peer into the fish’s gaping mouth. My snail is stuck in its throat. No wonder the fish’s eyes are boggling.

   Now I’ve got the snail—all I have to do is to get it out of the fish. But how? Tickle it? Tell it a joke and make it laugh? What sort of jokes do fish find funny? I’m trying to think of a fish joke when the fish wriggles out of my hand and falls to the ground. It flip-flops around on the grass and the snail pops out of its mouth.

   I throw the fish back into the pond and rush my snail to the operating table.

   Amazingly, most of the snail’s shell is still there. But there’s no time to lose.

   I paste little pieces of paperbark over the broken pieces of shell to help hold it all together. I tear some small bits of green plastic off the cover of my school diary and use them to replace the missing pieces of shell.