The World's Awesomest Air-Barf (5 page)

Can you tell me, has anyone ever pushed a chorizo further than 8.88 km? I’m very stiff and sore today, and I’ve got to do the
‘El Periquito’ thing in a few days. I hope I’ve not spoilt my chances to break that record.

Best wishes

Danny

Dear Danny

Congratulations on winning the Marisco Junior Chorizo–pushing Championship. I’m sorry, but your excellent performance was many shoves
short of the world record.

In 2000, to celebrate the birth of the new millennium, Luis ‘La Nariz’ Lopo set off from Madrid in an attempt to push a chorizo
sausage around the world with his nose, in a symbolic gesture to bring about world peace. He had pushed the sausage for 3,932.6 km, when his route took him across Red Square in Moscow, Russia,
during a military parade. Tragically, because ‘La Nariz’ was so close to the ground, he wasn’t seen, and was run over by a Russian T–90S tank. Amazingly, although the tank
squashed most of Luis, it completely missed his nose
and
the chorizo, both of which can now be seen, stuffed and on display, in the museum of his home town, Fisgón.

Good luck with the ‘El Periquito’ ceremony, Danny.

Best wishes

Eric Bibby

Keeper of the Records

It was early in the morning on the day of the ceremony. Sally Butterworth sat close to Danny trying to teach him how to waggle his ears. Danny’s face twitched and
convulsed with the effort.

Sally grabbed Danny’s ears, and wiggled them.

‘You need to move
this
part of your head –’ she slapped him on the forehead – ‘not
that
part of your head.’

‘It’s no good,’ complained Danny. ‘I can’t do it.’

Sally smiled.

Oh-oh! thought Danny. She’s got that ‘Kiss-Me-Quick’ look again!

He felt someone grab his arm and drag him on to his feet. It was Matthew.

‘Come on, it’s time you put your budgie costume on,’ said his friend.

Danny yanked his arm free of Matthew’s grasp.

‘Stop dragging me around, and telling me what to do,’ he snapped.

‘I’m just looking out for you,’ replied Matthew.

‘I can look out for myself,
thanks.
You’re worse than Mum.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Right, if that’s how you feel, you stay here, canoodling with your
girlfriend.’

Sally giggled.

‘I will if I want to,’ said Danny. ‘You’re just jealous.’

‘Yeah, right!’

‘Yeah,
right
!’

Matthew strode away.

‘I hope the caterpillars get you, Budgie-face!’ he called over his shoulder.

Danny tried to think of something snotty to say back to Matthew. He couldn’t. They had never fallen out before.

‘Get lost!’ he shouted, but he didn’t really mean it.

Sally rolled her eyes again.
‘Urgh! Boys!’

In the hotel bedroom, Danny’s mum put down the video camera that she had been trying to mend in time for the ceremony. Then she helped him put on the bird costume.

‘You’re very quiet,’ she said as Danny stepped into his pink, three-toed budgie feet. ‘Is everything all right?’

Danny shrugged. ‘Yeah.’

Mum began to pull the bright blue stretchy tights up Danny’s legs.

‘Mum, why am I doing this?’ he grumbled.

‘I thought you wanted to do it.’

Danny sighed. ‘I do, but what’s it all about?’

Mum held up the budgie suit. It was covered in vivid sky-blue feathers, with black and white striped wings sown along the arms, and a short, pointed black and white tail.

‘There’s an ancient tree in the centre of the town square that is supposed to have been planted by Saint Peter of the Fishes, Marisco’s patron saint. The locals believe that
while the tree is alive their fishermen will continue to catch plenty of seafood . . .’

Danny put his arms into the budgie wings. Mum joined the two parts of the body together, and began to fumble with the zip.

‘Over a hundred years ago, the tree was infested with a plague of caterpillars that all hatched out on the same night and began to munch away at the leaves. The townsfolk prayed for a
miracle to save their tree, and the miracle arrived the next morning, when a blue and white budgie flew into town and ate all the caterpillars.’

She pulled the zip carefully towards Danny’s neck.

‘El Periquito – the budgie – saved the tree from certain death and saved the fishermen from going out of business. As it munched away, the bird filled the square with its
chirpy song. Then, when it had eaten every caterpillar, the budgie flew away, never to return.’

Mum slid the tight white hood over Danny’s head and fitted it snugly around his chin. She smoothed down the four black feathered spots around his neck and fixed the stubby yellow beak over
his nose.

‘The caterpillars still hatch out on the same day every year, but there’s usually only a few hundred or so. A young boy climbs the tree dressed as El Periquito, collects them in a
bucket and whistles the “Budgie Song”, which I’m told was composed in 1876 by a man named Manuel de Compostela.’

She straightened the suit around Danny’s body, and smiled.

‘Lovely. Go and look at yourself.’

Danny rustled over to the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. He lifted his arms to spread his wings, and whistled a few bars of the Budgie Song.

‘Ace,’ he said.

But he didn’t really mean it.

Half an hour later, Danny stood in the town square of Marisco, dressed in the budgie suit and carrying a bucket. The sun had risen above the roofs of the old pink buildings that formed the
square, and Danny was already hot.

It seemed like the whole town had come out to see him. The same band that had greeted them at the stadium played the same loud, cheerful tune. Gogo La Gamba, the giant prawn mascot of Real
Marisco, had a new tail and was there to cheer Danny on.

Danny’s dad stood next to him. He glanced around the crowd.

‘Why did Matt decide to stay at the hotel?’ he asked.

Danny shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’

‘Have you two fallen out?’

Danny shrugged again, but said nothing. He wished he hadn’t told Matthew to ‘Get lost!’

Sally Butterworth was standing nearby and blew him a kiss. Danny rolled his eyes.

The Mayoress of Marisco, Señora Juanita Delgardo, held up her hand, and the band and the crowd fell silent.

‘Today is the anniversary of our Deliverance from the Plague of Caterpillars,’ she announced. ‘It is the day the caterpillars hatch out in our sacred tree, and the day El
Periquito climbs into the tree to collect them.’

The crowd applauded.

‘I now ask Father Ignatius, from the Church of the Holy Budgerigar, to bless El Periquito and send him on his sacred task.’

An old priest stepped forward, placing his hand on Danny’s head. The priest mumbled a prayer in Latin and sprinkled Danny with Holy water. He crossed himself, then gestured for Danny to
climb the tree.