Free The Great Brain Robbery by Anna Kemp Page A

Claus. Make
way for Dr Calus Gore!’

 

    Frankie couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Dr Calus Gore who, not so long ago, had been scurrying round a hamster wheel in 4D’s classroom was now striding on to
the stage, grinning like an imp. He looked just the same as he did when he was headmaster of Crammar Grammar, only instead of his headmasterly robes he wore the sort of long white coat that doctors
wear when they are about to stick a needle in your arm. The scientist’s yellowish eyes ranged over the room and his curled moustache twitched like a large black moth. Frankie frowned. No, he
didn’t look
exactly
the same. There was something changed about him. Frankie couldn’t put a finger on what it was – until he opened his mouth to speak.
    ‘Thank you, thank you,’ he smirked. ‘Thank you, Marvella, for your most accurate introduction.’
    Frankie had to suppress a giggle. Rather than the grating tone of his headmaster days, Gore’s voice kept veering into high-pitched squeaks. Whatever scientific wizardry Dr Gore had used to
transform himself back into a person had not been completely successful. Dr Gore was
still
part rat. His front teeth were long and pointy and Frankie could have sworn that his ears were
bigger and tuftier.
    ‘He sounds just like Teddy Manywishes!’ Neet whispered. Frankie did a double-take.
    ‘Wow, you’re right!’ he replied. ‘He
is
Teddy Manywishes. It must have been him in that costume when he came to visit the school!’ Frankie shivered to
think that his old enemy had been so close and he hadn’t even known it.
    Dr Gore pressed the tips of his bony fingers together as he waited for the audience to settle.
    ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began, jutting his chin in the air, ‘I like to think of myself as an explorer!’
    Oh here we go!
thought Frankie, sensing that Dr Gore was about to launch into one of his lectures.
We’ll be stuck here for ages.
    The scientist sucked a lungful of air slowly through his narrow nostrils. ‘. . . An explorer of the mind.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘The mind of the child is a ghastly
place,’ he continued. ‘I know. I have seen it. Children may look like harmless little gnomes, but believe me, there are sinister things lurking inside those tiny heads.’
    There was a splutter of nervous laughter. Who was this strange fellow?
    ‘Beneath those blond curls,’ Dr Gore went on, ‘between those pink ears, is a primitive jungle full of hidden dangers and creeping with monsters!’
    ‘What is he on about?’ said Neet.
    ‘Search me,’ said Frankie. ‘I never understand a word he says.’
    ‘Who here has read a child’s story or seen a child’s drawing?’ asked Dr Gore, lifting two bristling eyebrows. A number of hands went up. ‘Well then, you will know
that a child’s mind is full of the most abysmal nonsense. Fairy stories, magic, clowns, talking animals – children have no sense of reality whatsoever!’ Dr Gore’s moustache
was twitching so fast Frankie thought it might fly off and flutter round the room like a bat. ‘But I, Dr Calus Gore, have fearlessly ventured into this wilderness and I shall tell you what I
saw.’
    The audience shifted in their seats, intrigued by the weird brilliance of the speaker.
    The scientist flicked on the video projector and a large picture of a child’s brain appeared on the screen. It was divided into different colour-coded areas and at the centre was a large
dark spot. ‘As you can see,’ Gore sniffed, ‘the child’s brain has only a few basic functions. This part . . .’ Gore tapped the green area with his fingernail, ‘.
. . is for problem-solving. Children mostly use it for pointless activities like jigsaw puzzles.’ He gave a snort of contempt. ‘The pink area here,’ he continued, ‘is for
inventing things or, in other words, making up the most appalling drivel. You would not believe the ludicrous creations I have encountered there: green horses, talking