Free Selby Screams by Duncan Ball Page A

on if you wish, Mrs Mayor,” Dudley said, putting on the glasses and looking around for a talking monkey but seeing only topiary. “My goodness! Look at all those bushes! They look just like animals.”
    “Well at least they did before you came along,” Dr Trifle muttered.
    “That looks just like a bear on a bicycle,” Dudley said.
    “Does it really?” Dr Trifle asked, taking a closer look.
    “It certainly does. And there’s a frog in a spacesuit and two dingoes dancing and an emu on a tightrope. They’re wonderful, Dr Trifle.”
    “Are they really?” Dr Trifle asked with a blush.
    “Absolutely. I’ve never seen anything like them before,” Dudley said. “Hmmmmmm, I wonder where that talking monkey went.”
    “Talking monkey indeed!” Selby muttered, as he ran off down Bunya-Bunya Crescent. “That’s the last time I let that dim-witted dog catcher make a monkey out of me.”

BOGUSVILLE’S BOXING BALLET
    It was the annual Bogusville Charity Night and once again the two bush boxers, Nigel “Knuckles” and Sigmund “Slugfest” were in the dressing-room getting ready for the big fight.
    “I’m pleased that you’ve come once again to help us raise money for our needy,” Mrs Trifle said to the huge men and their tiny manager, Wilma “Willy” Wynn. “Many people have paid to see this boxing match tonight and of course the profits will go to charity. Though I have to admit I don’t care for fighting myself.”
    “Mrs Mayor!” Wilma exclaimed, letting her cigar fall from her lips. “Bite your tongue!Boxing is a wonderful sport. It’s good exercise and it gives boxers a lot of pleasure.”
    “Mostly the winners, I should think,” Mrs Trifle said, looking around the room for Selby and wondering where he’d gone. “Now I’d better get back to my seat for the big match. Happy boxing.”
    In a minute, the dressing-room was empty except for Knuckles, Slugfest, Wilma and Selby — who had hidden in a box in the corner for a close-up view of Knuckles, his favourite boxer.
    “All right, boys,” Wilma said, spitting into a bucket. “I want you to get out there and beat each other to a pulp. The crowd wants to see lots of blood so give it to them and have a great time! May the best man win.”
    “Oh, Ma, do we have to?” Knuckles whined. “Do we have to hurt each other?”
    “Goodness!” Selby thought. “Knuckles called her
Ma.
Willy Wynn, the manager, must be his mother! This is a surprise.”
    “Of course you do. Don’t be silly.”
    “But why?”
    “Because they’ve already paid us for the fight, that’s why.”
    “Well I don’t care,” Knuckles answered. “Slugfest is my brother and I don’t want to fight him any more.”
    “Double goodness,” Selby said, stretching his neck for a better look. “Knuckles and Slugfest are brothers and Willy’s their mother.”
    “You just don’t want to fight because you know I’ll beat you this time, you big sook,” Slugfest said in a deep growl. “I’ll knock you out right now if you’re not careful!”
    “Save it for the ring, boys,” Wilma said, stepping between her sons. “There aren’t any paying customers in here. Now let’s get out there.”
    “Right you are, Mum.” Slugfest turned to Knuckles. “I’m going out there and you’d better come too.”
    With this he stormed out of the dressing-room nearly knocking over Selby’s box as he passed.
    “I’m tired of fighting, Mum,” Knuckles said. “I never wanted to be a boxer. You made me do it. I only ever wanted to be a ballet dancer.”
    “Ballet dancer. Don’t be silly. That’s not fun like punching people. Besides, it’s bad for you. It gives people square toes.”
    “No it doesn’t, Ma. It’s fun. You should have let me do it. I could have been somebody. I could have been a choreographer.”
    “A corry-what? They kicked you out of ballet class because you were no good. You couldn’t stand on your toes, remember?”
    “I know, Ma,” Knuckles whimpered.