Free Pencil of Doom! by Andy Griffiths Page B

‘I just can’t help it.’
    We watched as the Mighty Boy compacted away.
That pencil must be nothing but splinters by now
, I thought.
    â€˜Do you think it’s done yet?’ Jenny asked.
    â€˜Yeah,’ I told her. ‘It must be. I’ll turn it off. I just can’t see where the switch is.’
    â€˜How about this red button that says off?’ said Jenny.
    â€˜Do you have one of these at home?’ I asked.
    â€˜No!’ She laughed. ‘It’s just really easy to operate!’
    â€˜Then why did it come with that enormous manual?’ I said, pushing the off button.
    â€˜Beats me.’
    Even though I’d turned it off, the Mighty Boy kept right on compacting. In fact, it seemed to be getting faster and louder. It was starting to shudder violently, so much so that it was actually moving across the floor.
    I punched the off button again. And again. And again. But it still didn’t turn off.
    â€˜Turn it off, Henry!’ Jenny screamed.
    â€˜I’m trying to,’ I shouted back. ‘But it’s not responding.’
    â€˜Here,’ said Jenny, pushing me out of the way. ‘Let me try!’ She pounded on the button, but there was still no response apart from it getting louder and louder.
    As it moved across the floor towards us, we were being pushed back into a corner of the shed—something we didn’t notice until it was too late.
    â€˜Henry!’ cried Jenny, hitting me on the arm. ‘We can’t get out! We’re trapped!’
    I looked around. She was right. The Mighty Boy had pushed us into a corner. It was coming closer and closer.
    We were going to be crushed against the wall!
    â€˜Push!’ I yelled.
    With our arms outstretched, we pushed against it as hard as we could.
    It was no use. The Mighty Boy was too heavy. Too powerful. We couldn’t hold it off.
    We were just sliding across the floor.
    Sliding to our
doom
.

45
Mighty girl

    That’s when we heard Gretel.
    â€˜Henry!’ she called. ‘Jenny! Where are you?’
    â€˜Over here!’ we called. ‘Behind the compactor!’ I don’t know how we heard her, or how she heard us above the noise, but hear us she did. The next thing we knew, she’d leaped over the top of the machine and was standing between us.
    â€˜I can’t leave you two alone for a minute!’ she said, pushing against the compactor with her one good hand.
    â€˜We were just trying to get rid of the pencil!’ said Jenny.
    â€˜Really?’ said Gretel, laughing. ‘Looks like the other way around to me!’
    â€˜Stop laughing,’ I said. ‘This is serious!’
    â€˜I know,’ said Gretel. ‘But so am I!’
    At that, she stopped laughing and began to grimace as she pushed the machine back towardsthe centre of the room, despite the fact that one of her arms was in a sling.
    Jenny and I looked at each other. We’d known Gretel was strong—she was the strongest person in the school—but we hadn’t known that she was
this
strong.
    As she pushed, though, the machine seemed to go into overdrive. The grinding noise changed to a rattling and clanking sound. Smoke started pouring out of the bottom of it. Bits started falling off. First buttons, then handles, then, to our astonishment, whole panels! Nuts, bolts and springs were flying through the air.
    â€˜Take cover!’ said Gretel. ‘I think it’s going to blow up!’
    We ran for the safety of a work bench and took shelter behind it just as the Mighty Boy gave one mighty shudder and then disintegrated in front of our eyes.
    We were left looking at nothing but a pile of smoking metal.
    And wouldn’t you know it, lying in the middle of all that metallic rubble was the pencil.
    Completely intact.

46
Killer pencil

    After retrieving the pencil, we left the remains of the not-so-mighty Mighty Boy on the floor of the shed and headed back to class.
    â€˜Poor