Free Just Stupid! by Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton

the container.’
       From the look on his face it is obvious he doesn’t believe me.
       He picks up my scoop.
       ‘Can’t you read the sign?’ he barks. He points to where the NO FISHING sign was. He looks. No sign. He looks at the wooden stake in his hand. He looks at the NO FISHING sign lying on the grass.
       He turns back to me. His eyes are bulging. He looks a bit like one of the fish. He pours the water and the fish back into the pond and wrenches the container off the wooden stake.
       ‘All right, you troublemaker,’ he says. ‘I’vehad enough. I want you out of my park!’
       ‘But you don’t understand,’ I say.

       ‘No you don’t understand!’ he says. ‘This park is my responsibility. All the plants and animals here are in my care and you are threatening their wellbeing!’
       ‘But I saved a snail,’ I say.
       He is not listening. He is walking towards me slowly, still holding the wooden stake. He slaps it into the palm of his hand.
       ‘Are you going to leave or do I have to make you?’ he says.
       ‘Now don’t do anything you might regret,’ I say, backing away slowly.
       ‘Oh, I won’t regret it,’ he says, slapping his hand with the stake again.
       I reach for my gun.
       ‘Don’t come any closer,’ I say, pointing it at him.
       He laughs and keeps right on coming.
       I squeeze the trigger. Nothing.
       I squeeze it again. Still nothing.
       Drat! Out of caps.
       I’m about to step back when something stops me. I look behind me.
       My snail.
       If I step back I’ll squash it. Again. But if I don’t take the step the gardener will get me for sure.

       It’s me or the snail. I have to take that step. But I can’t. I can’t do it. I made a promise.
       The gardener grabs my collar.
       ‘Gotcha!’ he says.
       I suppose there are worse ways to die than being strangled by an insane gardener. I’m not sure what they are right at the moment, but I’m sure they exist.
       Suddenly there is a flurry of white and black. Clicking and flapping. The magpie! I knew there was a worse way to die.
       I can’t run because the gardener is holding my collar so tight. I close my eyes and get ready to accept my fate. Any moment that enormous black beak will penetrate my skull and it will all be over. I hope I go to heaven and get a pair of angel wings. First thing I’ll do is come back to the park and divebomb the magpie. See how much it likes it.
       What’s taking so long?
       I open my eyes. Just in time to see the magpie score a direct hit. But not on me. On the gardener.
       He screams. He lets go of my collar and starts running. The magpie flies up into theair, circles and prepares to swoop him again.
       It is a beautiful sight. Almost as beautiful as the sight of my snail still sliding slowly across the grass to freedom. But not quite. Nothing can compare to that.

oices.
       I hear voices.
       I open my eyes.
       Everything’s blurred.
       I close my eyes and open them again.
       Round shapes against a white sky. But still blurred. And my head hurts.
       I feel a hand shaking my shoulder. The two round shapes merge into one and a face appears. It comes in close. I try to make out who it is but the face does not look familiar to me.
       ‘Andy!’ says the face. ‘Are you okay?’
       ‘Who’s Andy?’ I say.
       ‘You’re Andy,’ says the face.
       ‘Who are you?’ I say.
       ‘You know me!’ says the face. ‘I’m Danny. Your best friend. You just got hit in the head. Don’t you remember? We were trying to make a jack-in-the-box. You were just about to test it, but it went off in your face. I can’t believe you don’t remember it.’

       Danny? Jack-in-the-box? My head hurts, that’s for sure, but I don’t remember getting hit. I don’t remember anything about a jack-in-the-box. And I don’t remember anyone called Danny.
       ‘I don’t know what