Free Mr Gum and the Biscuit Billionaire by Andy Stanton Page B

ME after this!
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    Meanwhile Mr Gum had jumped off his skateboard. He smashed it to bits, pulled all the wheels off and left it lying on the pavement to show everyone he was the best.

    â€˜I win again,’ he smirked. Then he opened the door and went into Billy William the Third’s Right Royal Meats.
    Now Billy William was the most revolting butcher in England, and that’s official.
    A big greasy trophy stood in his shop window and here is what it said:
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    England’s Most Revolting Butcher Trophy
Awarded to Billy William for the twentieth year running, in fact just keep the trophy forever – you always win, there’s no point having the competition, you really are disgusting .
    So hardly anyone in town shopped there, even though it was the only butcher’s around. Most people went to the next town to buy their meat or became vegetarian or only ate birdseed. But Mr Gum felt right at home there. Sometimes he wished the whole world could be exactly like Billy’s: filled with entrails and slimy cow lips and rubbery old turkey necks. But he knew it would never happen. It was just a beautiful dream.
    â€˜Mornin’, me old suitcase,’ said Billy William as Mr Gum wafted in. ‘Want some entrails?’ he added, slurping up a load of bad meat off the counter with his grotty old tongue.
    â€˜No time for that, Caterpillar Joe!’ replied Mr Gum, which is what he sometimes called Billy when he was over-excited with evil.
    â€˜You’re over-excited with evil, ain’tcha?’ said Billy. ‘I can always tell.’

    â€˜It’s true,’ said Mr Gum, jumping up on the counter and dancing around in a bucket of pig’s brains. ‘I fancies doin’ some terrible bad deeds today an’ no mistake!’
    â€˜I know what’d be funty,’ said Billy William, scratching his chin with a long unwashed finger. (He always pronounced the word ‘funny’ in this way. Pronouncing words strangely was one of his hobbies, like collecting phlegm or trying to see up ladies’ skirts.) ‘We could break a skateboard,’ he suggested.
    â€˜Nah, I already done that,’ said Mr Gum impatiently.
    â€˜OK,’ said Billy William. ‘How about we stand out on the street an’ step on butterflies?’
    â€˜It just ain’t evil enough, Billy!’ said Mr Gum, kicking a cow’s eyeball across the shop in frustration. ‘What we gonna do?’
    Just then the door opened and in came Alan Taylor. He’d been all over town, inviting people to his party and giving out money (or ‘makingfriends’, as he called it). Unfortunately no one had warned him about Billy William’s, otherwise he’d have kept well away. And as soon as he opened the door and slipped on an eyeball he knew he’d made a biffer of a mistake. But Alan Taylor was a gentleman born and bread, and he remembered his manners as best he could.

    â€˜Greetings!’ he gabbled, bravely ignoring all the blood and guts and the pile of strange twisty bones in the corner. ‘I am Alan Taylor and I’mhaving a party tomorrow night on Boaster’s Hill! Do come along. You’d be most welco–’
    A hairy old pig’s head fell off a hook, slid down the wall and came rolling slowly towards him. With that, the last of Alan Taylor’s courage disappeared. He gave a little yelp, threw a handful of money into the air and ran back outside to safety.

    â€˜Did you see that?’ said Mr Gum, stuffing the cash down his pants where no one woulddare to go after it, not even Billy William.
    â€˜I did,’ replied the dreadful butcher. ‘That little tungler’s as rich as a mushroom!’
    â€˜Now listen,’ Mr Gum continued slyly, ‘I wants that money, not just a bit of it but the whole burpin’ lot. But we’ll need a plan, an’ that’s where you come in, you enormous guff merchant. So get hatchin’