Charlie and the Karaoke Cockroaches Read online

  About Charlie and the Karaoke Cockroaches

  I didn’t want the exterminator to be flattened by a flying sink..

  I just wanted a home for the cockroaches.

  It begins with an interrupted story. Then, a mysterious box that speaks and sings. Add unusually unusual teachers, incredible lurking from the Lurker, an insect orchestra and a bungling burglar and it’s up to Charlie and Hils to save three innocent bugs from the forces of evil.

  Another hilarious adventure starring Charlie and Hils from comedian, actor, singer and dancer (it’s true!), Alan Brough.

  For Daisy

  Contents

  Cover

  About Charlie and the Karaoke Cockroaches

  Dedication

  FRONT MATTER

  CHAPTER 1: The Truth

  CHAPTER 2: The Beginning

  CHAPTER 3: The Pre-Beginning

  CHAPTER 4: The Announcement

  CHAPTER 5: The Exterminator

  CHAPTER 6: The Panic

  CHAPTER 7: The Disappearances

  CHAPTER 8: The Questions

  CHAPTER 9: The Knocker

  CHAPTER 10: The Threat

  CHAPTER 11: The Vivien

  CHAPTER 12: The Box

  CHAPTER 13: The Telling

  CHAPTER 14: The Swearing

  CHAPTER 15: The Really

  CHAPTER 16: The Thinking

  CHAPTER 17: The House

  CHAPTER 18: The Signs

  CHAPTER 19: The Secret

  CHAPTER 20: The Ingredients

  CHAPTER 21: The Thinc-nic

  CHAPTER 22: The Smoothie

  CHAPTER 23: The Shocking

  CHAPTER 24: The Idea

  CHAPTER 25: The Debrief

  CHAPTER 26: The Choice

  CHAPTER 27: The Advertisements

  CHAPTER 28: The Remorse

  CHAPTER 29: The Break-In

  CHAPTER 30: The Traps

  CHAPTER 31: The Protection

  CHAPTER 32: The Surprise

  CHAPTER 33: The Knob

  CHAPTER 34: The Slip

  CHAPTER 35: The Amazement

  CHAPTER 36: The Obvious

  CHAPTER 37: The Freak-Out

  CHAPTER 38: The Massage

  CHAPTER 39: The Caravan

  CHAPTER 40: The Explanation

  CHAPTER 41: The Re-Freak-Out

  CHAPTER 42: The Shower

  CHAPTER 43: The Repeating

  CHAPTER 44: The Confirmation

  CHAPTER 45: The Flashback

  CHAPTER 46: The Realisation

  CHAPTER 47: The Song

  CHAPTER 48: The Swore

  CHAPTER 49: The Lurker

  CHAPTER 50: The Pursuit

  CHAPTER 51: The Worms

  CHAPTER 52: The Jump

  CHAPTER 53: The Commercials

  CHAPTER 54: The Hat

  CHAPTER 55: The Market

  CHAPTER 56: The Helping

  CHAPTER 57: The Desk

  CHAPTER 58: The Theatre

  CHAPTER 59: The Orchestra

  CHAPTER 60: The Answers

  CHAPTER 61: The Wait

  CHAPTER 62: The Disappeared

  CHAPTER 63: The Weapons

  CHAPTER 64: The Warm

  CHAPTER 65: The Boot

  CHAPTER 66: The Rhumba

  CHAPTER 67: The Run

  CHAPTER 68: The Stitch

  CHAPTER 69: The Nose-Alry

  CHAPTER 70: The Plan

  CHAPTER 71: The Booby

  CHAPTER 72: The Relief

  CHAPTER 73: The Effort

  CHAPTER 74: The Sink

  CHAPTER 75: The Aftermath

  CHAPTER 76: The Departed

  CHAPTER 77: The Haven

  CHAPTER 78: The Promise

  Also by Alan Brough

  About Alan Brough

  Copyright page

  THE THING THAT CHARLIE DOES WITH

  A BATTERY: DON’T TRY

  IT AT HOME. DON’T

  TRY IT AT A FRIEND’S

  HOME. DON’T TRY IT

  ANYWHERE.

  1

  THE TRUTH

  I didn’t want the Exterminator to be flattened by a flying sink.

  I just wanted a home for the cockroaches.

  2

  THE BEGINNING

  ‘At night it crawls right into the back of your nose where it makes a nest and lays thousands of eggs,’ said Vivien.

  ‘Yuck,’ I said.

  ‘Outstanding,’ said Hils.

  Sorry. Wait a minute.

  I should tell you what is happening.

  Sorry again. Wait a minute. Again.

  Hello.

  I should tell you what is happening.

  It is morning.

  I am at school.

  I am sitting in class.

  I am talking with my best friend Hils and my new friend Vivien.

  I’m me. Charlie Ian Duncan.

  Three Things You Should Probably Know About Me (Charlie Ian Duncan)

  • I am a digital orphan. (That means that my parents spend so much time on their iPhones they have forgotten I exist.)

  • Last year I made a granny explode.

  • I never want anything to crawl right into the back of my nose, make a nest and lay thousands of eggs.

  ‘My best friend Hils’ is my best friend Hils.

  Three Things You Should Probably Know About My Best Friend Hils

  • Hils says ‘negative’ instead of ‘no’ and ‘affirmative’ instead of ‘yes’ because that is what they say in the army. Hils really wants to join the army. She acts like she is already in the army.

  • Hils lives in a caravan on the front lawn of her mum’s house. Last year Hils built a flamethrower and accidentally set fire to the toilet. The next day Hils’s mum bought a caravan and told Hils to go and live in it.

  • Secretly Hils would like it if something crawled right into the back of my nose, made a nest and laid thousands of eggs.

  ‘My new friend Vivien’ is my new friend Vivien.

  Three Things You Should Probably Know About My New Friend Vivien

  • She moved here two months ago from South Korea.

  • She knows a lot about insects.

  • A lot of the insects she knows a lot about spend a lot of their time crawling right into the backs of people’s noses, making nests and laying thousands of eggs.

  Sorry. Again again.

  Wait a minute. Again again.

  You probably need to know one more thing.

  3

  THE PRE-BEGINNING

  ‘It’s called the proboscis scorpion,’ said Vivien. ‘At night it crawls right into the back of your nose where it makes a nest and lays thousands of eggs.’

  ‘Yuck,’ I said.

  ‘Outstanding,’ said Hils.

  ‘Then, three weeks later,’ said Vivien.

  ‘If it’s all right with you,’ I said, ‘I don’t want to know what happens three weeks later.’

  ‘Knowledge is power,’ said Hils. ‘Continue the briefing.’

  ‘Continue the briefing’ is the army way of saying, ‘Ignore Charlie and tell us what happens three weeks later.’

  ‘Then, three weeks later,’ said Vivien, ‘the eggs hatch and thousands of baby proboscis scorpions drop out of your nose and scuttle off down your body in search of something to eat.’

  ‘If it’s all right with you,’ I said, ‘I don’t want to know what they scuttle off in search of.’

  ‘Continue the briefing,’ said Hils.

  ‘They eat the bacteria,’ said Vivien. BING

  ‘Oh, it’s a school announcement,’ I said to Vivien. ‘That grows behind your knees,’ said Vivien.

>   ‘Probably an important school announcement,’ I said.

  ‘When you have been sitting down for a long time,’ said Vivien.

  ‘We should all be quiet,’ I said, ‘and listen to the probably important school announcement.’

  ‘And the behinds of your knees have become very sweaty,’ said Vivien.

  ‘Yuck,’ I said.

  ‘Outstanding,’ said Hils.

  4

  THE ANNOUNCEMENT

  ‘Shut up, you stupid children!’ said Mrs Angry Announcements.

  Three different people do our school announcements: Mrs Angry Announcements, Miss Happy Announcements and Mr Once-Farted-Really-Loudly-While-Doing-The-Announcements-And-Hasn’t-Done-Them-Since.

  ‘Gordon Chowdry, come to the principal’s office,’ said Mrs Angry Announcements. ‘You’re in trouble! BIG TROUBLE! Do you want to know why you are in trouble, Gordon? Because you are a plonker!’

  Everyone in my class laughed.

  ‘Stop laughing!’ said Mrs Angry Announcements. ‘You’re all plonkers! Shut up! ALSO, there will be a pest exterminator working around the school today. Don’t get in his way, you plonkers. HURRY UP, GORDON!’

  Our classroom door flew open.

  5

  THE EXTERMINATOR

  Standing in the door was a huge man.

  A huge man no one had ever seen before.

  He was hugely tall.

  He was hugely wide.

  He was hugely thick.

  He was like a mountain. A mountain that could walk. And open classroom doors.

  His big, bald head shone as white as snow.

  His eyes were deep and dark like craters.

  He stood in the doorway looking all around the class.

  We sat at our desks looking all around him.

  (He was so big it took quite a long time to look all around him.)

  Our teacher Mr Hamm-Rolle was hiding behind his desk.

  Mr Hamm-Rolle is scared of loud noises.

  Whenever he hears a loud noise he hides behind his desk.

  Loud noises like our classroom door flying open or the school bell or Evan de la Souza’s incredibly realistic impression of a charging ostrich.

  Mr Hamm-Rolle spends a lot of time hiding behind his desk.

  The walking-mountain-man kept standing there. Looking all around the class.

  Even though he was really, very, super hugely huge he looked a bit lost and helpless.

  I decided I should help him.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said to the walking-mountain-man. ‘Can I help you?’

  he shouted. Exactly as loudly and as scarily as you’d imagine a walking-mountain-man would shout.

  He was staring straight at me. He was probably thinking about which of my arms he was going to rip off to use to pound my brains into hummus.

  I panicked.

  ‘I DON’T LIKE HUMMUS!’ I said.

  Just then I saw Vivien run over and set off the fire alarm.

  ‘FIRE!’

  she shouted.

  Everyone panicked.

  6

  THE PANIC

  Everyone was running.

  Everyone was shouting.

  ‘Fire!’

  ‘Stop, drop and roll!’

  ‘Someone stood on my muesli bar!’

  Evan de la Souza rushed towards the door doing his incredibly realistic impression of a charging ostrich. He tripped over Deborah Billingara who had stopped and dropped and was about to roll. Evan’s face hit the floor. Hard. He then did an incredibly realistic impression of a charging ostrich who had tripped over a girl called Deborah and hit its face on the floor. Hard.

  ‘INITIATE EMERGENCY FIRE PROTOCOL!’ said Hils from across the other side of the room.

  ‘I DON’T KNOW THE EMERGENCY FIRE PROTOCOL!’ I said.

  ‘CATCH!’ said Hils.

  I am not a good catcher.

  Hils knows I am not a good catcher.

  Hils always forgets I am not a good catcher.

  THINGS HILS HAS THROWN TO ME

  THAT I HAVE NOT CAUGHT BECAUSE

  I AM A BAD CATCHER

  • A shoebox full of pinecones

  • A hermit crab

  • Twelve things that looked soft but were really hard

  • Seventeen things that looked not-pointy but were really pointy

  • Nine things that looked really hard and pointy and were really hard and pointy

  • A piglet

  • A year 5 boy called Damien

  • A sock full of what-I-really-hope-was-jelly-but-was-probably-something-much-yuckier-than-jelly

  • Damien again

  ‘CATCH!’ said Hils.

  ‘I’M A BAD CATCHER!’

  Hils threw something to me.

  I didn’t catch the something-Hils-threw-to-me.

  Because I am a bad catcher.

  ‘OWWWWW!’ I said as the something-Hils-threw-to-me hit me in the face.

  It was a gas mask. The sort that covers your whole head. The sort that makes my head really sweaty.

  GAS MASK

  =

  SWEATY HEAD

  Hils keeps a covers-your-whole-head gas mask in her caravan. (In case of a chemical weapons attack.) Once I tried it on and it made my head really sweaty. Hils got angry I had head-sweated in her gas mask. She does not like other people’s head sweat.

  ‘PUT IT ON!’ said Hils.

  ‘BUT IT’LL MAKE MY HEAD REALLY SWEATY!’

  ‘DOUBLE TIME!’

  ‘Double time’ is the army way of saying ‘fast’.

  I put on the gas mask. Fast.

  My head got really sweaty. Fast.

  Hils pulled a squat red cylinder out of her backpack. She pushed a button on the cylinder and then threw it onto the floor in front of her.

  ‘FIRE IN THE HOLE!’ said Hils.

  ‘Fire in the hole’ is the army way of saying, ‘Something is about to happen that will probably kill us all.’

  WHOOOOMP!

  Everything went white.

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ I said to Hils. ‘I’ve gone blind. Did you just make me blind?’

  ‘Negative. I deployed an emergency fire-retarding device.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A foam bomb,’ said Hils. ‘It covers everything within a ten-metre radius with fire-retardant foam.’

  I heard a window smash.

  ‘Did you just smash a window?’ I said to Hils.

  Blind people have very sensitive hearing.

  ‘Affirmative.’

  ‘Couldn’t we have gone out the door?’

  ‘Negative. The door is a non-secure zone.’

  ‘The door is a non-secure zone’ is the army way of saying, ‘I like smashing windows.’

  7

  THE DISAPPEARANCES

  Hils and I were standing out the front of our classroom.

  We were both covered in fire-retardant foam.

  I had a really sweaty head.

  We waited until everyone had come out. (Except for Mr Hamm-Rolle. He was still behind his desk.)

  ‘Where are Vivien and the walking-mountain-man?’ I said.

  ‘I am unable to provide up-to-date intelligence on the whereabouts of either the friendly or the hostile,’ said Hils.

  ‘I am unable to provide up-to-date intelligence on the whereabouts of either the friendly or the hostile’ is army-talk for, ‘I don’t know.’

  8

  THE QUESTIONS

  We were sent home early from school because of the walking-mountain-man appearing.

  And because of Vivien disappearing.

  And because our entire classroom was covered in foam.

  It was late. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep because I was trying to think of answers to a whole lot of really, very, super important questions.

  A WHOLE LOT OF REALLY, VERY, SUPER IMPORTANT QUESTIONS I COULDN’T THINK OF THE ANSWERS TO

  Who was the walking-mountain-man?

  What was he look
ing for?

  Where had he disappeared to?

  Why had Vivien set off the fire alarm when there hadn't actually been a fire?

  Why had Vivien disappeared after setting off the fire alarm even though there hadn't actually been a fire?

  Was Mr Hamm-Rolle still hiding behind his desk?

  Would Michelangelo, the class axolotl, ever get over being covered in fire-retardant foam?

  What would brain hummus taste like?

  I was wondering whether brain hummus would taste more like brains or more like hummus when someone knocked at the front door.

  9

  THE KNOCKER

  I knew I would have to answer the knocking at the front door.

  Even though it was a middle-of-the-night-knocking-at-the-front-door.

  My parents would never answer it.

  They wouldn’t even hear the middle-of-the-night-knocking-at-the-front-door.

  They were in their bedroom listening to mindfulness podcasts on their iPhones.

  Having to answer a knocking at the front door in the middle of the night was one of the drawbacks of being a digital orphan.

  No one had ever knocked on my front door in the middle of the night.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  I didn’t know what to wear. What do you wear to answer a middle-of-the-night-knocking-at-the-front-door?

  Then I spotted my mum’s old bathrobe hanging in the bathroom across the hall. It was pink and fluffy with black anchors all over it. Perfect.

  I put on my gumboots (just in case the middle-of-the-night-door-knocker had come to warn me about a flood) and clomped to the front door.

  ‘Good evening,’ I said through the door. ‘My name is Betty.’

  (Never give your real name to a middle-of-the-night-door-knocker.)