Read Online Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me? by Louise Rennison - Free Book Online

me.
    Suddenly, I know what I was born to do.
    I start to move to the beat.
    I raise my arms and WHOOOOSH !
    Flame dance to the right, flame dance to the left.
    Whoosh whoosh.
    The ace gang look at one another, and smiling shyly, they too mount the stage (I said leave it).
    They acknowledge the crowd with a quick huddly duddly and then they join in with the dancing…
    We do a compilation of our greatest hits, flame to the right, flame to the left.
    Whoosh whoosh.
    Bogey dangle, bogey dangle.
    Eyes shut for nighttime Viking paddling.
    Paddle, paddle to the right and to the left.
    Then interweaving paddling.
    And then, in a grand finale, we fall to our knees with a shout of HOOOORRRRN!!!!
    As the crowd goes wild, Wet Lindsay gets her coat. A beam of light from the stage illuminates her lack of forehead. She beckons to Robbie and he shakes his head. She storms off.
    The Luuurve God helps me to my feet and shakes his head in admiration. I know what he is thinking (telepathically). “Aaaaah, beauty-io and talent-io all in one package-io.”
    He kisses my hand and then all up my arm. And then he starts on my neck.
    Thank goodness he didn’t start at my ankles otherwise we would have been there all night.
    As he gets to my ears, I see Dave the Laugh in quite a cool suit. He is just looking at me sadly, then he says to Emma, “Get your face on, love, we’re leaving.”
    He looks angry and upset.
    Hang on a minute, how did Dave the Laugh get in this? And also why is he such a downer??
    I sat up in bed. He’s spoiled my fantasy now,stropping around in the Humpty Dumpty.
    For no reason at all. Ish.
    Boo.
    two minutes later
    I should have told him about the Titches’ tribute to him when they broke the loo seat. That would have cheered him up. It’s not like him to be moody. He’s not an Italian Stallion.
    In fact, that’s one of the best things about him, that he is Dave the Laugh.
    The key word being “Laugh.”
    one minute later
    I wonder who Jas likes best out of Dave the Laugh and Masimo?
    She’s never said.
    I might phone her and ask her.
    Not that I am bothered.
    in the hall
    9:00 p.m.
    I can hear the “grown-ups” giggling like fools. I glanced into the front room to see Dad crawling through Mum’s friend Big Beryl’s legs. He had aballoon in his mouth. It is very disturbing.
    I went to use the phone and Mum came mumming out.
    I said to her, “Mum, this is not some sort of wife-swapping party, is it? Because if it is, can I not have Big Beryl as my new mum?”
    Mum said, “Don’t call her Big Beryl.”
    I said, “You do.”
    And she said, “Yeah, but not in front of her.”
    That is sooo typical of the lax morals she has.
    thirty seconds later
    Rang Jas.
    Jas’s mum, who is practically a saint in human form in my opinion, answered the phone. She even sounded glad to hear my voice—that is how nice she is. When I asked for Jas, she said, “I’ll get her. She is just making an aquarium with Tom.”
    For politenessnosity I said, “Are you doing anything nice this evening?”
    And she said, “Well, yes, Dad and I are jam-making actually.”
    I said, “I hope you’ve got your aprons on.”
    And she said, “Oh yes, dear.”
    And I know she does not lie.
    As Mum passed again, staggering under the weight of wine and lager, I said, “Jas’s mum and dad are making jam.”
    She said, “Why is your face all slimy?”
    Jas came on the phone all breathless and excited.
    “Hi, hi, we’ve just put the gravel in and the miniature Ferris wheel. There’s going to be a grotto area and…”
    “Jas, fish don’t go on Ferris wheels.”
    “Oh, I know that. It’s for the crabs.”
    I didn’t know what to say.
    She went rambling on because she has little real idea of how mad she is.
    “Anyway, what do you want? Have you decided what to wear? I’ve started learning my Juliet part. It’s terribly sad.”
    You’re not kidding, matey.
    For friendlies sake, I pretended to be interested.
    “Have you got to ‘hark