Read Online Casper Candlewacks in the Time Travelling Toaster by Ivan Brett - Free Book Online Page B

straight, gave its end a twist and stuffed it into a gap in the links of Casper’s tag.
    “I’m called Casper,” said Casper. “Not Malcolm.”
    “I wasn’t talking to you, then,” said the girl. “Malcolm’s my ’puter. He’s helping me log into your tag. He needs the password, though.”
    The women looked at Chrys, but she just bit her lip. “Briar does that stuff. He never tells me passwords.”
    Flanella’s face folded with concentration. “Ooh, I know!” she gasped. “ The eagle flies at midnight! ”
    “No, that’s our password,” grunted Chrys.
    “Is it?”
    “Try… I dunno… try some of his favourite things.”
    Flanella tried PUPPIES, MARSHMALLOWS and CUDDLING , and then, under the instruction of Chrys, MONEY, PAIN and SLAVERY .
    As Flanella tapped away at Malcolm, Betty Woons poured Casper a cup of tea-flavoured jelly beans. He took a sip and chewed.
    “There you go,” warbled Betty. “Get them down you. They’re your favourite.”
    It was true. Back in the old days, 107-year-old Betty used to give out packs of her home-made jelly beans to all the kids in Corne-on-the-Kobb. Some of them, like smoked salmon or hairclip ’n’ onion flavour, were yuckier than a cuddle with a skunk. Casper would feed those ones to the pigeons, saving pumpkin pie, toffee sundae and his personal favourite, tea with two sugars, for himself. It was nice to see Betty and her beans again, even if she reminded him of home. Proper home, that is.
    Casper blinked. Something in his brain had gone twang . “Hang on, Betty…”
    “Yesh? More tea?”
    “Why are you here? I thought this was the future.”
    “Oh, erm, good point. I’d better go, then.” She wheeled round to leave.
    “Wait! Don’t go! Tell me how you got here.”
    She braked. “I… erm… took the long way round.”
    “You mean you aged ? But that makes you –” Casper did a quick mental calculation – “two hundred and seven!” She was wrinkly enough, but…
    “Jelly beans an’ strong brandy,” she nodded. “Never mind none o’ that fruit ’n’ veg rubbish.”
    “Wow,” breathed Casper. “Wish I could live that long.”
    Betty laughed at a joke Casper hadn’t told. “You’re doing all right, Cashper.”
    “I’m only eleven, though.”
    “You’ll catch up,” she said, and wheeled away to brew another pot.
    Flanella had hacked into the tag by this time. (Turns out the password was PASSWORD .) She chatted away softly to Malcolm as she tapped on his keyboard. “Copy that folder,” she’d say. “Disable data transfer, there’s a good Malcolm.” The wire attached to Casper’s tag fizzed and gave him a little bzzt .
    Casper winced. “I never got the hang of computers.”
    “’Puters are easy. It’s just tapping or clicking. Sometimes both. Malcolm’s better than people because when you tap a person they don’t do anything, just say ‘Oy!’ and tap you back. Also people don’t have Wi-Fi. Malcolm does.”
    Casper hadn’t a clue what the girl was talking about. He couldn’t help thinking that out in the darkness of Corne-on-the-Kobb, Briar and his guards must be searching.
    “Won’t find us,” said Chrys, reading Casper’s mind. “I’ve been coming here for years. You’ve seen the front. Looks empty, like every other house.”
    “But what do you mean by‘here’? What are you all doing here?”
    “We’re the only ones left,” said the chubby lady. “Our friends and families’ve been –” she shivered – “employed.”
    It hung in the air like one of Casper’s baby sister’s burps. Never had a single word seemed so ominous. Casper cast his mind back to the hundreds of workers inside Warehouse 2, and felt a little colder. “Those are your families?”
    “Yer.” The woman sniffed. “Ain’t seen ’em for years. Maybe even months.”
    “But can’t you rescue them, just like you rescued me?”
    Chrys’s lip curled. “You saw how hard it was just to get you out. Burnt my bridges now, anyway.