Read Online The Boy from Earth by Richard Scrimger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Scrimger
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wall, almost as high as the ceiling and as thick as the tableit's resting on. Barbara is scooping a piece of the cake onto a plate for me. Beside her, a clutch of little tadpoles are digging in with spoons. An older frog is leaping to the top of the cake to get some icing for her plate.
“Hi, Barbara,” I say, coming up behind her. “That's some cake, huh?”
Her legs look perfect.
She turns. “Hi, there!” she says, the same way she did when she first saw me. “Let's be friends!” She seems glad to see me. A beautiful naked girl is glad to see me. All right, maybe that happens to you every day, but it's a new experience for me.
“Uh … sure,” I say. I swallow. “Sure,” I say again.
Smooth, Dingwall, very smooth.
I step forward, with no very definite idea in my mind. Her hand reaches for me. And that's when something heavy crashes into the side of the building.
The frogs stop talking at once. The room waits. “Is it him?” someone whispers.
There it is again. And again. Could it be an earthquake? No. An earthquake doesn't knock like a hammer on the wall of the building. An earthquake doesn't rattle the furniture – no, wait, it does do that. An earthquake doesn't cast a shadow when it crosses in front of a window.
“It's him!” croaks one of the frogs, in a voice loud enough for all to hear. I look over. It's Wes, my friend in the porkpie hat. He's standing a bit farther down the cake, looking nervous. “He's back!”
And panic strikes, as suddenly as diarrhea. One minute it's not there, and the next minute you can't think of anything else. The lobby of the lodge is full of giant leaping frogs. They bound past me on the way to the door, crashing into one another in midair, falling, sprawling, flopping, hopping. The doorway is jammed with slippery green bodies.
Something is pounding on the outside wall, hard enough to shake the whole building. The hysteria mounts. I want to get out, but I can't seem to move my legs. The frogs are everywhere. I'm bigger than they are, but not faster. I can't push them all out of the way. I call for Norbert, but my voice is lost in the thunder of croaking.
And then the building starts to come down. I am curiously calm as I notice the wall nearest me detach itself from the ceiling, and fall towards me. Time slows down. Sound and feeling go away. The wall hits me, silent, painless, heavy, knocking me to the floor. My left arm is pinned beneath me. I scream silently, reach out blindly with my right hand. Then the floor hits me from underneath, and I can feel myself going up like an express elevator. I don't know how long this feeling lasts – not very long. When it stops, everything is quiet.
My mouth is full of something soft and tasty. I swallow instinctively. Almond cake. I can't see. Something is pressing on my eyes. And the rest of me. Something heavy, butbearable, like a dozen blankets. I struggle, but can't lift myself. My left arm has fallen asleep.
“Hello?” I say. When I open my mouth, more almond cake falls in. I chew and swallow. “Hello?” My voice sounds remote from the rest of me, the way it does after your ears have popped.
I can't move any part of me except my mouth and right arm. I feel around blindly. “Help!” I call. More almond cake. I chew and swallow. “Help!” I call again.
Something soft under my fingers. Soft and smooth and rounded. I have no idea what it can be. A water balloon? I squeeze it a bit, and hear a voice I recognize.
“Hi there!”
“Barbara?” I say. “Barbara, are you okay?”
“This is fun!” she says.
More almond cake in my mouth because my mouth is wide open. I think I know what I have my hand on. Not a water balloon.
“Sorry!” I say. I move my hand away from her … her….
With the rosy red tidal wave of embarrassment comes a – belated – dawning of sense. I realize that I am not quite as helpless as I feel. It wasn't a real wall that fell on me, but a wall of cake. It's as thick and almost
“Hi, Barbara,” I say, coming up behind her. “That's some cake, huh?”
Her legs look perfect.
She turns. “Hi, there!” she says, the same way she did when she first saw me. “Let's be friends!” She seems glad to see me. A beautiful naked girl is glad to see me. All right, maybe that happens to you every day, but it's a new experience for me.
“Uh … sure,” I say. I swallow. “Sure,” I say again.
Smooth, Dingwall, very smooth.
I step forward, with no very definite idea in my mind. Her hand reaches for me. And that's when something heavy crashes into the side of the building.
The frogs stop talking at once. The room waits. “Is it him?” someone whispers.
There it is again. And again. Could it be an earthquake? No. An earthquake doesn't knock like a hammer on the wall of the building. An earthquake doesn't rattle the furniture – no, wait, it does do that. An earthquake doesn't cast a shadow when it crosses in front of a window.
“It's him!” croaks one of the frogs, in a voice loud enough for all to hear. I look over. It's Wes, my friend in the porkpie hat. He's standing a bit farther down the cake, looking nervous. “He's back!”
And panic strikes, as suddenly as diarrhea. One minute it's not there, and the next minute you can't think of anything else. The lobby of the lodge is full of giant leaping frogs. They bound past me on the way to the door, crashing into one another in midair, falling, sprawling, flopping, hopping. The doorway is jammed with slippery green bodies.
Something is pounding on the outside wall, hard enough to shake the whole building. The hysteria mounts. I want to get out, but I can't seem to move my legs. The frogs are everywhere. I'm bigger than they are, but not faster. I can't push them all out of the way. I call for Norbert, but my voice is lost in the thunder of croaking.
And then the building starts to come down. I am curiously calm as I notice the wall nearest me detach itself from the ceiling, and fall towards me. Time slows down. Sound and feeling go away. The wall hits me, silent, painless, heavy, knocking me to the floor. My left arm is pinned beneath me. I scream silently, reach out blindly with my right hand. Then the floor hits me from underneath, and I can feel myself going up like an express elevator. I don't know how long this feeling lasts – not very long. When it stops, everything is quiet.
My mouth is full of something soft and tasty. I swallow instinctively. Almond cake. I can't see. Something is pressing on my eyes. And the rest of me. Something heavy, butbearable, like a dozen blankets. I struggle, but can't lift myself. My left arm has fallen asleep.
“Hello?” I say. When I open my mouth, more almond cake falls in. I chew and swallow. “Hello?” My voice sounds remote from the rest of me, the way it does after your ears have popped.
I can't move any part of me except my mouth and right arm. I feel around blindly. “Help!” I call. More almond cake. I chew and swallow. “Help!” I call again.
Something soft under my fingers. Soft and smooth and rounded. I have no idea what it can be. A water balloon? I squeeze it a bit, and hear a voice I recognize.
“Hi there!”
“Barbara?” I say. “Barbara, are you okay?”
“This is fun!” she says.
More almond cake in my mouth because my mouth is wide open. I think I know what I have my hand on. Not a water balloon.
“Sorry!” I say. I move my hand away from her … her….
With the rosy red tidal wave of embarrassment comes a – belated – dawning of sense. I realize that I am not quite as helpless as I feel. It wasn't a real wall that fell on me, but a wall of cake. It's as thick and almost
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