Painted Dogs & Doom Cakes, page 5
The officer handed me the piece of paper.
‘Just sign here, please.’
‘I can’t sign yet,’ I replied.
Dad looked at me, confused.
‘I can’t sign the paper without my partner – Angie. We made this fuel together.’
Angie and I celebrated as we sent the National Police our thousandth batch of Fizzy Rain. It was what we called our fuel. Fizzy Rain was being used in all the police cars across the country. There was even talk that it might be sold overseas and used in petrol stations.
The Grimps had long since moved away. Mr Grimps said he didn’t want to live next door to a crazy girl who made lemonade and rockets. I don’t think he or Blake ever drank from their water tanks again.
Angie and I bought the Grimps’s house with some of the money we made from Fizzy Rain, and we were using it as our factory.
Dad grinned at us as he joined the celebration.
‘Well done, girls!’ He beamed. ‘Fizzy Rain – the only fuel you can drink at the end of an engine cycle!’ He pointed outside to our car, which had a giant bottle fitted over the exhaust pipe. It was ready to collect the lemonade from the engine.
We held our glasses high, and cheered.
½ cup of cocoa. If you prefer your cakes really chocolatey, try 17 cups instead.
½ cup of milk. No other options here. Lemonade won’t work.
1 cup of self-raising flour. A flour without parents. Amazing. How it brought itself up in this world blows my mind. It raised itself with tender love and care.
2 lightly beaten eggs. Your options here are a) take the eggs outside and hit them with some drum sticks b) take the eggs outside and challenge them to a game of basketball. Let them score a few points so it’s a close game. Remember, you want to only lightly beat them. 31-28 should do the trick.
1 cup of sugar. If you prefer your cakes really hyperactive, try 17 cups instead.
½ cup of soft butter. The name butt-er still freaks me out a bit. Who knows where it has been!
1) Preheat the oven to 180°C.
2) Go outside and pick up the broken eggshells. You weren’t supposed to use the eggs as the actual basketball, you drongo! Go to the fridge and get 2 new eggs. This will add to your prep time.
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
3) Realising there are no eggs left, make a quick dash to the corner shop for more. Try lightly beating them again.
Prep Time: 33 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
4) Check to see that the oven is heating. Note: By opening the door you will accidentally let out most of the heat, adding again to your prep time. You’ll have to shut the oven door and start again.
Prep Time: 37 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
5) Grease a cake tin. No, you clown . . . not with engine oil! Go outside and carefully wash the greasy mess out of the cake tin. This will add further to your prep time.
Prep Time: 51 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
6) Return to the oven and open the door a crack to see if it is still heating up. This will only let out a tiny bit of heat. Close the door and let it heat back up . . . again!
Prep Time: 53 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
7) Pour all of the ingredients into a bowl and mix on high. Oh dear, you just don’t listen, do you? I said ‘on high’, not ‘up high’! Climb off the roof and take the bowl back to the kitchen.
Prep Time: 1 hour 11 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
8) Having fallen off the ladder when you were attempting to get down off the roof, ask Mum to bandage up your foot. Resume cooking.
Prep Time: 1 hour 24 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
9) Pour all of the ingredients into a bowl and mix on high. ON!
10) Mix for about 5 minutes.
11) In celebration of having completed two steps in a row, go to the fridge and treat yourself to a drink of Fizzy Rain. This will add a little bit more time, but you deserve it – you’re making progress!
Prep Time: 1 hour 32 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
12) Hang on, did you even have the beaters plugged in? You forgot to plug the power cord in, you buffoon! Find a power point and plug the beater in.
13) Mix for about 5 minutes.
Prep Time: 1 hour 37 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
14) Sample some of the delicious cake mix. Isn’t it lovely?
15) You should stop eating it now and put it in the oven.
16) I’m telling you, 4 spoonfuls is more than enough.
17) Okay, you really need to stop eating the delicious cake mix . . .
Prep Time: 1 hour 53 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
18) Having eaten the whole batch in one greedy swoop, retreat to your bedroom and lay down for a while. No wonder you’re feeling ill.
Prep Time: 2 hours 16 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
19) Battle through the tummy pains and fall asleep.
Prep Time: 3 hours 58 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
20) Wake up.
21) Return to the kitchen and gather the ingredients again.
22) Having realised you used 17 cups of cocoa for your extra chocolatey cake in the first attempt, go to the shops and buy more cocoa.
Prep Time: 4 hours 21 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
23) Return home empty-handed because the shops have closed for the day. You’ll have to try again in the morning.
Prep Time: 19 hours 15 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
24) It’s a public holiday and you’ll have to wait another day.
Prep Time: 1 day 19 hours 15 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
25) Too much homework. Wait yet another day.
Prep Time: 2 days 19 hours 15 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
26) Buy cocoa. Put all the ingredients in a bowl and mix on high for 5 minutes.
27) Call the fire brigade because you forgot to turn the oven off a few days ago.
28) Watch as the fire brigade attempts to control the kitchen blaze. Watch Mum’s horror as she sees her kitchen go up in flames. You’ll feel less guilt watching the fire brigade, so go back to watching them. How cool are their belts?!
Prep Time: 2 days 21 hours 27 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
29) Wait until the builders finish completing the new kitchen.
Prep Time: 85 days 15 hours 46 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
30) Forget about the fact you were cooking a cake because you’re going on holidays in exactly two months.
Prep Time: 146 days 15 hours 46 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
31) Go on holidays for a week.
Prep Time: 153 days 15 hours 46 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
32) Remember that you were halfway through making a cake.
33) Duck down to the corner shop, buy the necessary ingredients and place them into a bowl.
Prep Time: 153 days 16 hours 21 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
34) Mix for about 5 minutes.
35) Pour the cake mix into a greased bowl and bake for 40 minutes.
36) Test the cake is cooked by seeing how springy it is. Not with your bare finger! Oh dear, get Mum to rush you to hospital to have your badly burned finger treated.
Prep Time: 153 days 17 hours 4 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
37) Wait for ages in emergency.
Prep Time: 153 days 23 hours 37 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
38) Have your finger amputated.
Prep Time: 154 days 2 hours 56 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
39) Due to an infection, have your arm amputated.
Prep Time: 159 days 7 hours 18 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
40) The stress of the past 5 months and the ongoing hospital bills have forced Mum to sell the house and move to the seaside.
Prep Time: 204 days 2 hours 17 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
41) Remember that you were halfway through making a cake.
42) Forget about it and go to the beach instead.
43) Get eaten by a shark.
‘GROSS!’
Gracie screamed as she ran from my bedroom, fleeing downstairs.
‘You got got!’ I called after her. I wiped the pretend goo off my face and picked up the round, rubbery disc of fake vomit from the floor. I smiled to myself as Gracie’s complaints to Mum and Dad echoed up the stairs. I loved playing jokes on my older sister and could always count on her to give me a good reaction. She was a great sport, too.
I looked in the mirror and ran my hand through my scruffy brown hair. It felt fantastic to be the king of practical jokes.
‘Dinner, Gus!’ called Mum up the stairs.
I smiled to myself and headed down to the kitchen.
‘Gus, have you been playing jokes on your sister?’ asked Dad, a glint in his eye.
I liked my dad a lot. He usually saw the lighter side of things and seemed to understand my sense of humour. He could be firm with me, but only if I crossed the line. Dad seemed to understand me when nobody else did. I often thought he must have been a practical joker in his time. A real pranker. He didn’t talk much about his boyhood, but I sensed there were funny stories and tales waiting to be told.
‘You got got so bad,’ I reminded Gracie, pretending to vomit.
‘I’ll get you one day,’ she teased, nudging me in the ribs.
‘Gus,’ said Mum, reaching across the table for the salt, ‘I won’t be able to pick you up from school tomorrow. I have to go to the dentist after work.’
‘You told me last week,’ I replied. ‘That’s okay because I don’t need a lift anyway. I’ve got a beauty planned with the Jones brothers!’
‘Are you walking home with Tiger Jones?’ interrupted Gracie, suddenly interested in the conversation.
‘Ooohhh, do you want to join us?’ I teased, batting my eyelashes. ‘Loverrrrs.’
Gracie blushed. Over the past few weeks she had been speaking a lot to Tiger Jones on the phone. He was in Year Seven at my school, Westwood Boys. He lived two doors down, so we often walked to school together. His younger brother, Finn, was in Year Three and he walked with us, too.
‘And what do you have planned with Tiger and Finn?’ asked Dad, redirecting the conversation.
‘Well . . .’ I replied slowly. ‘Let’s just say that my packet of giant water balloons will be put to good use.’
Dad winked at me.
‘I look forward to hearing about it, son.’
‘Don’t you go overdoing it, Gus,’ said Mum, giving me a concerned glance.
‘What’s there to worry about?’ I grinned. ‘It’s not like they’ll be full of water. We’ve chosen to work with something more . . . artistic!’
‘Oh dear,’ said Mum quietly.
The following day at school seemed to drag on for ages. I was very excited about the afternoon that lay ahead and I couldn’t wait to meet up with the Jones brothers to get things started. When the bell finally sounded, I picked up my bag and headed straight for the school entrance.
After reaching the gate in record time, I sat down on the shady side of a tree and started rehearsing the plan in my head. I closed my eyes and smiled to myself as I imagined what was about to unfold.
‘Hi, Gus!’
I opened my eyes. It was Finn. His round, friendly face greeted me with a smile.
‘Hi, Finn,’ I said, rummaging through my bag to check the giant water balloons were still there. ‘Did you bring the paint?’
‘Sure did,’ he replied.
I pulled the packet of balloons from my bag and shoved them into my pocket.
‘Hey guys, what’s happening?’
Tiger’s voice sounded from behind me. I turned around just in time to catch his trademark wink.
‘Have you got the balloons and paint?’ he asked. Finn and I nodded.
‘Excellent,’ said Tiger, looking quite enthusiastic. ‘Time to go and get Snake!’
Snake was a large German shepherd that lived two streets over from my house. He was the most feared dog in the neighbourhood. He had been known to bite and snap at children as they made their way to and from school. His bark was loud and frightening, and he always flashed his teeth at anyone who dared walk by. Little children were so afraid of him that families had been known to move away. He was one bad, drooling, snarling beast. I quickly worked out during my early years at Westwood that there were plenty of other ways to get to and from school. But today, we would be heading directly to 99 Chester Avenue – Snake’s lair.
‘Where did you say your mum was this afternoon?’ asked Tiger, after about five minutes of walking.
‘She had to go to Dr Sharpe,’ I replied, taking a sip from my water bottle.
‘Dr Sharpe!’ piped up Finn. ‘He’s terrifying!’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, turning to look at Finn.
‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘the kids in my class say he’s a maniac. They say he collects children’s teeth. I reckon he keeps them in a big jar in his backyard.’
‘Yeah, I’ve heard that, too,’ said Tiger. ‘They say he pulls out teeth using garden tools. And his drill is oversized and rusty! He even –’
‘But that’s horrific!’ I exclaimed, remembering how scared I was of dentists.
‘Exactly,’ said Tiger. ‘That’s why our family never go to him. We go to Dr Kippax.’
‘Yeah, that’s where Mum usually goes,’ I said. I couldn’t help but wonder why she had changed dentists to Dr Sharpe. Our old dentist, Dr Kippax, was by far the nicest dentist we could find. It didn’t make sense that we would change.
My thoughts were interrupted by Tiger.
‘Wait here,’ he said, dropping his bag onto the ground.
We had stopped outside Tiger and Finn’s house. Tiger walked up the driveway and disappeared down the side of his house. He returned moments later, carrying an old teddy bear and a bike pump. Behind him, he pulled a red wagon.
‘Like it, Gus?’ he asked, rolling the wagon down the driveway to my feet. It was just like he had described to me the day before. It was perfect for our plan.
‘Beauty,’ I said, turning to his brother. ‘Can we have the paint now, Finn?’
Finn put his bag down and began to pull out four bottles of paint. There were bottles of blue, red, white and yellow.
‘Got ’em from the art-room bin,’ he said. ‘Teacher said they were old ones.’
‘The best thing about them is that they are waterpaints,’ added Tiger. ‘So we know they will wash out later on. That crazy dog will need a good bath.’
‘Perfect!’ I beamed.
We spent the next few minutes filling each balloon with a different colour of paint. It was hard work, but worth it. Soon, our bags were overflowing with bulging weapons of art. Tiger placed the teddy bear on the wagon and nodded at me, signalling that he was ready to go.
We walked for another five minutes and stopped at the corner of Chester Avenue. I ran over the plan once more, making sure everyone knew what to do.
‘All set?’ I asked.
‘Like jelly!’ cried the brothers enthusiastically.
Snake’s bark boomed from down the street.
I carefully steadied myself on the tree branch and, making sure I was balanced, gently placed the bag of balloons in front of me. I looked across the road. On the other side, high in the branches of a gum tree similar to mine, was Tiger. He signalled to me and I nodded, letting him know I was ready.
About halfway up the street I could see Snake roaming around his yard. He was chewing on something that might once have been somebody’s school shoe.
In the distance, at the top of Chester Avenue, I could see Finn. He was fiddling with the wagon, making the final adjustments for our plan. The teddy bear was firmly in place and he waved at me, signalling that everything was ready.
‘Okay,’ I whispered to myself, waving back.
Finn pushed the wagon. It began its gentle descent down the soft slope of the street, heading for number 99. It began to pick up speed. On the back, the teddy bear bounced around, held only in place by one of Finn’s shoelaces.
The noise of the wagon’s squeaking wheels soon caught Snake’s attention. His bark filled the air and he rushed to the small, rotted fence, which was the only thing between him and the street. He leapt up onto the edge of the fence, resting his sharp paws between the wooden pickets, and continued barking loudly. His large teeth snapped in the direction of the wagon.
Then he saw the teddy.
His bark turned into an angry growl and he jumped over the fence in a single, effortless bound.
I steadied myself again and reached into the bag in front of me, pulling out a balloon. Across the street, Tiger was holding a blue balloon above his head, ready for action.
The wagon sped past number 99 and continued towards the trees. Snake chased behind, exposing his teeth at the helpless teddy strapped onto the back.
‘NOW!’ I yelled, hurling the balloon into the air.
My first shot missed. It drifted slightly left of the barking dog, splashing yellow paint onto the road. Tiger’s first shot also missed, and blue paint burst onto the pavement. I reached frantically into my bag and pulled out another balloon, slinging it high into the air. As soon as I let go of my grenade, I knew I had a winner. The balloon looped perfectly in the air, then sped down to earth at incredible speed. It rocketed directly towards Snake and burst on his back, splattering red paint over his fur. The dog growled angrily and drool sprayed out of his mouth. He stopped chasing the wagon.
One of Tiger’s balloons landed right next to Snake, spraying him with yellow paint.
Immediately after that, another one of Tiger’s missiles shot through the air, making a direct hit. White paint splashed out over the dog.
