The first contestant was a yappy little dog called Brock, who stood up on his back legs, walked around a bit and then shook paws with his owner. Everyone clapped.
Next was Polly the Polite Parrot. Her owner was an old lady who beamed proudly as Polly squawked, ‘Excuse me, please,’ then, ‘Thank you very much,’ and, ‘You’re welcome.’
My dad was standing next to me, filming everything.
‘That bird has better manners than my kids,’ I heard him mutter.
I sighed and wished that Stinky could talk when it was his turn. That parrot only knew a few words – my hamster knew a few languages. Though he hardly ever said ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ in any of them.
Next came a guinea pig called Brian who could hurdle pencil cases, and then a rat called Cuddles who chased his own tail (but never quite caught it, unfortunately).
Edward Eggington had been standing next to the mouse cage during the other performances, getting everything ready, and now it was his turn.
He coughed to get everyone’s attention and then announced in a big voice:
‘Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present the Most Talented Mice in the Entire World, performing incredible gymnastic feats!’
He pulled a shiny whistle from his pocket and blew it. The mice all rolled over at the same time. The audience clapped wildly.
When the audience was quiet, Edward blew the whistle twice. The time the mice formed a line and – one by one – leaped up from the springboard onto the beam, walked carefully along it and jumped off spectacularly.
The audience gasped.
Finally he whistled three times – peep-peep-peeeep – and the mice climbed on each other’s backs to make a mouse-pyramid.
When the mouse at the top took a bow, there was a huge cheer. Even my dad was clapping, which is not an easy thing to do with a phone in one hand.
Edward Eggington looked even more pleased with himself than he usually did. He waved to the crowd with both arms in the air, as if he’d already won.
Maybe he had.
I had to admit, it was an impressive performance.
I just hoped that Stinky wouldn’t get stage fright, because he’d have to be absolutely brilliant to beat those mice. I wondered how he was feeling. He’d been incredibly nervous at home – how would he feel when he saw the big audience staring at him?
I looked at his cage, but couldn’t see him – he must have been in his little house, no doubt preparing himself mentally.
When the applause finally died down, Beverley Best got everyone’s attention. ‘Our next contestants,’ she announced, ‘are Benjamin Jinks and …’ she sighed, ‘Stinky the Skateboarding Hamster.’
I took a deep breath and walked up to the table.
But when I looked in Stinky’s cage, suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
The little house was empty.
Stinky wasn’t there.
It was a few seconds before I could squeeze any words out.
‘He’s gone!’ I yelled.
The audience gasped.
‘It must be Stinky the Invisible Hamster,’ Edward Eggington called out.
My dad stopped filming and rushed straight over to me.
We both looked desperately around for Stinky – on the table, on the ground.
But he was absolutely nowhere to be seen.
