CHAPTER 5 THE DRAWING COMPETITION

We went to the kitchen table. It’s where we do most of our work. Or, rather, in the case of the past year it’s where we didn’t do most of our work. But that could soon be fixed. I figured Terry would have a few funny sketches in his drawing folder to get us started. It would simply be a matter of grabbing the best ones, adding a few words and, hey presto, we’d have our new book. No sweat, no worry. We are professional book-writers after all. I mean, you saw our piles of books.

“Okay,” I said, “let’s see what you’ve got!”

Terry opened his drawing folder and laid it flat on the table. “You’re going to love this,” he said.

In front of me was a picture of a finger.

“This is just a picture of a finger,” I said.

“Yes,” said Terry proudly. “But not just any finger...it’s my finger.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “What else have you got?”

“I’ve got a close-up picture of my finger,” said Terry. “And it’s labeled.”

I stared at it.

“Well?” said Terry, a big grin on his face. “What do you think? Lice picks, get it? Not ice picks...lice picks!”

“Yeah, I get it,” I said. I turned the pages, looking for more pictures, but all I saw was this...

and this...

“Is that it?” I said. “Two pictures? You’ve had a whole year and you’ve only come up with two pictures? Honestly, Terry! Do you expect me to do all the work—the pictures as well as the writing?”

“Of course not,” said Terry, “you can’t draw.”

“Yes I can!” I said. “Drawing is easy. It’s coming up with the words that takes real skill.”

“If you think drawing is so easy then let’s have a competition,” said Terry, handing me a pencil.

“No problem!” I said.

First we drew a knife.

“That’s not a knife,” said Terry. “This is a knife.”

Next we drew a worm.

“That’s not a worm,” said Terry. “This is a worm.”

Next we drew a banana.

“That’s not a banana,” said Terry. “This is a banana.”

“No,” I said, “that’s not a banana. This is a banana!” I picked up the giant banana that Terry had made the day before and charged at him.

“Put the giant banana down, Andy,” said Terry, backing away.

“I’ll put it down,” I said, “when you admit that I’m a better drawer than you are.”

“But you’re not.”

“Okay,” I said, “then I’m sorry to inform you that I’m going to have to whack you over the head with this giant banana.”

“Not if I can whack you first!” said Terry, snatching the banana from my hands and whacking me over the head with it.

That’s when everything went black.

The next thing I knew I was soaking wet and Terry was kneeling in front of me holding an empty bucket.

“I’m so glad you’re all right!” he said. “I thought I’d killed you!”

“So did I,” I said. “I can’t believe you whacked me with a giant banana!”

“But you were going to whack me with it.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right, Terry,” I reminded him.

“I suppose not,” he said, “and I’m sorry. But look on the bright side. At least I saved your life by throwing a bucket of water in your face.”

“But now I’m all wet!”

“Yes, but at least it’s better than being dead.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” I said, “we’re both as good as dead if we don’t stop wasting time and get our book finished.”

“You mean get our book started,” said Terry. “Do you have anything in your writing folder?”

“Actually, I do have the start of a story,” I said. “And it’s a pretty good one, too.”

“That’s great,” said Terry. “Let’s see it!”

I grabbed my writing book and began turning the pages.

“Great start!” said Terry. “Action-packed! But what happens next?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “That’s as far as I got.”

“That’s it?” said Terry. “Four words?!”

“Four pages,” I said.

“Yeah, but it’s still only four words,” said Terry, “and one of them isn’t even spelled right. I’m pretty sure it’s ‘upon,’ not ‘upom.’”

“Well excuse me, Mr. Roald Dahl!” I said. “If you know so much about story writing, why don’t you write it?”

“Because it’s time for my favorite TV show!” said Terry.

“What about our book?” I said.

“Why don’t you write while I watch?”

“Because I can’t write when the TV is on!” I said. “I can’t concentrate!”

“Then come and watch it with me,” said Terry, patting the beanbag beside him.

And that’s why, instead of working on our book, we ended up wasting half an hour watching the world’s dumbest dog on the world’s dumbest TV show.

But don’t just take my word for it.

See for yourself!