‘But it will be impossible to do the book by twelve o’clock,’ says Terry. ‘We haven’t even started it.’
‘Speak for yourself!’ I say. ‘I’ve done chapter one and I started chapter two but I had to stop because you were strangling me.’
‘Well, yes, but, technically, that wasn’t me,’ says Terry. ‘It was the ants pretending to be me.’
‘Well, yes, technically, but it was your fault the ants were so angry,’ I remind him.
‘Well, technically, yes,’ he says, ‘but, technically, you were responsible for them being angry as well.’
‘Well, if you want to get technical about it, yes, that’s true, but it was you who left the gate open.’
‘Well, technically, yes, but, technically …’
‘Excuse me!’ shouts Jill through her micro-mini-megaphone. ‘Can I interrupt for a minute?’
‘Well, technically, you already have,’ I say.
‘Why don’t you just ask the ants to help you?’ she says.
‘They’re very good at forming words—and pictures—and they can do it very fast,’ says Jill. ‘You saw how quickly they made the certific-ant.’
‘But how could they write and illustrate a whole book?’ I say. ‘They don’t even know the story.’
‘Easy,’ says Jill. ‘You tell it to me and I’ll tell it to them and they’ll have it done in no time.’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Well, my name is Andy.’
‘And I’m Terry,’ says Terry.
‘And we live in a tree …’ I say.
‘Um,’ says Jill, ‘I already know all this. You might want to speed it up a bit. Remember, you haven’t got much time.’
‘Good point,’ I say. ‘We’ll speed-talk it.’
‘Okay, they’re ready,’ says Jill. ‘Watch this!’
‘Wow! Look at them go!’ says Terry. ‘They’re forming the pages right in front of our very eyes!’
‘That’s our best book ever,’ I say. ‘And to think that it’s all made by ants! But how are we going to get it to Mr Big Nose on time?’
‘I know!’ says Terry. ‘Let’s go ask the three wise owls.’
‘Do you really think that’s such a good idea?’ says Jill.
‘Yes,’ says Terry. ‘They’re very wise.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ says Jill.
‘But they were the ones who suggested we go time travelling to get our permit,’ I say, ‘and that was a good idea … well, sort of.’
‘All right,’ says Jill. ‘I guess it can’t hurt.’ She jumps onto my shoulder and we all head up to the wise owls’ house.
‘O, wise owls,’ says Terry, ‘how can we get our book to Mr Big Nose on time?’
‘What are they trying to tell us?’ I say.
‘I don’t know,’ says Terry, ‘but it sounds very wise.’
‘Not to me, it doesn’t,’ says Jill. ‘It just sounds like they’re saying random words.’
‘They’re not random,’ says Terry. ‘You put them together and they reveal a hidden meaning.’
‘Okay,’ says Jill. ‘What’s the hidden meaning of “Cheesesticks, elbow, hoo, blibber, blabber, bloo, chicken, chutney, poop-poop”?’
Terry looks at me. I look at Terry. We both shrug.
Suddenly we hear a loud roar and a motorbike flies through the leaves of the tree and skids to a stop in front of us.
The rider dismounts, and removes his helmet.
‘Inspector Bubblewrap?!’ I say.
‘At your service,’ he says. ‘But I’m not an inspector any more—I’m a stuntman. You can call me Super BW from now on. The BW stands for bubble wrap.’
‘But safety is your life,’ says Terry.
‘It was my life,’ says Super BW, ‘but I’ve swapped my hard hat for a helmet and decided to become a stuntman. I came back to thank you both for changing my life for the better. But what’s the matter? You look worried.’
‘It’s our new book,’ I say. ‘We have to get it to Mr Big Nose in less than one minute but his office is in the city on the other side of the forest!’
‘Sounds like a job for Super BW,’ he says. ‘I’ll not only get it there on time, but I’ll do it in the most spectacularly dangerous and thrilling way possible. Your new disabled-access ramp will be perfect for a stunt like this.’
Super BW takes our book, puts on his helmet, remounts his bike and rides out of the tree and into the forest to get the longest run-up possible.
‘Clear the ramp!’ I say. ‘Super BW is coming through!’
We hear the revving of his bike’s engine and then Super BW comes speeding up the ramp … shoots off up into the air … flies over the forest, towards the city …
and approaches the office of Big Nose Books where Mr Big Nose is sitting at his desk, watching Super BW come closer …
until he smashes through the window …
delivers the book …
‘THAT! WAS! AMAZING!’ says Terry.
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I’ve never seen a jump like it. But when he threw the book on Mr Big Nose’s desk, the ants went everywhere.’
‘Don’t worry,’ says Jill. ‘They’ll remember their places and get back into position very quickly. Can you draw me normal size again please, Terry?’
‘Sure,’ he says.
‘May I keep the micro-mini-megaphone, though?’ says Jill. ‘It will come in handy for talking to giraffes.’
‘And giants,’ I say.
‘Speaking of gi-ants,’ says Jill, ‘I’d better be getting back to my pet salon. I’ve promised the prehistoric ant that I’ll update his hairstyle—the one he has at the moment is a little old-fashioned!’
‘Well,’ I say, after Jill has gone, ‘I guess we’d better be getting up to Tree-NN. We’ve got some important news to announce.’
‘What?’ says Terry.
‘That we’re going to add another 13 storeys to the treehouse!’
‘Yay!’ says Terry. ‘A 78-storey treehouse. Can one of the new storeys be a drive-through car wash that we can drive through with the windows down? I’ve always wanted to try that!’
‘Me too!’ I say. ‘Let’s do it!’
THE END
