CHAPTER 20

Dear Earthling,

I have some bad news. You know I said about the noise coming from the garden in my last letter? Well, it was Spike attacking Precious! I tried to pull them apart, but Precious was too slimy for me to get a good grip of, and Spike was too spiky.

Great Aunt Grumbeloid came out to see what all the commotion was and walloped Spike several times with her walking stick to drive him away, at which point he hissed at her (I never knew hedge-podges did that!) before ambling off into the undergrowth. Precious didn’t seem too bothered about her ordeal though (neither chickens nor snails are particularly emotional creatures), but Dad is going to make her a pen just in case Spike comes back for round two.

In other bad news, I had a very traumatic time at the travelling circle last night with Andi’s family.

It started off okay—Andi’s parents had booked us front row seats, so we had an excellent view.

The circle-boss came out (he was either wearing stilts or was incredibly tall—it’s hard to tell with circle folk as they tend to look rather unusual anyway) and introduced the first act, the “frowns”—they paint their faces to look cross and do things like throwing cabbages at each other. One of them was very short and rode around on a little tricycle spraying crustard from a squirt-blaster at the audience.

Andi’s parents must have been expecting this sort of thing, as his family watched the entire show from the safety of a small see-through tent. I sat in there with them at first, but my breathing kept steaming it up, so I got out.

Getting out must have attracted the little frown’s attention. He pedalled towards me at quite a pace, balancing a bucket on his head. I was expecting to get covered in crustard, but the bucket turned out to contain a net! He caught me, and dragged me into the circle.

At first I panicked, thinking I was being kidnapped and forced to become one of “them” (I mean, seriously, who would choose to be a frown?) but then he whispered, “Relax, it’s just a bit of fun,” so I decided to play along.

The other frowns all came over and helped him untangle me, and I was plonked onto a chair as one of the angriest looking frowns pretended to paint my portrait.

When he’d finished, he showed it to the audience and they all roared with laughter as it was a picture of a donkey. The little frown then led me back to my seat and gave me an envelope containing a “prize” for being a good sport.

I couldn’t really concentrate on the rest of the show because I felt so embarrassed that the frowns had made such a fool out of me.

I did kind of enjoy the tightrope walker—it was thrilling wondering if she was going to fall off—but to be honest, I was glad when the show finished. I just wanted to go home and be embarrassed in private.

Afterwards, Andi made me feel a bit better by admitting he was jealous that the frowns had chosen me to be their “victim” and felt it should have been him out there under the spotlight as it was his date of manufacture celebration.

On the way home I remembered the envelope the little frown had given me and opened it.

It contained two free tickets to see the show again. I gave them to Andi as there’s no way I’m ever going back there.

Happily I’ve recovered enough from my traumatic experience to attend Space Cadets tonight.

I can’t wait, as Sergeant Megatron 5000 says he has some very exciting news for us all! (If it’s that he’s arranged a Space Cadets trip to the travelling circle, I’m going to scream.)

I’ll let you know one way or another when I next write.

Your friend,

Dethbert Jones