Charlie and the War Against the Grannies (9 page)

I know it's bad but for ages now I've wondered if, while Ms Plumb-Roll is sitting on the toilet, she says, ‘Poo, poo, poo, poo, poo'?

I don't want to think that but I can't help myself.

Let's say that what Warren had told us was true. The grannies had taken over all the paper rounds. If I wanted to get a paper round then I would have to go to war against the grannies. It was not just my paper round that was at stake. I was not the only person who wanted a paper round. If we went to war against the grannies and won then lots of people could have paper rounds. We'd be doing this for all the other kids – just like me – who also wanted paper rounds.

After lunch I had Media with Ms Best-Wurst.

Ms Best-Wurst isn't married and has no children.

She has pets.

The problem is that her pets are always dying. In really strange and horrible ways.

The double-problem with her pets dying is that she always tells us how they died and then starts crying. Sometimes she'll cry for the whole period.

Today she told us that her guinea pig, Sir Flop-A-Lot, was chopped to death when the next-door neighbour's model helicopter crashed into him.

She cried for the whole period.

I wonder if Ms Best-Wurst's eyeballs are going to get so slippery from all her crying that they fall right out of her eye sockets onto the floor where Junior Silesi (who has the biggest feet in the class) will step on one and get eye-slime all over his shoes.

What if we fought a war against the the grannies and lost?

I hadn't thought of that.

Moral dilemmas are always full of things that you never think of.

My final class was Art with Mr Peters-Piper.

Once, he put his hand in his pants pocket and found a piece of broccoli. Instead of throwing it away . . . he ate it.

Right in front of us.

Who keeps broccoli in their pants pocket?

I really want a paper round.

Other kids really want paper rounds.

No one can have a paper round until we have fought and won a war against the grannies who control all the paper rounds.

‘Hils,' I said. ‘I think we have to go to war with the grannies.'

‘Affirmative.'

I hoped she would say that.

To be honest I wasn't totally sure that going to war with some grannies was the right thing to do, but since Hils thought it was right I felt a lot better.

It was after school and I was walking with Hils to her taekwondo class.

‘We have to stop calling them grannies,' said Hils.

‘Why?' I said.

‘Calling them grannies makes them sound too nice. If you're going to wage war against someone you need to make them sound bad. Not nice.'

‘Why do you need to make someone sound bad if you're going to have a war with them?'

‘So no one cares that you're having a war them,' said Hils.

‘I don't understand,' I said.

Hils took a deep breath. I knew that deep breath. It was her let-me-explain-it-to-you breath.

‘Let me explain it to you,' said Hils.

I took a deep breath. It was my okay-you-explain-it-to-me breath.

‘Okay, you explain it to me,' I said.

‘Imagine,' said Hils, ‘that you want to have a war against cupcakes.'

‘Cupcakes? That's ridiculous. Cupcakes are so nice. They're small. They're tasty. They don't even have arms. Why would you have a war with cupcakes?'

‘But what if they weren't called cupcakes? What if they were called “sugar grenades”? Do you think it'd be easier to have a war against “sugar grenades”?'

This sounded very much like a trick question. I don't like trick questions. Most questions are tricky enough as it is without anyone adding extra trick to them.

‘Sugar grenades don't sound as nice as cupcakes,' I said.

‘Exactly,' said Hils. ‘That's why we have to stop calling them grannies.'

I didn't really know what Hils meant. I kind of did. But not really. I could have asked her to explain more but I thought that no matter how much she explained I was only ever going to kind-of-know what she was talking about.

‘I completely understand everything you said,' I said.

‘So what shall we call them instead of grannies?' said Hils.

‘Nanas?' I said.

‘Negative. Nanas doesn't sound bad.'

‘What if you say “nanas” in a bad-sounding way?'

I said ‘nanas' in a bad-sounding way.

‘Negative. Do you even understand what I mean?'

‘Yes.'

‘Really?'

‘No.'

‘We need to call the grannies something that will make it easy for us to want to go to war with them. Something like “elderly combatants”. But it needs to be catchy,' said Hils.

‘What about “violent veterans”?'

‘Negative,' said Hils.

‘“Fighting Fossils”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“Prehistoric Punchers”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“Angry Aged”?'

‘Better,' said Hils.

‘“Bald Baddies”?'

‘Good,' said Hils.

‘“Sneaky Creakies”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“Ruthless and Toothless”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“Untrustful Rustfuls”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“Mouldy Oldies”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“TROLL PATROL”?' I said.

‘Negative,' said Hils.

‘I think Troll Patrol is great.'

‘It's too weird,' said Hils.

‘“Stinky Seniors”?' I said.

‘Negative.'

‘“Wrinkly Warriors”?'

‘Negative.'

‘“The Wrinkly Stinky Seniors”?'

‘Too long,' said Hils.

‘“Stinkly Wrinklys”?'

Hils looked at me. She was thinking.

‘Perfect,' said Hils.

‘Really?'

‘Affirmative.'

‘Hils,' I said. ‘I think we should go to war with the Stinkly Wrinklys.'

She was right. It did sound a lot better. I mean, a lot worse. Oh, you know what I mean.

‘Hils,' I said. ‘How are we going to go to war with the gran – Stinkly Wrinklys?'

‘I'm glad you asked,' said Hils. ‘I've been weighing up the pros and cons of several strategic scenarios.'

That's army-talk for, ‘I've had heaps of time to think about how we're going to have a war against those Stinkly Wrinklys because my last class was really boring.'

‘First,' said Hils, ‘we have to ascertain the whereabouts of the Stinkly Wrinklys' base of forward operations.'

That means, ‘We need to find their clubhouse.'

‘Once we find their clubhouse what do we do?' I said.

‘We lay siege to it,' said Hils.

‘What does that mean?'

‘It means we surround them,' said Hils.

‘How are we going to surround them? There are only two of us.'

‘Then we cut off their supply of shortbread,' said Hils.

When Hils doesn't know the answer to a question she just pretends you didn't ask it and carries on with what she was saying. I think she will make a very good parent one day.

‘Shortbread?' I said.

‘Stinkly Wrinklys love shortbread. Once they run out of shortbread they will get really hungry and come out of their base.'

‘Unless they have a rhino in there,' I said. ‘You could live for ages on one rhino. Especially if you have a big freezer.'