Selby's Stardom (11 page)

P-H let go of the wheel with one hand and pulled one of Selby's paws loose.

‘Hey, what's he doing?!' Selby thought. ‘I'm not letting go now! I'm sorry but I'm not!'

P-H's car sped into the next straight with Awful Knoffle just ahead. P-H gripped the wheel again and roared up to the back of Knoffle's car. He pulled to the side to overtake the lead car but Knoffle jerked his car to the side, sheering a panel off the front of P-H's car.

‘You dirty guy!' P-H screamed.

Selby tried to readjust his grip but, in his panic, he put a paw over P-H's goggles.

‘Hey, dog! I can't see!' P-H yelled.

Selby suddenly realised the roll-bar was just behind him. He put a paw around it and let go of P-H's goggles.

‘Good,' he thought. ‘Now he can see where he's going.'

The car swerved to one side, clipping one of the cars that was a lap behind before bouncing back and hitting another car. On the second hit, P-H's helmet slammed against the side of the door frame and he slumped forward in the seat.

‘Oh no,' thought Selby. ‘Wake up!' Selby cried, this time out loud. ‘Drive the car! You've got to drive the car, P-H!'

The race car tore along bouncing off one car and then another. Cars spun around and crashed into the barriers as Selby clung to the roll-bar for dear life. And P-H stayed slumped in his seat.

‘I've got to stop this thing,' Selby thought as he eased his hind legs down onto the steering wheel.

Still clutching the roll-bar but with his head up high in the wind, Selby turned the wheel
this way and that, carefully weaving his way through the pack.

‘He's got his foot to the floor so we're going at full speed!' Selby thought. ‘I can't get down to pull his leg up. I can't take my paws off the wheel. Maybe I can turn off into the grass. But if I do that at this speed, the car will roll and fly to pieces!'

Selby slowly slid down onto Petrol-Head Pancho's shoulders. He was now perched with all four paws on the steering wheel.

‘I'll just keep it going around the track until the ear runs out of petrol,' Selby thought. ‘I've just got to keep from hitting anything.'

All of a sudden Selby realised he was ahead of the main pack and racing along all by himself.

‘Knoffle must be way ahead by now,' he thought. ‘Let him win, I don't care. Hey, this is kind of fun!'

Selby tore by the pit and barely glimpsed the terrified faces of the Trifles.

‘I'm glad I was going so fast,' he thought. ‘They could have seen that I'm actually driving this thing if I'd been going any slower!'

Suddenly Awful Knoffle's car loomed up ahead. Selby was gaining on him.

‘I'll have to get by him,' Selby thought.

Selby pulled up to overtake the leader but Awful's car suddenly moved to the side to cut him off.

‘Don't do that, you idiot!' Selby screamed. ‘I can't slow this thing down! You'll get us all killed.'

Awful cut one way and then the other, putting on bursts of speed but then falling back.

‘This baby has too good an engine in it,' Selby thought. ‘I can't go slow enough to pull back. There's nothing I can do but try to get by him. It will be just like battling with The Phantom Warrior!'

Into the straight the two cars sped with Awful just ahead, weaving from side to side in front. Then, just when they were out of sight of the officials, Awful suddenly put his car into a lower gear, sending black smoke and oil into the air.

‘Oh, no! It's covering the windscreen,' Selby screamed as he put his head up in the wind. ‘I can't see because of the smoke and dust!'

Selby looked around for the Screen-Clear lever. He started pulling and pushing everything
on the dashboard. Lights flashed, the horn blared and then a soapy spray shot up, clearing the windscreen but also hitting Selby in the face.

‘Oh, great,' he thought.

Selby blinked away the soap as his car moved up again on Awful Knoffle. This time Selby moved towards the inside of the track and then, quick as a flash, just as Awful cut in, Selby steered out and went around on the other side.

Neck and neck they tore towards the finish line.

‘Hey, Awful!' Selby yelled, looking over at the other driver. ‘Look at me!'

Awful Knoffle looked over at Selby and screamed, ‘Help! It's a dog! There's a dog driving a car! — And talking!'

‘That's right!' Selby yelled back. ‘And I'm going to beat you, you slacker!'

The stunned Knoffle let out a scream of terror and let up on his accelerator. He could only watch as Selby's car shot ahead and over the finish line.

Selby did a victory lap as he shook the driver awake.

‘Wake up, P-H!' he yelled. ‘We won!'

Slowly P-H came to and straightened up. He lifted his foot from the accelerator pedal.

‘What happened?' P-H asked when he pulled into the pit. ‘I don't remember anything.'

‘You won, that's what happened,' the manager said.

‘Oh, Selby!' Mrs Trifle cried, pulling him off the roll-bar. ‘Thank goodness you're not hurt!'

P-H climbed slowly out of the car.

‘What's he doing here?' he asked. ‘Was he there when I won the race?'

‘Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he was,' Dr Trifle said.

‘Didn't I tell you he was good luck?' P-H said.

When the Trifles and Selby got back to Bogusville Selby went off for a walk by himself.

He stopped and sat on a rock enjoying the peace and quiet of the country. He licked his paw, still tasting the champagne P-H had sprayed from the winner's platform at the end of the race.

Then, looking around to make sure no one was listening, Selby cried out: ‘I won! I won! I am the greatest!'

‘They're going to sack one of our two police officers,' Mrs Trifle said. ‘The police commissioner says there isn't enough crime in Bogusville for two of them.'

‘But what if there's suddenly lots of crime?' Dr Trifle asked.

‘That's what worries me. But I'm just the mayor of Bogusville. The commissioner in the city makes all these decisions, not me.'

‘So who's going to lose his job, Sergeant Short or Constable Long?'

‘Probably Constable Long because he's the junior officer. It's difficult because they're cousins and it could cause family troubles,'
Mrs Trifle said. ‘Speaking of which, their grandmother, Sally Short, has just been let out of prison and Sergeant Short asked if she could stay with us.'

‘Sally Short?!' Dr Trifle exclaimed. ‘But isn't she “Shotgun Sally”, the famous bank robber?'

‘That's her. Neither Sergeant Short nor Constable Long has a spare room for her at the moment. Is it okay with you?'

‘Well, yes … I guess so.'

‘Good, because here she comes now,' Mrs Trifle said.

A police car pulled into the driveway. Sergeant Short helped a little old grey-haired lady out of the car.

‘That's her!' Selby thought. ‘That's Shotgun Sally! I read about her in a book called
Famous Granny Criminals.
They used to call her “The Human Crime Wave”.'

‘Perhaps we should put your jewellery in a safe place?' Dr Trifle said. ‘And the camera, the TV, the video and those old spoons your mother gave us?'

‘Don't be silly,' Mrs Trifle said. ‘Sergeant Short told me that he's sure his grandmother won't go
back to her old ways. Look at her there clutching her handbag. She may have been a famous bank robber once but she's just a sweet little old lady now.'

‘I don't know about sweet little old ladies,' Selby thought, remembering the sweet little old lady criminal he'd once met.
‘The Trifles are too trusting.'

‘What do we say to her?' Dr Trifle asked. ‘I've never talked to a bank robber before.'

‘Just talk to her like a normal person,' Mrs Trifle said. ‘Only maybe we shouldn't mention prison. It might embarrass her.'

The doorbell rang.

‘Sergeant Short,' Mrs Trifle said, opening the door,' it's good to see you.'

‘Dr and Mrs Trifle,' Sergeant Short said, ‘I'd like you to meet my grandmother, Mrs Short.'

‘Lovely to meet you, Mrs Short,' Dr Trifle said. ‘Isn't it a nice day to be out — I mean …'

‘He means out and about,' Mrs Trifle interrupted, ‘driving around in the country. Yes, free …'

‘Free and easy,' Dr Trifle said quickly. ‘Not a care in the world. Better than being cooped up in a … in a …'

‘House,' Mrs Trifle said.

Sally Short looked back and forth at the embarrassed Dr and Mrs Trifle.

‘Please don't call me Mrs Short,' she said very politely. ‘Call me Sally or Shotgun Sally. I used to be a bank robber and I've been in the nick for the past twenty-five years.'

‘The what?' Mrs Trifle asked.

‘Oh, I'm sorry, that's slang for prison: the nick, the slammer, the jug, the pen, the clink, the joint, the big house, in stir, doing time.'

‘I can't believe it,' Selby thought. ‘She came right out with it.'

That evening at dinner, Shotgun Sally talked about her life.

‘I was a very naughty lady,' she said. ‘I used to break into cars and houses and I robbed quite a few banks. I used to go to little country towns. They usually only had one police station and only one or two coppers.'

‘Like Bogusville,' Dr Trifle said.

‘Yes, I guess so. There was usually a bank near the cop shop.'

‘Like Bogusville's bank,' Mrs Trifle said.

‘I'd trick the coppers into leaving the station and then I'd rush into the bank, pull out my gun, and yell “This is a stick-up!” The newspaper called me “Shotgun” but I only ever used a pretend gun without bullets. Anyway, my grandsons were the ones who dobbed me in,' the woman said. ‘They worked out that it was me doing the robbing. You see, after every bank job I always gave them presents.'

‘So they were very clever even when they were kids,' Dr Trifle said.

‘Well it didn't take much brains — especially after they found my mask, my pretend shotgun, and stacks and stacks of money under my bed,' Sally Short said. ‘So off I went to prison. But I've never held it against them.'

‘Being in prison must be awful,' Mrs Trifle said.

‘Terrible. But I took courses in writing. I was thinking of writing about my life as a bank robber.'

‘That would be a very interesting book,' Dr Trifle said.

‘Yes, but my problem is trying to remember things that far back. I can't really remember how I felt when I committed my crimes. I don't know what I was thinking and all those writer things.'

She looked down and noticed Selby.

‘I love dogs,' she said. ‘I haven't had a pat of one for a long time. What's the little guy's name?'