Tyger Pants - Cretin the Cruel Read online

Tyger Pants

  is

  Victor the Victor

  in

  Cretin the Cruel

  and the Invasion

  of the Werebeast Army

  Royston Wood

  Copyright 2013 Royston Wood

  Chapter One

  Take Your Kids to Work Day

  This is about as much fun as lumpy porridge on a rainy Monday morning. Without any sugar. I‘d be better off at school. Even assembly is more interesting than this!

  Picking up another book from the endless pile tumbled on the desk I fumble the cover open.

  Of course I should be happy I’m not at school, simply because, well, I’m not at school. But National Take Your Kids to Work Day isn’t proving to be any better.

  Snatching a label from the stack before me I smear glue across its back.

  It’s alright for Ronan, his dad’s a Fire-fighter. I bet he’s racing around in a fire engine with the siren blaring, rushing to deal with some blazing inferno. And George’s mum is a Policewoman so he’s probably out on the street busting some crook’s butt, whatever that means.

  I slap the glued label down on the blank first page of the book with a lot more force than it needs.

  Even stinky Graham’s better off than me. OK, so being an Undertaker for a day is a bit creepy but it’s also pretty cool; you get to wear black and see dead bodies and stuff.

  Lifting my hand I glare at the label. ‘This book belongs to the Library Service – see Terms and Conditions of borrowing.’

  But my dad is a librarian. So, I’m locked in the library sticking labels in books.

  DULL!

  The door to dad’s office creaks open and my head darts up, looking for some interesting distraction, but it’s just dad.

  “How’s it going Tyger?” he asks, trying to manoeuvre past the huge piles of books looming on every flat surface, with a tray of steaming mugs in his hand.

  “Mmmurgh,” I respond craning my neck to see if there are any biscuits on the tray.

  “What about you Sandy,” he asks my little sister, who is sat opposite me on the other side of dad’s desk.

  “It’s fun,” chirps Sandy, still happily sticking labels in. “I can see why you like working here.”

  Creep!

  “It is fun Sandy. And there are loads of other interesting things to do today. I’m sure you’ll find them all fascinating. You too Tyger.”

  “Will they all be as exciting as this?” I ask with a slight smirk on my face.

  “Unfortunately not, Tyger. It wouldn’t be fair to give you and Sandy all the best jobs. We’ll have to share some of them with Mr Borling and Miss Doll.”

  That’s the people dad works with. Huh, more like Mr Boring and Miss Dull. They’re about as interesting as a damp rag.

  ‘Here, have some tea,” says dad plonking mugs down before us, “it will help the day along.”

  I look forlornly at the empty tray, pouting slightly at the lack of biscuits.

  “Is it lunchtime yet?” I ask.

  “Lunchtime?” dad chuckles. “We’ve only been here ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes? Is that all?” I grumble. “How long do we have to be here?”

  “Well it’s ten past nine now and we go home at five. So that’s just another…seven hours and fifty minutes.”

  The time lands on my shoulders like a heavy weight and my head slumps to the desktop.

  “Cheer up Tyger. If you’re not keen on the label sticking maybe you’ll find some of the other things I have planned entertaining.”

  When I groan in response he frowns at me and snaps, “Well you might! Take a leaf out of Sandy’s book and show a bit of enthusiasm. Who knows, by the end of the day you might even want to be a librarian.”

  “Yes dad,” I say, wondering if by the end of the day I might have also grown a beard, it seems as likely.

  There’s a bleep from dad’s pocket and he pulls out his iRate4 phone. This is a curious thing about dad: he’s everything you would expect from a librarian, a bit of a dweeby geek with shabby clothes and stuff, but he has the most awesome phone ever. I don’t know where he got it. Even the most trendy people only have iRate3s. I’ve looked on the internet for an iRate4 and they’re not even due to be released until next year.

  “Sorry guys,” says dad looking a bit flustered. “I’ve got to go to an emergency meeting. It’s too important for me to take you two along. We’ve got a build up of...er...we’ve got a build up of...of oversized books, that’s it. They’re the ones that are too big for the normal shelves. We’ve got to put them on larger shelves and then re–index everything.”

  “Gosh! That sounds exciting,” Sandy and I say at the same time. My voice sounds very sarcastic though.

  “Yes. Never a dull moment! Right, just carry on with the labels until I get back,” says dad over his shoulder as he hurries from the room.

  I plod on with the labels: there’s no point rushing, Sandy’s flying through them.

  As I slap down another label, the ‘Terry Pants’ brass name plate on dad’s desk jumps and my heart leaps with it as I glimpse the iRate4 lying behind it. Dad must have put it down and forgotten it!

  Keeping an eye on Sandy, I pluck a book from the pile and, using it to cover my actions, I glide my hand across the desktop, lift the phone and slide it under the desk. Then I carefully arrange a pile of books between us and poke at the phone’s screen to wake it up.

  It takes me a while to get used to how the controls work but then I start flicking through the screens looking for the games. You can get some awesome games for the iRate3 (or so I’m told) so the ones on the iRate4 must be awefull (that’s not a spelling mistake by the way: if a thing that fills you with some awe, or wonder, is awesome then a thing that fills you full of awe must be awefull, right?).

  Scrolling through screen after screen with no games or videos or even cool tunes to be seen, I get more and more desperate. I look up to make sure Sandy’s still busy. Whoa! What’s happening to my wall of books? Sandy’s sticking like a demented toddler! If I don’t find something soon my shield will be gone and she’ll bust me for sure.

  I’m about to give up when I spot something called Secret Stuff (actually it’s called Private but it means the same thing). This is it! This is where all the cool stuff is going to be.

  I click on the folder and the phone suddenly shouts out, “Welcome to Library Service Mission Control. Touch screen to enter messaging system.”

  I scramble around trying to find a volume control but it’s too late.

  “What have you got there?” demands Sandy.

  “Nothing!” I shove the iRate4 onto my knee and wedge it against the bottom of the desktop.

  “Yes you have. Under the desk.”

  I reach for a label and my glue stick, “No I haven’t! I’m just sticking labels in these lovely books.” I glare at her trying to make her disappear.

  It doesn’t work.

  “You have one new message. To hear message, touch screen,” says the slightly muffled voice of the iRate4 from under the desk. Rats! When I pushed the phone against the bottom of the desk I must have touched the screen.

  “What have you got?” demands Sandy leaning down and peering under the desk.

  Dropping the label and the glue stick onto the desk I whip the phone off my knee and hide it behind my back.

  “Hi Terry!” says the iRate4. Rats! I must have touched the screen again. “There’s a problem in the Fantasy Section I’m afraid: looks like the hero’s gone missing from one of the stories. If we don’t sort it out the bad guys will take over. Before we know it they’ll leak out into the
other stories and it will be a right old mess.”

  I must admit I’m not paying much attention to the message. By now Sandy is trying to wrestle the phone out of my hand.

  “That’s dad’s phone that is. You shouldn’t have that. You’ll break it!”

  “I’ll break you if you don’t get off!” I retort.

  Meanwhile the message is still playing, “See if you can stand in for the hero until the clean up squad is free. They’re tied up in the Horror Section at the moment – there’s a huge army of werebeasts building up. It’s not just werewolves this time; there are werebears, wererats and even wererabbits! It’s could get messy if they break out.”

  I twist free but Sandy jumps on my back and clings on like sticky tape.

  “Give it to me!” she squeals as I spin around trying to shake her off. The only thing I manage to knock off is a huge stack of books from the desk. “It’s special. Dad needs it!”

  “The only thing ‘special’ here is you, you dweeb! Now get off,”

  “Normal routine Terry,” continues the phone, oblivious to the epic battle raging in the room. “When you’re ready to start the mission, just touch the screen.”

  Stretching my arm up I try and hold the phone out of Sandy’s reach. But she clambers up my shoulders and makes a grab for it.

  Curling my fingers around the phone’s screen I drop my shoulder. Sandy finally loses her grip and goes tumbling to the floor.

  I’m about to gloat in triumph when the world goes a bit funny.