“And … so say all of us!
And so say all of us!
For he’s a jolly good fe-eh-llowwww …
And …
So say all of us!!”
His mum and dad and grandpa and sister and brother harmonised – surprisingly well, actually – on the word us, making Malcolm think the song must, at last, be over. Not wishing to be disappointed again, he waited five seconds, in case it wasn’t. But everyone was just smiling. In fact, his mum was nodding, encouragingly, at the present.
Great, thought Malcolm. And tore open the wrapping.
Oh yes! That computer! With its shiny sleek aluminium cover! And its hyper-sensitive touch pad! And its enormous furry ears!
Malcolm frowned, screwing up his noticeably blue eyes. Its enormous furry ears …? He didn’t remember reading that specification when he was flicking through photos on BaddestComputer.Net.
But before he could quite work out what was going on, all the others were bending over and putting their faces very, very close to what was being revealed as the wrapping came off.
Which was not, in fact, a computer, or even a cardboard box containing a computer, but … a cage.
“Isn’t he the cutest thing?” his mum was saying.
“Look at that sweet face!” his dad was saying.
“OMG! I want to stroke him,” his sister was saying.
“I want to eat him!” his little brother was saying.
“He reminds me of Lord Kitchener!” his grandpa was saying.
“Sorry,” said Malcolm. “What is this?”
“Well, Malc …” said Jackie.
“Mum!”
“Sorry.”
“I’ve told you, Mum.”
Malcolm didn’t like being called Malc. He wasn’t sure why. Possibly because it rhymed with talc, and thus made him think of talcum powder, which was something he had once seen his grandpa putting down his pants.
“Sorry, M.”
That was what his mum, who liked to give her children nicknames, sometimes called him instead of Malc. Malcolm was all right with that.
“He’s a chinchilla,” she continued.
“And not just any chinchilla!” said Stewart. “He’s an Andean Lanigera!”
“Pardon?” said Malcolm.
“That’s the breed. It means he’s from the Andes, in South America. That’s the best type! The ones that make perfect pets!!”
Malcolm looked down at the little creature.
It was mainly white, with bits of speckled grey round its nose. It had round, sticky-out ears and a big fluffy tail. It was sitting up on its back legs looking up at him, hopefully.
The chinchilla, like Malcolm, had very blue eyes. Those blue eyes seemed to widen as they saw Malcolm, like the animal had realised, instinctively, exactly whose pet it was meant to be.
Malcolm looked back at the chinchilla.
It could have been a special moment. A moment when boy and chinchilla, chinchilla and boy, could really have bonded.
Time stretched, as blue eyes met blue eyes, through the bars of the little cage.
But then, Malcolm turned away, shaking his head and tutting.
“Right … OK …” he said. “So where’s … my Apache 321?!”
“Your what?” said Malcolm’s dad.
“My laptop that I asked for! I wrote it on my birthday list and everything!!”
“Sorry, Malcolm,” said his mum, “what birthday list?”
“The one I stuck up on the kitchen wall!”
“Oh …” said Malcolm’s sister, Libby, in her bored voice, which was the one she used most of the time, when not cooing over cute animals. “I think Ticky may have ripped that down a few days ago. When she was play-fighting with Tacky …”
“The cats ripped down my birthday list? So where is it now?”
“I think … Chewie may have eaten it …?” said his dad.
“The dog ate my birthday list?”
“Either the dog or the hamster.”
“Marvin wouldn’t eat that,” said Grandpa. “Would play havoc with his digestion.”
“Actually, I think I may have put it on the floor of the iguana’s cage. Sorry, Malc … olm,” said his mum. “Only I didn’t realise that’s what it was. I just thought it was some bits of paper. And you know how ’Nana likes to scratch around in bits of paper.”
“But …” said Malcolm, getting more and more frustrated, “… we’ve already got loads of animals! We’ve got two cats, a dog, a hamster and an iguana. Which most people would say is enough pets.”
“M!” said Jackie. “You can’t have enough pets.”
“Exactly! I agree!” said Stewart.
“Yeah. YOLO,” said Libby, who used a lot of these acronyms.
“Yes, siree!” said Grandpa Theo.
“I want to eat him!” said Bert.
Even the chinchilla seemed to nod, its enormous ears flapping up and down as it stared quizzically at Malcolm from inside its sparkling new cage, which had a water bottle attached to the outside, and a running wheel and a mirror inside.
“Right,” said Malcolm. “Let’s just look at that statement for a moment. You can’t have enough pets. So … if we had 700 cats, and 800 dogs, and five – I don’t know if you can keep them as pets, but I imagine if you could, you, Mum, would soon be off to the pet shop to get them – giraffes … would that be enough pets?”
“Well,” said Stewart. “As
