Future Ratboy will protect you from the evil Mr X!’ I said in my keelest superhero voice.
‘NOT!’ screeched Not Bird for the seven trillionth time that morning. He high-fived Twoface with his wing and I felt the TV on my belly fizzle like a shaken-up can of Hedgehog Cola.
‘I tell you what, Not Bird,’ I snapped. ‘Why don’t you just be Twoface’s sidekick? Because it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to be mine!’
‘NOT!’ screeched Not Bird, snuggling into Twoface’s neck.
‘NOT YOURSELF!’ I shouted back.
‘Ratboy! Not Bird!’ cooed a familikeels voice, and Bunny appeared behind us, wobbling along the pavement to catch up. ‘Stop bickering, you two!’
Splorg looked at Bunny like he’d never seen her outside of Bunny Deli before. ‘What are YOU doing here?’ he asked.
‘I couldn’t miss Mayor Goodhair’s birthday party, could I?’ smiled Bunny, looking round at us all. ‘Ooh, you are a bunch of adorable little weirdos!’ she giggled, giving us a cuddle each, which didn’t take that long seeing as she’s got ten arms.
I glanced over at Splorg with his shiny bald blue head, Jamjar with her five arms and Twoface with his two stupid faces.
They were definitely the strangest- looking friends I’d ever had.
‘I wonder what Mayor Goodhair’s gonna get for his birthday!’ said Splorg, and I thought about my mum and dad again, wrapping up my present for next week.
Maybe, if I was lucky, Mr X really would disappear off the face of Shnozville. Then my work here in the future would be done and I could zap myself home in time for my birthday.
It wasn’t like I didn’t have friends back in the old days. They just weren’t quite as keel as these ones.
‘What you looking so serious about, Ratbogies?’ asked Twoface, snapping me out of my thought bubble.
‘Nothing,’ I said, as we turned the corner into Shnozville Town Square.
Slap bang in the middle of Shnozville Town Square stood what looked like a statue with a ginormous yellow sheet draped over it. Around it was tied a red ribbon.
Next to it hovered a parcel five times the height of a sock tree, wrapped in pink wrapping paper. Around this one was tied a yellow ribbon.
There were five other statues of Mayor Goodhair dotted round the square that I hadn’t noticed before.
‘You weren’t kidding, Jamjar,’ I said. ‘Mayor Goodhair really does like a statue of himself!’
‘NOT!’ squawked Not Bird, but slightly quieter than usual, probably so Bunny wouldn’t hear.
I looked at the giant presents. A massive crowd had gathered round them and hover-cameras zigzagged through the air, filming for Shnozville News.
‘Good mornkeels and welcome to Shnozville News!’ boomed a wrinkly old man on a huge hover-screen floating above my head. ‘I’m Bill Aardvark and this is my co-host, Cecelia Twizzlefrump!’
The camera panned across to a blonde lady with three noses. ‘We’re live at the scene of Mayor Goodhair’s nine hundred and seventy-twelfth birthday party!’ she yakked, and a photo of Mayor Goodhair popped up behind her on the screen.
I Future-Ratboy-zoomed my eyes in on the photo. Dr Smell was right, Mayor Goodhair had the shiniest, bounciest hair I’d ever seen.
‘You’ve got to love him, haven’t you?’ said Splorg, staring up at the screen. ‘I mean, look at his hair. It’s just so . . . GOOD!’
‘Ooh, he’s the greatest mayor Shnozville has ever had!’ cooed Bunny. ‘I remember when he cut the ribbon at the opening of Bunny Deli. His hair couldn’t have looked better!’
Jamjar did her little cough again. ‘Actually that was Norman who cut the ribbon,’ she said all seriously.
‘Who’s Norman?’ I asked, and Not Bird shouted ‘NOT!’ again.
‘Norman is Mayor Goodhair’s pet pair of hover-scissors!’ said Twoface. ‘You really should know this stuff if you want to be a real superhero like me, Future Ratbums!’
Jamjar ignored Twoface and turned to me. ‘It’s a well-known fact that hover-scissors can’t hold themselves back if there’s something that needs snipping!’ she said.
‘Fascinating,’ yawned Twoface, and Not Bird sniggled.
Not that I had time for that to annoy me, because the Shnozville Town Square clock had just struck seven billion.
A shiny black UFO appeared from behind a bright green cloud and a hatch in its bum slid open. A rainbow- coloured beam shot out of the hole and Mayor Goodhair floated down the middle of it.
‘Good mornkeels, fellow Shnozvillians!’ he boomed, landing on a little stage next to the draped-over statue. ‘How does my hair look today?’
‘GOOD!’ cried the crowd.
Mayor Goodhair was wearing bright white trainers and a sparkly blue suit. Perched on top of his perfect hair sat a red cap with ‘MAYOR’ written on it. Next to him floated his pet pair of hover-scissors, Norman.
‘How nice of you to turn out like this for my nine hundred and seventy-twelfth birthday!’ he smiled.
