Barry Loser and the Holiday of Doom

  First published in Great Britain 2014

  by Jelly Pie, an imprint of Egmont UK Ltd

  The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

  Text and illustration copyright © Jim Smith 2014

  The moral rights of the author-illustrator have been asserted.

  First e-book edition 2014

  ISBN 978 1 4052 6802 8

  eISBN 978 1 7803 1375 7

  barryloser.com

  www.jellypiecentral.co.uk

  www.egmont.co.uk

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title page

  Copyright

  Frilly pink bikini

  Plonkton

  Kangaroo jacket

  Something wrong with Bunky

  Goody-goody Bunky

  Bad doggy

  Smelly light switch

  Plankton

  Cat Ears

  Frankie Teacup is dead

  Are we nearly there yet?

  Banana Moon

  The next morning

  Bert the bench

  Plonkton seafront

  Outside Gino’s Pizza

  Inside Gino’s Pizza

  Mrs Gino’s granny glasses

  Mister Whatsitcalled

  Sharonella has arrived

  Trev or Trevor

  Stinksplats

  Bargain Barry

  Attack of the Stinksplats

  Weird Old Man

  Melty cheese face

  Yellow granny tent

  Free puppies

  Threelegs

  Bad Barry

  Cabbage puppy

  Worst holiday ever

  Bunky’s but

  Crabby Wabby

  Urrghh bleurghh gaagghh ommmph

  Once we’d all stopped laughing

  Best holiday ever

  About the chooser of the colour of the cover

  Praise for my other books

  My best friend Bunky is sort of like my pet dog, so it was weird when he suddenly started fancying a cat one day.

  It was about eight million weeks ago and me and Bunky were walking home from school past a Feeko’s Supermarket.

  Summer was coming up, and the whole window was filled with swimming trunks and other holidayish things like that.

  ‘You should buy those for Sharonella!’ giggled Bunky, pointing at a bunch of fake plastic sunflowers.

  Bunky’s been saying Sharonella from our class fancies me ever since she said I had a nice nose once.

  ‘Shut up, Bunky!’ I said, looking down at my nose and trying to work out what was so good about it. ‘How can someone like someone else’s nose?’ I mumbled, twitching it to see if that made it any better. ‘It’s just a nose for smelling stuff with.’

  I tried to think of someone who fancied Bunky’s nose, but all I could come up with was my other best friend Nancy Verkenwerken, who’s sort of like my pet cat.

  ‘YOU SHOULD BUY THAT FOR NANCY!’ I shouted, pointing at a pink frilly bikini.

  I was shouting because a plane had started flying over, by the way. Bunky’s whole face turned the same colour as the bikini, but less frilly. ‘I DON’T FANCY NANCY!’ he shouted, fiddling with a bit of old bubblegum someone had stuck on the wall.

  I looked at Bunky. Something about the way he’d said it made me wonder if he actually DID fancy her. He’d definitely been smiling a lot at Nancy recently, but then Bunky smiles at everyone. That’s what sort-of pet dogs do.

  And that’s when I noticed something. The whole time we’d been standing there, Bunky had been busy squidging the bubblegum into the shape of a heart.

  ‘WHAT IN THE NAME OF UNKEELNESS?!’ I gasped, which is what my favourite TV star Future Ratboy says when he can’t believe his eyes.

  ‘Huh?’ said Bunky, gazing through the window at a pair of sunglasses the same shape as Nancy’s specs.

  I looked at my half-dog, half-bestfriend and imagined him bounding through a field of fake plastic sunflowers, his dog lead being held by Nancy Verkenwerken instead of me. All of a sudden I felt a bit queasy.

  ‘I’M GOING TO BE SICK,’ I shouted, even though the plane had completely flown off.

  When I got home my mum and dad were standing in the kitchen, smiling like it was Christmas morning.

  ‘What is it?’ I said, hoping they’d finally bought me a puppy. I’d been asking for a real-life pet dog for nine trillion years now, and I STILL didn’t have one.

  ‘Barry, you know how we’re going on our caravan holiday to Plonkton this weekend?’ said my mum.

  She had a tea towel on her shoulder, and my dad was standing right behind her, leaning his head on it like a cabbage.

  ‘Ye-ah?’ I said, splitting my yeah into two bits because of how keel Plonkton is.

  ‘Well your mum and me were thinking maybe you’d like to invite a couple of your little pals along?’ said my dad’s cabbage head.

  The words swam down my earholes and into my legs, making them go wobbly.

  I leaned against the washing machine, which had been busy washing our best clothes for Plonkton all week.

  ‘What, like Bunky and Nancy?’ I said all shakily, probably because the washing machine was wobbling around like some kind of giant metal jelly cube.

  ‘Yes, like Bunky and Nancy!’ chuckled my mum, and I gave her a cuddle, imagining how disgusting it’d be if she was Sharonella from my class.

  I picked up the phone to tell Bunky and Nancy, then changed my mind, deciding it’d be keeler to see their excited little dog and cat faces face-to-face. After that I played nineteen games of Future Ratboy on my Feeko’s Gamoid to celebrate.

  Then I brushed my teeth with my Future Ratboy toothbrush, got into my Future Ratboy pyjamas and snuggled up underneath my Future Ratboy duvet to go to sleep.

  ‘Wait till Bunky and Nancy hear!’ I whispered to my cuddly Future Ratboy, and I squeezed his fat little belly and waited for him to speak.

  ‘WHAT IN THE NAME OF UNKEELNESS?!’ he screeched, and I remembered me saying the exact same words to Bunky outside Feeko’s that afternoon.

  ‘What if Bunky DOES fancy Nancy?’ I yawned, and I squeezed his belly again.

  ‘PUKESVILLE-O-RAMA!’ he screeched, as I nodded off to sleepypoos.

  It was the next morning and I was sitting on my own in our classroom at school. I usually meet Bunky at the end of my road and skateboard to school with him, but for some reason today I’d com-per-lee-ter-ly missed him.

  ‘Morning, Barold!’ said Darren Darrenofski, wobbling through the door slurping on a can of Fronkle. He took his jacket off and hung it on my nose.

  ‘Be a loser and look after that,’ he burped, just as I spotted a sticker of a kangaroo doing a thumbs up stuck on to his jumper.

  Our teacher, Miss Spivak, had started giving out scratch-and-sniff stickers to people for being well behaved, and even though I’d been a good little Barry for about nine trillion days in a row, I still didn’t have one.

  ‘How in the name of loserness did you get that?’ I said, because Darren’s the badd
est-behaved person in the whole class.

  ‘I peeled it off Gordon Smugly’s jumper when he wasn’t looking!’ grinned Darren, giving the sticker a scratch, and I breathed in through my nostrils to see if it really did smell of kangaroo, not that I could smell anything apart from the inside of Darren’s jacket, which actually did stink a bit like a kangaroo I’d smelled at Mogden Zoo once.

  ‘That’s not fair!’ I said, standing up and waggling my nose, and Darren’s jacket flew off my nose into Miss Spivak’s bin.

  ‘Ooh, what a luvverly strong nose you have, Bazza!’ said an annoying voice, and I spotted Sharonella sitting down at the table next to me, stinking of perfume.

  All of a non-sudden Miss Spivak walked into the classroom with Honk the class parrot on her shoulder. ‘I saw that,’ she squawked. ‘I’m watching you, Loser.’

  ‘But . . .’ I said, starting to explain how it was all Darren’s fault for hanging his kangaroo jacket on my nose, but Miss Spivak wasn’t listening.

  ‘I’ll never get a scratch-and-sniff sticker now!’ I whisper-shouted to Darren, and Sharonella reached over and scratched my earlobe.

  ‘You smell nice enough already, Bazza!’ she smiled, sniffing her finger, and I was just about to tell her how much she stank, when Bunky and Nancy walked through the door.

  ‘Mornkeels!’ I said, grinning at them. I was so excited to tell them they were coming to Plonkton, I wasn’t even annoyed that they’d walked to school together instead of with me.

  ‘Hi Barry,’ said Bunky, smiling at Nancy, who was wearing a scratch-and-sniff sticker of a mushroom doing a thumbs up she’d got for being the best at spelling.

  I looked at my half-dog, half-bestfriend and wrinkled my forehead. There was something about him that didn’t make sense.

  I Future-Ratboy-zoomed my eyes in and tried to work out what it was. His trainers looked normal, all scuffed up and stinking of foot cheese like they always did.

  His legs were just his boring old legs, standing there with the rest of him balancing on top of them.

  And his nose, ears, eyes and mouth were dotted around on his head in pretty much the right places.

  ‘What else is there?’ I mumbled, scratching my head with my fingers, which were on the end of my hand, which was on the end of my arm.

  And that’s when it hit me.

  Bunky was holding a BOOK.

  ‘W-what is THAT?’ I stuttered. The whole time I’d known Bunky I’d never seen him even look at a book, and now he was carrying a PINK one with a picture of a KITTEN on it.

  ‘Weird, isn’t it!’ chuckled Nancy, prodding Bunky like she was checking to see if he was real. ‘It’s not HIS, of course.’ She slid the book out from under Bunky’s arm and put it down on her desk.

  ‘He said he wanted to carry it for me. I honestly don’t know what’s got into him recently!’ she smiled.

  ‘Nothing’s got into me, I’m just being well behaved so I get a sticker!’ said Bunky, scratching Nancy’s mushroom one and sniffing his finger. He grinned at Nancy, and his eyes scrinched up into two little upside-down grins as well.

  I was just about to tell him to wipe all three of his loserish grins off his face, when Miss Spivak started calling out the register.

  I always get nervous waiting to hear my name being called out, and in the panic I forgot all about Bunky carrying the book.

  ‘I’M HE-ERE!’ I shouted when Miss Spivak finally said my name, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  To celebrate it being over, I thought I’d tell Bunky and Nancy the good news about Plonkton.

  ‘Psst, Bunky! I’ve got the keelest news ever!’ I whispered-shouted into his ear, and I waited for him to say, ‘WHAT IS IT?’ all excitedly, his nose wagging like a dog’s tail.

  ‘LOSER!’ shouted Miss Spivak, putting her finger up to her lips. ‘Don’t make me lose my rag!’

  ‘Oh yeah, sorry!’ I whispered, remembering how we were all supposed to be being good boys and girls, what with the scratch-and-sniff stickers and everything.

  I squeezed my lips together as tightly as possible and crossed my arms, trying to be the best little Barry I could.

  I really really wanted a scratch-and-sniff sticker, and it’s not like I couldn’t wait till break to tell Bunky and Nancy they were coming to Plonkton.

  Except I comperleeterly couldn’t.

  ‘Psst, Bunky! My mum and dad said you and Nancy could come to our caravan in Plonkton this weekend!’ I blurted as fast as possible so Miss Spivak wouldn’t hear.

  Bunky turned his head round all slowly, so Miss Spivak wouldn’t see. ‘Shhh!’ he whispered, then he smiled at Nancy, who was too busy reading her kitten book to take any notice.

  ‘But . . .’ I whispered, and my but floated round the classroom like a butterfly chopped in half.

  I knew Bunky wanted a scratch-and-sniff sticker, but this was ridiculoserous.

  ‘Did you hear what I just said?’ I said, which is what I say when I can’t believe someone hasn’t heard what I’ve just said.

  ‘I heard you loud and clear, Bazza!’ whisper-squawked an annoying noise from the table next to me. I swivelled my eyeballs to the left and saw Sharonella batting her eyelids at me.

  ‘You can take me to Plonkton any time!’ she grinned, looking at my nose, which was sticking out of my face, trying not to smell her perfume.

  ‘IT’S JUST A NORMAL NOSE!’ I shouted, an excitement blowoff from earlier popping out as an extra-loud annoyance fart, and I turned back to Bunky. ‘HELLO-O?’ I boomed, knocking on his head like it was a front door. ‘ANY-BODY HO-OME?’

  Miss Spivak stopped calling out the register and pointed her pointiest finger at me. ‘That’s it Loser, outside NOW!’ she screeched.

  I stood up and looked at Bunky sitting there all goody-goodily, trying to impress Nancy.

  ‘BAD DOGGY!’ I said, wagging my finger at him, and I stormed out of the classroom.

  I was in the corridor, scratching-and-sniffing a light switch, when the bell went and the door swung open and everybody started running out.

  ‘Thanks a LOT for getting me in trouble!’ I said, smelling Bunky’s cheesy feet standing behind me. ‘I’m never gonna get a scratch-and-sniff sticker now,’ I moaned, turning round and doing a surprise blowoff.

  It wasn’t Bunky, it was Darren Darrenofski, wearing a brand-new sticker with a triangle of cheese doing a thumbs up on it.

  ‘How in the name of loserness did you get that?’ I said, snuffling my nostrils all around it like a dog.

  ‘I peeled it off Anton Mildew’s jumper when he wasn’t looking!’ burped Darren, the smell of his Fronkle burp mixing in with the cheese sticker and Gordon’s kangaroo one from earlier.

  As if there weren’t enough bad smells already, Sharonella floated up. ‘Poor old Anton. You’re a bad boy, Dazzer!’ she chuckled, high fiving Darren, and the noise of their palms slapping together made me blink.

  When I opened my eyes again twelve billiseconds later, Bunky was walking out of the classroom behind Nancy Verkenwerken.

  I turned round to tell him off for getting me in trouble and gasped.

  Stuck on to his jumper was a scratch-and-sniff sticker of a Diplodocus doing a thumbs up.

  ‘WHAT IN THE NAME OF UNKEELNESS?!’ I shouted, even though there wasn’t a plane flying over.

  ‘Miss Spivak gave it to him for being a good little doggy!’ cackled Darren, and Sharonella giggled.

  I looked at Bunky, standing next to Nancy like he was her dog instead of mine, and comperleeterly lost my rag.

  ‘What HAS got into you, Bunky?’ I shouted, sounding exackerly like my mum.

  Bunky looked down at me and smiled, but not the way he would have if I’d been Nancy.

  ‘Oh yeah, sorry about in there, Barry,’ he said. ‘What were you saying about Plankton?’

  ‘Plonkton! It’s Plonkton!’ I shouted, my voice bouncing off his belly because of how short I am. ‘My mum and dad said you and Nancy could come on our caravan holiday to Plo
nkton this weekend!’

  Bunky looked at Nancy, then at me, like a dog trying to decide which one of us was its real owner.

  ‘Thing is . . .’ he said, fiddling with a drawing pin sticking out of the wall.

  I peered into his face, which he was wrinkling up like a piece of bubblegum, and wished I’d told him about Plonkton over the phone after all.

  ‘You see . . . me and Nancy and her mum and dad and baby brother Keith were sort of gonna go and buy a kitten this weekend . . .’ he said, scratching his Diplodocus sticker so he didn’t have to look at me.

  The words swam down my earholes into my legs, making them go wobbly.

  ‘Wait a millisecond, let me get this straight,’ I said, sounding like the detective in my mum’s favourite TV show. ‘You were gonna buy a kitten without telling ME . . . and now you’re saying NO to the holiday of a lifetime?!’