You Ain't Seen Nothing Yeti! Page 4

  ‘What the BLUNKERS is occurrinatin’?!’ Maudlin wheezed. ‘SNOW?!’

  ‘Oh, Miss Maloney!’ Mum said. ‘We’ve had a lovely surprise visit from some old yeti friends of ours. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘Wonderful?’ the leprechaun barked. ‘It’s disgusterous! Yetis are loathsome, smelly creatures.’

  ‘Oi! I heard that!’ Unga snapped. ‘I’ll have you know I wash and shampoo my hair very regularly … every ten years!’

  ‘I even had a quick de-flea before we came,’ Orfis added with a hurt expression.

  ‘RUINED!’ Maudlin howled, wriggling this way and that, trying to free herself from the snow. Her dreadlocks were now solid spikes sticking out horizontally from the back of her head. ‘Me trolliday is RUINED! Where’s me sunshine? Where’s me warmly weekend? How am I gonna toast me tootsies now?’

  ‘I’m sure we can sort it out,’ Mum said nervously. ‘A dressing gown or a cup of tea maybe? I’ll call Nancy—’

  ‘I ought to hex the lot of you!’ Maudlin barked, freeing a tattooed arm from the snow and pointing one of her gnarled fingers this way and that. ‘I’LL WRECK YOUR TROGMANAY, YOU FROSTY FOOLS!’

  ‘Now I’m sure there’s no need for that,’ Dad said, raising his hands as if Miss Maloney’s bony finger was a loaded pistol.

  ‘NOBODY MOVE!’ Maudlin shouted and nobody did.

  The unfortunate gnomad’s mask only had one eyehole, but I could clearly see a green eye blinking in alarm at the hopping-mad leprechaun. I bet it was wishing it hadn’t bothered coming to the Nothing to See Here Hotel at all!

  ‘We operate a strict no-cursing policy at this hotel,’ warned Mum, but Maloney wasn’t listening.

  ‘May all your Trogmanay presents be socks!’ she screeched.

  ‘No! Stop!’ I yelled at her, but it was too late. The foul old fairy had started her curse.

  ‘May your minkle-meat pies taste like dryad droppin’s!’

  ‘HOW RUDE!’ exclaimed the dryad as his frosty pine needles blushed red.

  ‘May you find yeti hair in every mouthful of termite trifle!’

  ‘Thoundth deliciouth!’ the Molar Sisters laughed.

  ‘Please, Miss Maloney! Look, have these to make up for the lack of sunshine!’ Dad said, trying to distract the miserable trout with a wad of mud spa vouchers from behind the counter.

  ‘May your barnacle-and-blowfish ice cream always give you brain-freeze!’

  ‘Eh? I love brain-freeze!’ Orfis snorted. ‘This one’s bungled in the bonce!’

  ‘May your nose ooze soup and your soup turn to snot!’

  Maudlin was on a roll now! She was so furious that the snow piled up around her was melting into a puddle at her feet.

  ‘May all your teeth fall out, except one! And may that tooth have a cavity!’

  ‘That doethn’t thound tho bad!’ lisped the Molar Sisters.

  ‘I think that’s quite enough,’ Dad ordered, trying to look tough and not like he was scared out of his wits.

  ‘May your bottom forever be prickled by thorns and your arms shrink so you can’t scratch it!!’

  ‘WHAT?!’ Mum yelped.

  ‘May you always have unwelcome guests at your festive table!’

  Maloney took an enormous deep breath. I could tell she was winding herself up for her worst curses yet.

  ‘May your roasted trog hog always be dry!’ Maudlin was practically spitting the words at us. ‘May your tongues turn to wood so you can’t taste the delunktious feast, and may you always run out of extra-thick and spicy mango chutney!’

  ‘THAT’S IT!’ Unga roared so ferociously that even Miss Maloney looked frightened for a second. The yeti marched over to the ancient bad-luck fairy and loomed over her.

  ‘You can hex our Trogmanay presents,’ Unga continued. ‘You can tricksy our trifles and meddle with the minkle-meat, BUT DON’T YOU EVER MESS WITH THE ROAST TROG HOG AND MANGO CHUTNEY!’

  With that, Unga reached back into the folds of her shawl and pulled out the glass storm jar. ‘Now bog off, you scabberous old skrunt!’

  In an instant, Unga yanked off the lid.

  ‘AAAAAAGH!’

  There was an almighty WHOOOSH! and a blur of leprechaun shot backwards across the reception hall like a leathery Catherine wheel. Maudlin Maloney zoomed straight through the open front door of her caravan, vanishing inside.

  ‘And stay in there!’ Unga shouted.

  For a second everyone held their breath … half-expecting Maloney to explode back out at us. So we all heaved a sigh of relief when we eventually heard her angrily muttering to herself from inside and the sound of a kettle being put on the burner. It looked like she’d learned her lesson. For now…

  ‘That’s that, then,’ Unga said, dusting off her palms like she’d finished doing chores. ‘Who’s up for a snowball fight and hot mug of trog nog?’

  YOU’VE MADE IT THIS FAR

  Chapter Eleven!! Would you ever have believed that you’d have stuck with me and my weird family for this long?

  So far, so strange, right?

  Well, I’ll let you in on a secret…

  After being woken with the threat of a ‘right pickle’, nearly getting crushed by a chicken - powered caravan, seeing my first leprechaun, being half-frozen by a magical blizzard, witnessing the arrival of yetis on an Arctic ulk, discovering a frostbitten gnomad on the doorstep and getting well and truly cursed, I was pretty certain things couldn’t get any stranger … at least for the rest of the day.

  BUT I WAS SO WRONG!

  Don’t go anywhere, my friend.

  If you think what you’ve read so far is loop-de-loop crazy, you won’t believe what happened later that evening.

  Brace yourself…

  LET THE FESTIVITIES BEGIN!

  ‘This way!’ I huffed over my shoulder as I ran down the corridor, with Zingri bounding along behind me.

  After all the earlier madness, Mum had sprung into action and started barking orders, making preparations for tonight’s Trogmanay feast. Cursed or not, there was no way she was going to let our trolliday weekend be a disappointment.

  Nancy made quick work of knitting scarves and woolly hats for everyone, while Ooof was put in charge of leading the Arctic ulk out to the gardens to graze in the snow. Dad took Orfis and Unga for a drop of bluebottle brandy in the library and I was given the afternoon off to show Zingri round the hotel.

  The only person who refused to join in the fun was Great-Great-Great-Granny Regurgita. I called her room on the yell-a-phone to say the Kwinzis were staying with us, but she just told me to, ‘BOG OFF, WHELP!’

  So that was my one job done for the day. BRILLIANT!

  ‘Wait till you see this,’ I said as we turned the corner near the dining room.

  We’d already been up to the observatorium to look out over the frozen ocean and see how far the storm had stretched, then we slid all the way down the banister of the great staircase and now we were heading outside.

  ‘You’ll love it,’ I said, pushing open the kitchen door and ducking as a ladle of hot soup flew over my head and clattered against the hallway wall. ‘Just through here.’

  Nancy had finished her knitting and was whizzing about at the stove, getting ready for tonight’s feast. As always, her arms were a blur of whisking, stirring, flipping and chopping. One of her back legs was stretched across the room, carefully turning the trog hog on a spit over the roaring fireplace, and another was churning squirrel milk into butter in a bucket down by her side.

  ‘Nancy,’ I said, ‘this is Zingri.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely to meet you properly, my wee lamb,’ Nancy cooed, barely looking up from her cooking. ‘I hope you’re hungry!’

  ‘Nice to meet you too,’ Zingri replied. ‘Yes! It looks … it looks belly-bungling!’ Her eyes were the size of saucers. I don’t think yetis eat much more than stewed mountain goat up in the Himalayas, so the sight of all this food being prepared must have tinkled her tummy.

  ‘Between you and
me, I’m having terrible trouble, Frankie,’ Nancy said, furiously stirring a huge pot of bubbling green liquid. ‘I don’t know why, but my sea-scum soup seems to have turned into snot!’

  Zingri glanced at me and let loose a giggle.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said and grabbed my new yeti friend by the arm.

  Poor Nancy had missed Maudlin Maloney’s rant and had no idea that some of her best dishes had been hexed. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the minkle-meat pies were probably going to taste like dryad droppings as well.

  ‘What a mystery,’ I said, secretly thanking my lucky stars that Unga had stopped the leprechaun when she did. ‘Errrm … don’t let the trog hog dry out, will you?’

  I yanked Zingri towards the conservatory door and we bolted off in the direction of the patio by the pool.

  We sprinted along the rows of Mr Croakum’s plant pots until Zingri stopped in her tracks when we reached the far door and gasped.

  Everything outside in the garden looked INCREDIBLE!

  The lanterns had been lit in the trees and the hundreds of birdhouse-sized boxes that lined their branches had been brightly decorated by their piskie inhabitants.

  The magical storm had turned the sky dark early, so all of Mr Croakum’s giant flowers were glowing in pinks and blues and oranges, making the snow gleam and twinkle.

  The swimming pool had frozen over and become an ice rink, and tiny frisps (frozen fire imps) were zipping across its surface, carving out twisty patterns as they went.

  ‘COLD! I’M SO COLD!’ Wailing Norris was standing on the pool steps, waist-high in ice.

  ‘You’re a ghost, Norris!’ I yelled at him. ‘You’re always cold!’

  ‘Oh … yes,’ Norris mumbled. He blushed and sank from view, muttering, ‘Know-it-all!’

  I smiled to myself as I looked around at our guests enjoying the wintery weather. None of us had ever had a Trogmanay like this before and it was a relief to see that everyone seemed to be having fun even though it wasn’t sunny and warm.

  Berol Dunch was bundled up in a blanket at the top of the waterslide. She had a hot-water bottle in her lap and was licking fish skeletons like they were ice pops.

  ‘This reminds me of the time I turned left at Greenland by mistake,’ she said, slurping down chunks of frozen sardine heads. ‘I didn’t notice until I was practically run over by an iceberg!’

  Gladys Potts was chasing snowflakes this way and that in full poodle form, and the Molar Sisters were lying on the floor, making snow fairies.

  ‘It’s terrific!’ Zingri laughed. ‘I’ve never seen so many unfurry people!’

  ‘Well, there’s plenty more to see,’ I said and led her to the patio wall to look down at the garden below.

  Moss gremlins were swinging on the Arctic ulk’s antlers as it munched away at the compost heap, the impolump from this morning was having a snowball fight with Ooof and Hoggit was galloping about, melting icicles that hung below the enchanted benches as they floated past.

  ‘Haha! We have snow all the time, but our village isn’t nearly as much fun as this!’ Zingri said.

  ‘ ’Ere, am I dreaming?’ The Lawn suddenly grunted, making Zingri’s eyes widen with surprise. ‘Winter? It was sunny when I nodded off!’ the old grassghast grumbled. Someone had built a snowgoblin on the Lawn’s head and he was frantically nodding from side to side, trying to topple it. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

  A TURN FOR THE WORSE

  ‘Frankie?’ Mum called as she stepped out from the conservatory with a tray filled with steaming mugs of trog nog. ‘Ah, there you are!’

  She was wearing about ten cardigans, one on top of the other, and looked like she was turning into a stressed, human Trogmanay bauble. There were bits of tinsel sticking out of her hair and a smudge of glitter on her cheek from where she’d obviously been frantically decorating the dining room.

  ‘Frankie, take Zingri and get yourselves dressed for the feast,’ she said as she started handing out the drinks to our greedy guests who came flocking from all corners of the garden. ‘Nancy’s nearly finished cooking and I want you both looking your best for the party!’

  ‘Oh! But, Mum…’ I grumbled. I wasn’t about to leave all the fun just to go and put a scratchy shirt on!

  ‘No “BUTS”, mister!’ Mum shot back. ‘I want everything to be perfect tonight and that means you looking presentable.’

  ‘I do look presentable!’ I said.

  Mum raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I look fine! Oh…’ I glanced down and realised I was still wearing my pyjamas from this morning. All the rush of Nancy’s early wake-up call and our unexpected guests had made me completely forget.

  ‘Well?’ Mum said, pulling her ‘I’m always right’ face. ‘Off you go.’

  Finally having to admit defeat, I went back inside with Zingri and we headed for my room.

  I’d never got changed so quickly in my life!

  As fast as I could, I put on my purple jacket, short trousers and Great-Great-Great-Grandad Abe’s favourite socks and was ready to go.

  ‘Done!’ Zingri said, admiring herself in the mirror. Yetis don’t wear clothes, so she’d taken even less time than I had and just thrown on a necklace made from little bones and tied her hair up in a knot on the top of her head. ‘Let’s go back downstairs!’

  We both jumped into the armchair in the corner of the room and sat down. I clicked the combination into the dial on its arm and the chair juddered downwards.

  We had nearly made it to the floor, when…

  ‘Look!’ Zingri whispered, pointing at the open library doors. There was the gnomad with the magpie on its shoulder. It hadn’t spotted us and it looked like the creature and the bird were peeking round the door frame at something in reception.

  ‘Hello!’ I called and the gnomad spun round, blinking a green eye at us through the single hole in its mask. ‘Are you okay?’

  The magpie bristled its feathers and wriggled its talons.

  ‘Sssneaksss!’ it hissed. ‘Ssscaresss usss!’

  ‘Sorry!’ I said, wondering why the gnomad and the bird were still here and hadn’t just upped and left after the terrible welcome they’d received earlier that day.

  ‘Sssneaksss make usss jump!’ the magpie said. ‘Ssstealing, ssslinking tiptoersss!’

  ‘Are you looking for something?’ I asked, trying to be polite.

  ‘Frankie…’ Zingri said. She was obviously feeling as awkward as I was. ‘I think we should … ummm …’

  I was just about to make up an excuse so we could get away from the creature and its bad-tempered bird, when the magpie said something I wasn’t expecting.

  ‘Ssscreamsss,’ it croaked.

  ‘Pardon?’ I said.

  ‘Ssscreamsss and sssadnesss. The end of the Nothing To SSSee Here Hotel.’

  I gawped at the strange pair for a moment, looking from the gnomad’s green eye to the black eyes of the mysterious bird.

  ‘Blissstery badnesss and hurtsssy prickling ssscreamsss. Revenge isss coming!’

  It was just then that Zingri flinched and grabbed my wrist.

  ‘Frankie,’ she gasped. ‘Look!’

  I glanced past the gnomad and my heart jumped up into my throat. Through the archway and its open doors I could see that the reception hall was now covered in a thicket of thorns and brambles, snaking across the snow-covered floor and twisting up the staircase banister like some terrible, strangling monster.

  Everywhere I looked there were tendrils with vicious-looking barbs climbing the archways and twitchingfrom the chandeliers.

  The vine patterns on the enchanted wallpaper that we’d watched wither and die in the bitter cold had suddenly sprung back to life and were covered in huge spikes with jagged, ugly leaves. Where there had been pretty flowers, there were gnashing fly-traps that squirmed across the walls.

  Walking into the centre of the room, I saw the web of briars was sprouting from a vase on the stone counter. Hadn’t there been dead flowers i
n that earlier? I seemed to remember Mum fussing over it before Maudlin Maloney had come crashing in through the sky door.

  MAUDLIN MALONEY! This had to have something to do with her curses! I turned round and there she was, the grizzly old grunion, sitting on the front stoop of her caravan, stirring a small cauldron over a fire she’d made in the snow.

  ‘Well, this is odd, isn’t it?’ she said, leering a wonky smile. ‘What a strange to-do!’

  ‘You did this!’ I yelled.

  ‘Nonkumbumps!’ she barked back. ‘I’ve been mindin’ me own peas and carrots, cookin’ up a spot of supper.’ She licked the spoon and smacked her cracked lips together. ‘Glow-worm gumbo – want to try some?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject! I know this was you!’

  ‘Nope, not me!’ Maudlin snickered. ‘Not old Maloney!’

  ‘Of course it was,’ I said. ‘Dead flowers don’t just sprout thorns and grow all over the place on their own.’

  ‘The gnomad saw everything,’ Zingri said as she marched up next to me.

  ‘Ha! I’m sure he did,’ Maloney cackled.

  I looked back to where the creature and its bird had been standing, but the gnomad was gone.

  ‘It warned Frankie,’ Zingri continued. ‘It said there would be hurtsy prickling screams.’

  ‘Maybe there will be,’ Maudlin said, staring at me with a wicked twinkle in her eye. ‘From the looks of all this, I’d say you’re all in a whoppsy big tangle of trouble.’

  ‘You don’t scare me, you mean old foozle-fart!’ I cried.

  ‘Careful, boy,’ Miss Maloney said through gritted teeth. ‘You wouldn’t want to upset a leprechaun, now would you?’

  ‘I don’t care!’ I bellowed. I was so furious, I could have swung the horrible fairy by her dreadlocks and thrown her straight out of the front door. ‘I don’t care if you curse the soup, or make our trog hog dry, or cover the whole hotel in thorns! YOU WON’T RUIN OUR TROLLIDAY!’

  With that, I grabbed Zingri and we ran off towards the dining room.