The Stinky Street Stories: 2 Stinky Read online

  About Stinky Street Stories: 2 Stinky

  There was a smell on Stinky Street … and it was awfully, abominably odorous.

  From smelly sewers to pongy penguins, there’s always a rotten reek on Stinky Street.

  So put some pickles up your nose and join Brian and his friend Nerf for a brand-new series of revoltingly runk, truly toxious and sickeningly smell-odorous adventures.

  ABOUT ALEX

  Alex Ratt is the author of this very smelly book. She likes stinky cheese, ducks and sledding in the dark. But do not try sledding in the dark yourself as it is dangerous. Ducks and stinky cheese can also be dangerous and should be approached with care.

  Alex Ratt is the pen name of the far more fragrant award-winning author Frances Watts, whose books smell much sweeter.

  ABOUT JULES

  Jules has loved drawing since he was four years old and was a bit stinky himself.

  He has drawn for newspapers, won awards for his comic strip and has even worked on an animated series for Disney.

  Jules has also won quite a few awards for illustrating children’s books, which is mostly what he draws today.

  These days he doesn’t smell as stinky, but his ten-year-old daughter doesn’t agree.

  To Bonny (I call her Brain)

  AR

  To Evi and Claire and Frances whose work never stinks.

  JF

  CONTENTS

  THE AWFULLY

  ABOMINABLE

  ODOUR

  STINKY

  VS

  SWEET:

  THE HOUSE OF HORRORS

  SMELLY

  BIRTHDAY

  TO ME

  THE

  SUPER-STINKY

  TREASURE

  I was watching cartoons on TV when the phone rang in the kitchen.

  ‘That’ll be Nerf,’ I called. My best friend Nerf and I were meant to be going to the skate park, but Nerf was late.

  ‘Oh, hi, Uncle McStinky,’ I heard Mum say. There was a pause as she listened, then Mum groaned. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘All right, I’m on my way.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Great-Uncle McStinky?’ I asked when she hung up.

  Mum sighed. ‘He’s in a real pickle. Porkules the Wonder Pig has got out of his pen. It’s a mystery how he’s done it. I’m going to the farm to help look for him.’ She picked up her car keys. ‘Why don’t you come too, Brian?’

  For a moment I was tempted. Old McStinky’s farm has a horse and cows and ducks and a big red tractor—and, of course, Porkules the diving pig, who it turns out is also an amazing escape artist. But I had my own mystery to solve: the Mystery of the Missing Nerf.

  ‘I’m going to stay here and wait for Nerf,’ I told Mum, who was opening the front door. ‘I don’t know where he could be.’

  ‘Nerf’s right here,’ said Mum.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s lying on our doormat.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hello, Nerf,’ said Mum as she stepped over him and walked towards the car.

  Nerf lifted his head. ‘Hello . . . Mrs . . . Bumf,’ he wheezed.

  I went to the door and waved goodbye to Mum as she drove off, then turned my attention to Nerf.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘Lying . . . on . . . the doormat,’ he replied.

  ‘Why didn’t you knock?’ I asked.

  ‘Too . . . weak,’ he gasped.

  I looked at my friend. He was pale and trembling. ‘Who’s done this to you, Nerf?’ I demanded.

  ‘Not who,’ Nerf said in a hoarse voice. ‘What.’ He raised a trembling hand and pointed to the street.

  Standing in the doorway, I looked to my left, and then I looked to my right. I could see Nerf’s skateboard lying upside down in the gutter, but other than that I couldn’t see anything unusual.

  Stepping over Nerf, I walked across the lawn to the kerb.

  ‘I don’t see anyth—Ack! Argh! Ergh!’ I reeled backwards, coughing and choking. ‘What is—Ack! Argh! Ergh!’

  I fell to the ground, overcome. There was a smell on Stinky Street . . . and it was awfully, abominably odorous.

  I know what you’re thinking. Of course there’s a smell on Stinky Street. That’s why it’s called Stinky Street! But you’d be wrong. There’s nothing smelly about Stinky Street. In fact, it’s called Stinky Street because it doesn’t smell.

  Stinky Street is named after Ferdinand Stinky, the inventor of Stinky’s Patented Stench-Proof Sewers. Ferdie’s amazing invention has made our town stench-free, and that’s why most of our streets and suburbs are named after him. So you see, if Stinky Street did smell, then it wouldn’t be called Stinky Street.

  But as I crawled back across the lawn to join Nerf on the doormat, I knew that something was terribly wrong on Stinky Street.

  ‘Did . . . you . . . smell it?’ Nerf asked in a strangled voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Isn’t it . . . awful?’

  ‘It’s . . . abominable,’ I agreed.

  ‘Let’s . . . go . . . inside.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re safe in here,’ said Nerf with a shiver when I had shut the front door behind us.

  ‘There’s just one problem,’ I said. ‘And it’s a big problem.’

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Nerf. ‘How big?’

  ‘BIG!’ I said. ‘Where was the smell coming from?’

  ‘Um . . . the drain?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘And what does the drain lead to?’

  ‘Um . . . a sewer?’

  ‘Right again,’ I said. ‘So now do you see the problem?’

  ‘Um . . . no?’

  I sighed. There’s a reason why everyone calls me ‘Brain’ and they call Nerf ‘Nerf’.

  ‘Let me explain it in simple terms,’ I said. ‘Most of our streets and suburbs are named after Ferdinand Stinky. And Ferdinand Stinky invented Stinky’s Patented Stench-Proof Sewers. Are you with me so far?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Nerf.

  ‘But there’s an awfully abominable odour coming from the sewer.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ Nerf agreed.

  ‘Which means it’s not stench-proof.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ said Nerf, waving a hand in front of his nose.

  ‘And if the sewers aren’t stench-proof, then Ferdinand Stinky’s great invention has failed, hasn’t it?’

  Nerf frowned. ‘I suppose so,’ he said.

  ‘Which means they’ll have to change all the streets and suburbs that are named in his honour.’

  Nerf looked at me, aghast. ‘Change them to what?’

  I looked at him solemnly. ‘That, my friend, is the big problem.’

  If you look at a map of our town, you’ll see just how proud of Ferdinand Stinky we are. There’s Stinky Avenue, Stinky Circuit, Stinky Close, Stinky Crescent, Stinky Drive, Stinky Lane, Stinky Place, Stinky Road . . . Every street is Stinky—except one.

  When I mentioned this to Nerf, he turned pale again. ‘You mean Sweet Street,’ he whispered.

  Nerf had good reason to whisper. Sweet Street was the roughest, toughest street in town and all because of a gang of girls who were anything but sweet.

  ‘And if the streets aren’t Stinky anymore, what do you think they’ll be?’

  Nerf’s face was white as he croaked, ‘Sweet?’

  ‘Sweet,’ I confirmed. ‘There’ll be Sweet Avenue, Sweet Circuit, Sweet Close, Sweet Crescent, Sweet Drive, Sweet Lane, Sweet Place, Sweet Road . . . ’

  ‘What?!’ Nerf shrieked. ‘I can’t live on Sweet Close. And what about Stinky Street? They can’t change that: there’s already a Sweet Street.’

  ‘There’s only one possible outcom
e,’ I told him. ‘Sweet Street 2.’

  ‘What?!’ Nerf shrieked. ‘You can’t live on Sweet Street 2!’

  ‘No I can’t,’ I agreed. ‘And that’s why we have to go back outside.’

  ‘Isn’t there some other way?’ Nerf whimpered.

  I shook my head. ‘We have to fix the sewer. If we don’t stop that smell, we can say goodbye to Stinky Street.’

  ‘But—’ said Nerf.

  ‘It’s okay, Nerf. I have a plan.’

  ‘Phew,’ he said. ‘That’s a relief!’

  ‘And you’ll be wearing protective clothing.’

  ‘That’s a relief too.’

  ‘Come with me.’

  I led Nerf upstairs to my bedroom, where I rummaged around in the wardrobe for my raincoat and gumboots.

  ‘Put these on,’ I told Nerf.

  I handed him my swimming goggles. ‘And these.’

  When he had done as I said, I looked at him thoughtfully. It was a start, but it wasn’t enough. He’d need some kind of headgear—and I had just the thing. Although it wasn’t actually mine.

  We went into the bathroom and I pulled my sister’s frilly shower cap with big pink flowers from the hook on the back of the door.

  ‘You’ll need this,’ I said.

  As we were leaving the bathroom, the door at the end of the hall opened.

  Oh no! It was my sister Brenda.

  Shoving Nerf back into the bathroom, I slammed the door shut and stood in front of it.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said.

  ‘Who’s in the bathroom?’

  ‘No one,’ I said.

  She gave me a hard look, but I didn’t crack. Eventually she returned to her room and I opened the door to let Nerf out.

  ‘The coast is clear,’ I whispered.

  Nerf was looking nervous. ‘Was that Brain?’ he said.

  ‘I’m Brain,’ I reminded him. ‘That was my sister Brenda.’

  ‘But everyone calls her—’

  ‘We don’t have time to stand around talking,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

  We went back downstairs to the lounge room.

  ‘Wait here,’ I said. ‘We’re almost ready.’

  I ran to the laundry and got a big coil of spare washing line.

  When I returned, Brenda was coming down the stairs. ‘Aha!’ she said. ‘I knew you were up to something.’ She looked at Nerf. ‘Why are you wearing my shower cap?’ she demanded.

  ‘I-I-I don’t know,’ said Nerf, turning as pink as the big pink flowers on his head.

  ‘There’s a smell coming from the stench-proof sewers,’ I explained. ‘So Nerf’s going down the drain to fix them.’

  ‘You numbskull!’ said Brenda. ‘Nerf can’t go crawling through the sewers. It’s too dangerous. What if he gets swept away?’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Nerf interrupted. ‘What do you mean, “Nerf’s going down the drain”? And why am I the only one wearing protective clothing?’

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ I told Brenda. ‘I’m going to tie a rope around his waist.’

  I turned to Nerf. ‘I can’t go down the drain with you,’ I told him. ‘I have to hold the rope. It’s for your own safety.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Thanks, Brian.’

  ‘I’m going to tell Mum,’ Brenda announced.

  ‘You can’t,’ I said. ‘She’s over at Great-Uncle McStinky’s place because he’s in a pickle.’

  ‘Well show me where this smell is then,’ Brenda said, heading for the door.

  ‘Wait!’ I yelled, because I’d just realised we needed protection for our noses.

  But what could we use? And then it struck me: pickles! I hurried to the kitchen, got a jar of pickles from the fridge, and returned to the lounge room.

  ‘Here you are,’ I said to Nerf, holding out the jar. ‘For your nose.’

  I helped myself, then offered the jar to Brenda.

  ‘You have to be joking,’ she said.

  She opened the door. ‘So where is this malodorous sewer?’

  ‘Huh?’ I said.

  ‘The malodorous sewer—where is it?’

  ‘Huh?’ I said.

  Brenda rolled her eyes. ‘You know: malodorous. Rank, fetid, noxious.’

  ‘Huh?’ I said.

  ‘STINKY!’ she shouted. ‘WHERE IS THE STINKY SEWER?’

  ‘Oh, it’s over here,’ I said, and led her across the lawn.

  ‘People are so stupid,’ she said angrily. ‘They drop litter in gutters and wash horrid things down their sinks and then it runs into our rivers and oceans and poisons them.’

  ‘There,’ I said, pointing. ‘You want smell-odorous? Get a whiff of that.’

  ‘I can’t smell anything,’ said Brenda.

  ‘Nor can I,’ I said. The pickles had been a stroke of genius.

  ‘I can smell a bit of vinegar,’ said Nerf. ‘And is that dill?’

  Brenda moved to stand directly over the drain. She sniffed.

  I waited for her to keel over from the awfully abominable odour, but she didn’t react at all. It was just as I had always suspected: she wasn’t actually human.

  She sniffed again.

  Still no reaction.

  Clearly, she had been switched at birth with a robot. Probably an evil robot. I couldn’t wait to confront Mum with the evidence.

  ‘There’s nothing malodorous about this sewer,’ Brenda declared.

  ‘Of course there is,’ I snapped. ‘Watch what happens when I take the pickles out of my nose.’

  I pulled the pickle from my left nostril, and sniffed.

  Nerf was right. It was dill.

  I pulled the pickle from my right nostril, and sniffed.

  Dill again.

  The awfully abominable odour had gone!

  ‘Hurrah!’ I said. ‘We’re saved! Stinky Street is stench-proof after all. Let’s go to the skate park, Nerf.’

  ‘Um, I might get changed first,’ said Nerf.

  A few minutes later, we were cruising down Stinky Street on our skateboards.

  ‘Watch me do a kickflip,’ Nerf shouted, skating ahead.

  But before he could get airborne, he was flung off his skateboard. ‘Argh! Ergh! Ack! I’ve been hit!’ he cried.

  ‘What happened?’ I called. ‘A pothole? A bump in the ro— ’ But before I could finish my sentence, I was hit too. ‘Ack! Ergh! Argh!’

  As I was flung off the skateboard, I clapped a hand over my nose.

  By the side of the road was a drain. And coming from the drain was an odour. A foul-smelling odour.

  The awfully abominable odour! It was back!

  We crawled onto the footpath and lay there panting with our hands over our noses.

  ‘So . . . smell-odorous,’ I gasped.

  Nerf lifted his head. ‘Huh?’ he said.

  ‘You know,’ I said. ‘Runk. Toxious. Pewtid.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nerf let his head drop back to the ground. ‘Yes. So odiously smell-odorous.’

  After a bit more panting, he asked, ‘Did you bring the pickles?’

  I shook my head. ‘We’ll have to turn back.’

  Pinching our noses tight, we stood up.

  ‘Hey, Nerf,’ I said, ‘your shoelaces are undone.’

  As Nerf bent down to tie his laces, I realised he was using both hands. Which meant nothing was covering his nose!

  ‘Nerf, the odour,’ I warned.

  He looked up, puzzled.

  ‘That’s weird,’ he said. ‘There is no odour.’

  I let go of my nose.

  The awfully abominable odour had gone!

  ‘Hurrah!’ I said. ‘We’re saved again! Stinky Street is stench-proof after all. Let’s go to the skate park, Nerf.’

  ‘All right!’ said Nerf.

  We got on our skateboards and took off.

  I was sailing around the corner into Stinky Avenue when I was thrown from my board by a giant wave of stink.

  ‘Ergh! Arg
h! Ack!’ I cried. It was another drain! The awfully abominable odour was back again!

  Seconds later, Nerf came flying through the air to land beside me.

  ‘It’s so revoltingly runk,’ he moaned.

  ‘Truly toxious,’ I agreed.

  Clutching our noses, we lifted our heads to take in our surroundings.

  We had landed in someone’s front garden.

  ‘There’s some . . . flowers . . . over there,’ Nerf wheezed, pointing to the side of the yard. ‘Maybe if we put our noses in them it will counteract the smell.’

  ‘Good . . . idea,’ I gasped. ‘If we can make it that far.’

  The pewtid stink had left us too dizzy to stand, so we commando-crawled over to the flowerbed and lay face down in the petunias.

  It was quite pleasant really, and as my head began to clear from the fog caused by the awfully abominable odour, I was able to think logically about what was going on.

  ‘Nerf?’ I said, my voice muffled by purple petunias.

  ‘Yes, Brian?’ he said, his voice muffled by yellow petunias.

  ‘I bet if we lift our heads out of these flowers the odour will have gone.’

  Nerf sat up. He sniffed the air tentatively and then smiled.

  ‘You’re right!’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

  I tapped my head with my finger. ‘Simple scientific deduction,’ I said. ‘First the smell was at the drain outside my house. Then it disappeared. Next it was at the drain further down Stinky Street. Then it was gone. And a few minutes ago, it was coming from the drain here on Stinky Avenue. But now?’

  ‘No smell,’ said Nerf in wonder. ‘But what is it, Brian? What’s going on?’

  ‘The odour is moving,’ I said.

  ‘It’s moving?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with the sewer, Nerf,’ I said. ‘It’s what’s in the sewer. Something is moving down there. And you know what that means . . . ’

  Nerf looked at me in horror as the realisation dawned.