It’s time to go back to Jurassic Park

At least, to see the old dinosaur. She doesn’t like us very much.

Which seems silly to me. I mean, if YOU got visitors from the future, travelling back especially to meet you on their magical couch, wouldn’t you be impressed? But no. Dear old Dr. Anonymous Diggit just complains because we won’t squash some other lady called Mary Anning. Apparently two women digging up old rocks a very long time ago was two women too many in the back blocks of ye olde England. It’s not as if the men could talk, though! Look at what they thought dinosaurs were like back then!

I much prefer Steven Spielberg. Although the dinosaurs should have eaten the old fat guy, I think. And I never screech like his grand-daughter did! Some people have no pride… 

And AD has too much. About Mary Anning, I mean. Sure, I’m happy to drop a brick on her, but Jack says we musn’t. Something about not killing our own grandfather or something like that. Really! It’s not like Mary Anning is our grandfather, now, is it? But he says we’ll never know what can happen…

But old Mary is too old for us. She kicked the bucket long before they started digging up the really big insects, so we have to go annoy slightly-less-old Anonymous again. She’s been rather snippy to us since she’s discovered we’re not assassins for hire. (Seriously: I’m EIGHT YEARS OLD. I work for myself.) But how else are we supposed to figure out what’s going on next door? Do I look like I know anything about bugs to you?

Jack says we’re going to have to try and be polite. Might as well get it over with. She is the expert, after all. 

And you can’t enforce restraining orders from the nineteenth century.

Cerberus returns!

You asked for it, Jemima. Don’t blame me if you don’t like it! And if you EVER try to give me tetanus again, I’ll hang you upside down from the chimney until all the blood runs to your head and it BURSTS. Tetanus shots hurt, you know! So if only to save me from having to get another one…

Ha. I knew that’d make you talk! Hey… ow!

Serves you right. Anyway, I sneaked into Shelley’s place through the back door, and was able to pry open the way down to the basement with my crowbar. But there was another door at the bottom – sort of see-though, like it was made with plexiglass. I guess that’s what he was doing with the building materials – he was making a room. An air-tight room, for his new pets to live in!

I know it was airtight, because I could see all the oxygen being pumped into it. He wouldn’t need to do that if there was air in there already, surely? And the glass was all warm, so it must have been hot in there… and there was lots of green stuff.

Like slime?

If by slime you mean ferns, then yeah. Lots of potted plants.

Potted plants was what made you go all funny?! POTTED PLANTS??!!

Shut up. There was more than that. There were these… these things flying around. Like insects, a bit like mosquitoes, but bigger. Much bigger. As big as my arm!

So you went all babyish because of bugs? That’s pathetic, but I suppose it’s better than being scared of a maidenhair.

Would you shut up! I haven’t finished yet. Anyway, these things were making this strange buzzing noise, must have been the wings, so that’s what you heard from the outside of the house.

Still waiting for the scary bit.

Owww!

It’s your own fault. Just don’t throw up on me when I tell you. They were eating. There was this big table in the middle, with this massive lump of meat on it. It looked sort of gnawed, sucked, whatever. Once I saw what it was, I didn’t stay to see any more.

You see, there was fur on that meat. And a collar. With a big “C” on it!

Wait. That sounds like… like…

Yep. We killed the Mad Scientist’s dog. So he fed it to the new pets.

Ew. EW. EW!! But we saw him bury the doggie. D’you think he dug him up again?

I think I’m going to be sick.

Waste not, want not, I reckon. It had to be cheaper than a side of beef. Don’t you be sick on me, you horrible brat!  

I told you so!!!

You see what I mean?

Jack is being such a wuss. He’s all “There’s nothing wrong, I don’t want to talk about it”.

WELL I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!!

But do you think he tells me what he saw in Shelley’s basement? Noooooo. I’ve heard him screaming in his sleep, though - but that may have been me poking him with a sharp and rusty nail. (Dad says I should wear shoes in the park so I don’t step on something yucky and get tetanus. So I wondered how easy it was to get? It’s not like my brother’s being useful in any other way, the stupid boy. I’m Making Do. I don’t like wearing shoes!)

And I DON’T like being kept in the dark. I’ll make him tell me if I have to give him tetanus in both feet, both hands, and both eyeballs! (I’m going to do those tomorrow. I wonder if they’ll squish?).

I don’t want to talk about it

I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. It was a bad idea, alright? What more do you want me to say?

Besides, I’ve got other stuff to do anyway. It’s good to keep yourself occupied, right? So I finally did it – I figured out how to make a new machine!

This one won’t be as powerful as my trebuchet, because Mum said I wasn’t allowed any more siege weapons after Cer… *gag* Well, after last time, so I have to make it easy to take apart. I wanted to make one even better than the last one but couldn’t figure out how to make a smaller one more dangerous. Then I figured it out when I saw some kids down the road running away from a flower. I went out to have a look – it had bees all over it! Why make the machine bigger when you can make the ammo better?

 

 

So I have started drawing the plans for my new bee-hive launcher. Bees are good even though they sting because they pollinate flowers and make them grow. So Mum can’t really tell me off for launching bee-hives into Mr. Shelley’s garden if they help his flowers grow, can she? I can’t wait to tell Jemima. She’ll have to catch the bees for me.

At least it’ll stop her trying to make me talk about it.

Welcome to Jurassic Park!

Jurassic Park next door in the neighbour’s basement!!!!

At least now we know what’s he’s been building… and it’s something weird. Jack didn’t get a really good look, but that’s not my fault! Make a distraction, he says. So I blew up Dr. Shelley’s letterbox. There were lots and lots of fireworks, whee! All the pretty sparkles…

I think he knew it was me. It must have been all the pink. Anyway, I made sure he could see me waiting outside the cloud of smoke (it looked like candyfloss. Yum!). He went all red and yelled some very nasty things. Luckily – or maybe unluckily – Mum came home then and he went to complain at her.

“You’re going back to school tomorrow!” Mum said, when he was gone. It’s not fair!

But I suppose it was worth it. Jack sneaked round the back into Shelley’s house, and he went straight for the basement. Everything’s always in the basement. I know that from horror films. (Mum doesn’t think I watch them, but I do. It’s easy to pop some sleeping pills into her and Dad’s Milo when a really good one comes on tv. They go to bed early, and I get to have some fun.) He had to lockpick the door. I wish he’d show me how! And at the bottom, he saw this room. Couldn’t get into it, that door was bolted good. (Ha! I bet my crossbow would have knocked it down, but no! Mr. “I’m cleverer than you” didn’t want to take it…) But there was this piece of thick plastic that he could see through…

There were some really giant flying insects. Like Jurassic Park! I wonder if they’ll escape… Looks like the honey was just a trick after all, ‘cos Jack says they’re not bees. I hope it’s Mothra!!! 

I’ve been trying to get him to tell me more, but he just goes all pale and runs to the toilet to throw up. Serves him right for making fun of my stomach, the big useless meanie!

I am just going outside and may be some time…

You know, it really pains me to say it, as she’s such an annoying twit and will now never shut up about it, but I think Jemima’s right. There’s some very funny buzzing coming from inside the house. It doesn’t sound like the bees in MS’s back garden at all. I think they must be a red herring…

I don’t like this! When a mad bug scientist with a grudge has a house that buzzes, you don’t need to be a genius to know that something’s up. I wonder what he’s trying to do? If I were a mad bug scientist, I’d maybe try to poison my enemies. But he could have done that with the honey, and it’d be hard to poison someone if they knew a big poisonous thing was coming at them. It would be too easy to squish. You can’t miss that buzzing! (At least not when you’ve got your ear pressed to the weatherboard…) Unless there was some other way we were supposed to be poisoned by it. I know some people eat insects. Ew!!!  I’m not going to be tricked into that!

So I reckon the best thing is to go round and have a little look-see. Yes, internet, that means sneaking into Shelley’s house and seeing what’s what. Probably at the dead of night, unless we know he’s going to be out. Jemima’s going to have a go and see if she can lure him out for a bit, so that I can get inside. She was even going to let me borrow her crossbow, but I really think a crowbar would be better. And perhaps a lockpick. All in the name of scientific curiosity, of course. Well, that and protecting my own skin.

I hope I don’t get caught! I just know he’d do something horrible to me… I’m all for dedicating my life to science, internet, but I don’t see why I should have to die for it as well.   

   

A different sort of buzz…

Am not a greedy pig! Honestly, boys. Just because Jack can scoff down anything he likes, he thinks that I should be able to do the same. It’s not fair…

I did manage to convince Mum to let me have another day off school, though. So it could be worse. I think she was a bit suspicious when I was able to have black pudding again for breakfast (have been playing it safe with cornflakes, and looking ill) but I groaned and clutched at my tummy and she gave in. She had to go out shopping earlier, so I pretended to be asleep until she left.

With Mum gone, and Gran snoring her head off on the verandah (all she ever does is snore and complain, snore and complain. I wish she’d go home soon!)… I want to know where that honey came from!

Jack was all “Wait until I get back, can’t you do as you’re told?” I said no, of course. Fat chance, mate. It’s a good thing the fence hasn’t been fixed (I tell you, you’d think the MS (it takes to long to type Mad Scientist, internet, so he’s just MS now) would have fixed it if he was that upset about his pets going, well, missing.) It’s not as if it was dangerous or anything. I took my crossbow (just in case).

To cut a long story short, there are bees in his back yard! Well, hives, anyone. Well, one hive. That must be where he’s getting the honey from. I can see them all buzzing in and out… but the weird thing – the really weird thing – is that there’s more buzzing then them. I had to sneak around the side of MS’ house to see the hive, and I think there’s buzzing coming from inside  the house as well!

And maybe it’s just the walls making it sound strange, but it’s a different sort of buzz.

Never trust a mad scientist bearing gifts…

Yuk. It’s not been a good week. First Gran turns up – and that’s not as nice as it sounds, the old bat is horrible. Don’t know why. At least she hasn’t passed it on yet, although I’ve my doubts about Jemima.

Proof: she (Jemima, that is) has spent the week in bed, and left me to deal with Gran and all her complaints. (Gran wants to know why I’m not doing something better with my time than building seige engines in the back garden. She tried the same on Jemima: “Why aren’t you doing something productive with your time? When I was your age, I was learning all sorts of interesting and useful things at Girl Guides…” We tried to tell her – Jemima went to Guides. Once. They made pincushions, but she got bored, and started poking people with the pins… they didn’t let her come back. Well, she  thought that was more interesting, and it did turn out to be useful. It shut Gran up.)

In fairness, she’s been in bed because she’s sick. And it’s not poison, so don’t believe her when she tries to tell you that it is. Dr. Shelley left a little gift on our doorstep, see. Some jars of honey.

“Oh, isn’t that nice of him” beamed Mum. She thinks we’ve made up after Cerberus. “And honey’s supposed to be so good for you! See what happens when you’re nice to people? I’m sure he’s just lonely, poor old man…”

HA!!! 

I don’t think so! He’s out to get us. Jemima and I thought it must be poisonous… so we decided to test it out. On Gran. Nothing happened. Were very disappointed.

So, it seemed safe enough to eat.

Jemima stuffed herself. Got through an entire jar in just one afternoon. Threw up the rest of the week. Served her right, the greedy pig!

Didn’t bother old Shelley, though, when Mum told him. He just grinned, and said there was more where that came from.

I think I’m worried.   

Something wicked this way comes…

Jack thinks I’m being paranoid, but I don’t think so! Delivery trucks arriving in the dead of night, mysterious packages… and our horrible neighbour hasn’t been out for ages.

 I don’t think you’re being paranoid, although it wasn’t the dead of night. It was 9.30. You should have been in bed, anyway.

 And miss all the fun? I wonder what he got… I want some, whatever it is!

 You’ve got what he’s got all the time. Air. I looked it up in the phone book – the delivery company sells oxygen. He must be getting lots of oxygen delivered, I don’t know why.  

 Scuba diving? I’d like to go scuba diving…

 Where’s he going to do that? The bath? You see any pools round here?

 He could be building one. He got some deliveries from a building place as well…

 We can see through the fence. He’s not building one.

 It could be inside. He could be building one in his basement!

 A pool. In the basement. Stick with the day job, sis.

 He could! What if he doesn’t want us to see what’s in the pool?

 Ew! I don’t want to see him in his bathing suit. My eyes! My eyes! You’re revolting.

 No, maybe something’s swimming there. Maybe he’s got piranhas, or crayfish! Maybe he’s putting lasers on dolphins… there’s got to be something watery in that zoo…

 In which case he’d have a pool already and doesn’t need to build one. Maybe it’s not a pool at all. Maybe he’s sick? He looks all pale all the time… should get out more. Pity he can’t take the dog for a walk.

 I think he must be a vampire! Jack, does that mean I can stake him?

 No. He’s a doctor, not a vampire. Maybe he’s doing medical experiments?

 Not that kind of doctor, doofus! Mum said he was a mad scientist, not a mad doctor. So he must be the kind that did research or something like that. I can’t remember what… I think it started with E. Emin… Eminit… Entymol…

 Entymology is the study of words.  Try using the dictionary sometime instead of trying to drop it on people’s heads from off the bridge. You’re thinking of entomology - the study of insects.

 Oh. Well… poisonous spiders, maybe?

 They’re arachnids, not insects. Next you’ll be mixing up apes and monkeys! And what has that to do with oxygen?

 Hmm. I think we need more information, Jack.

R.I.P. Cerberus

We didn’t mean to do it!

Yes, we did.

Don’t listen to Jemima, she doesn’t mean it! She can be tricky like that. I know it looks bad – four of Mr. Shelley’s pets dead in the last six months. And technically, we did have a hand in all of them, but it weren’t deliberate – shut up, Jemima! Mum says that we have to take responsibility for our actions, but it’s not all our fault. If old Shelley would just build a better fence between his garden and ours, they might not come over to play, and things… might not tend to go so wrong.

Does he do it? Does he heck. He just rambles on about how things were never this bad in some ancient relation’s day, and how children should be seen and not heard. I say he’s got a cheek with that hearing crack, given the noise that comes from his house. He used to be a zoo-keeper, or so Dad says, and still has some animals, the ones he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – get rid of. Not that Jack and me have ever got to see them! He says we might make them kick the bucket. After the doggie died, he said it would be better if they made us kick the bucket! I would have told Mum, but I thought she might say he had a point.

And if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s hers. I mean, there we were, fooling about in the back garden. (She’s always saying we should get out in the fresh air more often.) And I’d built my trebuchet, and was tossing Jemima about, trying to fix the aim (it always shot too long), when out came Mum, shrieking like a banshee. “Jack! You’re going to kill your sister!” As if. She wasn’t hurt, honest! Besides, Jemima could survive the electric chair – and I’m betting one day she’s going to need to. But Mum got all grumpy and threatened no more peanut brownies forever, so I unstrapped the kid and we tried to look innocent. I don’t think she bought it, but she went inside anyway. Her fault, see? What did she think we’d use as a replacement?

And that’s when we saw the dog, sticking his head through that sad excuse for a fence, wagging his tail like anything. And we thought waste not, want not.

Poor Cerberus. He hit the milk-truck dead on.

Don’t be such a baby. Bet he didn’t feel a thing! But Shelley was real MAD. Said there’d been too many accidents with his pets, and he was going to get one that could fight back.

And of course she didn’t shut up. “Ooh!” squealed Jemima. “Lovely!” The muppet.

Well, it was! I think it’s going to be FUN.

Anyway, that didn’t make it any better, and he got redder than a tomato. So now there’s one more dead pet, the neighbour’s out to get us, Jemima’s all ready for our very own “War of Trishum” (pity she’s not old enough to spell it)-

I can too spell!

…and Mum didn’t let us have any biscuits for supper. It’s been a bad day.

And the trebuchet’s still aiming too long.