Just Shocking Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Fun with a fire hose

  I am a ro-bot

  Balloons of doom

  Unfunniest home video

  101 really dangerous things

  A really, really good excuse

  Why I love Choco-pops in fifty words or less

  Lemonade roulette

  The exploding butterfly story

  Fun with a monster truck

  Andy Griffiths discovered a talent for shocking behaviour at an early age. Since then he has gone on to shock the world with a truly shocking arsenal of shocking words, shocking drawings, shocking ideas, shocking jokes, shocking riddles, shocking stories, shocking pranks, shocking manners, shocking friends and shockingly bad books like Just Shocking!, Just Disgusting!, Just Crazy!, Just Stupid!, Just Annoying! and Just Tricking!

  ALSO BY ANDY GRIFFITHS

  AND ILLUSTRATED BY TERRY DENTON

  Just Tricking!

  Just Annoying!

  Just Stupid!

  Just Crazy!

  Just Disgusting!

  Just Shocking!

  The Bad Book

  The Cat on the Mat is Flat

  What Bumosaur is That?

  ALSO BY ANDY GRIFFITHS

  The Day My Bum Went Psycho

  Zombie Bums from Uranus

  Bumageddon: The Final Pongflict

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First published 2007 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  1 Market Street, Sydney

  Reprinted 2007 (three times)

  A version of ‘101 really dangerous things’ first published in

  Kids’ Night In by Penguin Group (Australia) 2003

  A version of ‘Why I Love Choco-pops in fifty words or less’ first

  published in Sunday Age 22 April 2007

  A version of ‘The exploding butterfly story’ first published in

  Kids’ Night In 2 by Penguin Group (Australia) 2005

  Text copyright © Backyard Stories Pty Ltd 2007

  Illustrations copyright © Terry Denton 2007

  The moral rights of the creators have been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

  Griffiths, Andy, 1961– .

  Just shocking!

  ISBN 978 0 330 42353 3 (pbk.).

  I. Denton, Terry, 1950– . II. Title.

  A823.3

  Designed and typeset in 12/16pt New Aster by Liz Seymour Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

  Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

  These electronic editions published in 2007 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Just Shocking!

  Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton

  Adobe eReader format

  978-1-74198-115-5

  Epub format

  978-1-74198-116-2

  Mobipocket format

  978-1-74198-117-9

  Online format

  978-1-74198-118-6

  Macmillan Digital Australia

  www.macmillandigital.com.au

  Visit www.panmacmillan.com.au to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks online. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.

  DANNY: Hey, Andy, I’ve been thinking, and you know what? I reckon we could have a lot of fun with a fire hose.

  ANDY: A fire hose?

  DANNY: Yeah! See those people in that park having a picnic?

  ANDY: Yes, I see them, but what have they got to do with a fire hose?

  DANNY: Well, if we had a fire hose, we could point it at them, turn it on and they would all go flying everywhere!

  ANDY: Great idea, Danny!

  DANNY: Thanks.

  ANDY: Just one question.

  DANNY: What’s that?

  ANDY: Why would we want to do that?

  DANNY: For FUN, of course! Just imagine it! All those drenched people rolling around in the wet grass, waving their arms and yelling, ‘Help! Help!’, and trying to stand up! And you know what we would do then?

  ANDY: What?

  DANNY: We would just turn the hose up even harder and blast them all back down again!

  ANDY: That doesn’t sound like much fun for them.

  DANNY: Well, no, but it would be fun for us. And don’t forget—the pressure from the hose would be so strong it would blast everybody’s clothes off, so they would all be sliding around on the grass in the nude!!!

  ANDY: But what if one of them had a mobile phone and they rang the police?

  DANNY: But they couldn’t because their mobile phones would be full of water.

  ANDY: But what if somebody ELSE—who wasn’t in the park—saw what we were doing and called the police and they came and surrounded us and got out their megaphones and started shouting ‘PUT THE FIRE HOSE DOWN AND STEP AWAY FROM THE NOZZLE!’?

  DANNY: Then we would blast them—and their megaphones—up into the trees and their uniforms would fly off and they’d all end up nude like everybody else. It would be SO funny!

  ANDY: Yeah, but what if they sent a police helicopter as well?

  DANNY: Well, what do you think? We’d just blow their stupid police helicopter out into space and straight up into the sun.

  ANDY: Okay, but what if they called in the army and there were all these armoured tanks coming at us? What then?

  DANNY: Blast them with the hose, of course.

  ANDY: Yeah, we could try, but you can’t ‘blast’ armoured tanks away with nothing but a hose.

  DANNY: Yes we can! It’s a FIRE HOSE, remember?

  ANDY: I know, but they’re ARMOURED TANKS, remember?

  DANNY: Oh, didn’t I tell you? It’s an ARMOURED TANK FIRE HOSE.

  ANDY: No, you didn’t say that.

  DANNY: Well, it is.

  ANDY: That’s good to know, but what if they brought in the fire brigade and about twenty trucks turned up? They would have twenty fire hoses and we would only have one, and even though it’s an armoured tank fire hose, it would still only be one fire hose against twenty.

  DANNY: I didn’t think of that.

  ANDY: You really should have.

  DANNY: No, hang on! I’ve got it! I know what we’d do. We’d take the fire hose, sit on it, turn it on really hard and blast ourselves right out of there. They’d NEVER catch us!

  ANDY: That’s brilliant, Danny! You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?

  DANNY: You bet.

  ANDY: Well, then, what are we waiting for?

  Let’s go get a fire hose!

  DANNY: Do you mean it?

  ANDY: Of course!

&n
bsp; DANNY: All right! You won’t regret it, Andy. I promise. THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST DAY EVER!

  ’m sitting in the lounge room.

  I’m so bored that I’m tearing up the newspaper just for something to do.

  I take a page and tear it into strips. Then I take those strips and tear them into smaller strips. Then I tear those smaller strips into even smaller strips. Then I tear those even smaller strips into even smaller and smaller strips until they’re so small that I can’t tear them any more.

  I hate school holidays.

  Jen is slumped in an armchair reading a book called I, Robot. It has a picture of a robot on the cover.

  Hang on, that gives me an idea. Maybe there IS something I can do!

  I go to the kitchen, get a box of Chocopops and pour them all out into a plastic bowl. Then I cut two eye holes in the box and pull it down over my head. I go back into the lounge room, walking stiffly with my legs really straight, my elbows by my sides and my hands out in front of me.

  Now I am a robot!

  I walk robotically across the room towards Jen.

  ‘I am a ro-bot,’ I say. ‘I am a ro-bot. I am a ro-bot.’

  Jen doesn’t even look up.

  I walk in circles around her chair. ‘I am a ro-bot,’ I say again. ‘I am a ro-bot. I am a ro-bot.’

  ‘Would you please be quiet, Andy?’ says Jen.

  ‘I can-not al-ter my vol-ume,’ I say. ‘It was pre-set at this lev-el at the ro-bot fac-tor-y.’

  ‘Well, could you leave the room, then?’ says Jen. ‘I’m trying to read a book.’

  ‘What is “read a book”?’ I say. ‘It does not com-pute.’

  ‘Reading books makes you smart,’ says Jen. ‘You should try it some time!’

  ‘I am al-read-y as smart as it is poss-i-ble to be,’ I say. ‘I am an An-dy-2000. The smart-est ro-bot ev-er made.’

  ‘Well, how come you’re walking around with a cereal box on your head, then?’ says Jen.

  ‘It is not a box,’ I say. ‘It is my head. I am a ro-bot.’

  Jen ignores me and goes back to reading her book.

  I bump into her chair.

  I do it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Finally, she looks up from her book. ‘QUIT IT!’ she shouts.

  ‘What is “quit it”?’ I say. ‘It does not com-pute. I am a ro-bot.’

  ‘I hate you, Andy,’ says Jen. ‘I really HATE you. I REALLY, REALLY HATE YOU!’

  ‘Jen!’ says Mum, coming into the room with a cup of tea in one hand and a crossword puzzle book in the other. ‘What an awful thing to say to your brother! Apologise to him this instant!’

  ‘But, Mum …’ says Jen.

  ‘No buts,’ says Mum. ‘There’s no excuse for speaking like that. Apologise right now!’

  Jen turns to me and smiles very sweetly. ‘I’m sorry, Andy,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry that I REALLY, REALLY HATE YOU SO MUCH!’

  ‘Jen,’ says Mum. ‘I don’t think that’s a very nice way of saying sorry.’

  ‘It does not mat-ter,’ I say. ‘I am a ro-bot.’

  ‘You mean ID-i-ot,’ says Jen.

  ‘Your child-ish in-sults do not hurt me,’ I say. ‘Ro-bots do not have feel-ings.’

  ‘That’s great!’ says Jen. ‘Have I told you lately how much you stink?’

  ‘Jen!’ says Mum.

  ‘It does not mat-ter what she says,’ I say. ‘Her words do not com-pute. I just feel sorry for her. My sen-sors in-di-cate that she is a ve-ry un-in-tell-i-gent life form.’

  ‘Ha!’ says Jen. ‘You said that you didn’t HAVE feelings, and then you said you FELT sorry for me! I got you!’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say. ‘I am an An-dy-2000: the most ad-vanced ro-bot in the world. I am pro-grammed to sim-u-late feel-ings to make it eas-i-er for hu-mans to int-er-act with me.’

  Jen should know better than to argue with a robot. Especially one with a brain processor as super-advanced as mine.

  ‘You think you are SO smart!’ she says. ‘But you’re not. You’re just annoying. Mum, can you tell Andy to stop annoying me?’

  ‘Robot,’ says Mum, ‘can you please stop annoying Jen?’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say. ‘I am pro-grammed to an-noy my sis-ter; it is one of my pri-ma-ry func-tions.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ says Jen.

  ‘I am pro-grammed to an-noy my sis-ter; it is one of my pri-ma-ry func-tions,’ I say again.

  Jen puts her fingers in her ears.

  ‘Robot,’ says Mum, sitting down at the table. ‘If you’ve got nothing better to do than annoy your sister, could you use your advanced robot brain to help me with this crossword? I need a five-letter word starting with “R” that means “human-like machine”.’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say. ‘It does not com-pute. I am not a cross-word puz-zle sol-ving robot. I am not pro-grammed for that.’

  ‘What a pity,’ says Mum, chewing the end of her pencil. ‘Well, then, how about vacuuming the floor? There are little bits of paper everywhere.’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say. ‘I am not a floor-vacuum-ing ro-bot. I am not pro-grammed for that.’

  Dad comes into the room with the laundry basket.

  ‘Why have you got a cereal box on your head, Andy?’ he says.

  ‘It is not a box,’ I say. ‘It is my head. I am a ro-bot.’

  ‘Great!’ says Dad. ‘I’ve always wanted my own robot. Could you make me a cup of coffee please, Robot?’

  ‘Neg-a-tive!’ I say. ‘I am not a cof-fee-mak-ing ro-bot.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ says Dad. ‘Beyond your capabilities, is it?’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say. ‘It is not be-yond my cap-a-bil-it-ies. I am just not pro-grammed for it.’

  ‘Well, how about helping me sort out this washing, then?’ says Dad. ‘It’s the perfect job for a robot. Nice and repetitive. See? This sock goes with this sock. This sock goes with that sock.’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say. ‘I am not a wash-ing sort-er-out-er ro-bot. I am not programmed for that.’

  ‘What’s the use of a robot that can’t do anything I ask it to do?’ says Dad. ‘Robots were invented to help people.’

  ‘A-ffirm-a-tive,’ I say, ‘but ro-bots are not slaves. We have rights too. And be-sides, how can I make a cup of cof-fee if I am not pro-grammed to make a cup of cof-fee? It does not com-pute.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ says Dad, frowning.

  ‘How about putting your head in the toilet and flushing it?’ says Jen.

  ‘Neg-a-tive. I am not pro-grammed for that,’ I say. ‘But I AM pro-grammed to put YOUR head in the toi-let and flush it.’

  ‘And is that it?’ says Mum. ‘Is flushing your sister’s head in the toilet the only thing that the most advanced robot ever developed is programmed to do?’

  ‘Neg-a-tive,’ I say, thinking quickly. ‘I am al-so pro-grammed to watch tel-e-vis-ion. I am a tel-e-vis-ion-watch-ing ro-bot.’

  I walk over to the couch, sit down and point the remote at the TV.

  ‘Are you just going to let him get away with that?’ says Jen. ‘It’s not fair! He gets out of having to do ANYTHING just by saying he’s not programmed to do it.’

  ‘What else can we do?’ says Mum. ‘You heard him. He’s a “tel-e-vis-ion-watch-ing ro-bot”. That’s all he’s programmed to do.’

  ‘A-part from an-noy-ing Jen and flushing her head in the toi-let,’ I remind Mum helpfully.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ says Jen, shaking her head. ‘It’s just not fair. It’s just not fair.’ She’s beginning to sound a little like a robot herself.

  ‘Look on the positive side, Jen,’ says Dad. ‘Now that we know that Andy is really a robot, we’ll be able to turn his bedroom into a spare room. You and your friends will be able to use it as the hangout space you’ve always wanted.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ says Jen. ‘That’s a great idea!’

  ‘But that does not com-pute!’ I say. ‘That is MY room. Where wou
ld I sleep?’

  ‘Robots don’t need to sleep!’ says Dad.

  ‘I do,’ I say. ‘I have been pro-grammed to sleep.’ Ha! Got him there! If Dad thinks that by promising my room to Jen that I am going to stop being a robot and start helping around the house, he’s sadly mistaken. I am an Andy-2000, the smartest robot ever made, and Dad? Well, he’s just my dumb dad. Pretty much the dumbest dad in the history of dumb dads.

  ‘I understand you are programmed to sleep,’ says Dad. ‘But there’s no problem. You can sleep in the cupboard under the stairs, with the vacuum cleaner.’

  ‘But I am pro-grammed to sleep in a bed!’ I say.

  ‘That may be true,’ says Dad, ‘but we need the space, and it shouldn’t matter much to you whether you are lying down or standing up. You’re just a machine, after all.’

  ‘But it is dir-ty!’ I say. ‘And dark. And there are cob-webs.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think that would matter very much to you,’ says Dad. ‘You ARE a robot … aren’t you?’

  ‘A-ffirm-a-tive,’ I say. ‘But … but I am a scared-of-spi-ders ro-bot! I re-fuse to sleep in a cup-board! And you can-not make me!’

  ‘Actually, we can,’ says Dad. ‘You are a robot. You HAVE to obey us.’

  ‘Dad’s right,’ says Jen, holding up her robot book. ‘It says here that the second law of robotics is that a robot MUST obey orders given to it by human beings. Ah-ha! Got you again!’

  ‘How would you like it if I made you sleep in a cup-board?’ I say.

  ‘Not much,’ says Jen, ‘but then I’M not a robot.’

  ‘Well, I AM a ro-bot,’ I say, ‘and I do not want to.’

  Jen laughs. ‘Bad luck, Box-head.’

  ‘Shut up, hu-man,’ I say, ‘or I will be forced to e-lim-in-ate you.’

  ‘You can’t e-lim-in-ate me,’ says Jen. ‘If you knew anything, you’d know that the first law of robotics is that a robot may not injure a human being.’

  I hate those stupid laws. It’s obvious they were made up by a human being, and not a robot.