The 78-Storey Treehouse Read online

  ABOUT THE 78-STOREY TREEHOUSE

  Join Andy and Terry in their spectacular new 78-storey treehouse. They’ve added 13 new levels including a drive-thru car wash, a combining machine, a scribbletorium, an ALL-BALL sports stadium, Andyland, Terrytown, a high-security potato chip storage facility and an open-air movie theatre. Well, what are you waiting for? Come on up!

  ANDY GRIFFITHS

  The 78-STOREY

  TREEHOUSE

  ILLUSTRATED BY

  TERRY DENTON

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  About The 78-Storey Treehouse

  CHAPTER 1 The 78-Storey Treehouse

  CHAPTER 2 Treehouse: The Movie

  CHAPTER 3 Spin, Spin, Spin

  CHAPTER 4 Scribble, Scribble, Scribble

  CHAPTER 5 Day of the Living Puddle

  CHAPTER 6 Trouble in Andyland

  CHAPTER 7 Cowduggery!

  CHAPTER 8 My Autobiography of My Life by Me (and Not Terry)

  CHAPTER 9 The Chip Thief

  CHAPTER 10 Andy Versus Terry

  CHAPTER 11 Big Shot Movie Stars

  CHAPTER 12 Cowhouse: The Mooo-vie

  CHAPTER 13 The Last Chapter

  About Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton

  Also by Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton

  CHAPTER 1

  THE 78-STOREY

  TREEHOUSE

  Hi, my name is Andy.

  This is my friend Terry.

  We live in a tree.

  Well, when I say ‘tree’, I mean treehouse. And when I say ‘treehouse’, I don’t just mean any old treehouse—I mean a 78-storey treehouse! (It used to be a 65-storey treehouse, but we’ve added another 13 storeys.)

  So what are you waiting for? Come on up!

  It’s got a drive-thru car wash (that you can drive through with the windows open and the roof down),

  a combining machine,

  a not-so-tight tightrope,

  a 78-plate-spinning level,

  a giant unhatched egg,

  a courtroom with a robot judge called Edward Gavelhead,

  a scribbletorium,

  Andyland (a land full of Andy clones created in our cloning machine),

  Terrytown (a crazy town full of Terry clones),

  Jillville (a village full of Jills),

  an ALL-BALL sports stadium (where you can play every ball sport in the whole world all at the same time),

  an open-air movie theatre with a super-giant screen,

  and a high-security potato chip storage facility protected by 1000 loaded mousetraps, 100 laser beams, a 10-tonne weight and one very angry duck.

  As well as being our home, the treehouse is also where we make books together. I write the words and Terry draws the pictures.

  As you can see, we’ve been doing this for quite a while now.

  Sure, things can get crazy when you live in a 78-storey treehouse …

  But we always get our book written in the end … somehow.

  CHAPTER 2

  TREEHOUSE: THE MOVIE

  If you’re like most of our readers, you’re probably wondering if we’re ever going to make a Treehouse movie. Well … guess what? We’re making one right now!

  We’ve got lights …

  cameras …

  chairs with our names on the backs …

  and a big shot Hollywood movie director called Mr Big Shot calling the shots …

  ‘CUT!’ yells Mr Big Shot. ‘That’s BORING!’

  ‘But that’s how I always start the book,’ I say.

  ‘This is NOT a book,’ barks Mr Big Shot through his megaphone. ‘It’s a MOVIE!’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I say, ‘I know that and you know that, but I was just explaining it to the readers …’

  ‘Readers?’ barks Mr Big Shot. ‘I’m not interested in readers! I make MOVIES for movie fans who want ACTION, EXCITEMENT and THRILLS, not talking! Who are you, anyway?’

  ‘I’m Andy,’ I say. ‘I’m the narrator.’

  ‘Narrator?’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘We don’t need a narrator.’

  ‘But I’m also one of the main characters.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ says Mr Big Shot, frowning. ‘What about that other guy? The funny one with the curly hair. Where’s he?’

  ‘Here he comes now,’ I say, as Terry runs onto the set with his pants on fire.

  ‘Get out of the way!’ says Terry, running between me and Mr Big Shot. He reaches the edge of the deck and leaps off.

  ‘Did he just jump into the shark tank?!’ says Mr Big Shot.

  ‘Yep,’ I sigh. ‘That’s Terry for you.’

  We peer over the edge.

  ‘Are you all right?’ shouts Mr Big Shot.

  ‘Much better now my pants aren’t on fire,’ says Terry.

  ‘But you’re in a tank full of man-eating sharks!’ says Mr Big Shot.

  ‘Yikes,’ says Terry. ‘I meant to jump into the swimming pool!’

  Terry swims to the side of the tank and tries to climb out. He’s fast, but one of the sharks is faster. It surges up behind him,

  opens its enormous mouth

  and chomps down on Terry’s freshly barbecued behind …

  The electrocuted shark spits Terry out with such force that he flies up into the air and lands sprawled on the deck in front of us.

  ‘That … was … electrifying!’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘Here, let me help you up.’

  He reaches down and grabs Terry’s hand.

  The electric shock sends Mr Big Shot flying backwards. He crashes into one of the camera operators and then falls to the ground.

  ‘Sorry,’ says Terry. ‘I must still be electricorn-ified.’

  ‘Electri-what-ified?’ says Mr Big Shot.

  ‘Well,’ says Terry, ‘I used the combining machine to cross an electric eel

  with a unicorn

  to make an electricorn …

  ‘but then a bolt of lightning shot out of the electricorn’s horn,

  hit the back of my pants

  and they caught on fire.’

  Mr Big Shot roars with laughter.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ says Terry.

  ‘You are,’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘You’re a LAUGH RIOT!!! This will make a great opening sequence for the movie!’

  ‘But I always do the opening sequence!’ I say.

  ‘In the book, yes,’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘But this is NOT a book … this is a movie! And Terry is going to be the star!’

  ‘Me?’ says Terry. ‘A movie star?’

  ‘Him?’ I say. ‘A movie star? But what about me?’

  ‘I already told you,’ says Mr Big Shot, ‘we don’t need a narrator.’

  He turns his attention back to Terry. ‘Is that electricorn still there?’

  ‘Yes, I guess so,’ says Terry.

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘Come on, everybody—except for Andy—let’s go and film a re-enactment!’

  CHAPTER 3

  SPIN, SPIN, SPIN

  Fine.

  So Mr Big Shot doesn’t want me in the movie.

  I don’t care.

  It’s not like I haven’t got more important things to do.

  That giant unhatched egg, for instance—it’s not going to hatch itself.

  I’d better go and sit on it right now!

  I don’t mind.

  This is important work.

  Much more important than making some dumb movie.

  Hang on.

  That’s a weird noise.

  It sounds a bit like Jill and her intergalactic space-animal rescue service returning through the Earth’s atmosphere.

  It is Jill and her intergalactic space-animal rescue service!

  ‘Hi, Andy,’ says Jill. ‘I j
ust got back from the moon. I had to rescue some mice whose rocket crashed while they were on a cheese-seeking mission. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I tell them the moon is not made of cheese, they just don’t listen.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m doing some pretty important work here, too,’ I say. ‘I’m helping this giant unhatched egg to hatch.’

  ‘That’s great!’ says Jill. ‘I can’t wait to see what comes out.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I say.

  ‘Where’s Terry?’ says Jill.

  ‘He’s with a film crew. They’re making a Treehouse movie.’

  ‘Wow!’ says Jill. ‘How come you’re not there?’

  I sigh. ‘The big shot Hollywood director Mr Big Shot said he didn’t need a narrator.’

  ‘Isn’t it called a “voiceover” when it’s in a movie?’

  ‘Yeah, well, whatever it’s called, Mr Big Shot didn’t want it.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ says Jill. ‘Still, a movie—that’s pretty exciting!’

  ‘I guess so,’ I say, ‘if you like electricorns, that is.’

  ‘Electricorns?’ says Jill.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Terry used the combining machine to combine an electric eel and a unicorn. They’re filming a re-enactment.’

  ‘This I’ve got to see!’ says Jill. ‘Good luck hatching the giant unhatched egg, Andy.’

  ‘Thanks, Jill,’ I say, but she doesn’t hear me. She’s already gone.

  Never mind. I’ll show them.

  A giant unhatched egg is more exciting than a stupid old electricorn any day … I mean, it could hatch any minute now … just you wait …

  Egg-hatching is great!

  Egg-hatching is thrilling!

  Egg-hatching is …

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  Oh … I must have dozed off … that’s the video phone. I’d better answer it. It’s probably Mr Big Nose.

  ‘Hi, Mr Big Nose,’ I say. ‘I guess you’re calling about the book.’

  ‘Book?’ says Mr Big Nose. ‘No, I’m calling to find out how the movie is going.’

  ‘Well,’ I say, ‘I don’t know if the movie is going to work out quite the way I’d hoped …’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ says Mr Big Nose. ‘I’ve spent a fortune on Big Nose Books product placement. So you’d better make it work!’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable with all this advertising,’ I say, but Mr Big Nose has already hung up.

  ‘Why are you still here?’ says Mr Big Shot, climbing up onto my level. ‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’

  ‘The treehouse is my home,’ I say. ‘I live here.’

  ‘Well just keep out of the way,’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘We’re about to film the scene where Terry painted a cat yellow and turned it into a catnary.’

  ‘But I was there!’ I say. ‘I was in that story. I tried to stop him!’

  ‘Well, we can’t have that, can we?’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘I think movie-goers will love to see a flying cat, so if you could just keep off the set, that would be great.’

  ‘But …’ I say. ‘Terry! Tell him!’

  Terry shrugs. ‘Sorry, Andy, but it’s not really my decision. Mr Big Shot is the director …’

  They all head off up to the observation deck.

  Fine.

  Film the scene without me.

  See if I care.

  I’ve not only got to help this giant unhatched egg to hatch, but I’ve also got 78 plates to spin!

  Plates don’t just keep spinning all by themselves, you know.

  And plate-spinning is a lot of fun. Even more fun than giant unhatched egg-hatching.

  Looks like I’ve arrived just in time—some of those plates are really wobbly. They’re about to fall off their poles!

  Well, I’ll soon fix that …

  spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin …

  spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin … spin …

  See what I mean?

  Plate-spinning is better than making a dumb old movie any day.

  Uh-oh …

  I think I might have spun them a bit too hard …

  ‘Help!’ yells Terry. ‘The Martians are coming! Flying-saucer attack!’

  ‘They’re not flying saucers,’ says Jill. ‘They’re plates!’

  ‘CUT!’ yells Mr Big Shot. ‘NO PLATE-THROWING ON SET!’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say.

  ‘You should be more careful,’ says Jill. ‘One of those plates almost hit Silky!’

  ‘It was an accident!’ I say. ‘I just spun them a little bit too hard and they spun off their spinners!’

  ‘Well, lucky for you we just finished that scene anyway,’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘Now we’re going to film a re-enactment of the time the sharks ate Terry’s underpants.’

  ‘But it’s cruel to do that to the sharks again,’ I say. ‘They got really sick!’

  ‘It’s okay, Andy,’ says Jill. ‘It’s just pretend. They’re not real underpants. They’re prop underpants, with fish paste. It’s actually a treat for the sharks—and they’re really excited about being in the movie.’

  ‘So if you could just run along now, Andy,’ says Mr Big Shot, patting me on the head. ‘There’s a good narrator.’

  ‘But you can’t make the whole movie without me!’ I say. ‘I was there. I was part of the story!’

  ‘We’re not making it without you,’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘We’ve got Mel Gibbon to play you.’

  ‘Mel Gibson?’ I say. ‘He’s a bit old, isn’t he?’

  ‘Not Mel Gibson,’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘Mel Gibbon. Look, here he comes now!’

  ‘But he’s a monkey!’ I say.

  ‘No, he’s not,’ says Mr Big Shot, ‘he’s a gibbon. And he’s also one of the hottest young primates working in film today. Plus, he works for peanuts—literally!’

  ‘But I’ll work for free!’ I say. ‘And I’ll make a more convincing Andy than some monkey. Watch this!’

  ‘Hi, my name is Andy

  … this is my friend Terry

  … we live in a tree

  … well, when I say “tree”—’

  ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ says Mr Big Shot. ‘WE DON’T NEED A NARRATOR!’

  ‘I’m not narrating,’ I say, ‘I’m acting like a narrator!’

  ‘Sound
s a lot like narrating to me,’ says Mr Big Shot.

  ‘And me,’ says Terry.

  ‘You’re a good Andy, Andy,’ says Jill. ‘But I think Mel is better. He’s more convincing.’

  ‘Yeah, and he’s also funnier,’ says Terry.

  ‘But you hate monkeys,’ I say.