The Day My Butt Went Psycho Read online

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Introduction

  About Andy Griffiths

  Also by Andy Griffiths

  Title page

  Copyright

  1 Midnight Bum Rally

  2 The Bum Hunter’s Daughter

  3 The B-team

  4 Ned Smelly

  5 Methane Madness

  6 Stenchgantor

  7 Poopoises and Giant Blowflies

  8 The Bumcano

  9 The Great White Bum

  10 Just Like Old Times

  GLOSSARY

  This is my story.

  It really happened.

  It’s all true.

  Not even the names have been changed.

  I agreed to tell my story in the hope that others can learn from it, and I would like to thank Andy Griffiths for helping me to get it down on paper.

  Like most people I took my bum for granted for too long. If this book can save even just one person from making the same mistake, then I will be happy.

  Who knows?

  The next bum it saves might be yours.

  May your bum be with you always,

  Zack Freeman

  September 2001

  Andy Griffiths is the popular and award-winning author of the Just series. He lives with his partner and two daughters in Melbourne where he divides his time between story-writing and bum-fighting. The Day My Bum Went Psycho was his first novel and is based on a true story.

  Also by Andy Griffiths

  and illustrated by Terry Denton

  Just Tricking!

  Just Annoying!

  Just Stupid!

  Just Crazy!

  Just Disgusting!

  The Bad Book

  The Cat on the Mat is Flat

  Also by Andy Griffiths

  The Day My Bum Went Psycho

  Zombie Bums from Uranus

  Bumageddon: the Final Pongflict

  Also by Andy Griffiths

  (with Jim Thomson and Sophie Blackmore)

  Fast Food and No Play Make

  Jack a Fat Boy: Creating a healthier lifestyle

  for you and your children

  THE DAY

  MY BUTT WENT

  PSYCHO

  ANDY GRIFFITHS

  First published 2001 in Pan by The Day My Bum Went Psycho Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  This Pan edition published in 2014 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd 1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000.

  Copyright © Andy Griffiths 2001

  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.

  This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.

  Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia

  http://catalogue.nla.gov.au

  EPUB format: 9781743517642

  Typeset by Post Pre-press Group

  Designed by Liz Seymour

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

  Love talking about books? Find Pan Macmillan Australia online to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I am deeply grateful to Ian Smith for technical advice on the inner workings of volcanoes and Christian Doonan for technical advice on the chemical composition of flatulence.

  I would also like to thank Jill Groves and Anna McFarlane for their tireless, painstaking and—it must be said—at times downright pedantic editing.

  Above all I would like to thank Zack Freeman without whose courage this book would not have been possible, and without whose efforts we would probably all be walking around with bums for heads and heads for bums.

  This book is not dedicated to my parents, by request—A.G.

  This book is dedicated to my bums—Z.F.

  CHAPTER ONE

  MIDNIGHT BUM RALLY

  Zack Freeman woke out of a deep sleep to see his bum perched on the ledge of his bedroom window. It was standing on two pudgy little legs, silhouetted against the moon, its little stick-like arms outstretched in front of it, as if it was about to dive.

  Zack sat up in bed.

  ‘No!’ he yelled. ‘Come back!’

  But it was too late. His bum jumped out of the window and landed with a soft thud in the garden bed below.

  Zack stared at the window and sighed.

  ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘Not again.’

  This was not the first time Zack’s bum had run away.

  Since his twelfth birthday, two months ago, Zack’s bum had made a habit of jumping off his body and running around the streets making a nuisance of itself. Zack was sick of it. So was the local bumcatcher who had already caught and impounded it three times.

  Until recently Zack’s bum had confined itself to a variety of harmless pranks, such as attaching itself to the faces of statues and passersby. But on its last outing it had joined a pack of five hundred feral bums who had lined the emergency stopping lane of the South Eastern Freeway and mooned all the people driving to work. This stunt had caused many accidents, which the bums had thought was a great laugh. The sentencing judge, however, was not amused and placed them all on twelve month good behaviour bonds.

  Zack knew he had to catch his bum himself this time. If the bumcatcher got involved, he would have to report it and Zack’s bum would end up in jail for sure. And there was no way Zack wanted to spend every second weekend visiting his bum in jail.

  Zack threw back the blankets and was about to get out of bed when he heard his grandmother call out from the next room.

  ‘Zack?’ she said. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Gran,’ said Zack. ‘It’s all right, go back to sleep.’

  ‘What was that noise?’ said his gran. ‘Have they resumed firing?’

  Zack rolled his eyes.

  ‘There’s no war, Gran,’ he said. ‘Go back to sleep.’

  Zack was living with his grandmother while his parents were away. They both played in the wind section of the National Symphony Orchestra and went on tour three or four times a year, during which Zack would have to stay with his grandmother—sometimes for up to a month at a time. He loved his grandmother, but sometimes he wondered who was looking after who.

  ‘No war?’ said his grandmother. ‘You mean the war’s over?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zack.

  He was used to this conversation. She was always talking about the war. Zack wasn’t sure which war she was talking about, or how long ago it had happened, or whether it had even happened at all—all he knew was that it seemed real to her.

  ‘Did we win?’

  ‘Yes, Gran,’ said Zack. He figured that she would go back to sleep quicker if he just agreed with everything she said. ‘We creamed them.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said his grandmother. ‘I’ll take over the watch. You get some rest. You’ve earned it, soldier.’

  ‘Yes, Gran,’ said Zack.

  He couldn’t tell her the truth. It would be bad enough talking to his parents about his bum, let alone his grandmother.

  He waited a minute until he could hear her snoring and then he got out of bed. With difficulty. It wasn’t that
easy moving without a bum. Zack walked across the room to the window, leaned out and peered into the night.

  He saw his bum standing on the tips of its toes at the end of the driveway, as if sniffing the air. It was looking up and down the street.

  There was still time to catch it. But he’d have to be quick.

  Zack climbed out of the window and tiptoed down the driveway.

  As he got closer, Zack realised that he wasn’t the only one trying to catch his bum.

  Mittens, his grandmother’s cat, was crouched on top of the front fence, ready to pounce.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Zack. He wasn’t sure who was in more danger—Mittens or his bum. Mittens was always catching birds and mice and leaving them half-chewed on the front doorstep. But she had never caught a bum before. Well, not as far as Zack knew, anyway. And a half-chewed bum on the doorstep wouldn’t be something you’d be likely not to notice. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  Before Zack had time to do anything, however, Mittens leapt.

  But Zack’s bum was faster.

  It bent over, aimed itself directly at Mittens, and fired a loud, deadly stream of gas. Mittens fell to the ground. Zack’s bum took off up the street, its little arms and legs pumping away like pistons.

  Zack was shocked. He knew that his bum had gone feral, but he’d never seen it kill anything before. He had to get it back. He knew that once a bum gets a taste for killing, it is very difficult for them to stop.

  But first he had to try to help Mittens.

  Zack hobbled over to her body and knelt down. Poor Mittens was in a bad way. Zack pulled her head back, pinched her nostrils and was preparing to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when Mittens coughed.

  She wasn’t dead after all. She had just been stunned.

  Zack breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘So my bum isn’t a killer,’ he thought. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

  In the distance he could see the dark shape of his bum disappearing over the top of the hill.

  He got up, pulled the cord of his pyjama pants as tight as possible, and ran after it.

  As he ran, Zack cursed his luck. All he wanted was a bum that would settle down and just be a bum. A bum that wouldn’t embarrass him in public at every possible opportunity. A bum that wouldn’t make rude comments whenever he tried to talk to girls. At the very least he’d settle for a bum that didn’t jump off his body and gas cats in the middle of the night.

  By the time Zack got to the top of the hill his bum was already halfway down the other side, heading towards the local football oval.

  And it wasn’t the only one either.

  Zack couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  There were bums everywhere. Pouring onto the oval from all directions.

  It was an amazing sight.

  Bums.

  Hundreds of them.

  Thousands.

  Big bums.

  Small bums.

  Fat bums.

  Scrawny bums.

  Pimply bums.

  Hairy bums.

  Big wobbly bums tottering along on tiny white legs.

  Tiny babies’ bums crawling across the ground.

  Every sort of bum you could imagine was heading towards the oval.

  Zack was amazed. He’d never seen so many bums without their owners attached. But why? he wondered. What was going on?

  Zack crept quietly down the hill in the darkness and crossed the road to the wooden fence surrounding the oval. A large group of bums was approaching him from the left. Big bums. And they looked mean. Zack looked around for somewhere to hide. On the other side of the oval was a large grandstand, but it was too far away. To his right, however, there was a small wooden hotdog stand. Zack hesitated. The bums were getting close. He dived over the counter.

  The group of bums passed by him, muttering excitedly. Zack couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he could smell it all right.

  He didn’t dare to poke his head up for at least five minutes after they had passed. When he finally did look out he was shocked.

  In front of him was a sea of bums. Bums filled every available bit of space on the oval, as well as the grandstand on the far side.

  Zack looked for his bum but couldn’t pick it out from the crowd.

  It didn’t really have any distinguishing features apart from the fact that it was small and pink.

  But as he looked, the crowd began to part. And gasp.

  ‘Look! There he is!’ said one bum.

  ‘It’s him!’ said another.

  ‘Our leader,’ said a third.

  For a moment Zack thought they were talking about him, but then he realised they were looking past the hotdog stand. He turned around and strained to catch a glimpse of whoever or whatever it was they were looking at, but there were too many bums in the way.

  And then he saw it.

  It was a bum.

  But not just any bum.

  It was small and pink and strangely familiar.

  It was his bum.

  Zack couldn’t believe it.

  He watched as his bum made its way through the crowd. It passed directly in front of the hotdog stand. As it passed, the other bums would reach out and try to touch it like it was some kind of celebrity. Occasionally Zack’s bum would touch one of the hands extended towards it, but mostly it was protected by a group of four bumguards. Two walked in front of it, pushing aside any bum that tried to get too close. The other two followed a few paces behind, protecting it from the rear.

  Zack’s bum reached the scoreboard, climbed up a small ladder and then walked across a narrow platform that ran along the bottom.

  When it reached the middle of the platform it stopped.

  The bumguards remained on the ground and formed a line to keep the crowd from surging forwards.

  One of the guards was shining a torch on Zack’s bum. The light shining on it from below made it look quite sinister.

  Zack wiped his brow.

  ‘This can’t be happening,’ he said to himself. ‘It can’t be happening. It can’t be happening.’

  But it was happening.

  Zack’s bum raised a bum-trumpet to its mouth and blew a long loud note.

  The whole crowd became silent.

  Then Zack’s bum began to speak.

  ‘Brothers and sisters,’ it said quietly. ‘You know why I have called you here, so let me get straight to the point. For too long we have been forced to do the dirty work for the human race. For too long we have been laughed at, smacked, pinched, kicked, sat on and generally regarded as figures of fun! For too long we have been denied our rightful place on top of the neck where we belong!’

  There was an enormous cheer from the crowd.

  Zack blocked his nose and wiped his eyes. When one bum talks it’s bad enough, but when thousands talk at the same time, well, it’s not pleasant to say the least.

  After a few minutes the cheering died down.

  ‘But what can we do?’ said a bony bum in the front row. ‘We’re just bums.’

  Zack’s bum stepped to the edge of the platform, the torchlight making it look more sinister than ever.

  ‘No, my friend,’ it said. ‘Divided we are just bums, but united we have the potential to be the most powerful force on the planet. Right now, on an island in the Sea of Bums, bums from all over the world are working around the clock to fill an extinct volcano. When it is full, it will become the greatest bumcano in the history of the world. And when it erupts it will be devastating enough to knock out every human being on Earth.’

  Zack’s bum paused, enjoying the dramatic effect its words had on the assembled bummery.

  ‘That, my brothers and sisters,’ it said, ‘will be when we strike. We will swap places with the heads and assume our rightful position on top of the neck. By the time the humans come to, the Age of Bums will have begun and there will be nothing anybody can do to stop us!’

  The bums began cheering again.

  Zack low
ered himself behind the counter and grimaced, trying to make sense of his bum’s crazy plan. Bums taking the place of heads? Heads taking the place of bums?

  The idea made Zack’s stomach turn.

  His bum had to be stopped. He had to tell the local bumcatcher what was going on. Even if it meant that his bum would end up in jail.

  But how could he get to the bumcatcher? wondered Zack. He was stuck in a hotdog stand surrounded by thousands of deranged bums. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  He peeked over the top of the counter.

  Just then a bum ran screaming through the gates.

  Followed by the bumcatcher.

  ‘Help!’ called the bum. ‘He’s got a bum-magnet!’

  The bumcatcher was holding what looked like a mini satellite dish in his outstretched hand. But as he entered the oval he stopped dead in his tracks, obviously stunned by the huge number of bums in front of him. He dropped the bum-magnet and started to back away. But it was too late. The bums closed in all around him.

  ‘Please, no!’ he begged. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Bring him to me,’ commanded Zack’s bum.

  Two of the bumguards shoved their way through the crowd and Zack watched in horror as the bumguards grabbed the bumcatcher and dragged him, kicking and struggling, back towards the scoreboard.

  ‘Help!’ yelled the bumcatcher as the bumguards dragged him up the ladder and onto the platform where Zack’s bum was standing.

  The sight of the bumcatcher seemed to enrage the bums. They were booing and hissing. The air stank with their poisonous fumes. Brown blobs were flying through the air and splattering onto the back of the scoreboard.

  The bumguards dropped the bumcatcher on the platform in front of Zack’s bum and moved away.

  Zack wondered whether he should try to help him, but he was too scared. There must have been more than ten thousand bums out there. Even supposing that he could convince his own bum to give up its plans for world domination—and that was a big ‘if’—he didn’t like his chances of trying to convince the other bums. They were in an ugly mood. And judging by the smell in the air, getting uglier by the minute.