The 52-Storey Treehouse Read online

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘a very definite clue that you are very definitely an idiot!’

  ‘Well, I don’t see you doing any detecting,’ says Terry, peering at me through the second-biggest magnifying glass.

  ‘Give me that thing,’ I say, snatching it off him.

  I scan the office.

  There’s a book lying on the floor next to Mr Big Nose’s desk. I pick it up and examine it closely.

  ‘What is it?’ says Terry.

  ‘It appears to be a book about vegetables.’

  ‘Vegetables?’ says Terry. ‘Yuck! I hate vegetables!’

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘And so do I. But we have to look at it. It might be a clue.’

  CHAPTER 4

  ‘That’s enough, Andy,’ says Terry, his hands over his eyes. ‘I can’t take any more. It’s too violent! I never thought I’d say this, but I actually feel sorry for those poor vegetables …’

  ‘Me too,’ I say. ‘It’s kind of weird to feel sorry for something you hate so much.’

  ‘I know,’ says Terry, ‘but whoever wrote this book must hate vegetables even more than we do.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ I say.

  ‘Whoever wrote this book must hate vegetables even more than we do,’ he says.

  ‘Terry!’ I say. ‘I didn’t mean for you to actually say it again, but I’m kind of glad you did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s true—whoever wrote this book must hate vegetables even more than we do!’

  CHAPTER 5

  SLEEPING JILL

  ‘So, do you think the book is a clue?’ says Terry. ‘Does it have something to do with Mr Big Nose’s disappearance?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘It was published by Mr Big Nose, but it still doesn’t explain where he is. We need to keep looking.’

  Terry holds up a magnifying glass and continues investigating.

  ‘Look at this pen!’ he says. ‘It’s huge!’

  ‘And look at this trophy! It’s gigantic!!

  And look at this paperclip! It’s massive!!!’

  ‘Um, Terry?’ I say.

  Terry turns to me, still looking through the magnifying glass. ‘Yikes!’ he says. ‘You’re enormous too!’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ I say, ‘and neither is that paperclip …you’re just looking at everything through your biggest magnifying glass!’

  ‘Aha!’ says Terry. ‘Another mystery solved!’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘but not the right one. We’re supposed to be figuring out The Mystery of the Missing Mr Big Nose, not The Mystery of Why Everything Looks Enormous to You.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ says Terry. ‘Good point.’

  Terry peers at a large lettuce leaf on Mr Big Nose’s desk. ‘Look at this caterpillar,’ he says. ‘I think it might be a clue. It’s trembling—like it’s frightened … Whatever happened to Mr Big Nose, this poor little guy must have seen the whole thing.’

  ‘If only caterpillars could talk,’ I say.

  ‘They can,’ says Terry. ‘It’s just that we can’t understand them.’

  ‘If only we knew somebody who could understand caterpillars,’ I say.

  ‘Somebody like Jill,’ says Terry.

  ‘Somebody exactly like Jill,’ I say.

  ‘Hey, I know!’ says Terry. ‘Why don’t we get Jill to talk to the caterpillar?’

  ‘No, I’ve got a better idea,’ I say. ‘Why don’t we get the caterpillar to talk to Jill?’

  ‘But that’s the same as my idea,’ says Terry.

  ‘Sort of,’ I say, ‘but mine’s better. We’ve got to get this caterpillar to Jill so it can tell her what happened to Mr Big Nose so we can find him and remind him to remind us about our deadline so that we can finish this book!’

  ‘That sounds complicated,’ says Terry.

  ‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘It’s elementary, my dear Denton. To the flying fried-egg car! Up, up and away!’

  We land outside Jill’s house, or at least where we think her house is. It’s hard to tell because her garden is very overgrown.

  ‘Wow!’ says Terry. ‘Jill has really let this place go.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I can’t even see how we’re going to get in.’

  ‘I can’t even see how she would be able to get out,’ says Terry.

  ‘Maybe she can’t,’ I say. ‘I mean, have you seen her lately?’

  ‘No,’ says Terry. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Not for a while, now that I think about it.’

  ‘Looks like we have another mystery to solve!’ I say. ‘The Mystery of Why We Haven’t Seen Jill Lately.’

  ‘Yay!’ says Terry. ‘And I’ve got just what we need to solve it.’

  He reaches into a bag and pulls out two safari suits and two razor-sharp machetes. He hands me one of each.

  ‘Thanks, Terry!’ I say.

  ‘Don’t thank me,’ he says. ‘Thank the Disguise-o-matic 5000. I grabbed a bag of takeaway before we left.’

  We put on our safari suits and use our machetes to start hacking into the plants surrounding Jill’s house.

  We hack …

  and chop …

  and cut …

  and thwack …

  and hack …

  until, finally, we find ourselves at the front door. We ring the doorbell but nobody answers.

  So we chop …

  and cut …

  and thwack …

  and hack …

  until, at last, we smash through the door into Jill’s house—and this is what we see …

  ‘They’re asleep!’ I say. ‘I’m surprised the noise we made chopping and cutting through the door didn’t wake them up.’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Terry. ‘Not to mention the thwacking and hacking.’

  We go into the kitchen and find Jill. She’s fast asleep too!

  ‘Wake up, Jill,’ I say, shaking her shoulder. ‘Wake up!’

  But she doesn’t wake up.

  ‘She’s not waking up,’ says Terry.

  ‘I can SEE that!’ I say.

  ‘Shhh, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘You’ll wake her up!’

  ‘THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO!’ I yell.

  But even my yelling doesn’t wake her up.

  We try everything we can think of:

  megaphones …

  gongs …

  air horns …

  electric guitars …

  jackhammers …

  dynamite …

  but nothing works … (Not even poking!)

  ‘Hmmm,’ I say, ‘this is no ordinary sleep. This is what’s known in the story-telling trade as enchanted sleep … like in Sleeping Beauty.’

  ‘Oh, I love that story!’ says Terry. ‘But it’s scary when the barn catches fire and the horses are all frightened.’

  ‘That’s Black Beauty!’ I say. ‘Sleeping Beauty is a fairy tale about a princess with a curse on her who pricks her finger on a very sharp spindle and falls asleep for 100 years.’

  ‘But there’s nothing that looks like a very sharp spindle here,’ says Terry, examining the table with a magnifying glass. ‘Well, nothing except this very sharp carrot.’

  ‘Good detecting, Terry!’ I say. ‘Jill must have a curse on her and she pricked her finger on that carrot!’

  ‘But why would Jill have a curse on her?’ says Terry.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Looks like we have another mystery to solve.’

  ‘Yay!’ says Terry. ‘But poor Jill. Will she have to sleep for 100 years?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ I say. ‘In the fairy tale, Sleeping Beauty is woken by a kiss.’

  ‘Yuck!’ says Terry. ‘I’m not kissing her!’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’ll do it.’

  I lean down,

  close my eyes as tight as I can

  and put my lips on her cheek.

  ‘It’s not working,’ says Terry. ‘She’s not waking up.’

  ‘It might be because I’m not a handsome prince,’ I say. ‘It’s usually a handso
me prince who does the kissing in fairy tales.’

  ‘Well, I guess we need a handsome prince then,’ says Terry. ‘But where will we find one of those?’

  ‘What about that castle?’ I say.

  ‘What castle?’ says Terry.

  ‘That castle!’ I say, pointing to a castle on a distant hill just visible through Jill’s overgrown window.

  ‘Oh, that castle,’ says Terry. ‘Funny, but I’ve never noticed it before.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I say, ‘but it sure looks like the sort of castle where you’d find a handsome prince. Grab Jill, put her in a glass coffin, get the caterpillar and let’s go!’

  ‘Um, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘There’s one small problem.’ ‘What’s that?’ I say.

  ‘The caterpillar has eaten our flying fried-egg car!’

  CHAPTER 6

  JOURNEY TO THE CASTLE

  ‘Well that’s just great,’ I say, looking at the remains of our flying fried-egg car. ‘How are we supposed to get to the castle now?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ says Terry. ‘I’ve got just the thing!’

  He reaches into his bag and pulls out a horse costume.

  ‘How is that going to help us get to the castle?’ I say.

  ‘Simple,’ says Terry. ‘You put it on and I’ll ride you there.’

  Terry hands me the costume.

  ‘Nuh-uh,’ I say, handing it back. ‘How about you put it on and I ride you there!’

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ says Terry, passing the costume back to me. ‘How about we take turns?’

  ‘GREAT idea,’ I say. ‘And since you thought of it, you can go first.’

  ‘Thanks, Andy!’ says Terry, taking the costume. ‘You’re a real pal.’

  He puts it on and we set off.

  ‘What a lovely day for horse-riding,’ I say.

  ‘Is it your turn to be the horse yet?’ says Terry.

  ‘No, not yet,’ I say.

  ‘How’s the caterpillar?’ says Terry.

  ‘Good,’ I say. ‘I think it’s really enjoying the ride.’

  ‘I sure hope we don’t come across anything that would be hazardous to caterpillars on our journey,’ says Terry.

  ‘Me too,’ I say, as an enormous black bird swoops down towards us.

  ‘Are birds hazardous to caterpillars?’ says Terry.

  ‘Yes!’ I say.

  I reach out to put my hand over the caterpillar but before I can cover it the caterpillar rears up …

  opens its mouth …

  and swallows the bird in one gulp!

  ‘What happened?’ says Terry. ‘Is the caterpillar okay?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘But that bird’s not doing so well. The caterpillar just ate it.’

  ‘I never thought a caterpillar could eat a bird!’ says Terry.

  ‘Neither did I,’ I say. ‘It must be a bird-eating caterpillar.’

  We continue along the road and come to a sharp bend. We hear a loud, rumbling noise.

  ‘What do you think that is?’ says Terry.

  ‘I may be wrong—and I hope I am,’ I say, ‘but it sounds like two steamrollers having a race.’

  ‘You’re right!’ says Terry, as two steamrollers come speeding around the bend towards us!

  ‘Start galloping,’ I say to Terry, ‘as fast as you can!’

  Terry looks around frantically. ‘I can’t gallop,’ he says. ‘I’m not a real horse, you know!’

  ‘Then we’re doomed!’ I say. ‘If the first steamroller doesn’t squash us flat, the second one will for sure!’

  At that moment, the caterpillar jumps off Terry’s head, leaps down onto the road and starts inching its way towards the steamrollers.

  ‘NOOOOO!’ says Terry, putting his hooves over his eyes.

  I can’t bear to look either. I turn away and prepare myself for the sound of a caterpillar being squashed by two speeding steamrollers … but instead I hear the sound of a caterpillar burping.

  I look up.

  The steamrollers are nowhere to be seen and the caterpillar is licking its tiny little lips.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ I say. ‘It ate two speeding steamrollers!’

  ‘That caterpillar saved our lives!’ says Terry.

  ‘That’s weird,’ I say. ‘I can smell rhinoceroses.’

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ says Terry. ‘And I can see them. Three big ones—charging right at us!’

  But before we even have time to panic the caterpillar rears up and opens its mouth wide.

  ‘Wow! I’ve never seen a caterpillar eat three charging rhinoceroses before!’ says Terry.

  ‘What about four wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube men?’ I say.

  ‘Nope, I haven’t seen that either,’ says Terry. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because there’s four of them blocking the road ahead.’

  ‘Cool!’ says Terry. ‘I love those guys!’

  ‘So does the caterpillar,’ I say. ‘Look at it go!’

  ‘Those poor wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube men,’ says Terry. ‘They didn’t deserve to die like that.’

  ‘What about those five giant mutant spiders?’ I say.

  ‘They definitely deserve to die like that,’ says Terry. ‘GO LITTLE CATERPILLAR, GO!’

  ‘It’s lucky we brought this caterpillar with us,’ says Terry. ‘This is the most dangerous road ever! There ought to be a warning sign.’

  ‘There is,’ I say. ‘Look!’

  We walk on. ‘I’m tired,’ says Terry. ‘Is it your turn to be the horse yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I say. ‘Besides, we’re almost there. Look!’

  On the hill ahead of us is the castle. It’s surrounded by a wall of asparagus spears.

  ‘Gee, they’ve really gone with the vegetable theme, haven’t they?’ says Terry.

  ‘That’s because it’s a vegetable castle,’ says a wrinkled old tomato sitting by the side of the road.

  ‘A vegetable castle?’ I say.

  ‘Yes, it sprouted a few days ago,’ says the tomato. ‘It’s part of Prince Potato’s Vegetable Kingdom.’

  ‘Great!’ I say. ‘We need a prince to wake our friend here from her enchanted sleep. Giddy-up, Terry!’

  ‘Not so fast,’ says the tomato, blocking our way.

  ‘You can’t go up there. You shouldn’t even be here.

  The castle and its surroundings are for vegetables only!’

  ‘Then what are you doing here?’ I say. ‘You’re not a vegetable. You’re a fruit.’

  ‘I am so a vegetable,’ says the tomato. ‘When was the last time you ate a tomato for dessert? You have fruit for dessert. Tomatoes are strictly main course!’

  ‘But you have seeds and you grow from the flowering part of a plant,’ says Terry, ‘which technically makes you a fruit.’

  ‘You want to get technical?’ says the tomato, growing quite red in the face. ‘Well, let me tell you, Buddy, that no less an authority than the United States Supreme Court has ruled that a tomato is a vegetable for the purposes of customs regulations, so there.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I say, trying to calm it down. ‘If you say you’re a vegetable, then you’re a vegetable—even if you do have seeds …’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about seeds,’ spits the tomato.

  ‘Cucumbers have seeds and you never hear anybody calling them a fruit. And capsicums have hundreds of seeds, but nobody would mistake one of them for a fruit! And what about squash? Seeds! Seeds all the way through! And don’t even get me started on rutabagas …’

  ‘What is a rutabaga?’ whispers Terry.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘But I get the feeling we’re about to find out.’

  Terry sighs. ‘We’re never going to get to that castle.’

  ‘Shhh!’ I say. ‘Listen!’

  ‘I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘That’s my point,’ I say. ‘The tomato has stopped talking.’

  ‘There’s a reason for that,’ says Terry. ‘The c
aterpillar just ate it.’

  ‘That’s the first healthy choice it’s made all day,’ I say.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM

  We start climbing the hill towards the castle.

  We ignore all the warning signs and continue climbing until we come to the wall of asparagus spears. It’s thicker and higher than it looked from the bottom of the hill.