The 39-Storey Treehouse Read online

  ‘Sure, there you go,’ says Terry. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get started …’

  As I watch, Terry draws stars, planets and moons …

  UFOs, black holes, comets, meteorites, supernovas, red dwarfs, terrifying aliens and hideous monsters that I thought only existed in science fiction comics.

  ‘Yikes!’ I say.

  ‘Calm down, Andy,’ says Terry, ‘it’s just a razor-toothed, Venusian blood-sucking worm-man!’

  ‘I know,’ I say, ‘but do you really have to draw it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I have to draw everything back exactly the way it was before!’

  Terry draws the entire Milky Way Galaxy, including the sun and the moon and all the planets: Mars, Mercury, Venus, Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, Uranus and the most important one of all—Earth!

  ‘YAY! Earth!’ I say. ‘Can we go there right now?’

  ‘Not so fast, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘I have to draw all the stuff on it first.’

  ‘Well, hurry up!’ I say. ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I’m really missing gravity … plus I also need to go to the bathroom.’

  Terry draws everything on the Earth’s surface, including the oceans, the mountains, the deserts, the forests, the savannas and the swamps.

  He draws all the roads and buildings, including houses, hospitals, sporting stadiums, schools, shops and roadside stalls.

  ‘Hey, that’s pretty good,’ I say. ‘Can I do some?’

  ‘Thanks for the offer, Andy,’ says Terry, ‘but it’s probably better if you let me do it. In fact, promise me that you won’t draw anything.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, ‘I promise.’

  Terry starts drawing all the animals on Earth.

  ‘Don’t bother drawing all the rabbits,’ I say. ‘Two will be enough.’

  ‘Why?’ says Terry.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘Just keep drawing. I’ll tell you about the rabbits later.’

  It doesn’t take long before Terry has got everything almost back to normal, including the forest, our tree and our treehouse—all 39 levels!

  Terry sighs. ‘There,’ he says, ‘that’s it.’

  ‘I think you forgot something,’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jill!’ I say.

  ‘Oops,’ says Terry. ‘One Jill coming right up!’

  ‘How’s that?’ says Terry.

  ‘Too tall,’ I say.

  Terry draws her again.

  ‘How about this?’ he says.

  ‘Too short.’

  ‘What about this?’ says Terry.

  ‘Just right!’ I say.

  Jill blushes.

  Terry giggles.

  I look around to see what’s so funny. Terry has drawn love hearts just above my head.

  ‘Terry!’ I say. ‘Cut it out.’

  ‘Sorry, Andy,’ says Terry, removing them with his laser-eraser. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Much better,’ I say.

  ‘Okay,’ says Terry. ‘Well, if you two lovebirds will excuse me, I’d better go and finish colouring in all the fish in the sea.’

  He runs off laughing.

  ‘What’s going on?’ says Jill. ‘All my animals disappeared … and then I disappeared!’

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ I say. ‘I’m afraid you and your animals got un-invented.’

  ‘Un-invented?’ says Jill. ‘How?’

  ‘Professor Stupido, the famous un-inventor, did it,’ I explain. ‘We asked him to un-invent our Once-upon-a-time machine but he ended up un-inventing the whole universe, including himself. Terry’s only just finished drawing everything back again.’

  ‘What about Silky?’ says Jill. ‘Is she all right?’

  I look around but I can’t see her anywhere.

  ‘I think Terry might have forgotten about Silky,’ I say.

  Jill’s eyes fill with tears.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll fix it.’

  ‘How?’ says Jill.

  ‘I’ll draw you a new Silky.’

  ‘I didn’t think you could draw,’ she says.

  ‘Not as well as Terry, no, but how hard could it be to draw a flying cat?’ I say. ‘They’re just a few circles, whiskers, wings and a tail.’

  I try to draw Silky as best as I can, but she doesn’t come out quite right. In fact, she doesn’t look like a flying cat at all. More like a mutant-lion kind of thing.

  I’m trying to draw its ears on when it looks at me with its badly drawn eyes and starts growling.

  ‘Andy!’ cries Jill. ‘What have you drawn?!’

  ‘To tell you the truth,’ I say, ‘I’m not quite sure. Can you talk to it and try to calm it down?’

  ‘I can’t talk to it,’ says Jill. ‘It doesn’t have any ears!’

  ‘We’d better call Terry, then,’ I say.

  ‘HELP!’ we both yell. ‘TERRY! HELP! COME QUICKLY!’

  Terry comes running, his laser-eraser in his hand.

  ‘Stand back,’ he says as he drops to one knee and takes aim.

  When he’s finished, he turns to me and says, ‘You promised you wouldn’t draw anything.’

  ‘How do you know I drew it?’ I say.

  ‘Only you could draw something as badly drawn as that,’ he says, shaking his head.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t have had to draw anything if you’d remembered to draw Silky.’

  ‘I did draw Silky,’ he says, ‘and all her friends! Look, here they are now!’

  We look up.

  The sky is filled with flying cats.

  While Jill hugs Silky and all her other flying cats, my jet-chair appears and I fly up into the treehouse.

  It’s all just exactly as it was before. The tank full of man-eating sharks,

  the bowling alley,

  the opera house,

  and even the Once-upon-a-time machine …

  Hang on!!!

  The Once-upon-a-time machine???????????????

  What’s THAT doing here????????????????????

  ‘TERRY!’ I yell.

  Terry appears, closely followed by Jill.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he says.

  ‘That’s what’s the matter!’ I say, pointing at the machine. ‘Why did you redraw the Once-upon-a-time machine after we went to all that trouble to get rid of it?’

  ‘I didn’t redraw it!’ he says.

  ‘Then how come it’s here?’ I say.

  Terry thinks for a moment. ‘It must have redrawn itself!’ he says.

  ‘Oh, great!’ I say. ‘Then that means the last 142 pages have all been for nothing!’

  ‘Well at least it’s not switched on,’ says Jill, ‘otherwise it wouldn’t have let us into the treehouse.’

  ‘You’re right,’ says Terry, ‘and look—there’s a manuscript in the print-out chute. It must have finished our book!’

  ‘Let me see!’ I say.

  ‘Me, too!’ says Jill.

  We read the book …

  ‘Well,’ says Terry, ‘what do you think?’

  ‘Action-packed!’ I say. ‘It’s got everything I asked for. The only thing missing is the explosion.’

  ‘I can’t wait to read it to the animals,’ says Jill. ‘They’re going to love it—especially chapter seven!’

  ‘It makes you wonder, though,’ I say. ‘Did everything we’ve just been through really happen or was it just a story made up by the machine?’

  ‘It sure felt real,’ says Terry. ‘Especially when Mr Hee-Haw bit me on the hand.’

  ‘Well, whether it was real or just a story,’ says Jill, ‘I expect you’ve both learned a very good lesson from all this.’

  ‘What?’ says Terry.

  ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ says Jill.

  ‘Um …’ says Terry. ‘Andy can’t draw?’

  ‘You already knew that,’ says Jill.

  ‘He can’t count?’ says Terry.

  ‘Obviously not,’ says Jill. ‘But that’s not a moral.’

&nb
sp; ‘Look before you leap?’ I say.

  Jill sighs. ‘I think you’d both better read the book again,’ she says.

  So we do.

  ‘You know,’ says Terry when we’re finished, ‘it seems to me that I invented the writing and drawing machine to save us work, but it ended up causing us much more trouble and bother than it would have been to just write the book ourselves in the first place.’

  ‘Well done, Terry!’ says Jill. ‘That’s the moral right there!’

  ‘Ugh!’ I say. ‘That stupid machine put a moral in and I hate stories with a moral!’

  ‘Speaking of that stupid machine,’ says Terry, ‘where is it?’

  We all look around.

  ‘It’s gone!’ says Jill.

  ‘Somebody must have stolen it while we were reading the book,’ says Terry.

  ‘But who would do such a thing?’ says Jill.

  ‘Them, that’s who!’ I say, pointing to a group of fake postal workers making their way through the forest with our machine.

  ‘Those postmen?’ says Jill.

  ‘They’re not postmen,’ I say. ‘They’re the Birthday Card Bandits! Now they’ll be able to write stories just like ours … but with morals!’

  ‘I thought you said you hated stories with morals?’ says Jill.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I say, ‘but other people love that sort of stuff!’

  ‘Relax, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘Remember the big-toe recognition security feature? If anyone other than us tries to start the machine, it will self-destruct.’

  We hear a loud explosion.

  ‘Like that?’ says Jill.

  ‘Exactly like that!’ says Terry. ‘Looks like you got your explosion after all, Andy!’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘and even better, we’re free of the Once-upon-a-time machine once and for all—it can’t possibly redraw itself now!’

  ‘Well, I think this calls for a special celebration,’ says Terry.

  ‘Great idea!’ I say. ‘What should we start with: marshmallows, lemonade, chocolate waterfall?’

  ‘None of them,’ says Terry. ‘I’ve got something even better. Follow me!’

  Jill and I follow Terry to the ice-cream parlour. ‘Hot ice-creams!’ calls Edward Scooperhands excitedly. ‘Get your hot ice-creams!’

  ‘Hot ice-cream?’ I say. ‘But I thought Professor Stupido un-invented hot ice-cream.’

  ‘He did,’ says Terry. ‘But when I was redrawing the universe I took the opportunity to redraw it and a few of the other things he had un-invented as well.’

  Jill chooses raspberry ripple, I choose rocky road and Terry orders three triple scoops of chocolate, double chocolate and triple chocolate.

  ‘Wow!’ says Jill. ‘Hot ice-cream is delicious. It’s just like cold ice-cream, only hot!’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘and no brain freeze!’

  ‘Mmmm,’ says Terry. ‘Chocolatey!’

  ‘Professor Stupido was crazy to un-invent this stuff,’ says Jill.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Terry. ‘I’m starting to think that maybe he wasn’t such a genius after all.’

  Terry gasps. ‘Oh no! Watch out for that frogpotamus, Andy!’ he yells.

  ‘What frogpotamus?’ I say.

  I look up to see a 10-tonne frogpotamus hurtling towards me, its mouth wide open.

  Everything goes dark.

  And slimy.

  And smelly.

  This is even worse than being sneezed on by Terry!

  ‘Be careful, Terry, don’t hurt it!’ I hear Jill saying as Terry pulls the frogpotamus off me.

  ‘What about me?’ I say.

  ‘You’ll be fine, Andy,’ says Jill. ‘But frogpotamuses are delicate and easily frightened!’

  ‘Then why did it jump on my head?’ I say.

  ‘Because it wanted some of your ice-cream,’ says Jill. ‘Frogpotamuses love hot ice-cream. Everybody knows that.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t,’ I say, wiping frogpotamus spit off my face with the handkerchief Terry drew me, ‘and I don’t like frogpotamuses.’

  ‘Don’t be mean,’ says Jill. ‘I think it’s cute.’

  ‘You can have it if you want,’ says Terry.

  ‘Really?’ says Jill.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘From now on the treehouse is a frogpotamus-free zone.’

  ‘Thanks, Andy and Terry,’ says Jill. ‘See you both later.’

  She climbs onto the frogpotamus’s back and whispers into its ear. It jumps out of the tree and hops off into the forest.

  ‘So, that all worked out pretty well,’ says Terry. ‘Not only did we get to taste hot ice-cream but Jill got a new pet frogpotamus and we got our book!’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘except that it’s almost five o’clock and there’s no way we’re going to be able to get it to Mr Big Nose on time!’

  ‘Yes there is!’ says Terry.

  ‘How?’

  ‘By flying beetroot, of course!’ says Terry.

  He whistles and two brand-new, shiny, flying beetroots whoosh up and hover in front of us.

  ‘One for me … and one for you!’ says Terry.

  ‘Wow!’ I say. ‘Thanks, Terry. But what about the vegetable vaporiser? Won’t it vaporise them? Beetroots are vegetables, you know.’

  ‘No problem,’ says Terry. ‘When I redrew the vegetable vaporiser I added a flying beetroot-override switch.’

  ‘Brilliant, Terry!’ I say. ‘Let’s go! Up, up and away!’

  ‘Will you tell me about the rabbits now, Andy?’ says Terry.

  ‘Sure,’ I say, ‘but first I want to talk about adding another 13 storeys to the treehouse.’

  ‘You mean we’re going to make a 52-storey treehouse?’ says Terry.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘If that’s what 39 plus 13 is.’

  ‘That’s exactly what it is,’ says Terry. ‘And then you’ll tell me about the rabbits?’

  ‘Of course, Terry,’ I say. ‘I promise.’

  THE END

  The 52-Storey Treehouse

  Join Andy and Terry in their newly expanded 52-storey treehouse, featuring 13 brand-new, surprising, crazy and fun-packed storeys!

  COMING SEPTEMBER 2014

  Andy Griffiths lives in a 39-storey treehouse with his friend Terry and together they make funny books, just like the one you’re holding in your hands right now. Andy writes the words and Terry draws the pictures. If you’d like to know more, read this book (or visit www.andygriffiths.com.au).

  Terry Denton lives in a 39-storey treehouse with his friend Andy and together they make funny books, just like the one you’re holding in your hands right now. Terry draws the pictures and Andy writes the words. If you’d like to know more, read this book (or visit www.terrydenton.com).

  ALSO BY ANDY GRIFFITHS

  AND ILLUSTRATED BY TERRY DENTON

  Just Tricking!

  Just Annoying!

  Just Stupid!

  Just Crazy!

  Just Disgusting!

  Just Shocking!

  Just Macbeth!

  Just Doomed!

  The Bad Book

  The Very Bad Book

  The Cat on the Mat is Flat

  The Big Fat Cow That Goes Kapow

  What Bumosaur is That?

  What Body Part is That?

  The 13-Storey Treehouse

  The 26-Storey Treehouse

  Once upon a Slime

  ALSO BY ANDY GRIFFITHS

  The Day My Bum Went Psycho

  Zombie Bums from Uranus

  Bumageddon: The Final Pongflict

  Schooling Around:

  Treasure Fever!

  Pencil of Doom!

  Mascot Madness!

  Robot Riot!

  First published 2013 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  Text copyright © Backyard Stories Pty Ltd 2013

  Illustration copyright © Terry Denton 2013

  The moral rights of the creators have been asserted.

  Al
l 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: 9781743289594

  Typeset by Liz Seymour

  Cover design by Terry Denton

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