The 91-Storey Treehouse Page 5

  Yahoo and Wikipedia,

  For I am Madam Know-it-all,

  The human encyclopaedia!

  But don’t tell me that I know enough

  Because I know I never will.

  The thought of all I still don’t know

  Makes me feel rather ill.

  I want to know who and what

  And why and when and how.

  I want to know it all

  And I want to know it now.

  I want to know who made the colours

  And gave each one a name.

  And who the heck made spiders?

  Is there someone we can blame?

  I want to know why flowers grow,

  Why rivers flow and noses blow.

  I want to know where rainbows go.

  I really, really want to know!

  I want to know each word in the world

  And I want to know its meaning.

  I want to know how the pyramids were built

  And why the Tower of Pisa is leaning.

  I want to know why volcanoes erupt

  And how mountains rise and fall.

  I want to know the price of fish.

  I want to know it ALL!

  I want to know why rocks are hard

  And cookies always crumble.

  I want to know why babies laugh

  And old men like to grumble.

  I want to know hither

  And I want to know thither.

  I want to know the difference

  Between xylophone and zither.

  Who made typewriters?

  Who made the moon?

  How many black rings

  On the tail of a raccoon?

  Who’s the fastest?

  Who’s the tallest?

  Who’s the strongest and the best?

  Who’s the richest?

  Who’s the poorest?

  Which bird builds the biggest nest?

  What’s the widest?

  What’s the deepest?

  Why does the sun set in the west?

  Until I know it all,

  I will never, ever rest!

  CHAPTER 12

  Pop-Pop Pops!

  ‘The video phone is ringing,’ says Terry.

  ‘I know!’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘You should answer it,’ I say. ‘It will probably be Mr Big Nose!’

  ‘I know!’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘He probably wants Alice and Albert and the baby back,’ says Terry.

  ‘I know,’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘You really should answer it,’ I say. ‘He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’

  ‘I know!’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  Madam Know-it-all answers the phone. Mr Big Nose’s face—and nose—fills the screen.

  ‘Hello!’ he yells. ‘It’s Mr Big Nose here!’

  ‘I know who you are,’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘I want to speak to Andy and Terry.’

  ‘I know that too,’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘Then put them on,’ he says. ‘I’m a very busy man, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ she says.

  ‘Put them on at once,’ he says. ‘I’m getting impatient.’

  ‘I know you are,’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘I’ve had just about enough of this,’ he says.

  ‘I know you have,’ she says. ‘I am Madam Know-it-all and I know everything. Is there anything you’d like to know? All you have to do is ask.’

  ‘Well, listen up, Madam Whoever-you-are,’ says Mr Big Nose. ‘Here’s something you don’t know: if you don’t stop wasting my time and put Andy and Terry on the phone I’m going to get very angry!’

  ‘Actually, I do know that,’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ he says. ‘You are pushing me to the limit of my patience!’

  ‘I know I am,’ says Madam Know-it-all.

  ‘You’re making me very, VERY angry!’ he says.

  ‘I know,’ she says.

  ‘Very, very, VERY angry.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY ANGRY!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘In fact, I’m so angry I feel like I could explode … or a certain part of me, at least.’

  ‘I know,’ she says.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ I say.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ says Terry.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ says Jill.

  The force of the explosion sends us all flying backwards.

  We sit up and look at each other.

  ‘Is everybody okay?’ says Jill.

  ‘I think I am,’ says Alice.

  ‘Me too,’ says Albert.

  ‘Pop-pop’s nose go pop!’ says the baby.

  We all laugh.

  ‘Hey!’ says Terry, patting his head. ‘The brain-draining turbans are gone!’

  ‘And so is Madam Know-it-all,’ I say. ‘Look!’

  In the place where Madam Know-it-all was standing, there is only a pair of smoking shoes and three stunned snakes.

  ‘Eeek! Snakes!’ says Terry.

  ‘Oh, you poor things,’ says Jill, picking them up.

  ‘Be careful, Jill,’ I say. ‘They’re evil fortune teller’s snakes!’

  ‘No they’re not,’ says Jill, cuddling them close to her face. ‘You’re just innocent victims, aren’t you? Would you like to come and live with me in my cottage?’

  The snakes hiss excitedly, which I guess means yes. Jill’s other animals aren’t looking quite as enthusiastic, though.

  ‘Do you think Pop-pop’s nose will be all right?’ says Albert.

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It’s probably not the first time it’s happened … and, somehow, I doubt it will be the last.’

  ‘Now that Madam Know-it-all is gone,’ says Alice. ‘What will you do with her tent?’

  ‘We could turn this level into a campsite,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Terry. ‘It would be fun to camp out every now and then and have a campfire.’

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ says Jill. ‘You could create a Madam Know-it-all memorial reference library and fill it with proper reference books, full of true facts and accurate information.’

  ‘What about fiction?’ says Terry. ‘Can our library have books with made-up stuff, too?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ says Jill. ‘You can learn from fiction as well as from non-fiction.’

  ‘Quite right, Jill,’ I say. ‘It’s my considered opinion that knowledge is power, but there is a limit to what we can know and what we can learn in this lifetime, so it’s important to let our imaginations run wild and set us free, because imagination is the force that can unlock the power within and give us what knowledge cannot.’

  ‘Do I need to get my mallet again, Andy?’ says Terry.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry about that. I have no idea what I just said but think I’m okay now.’

  ‘I think what’s important here,’ says Jill, ‘is that if you want to know stuff, just read a book—any book for goodness’ sake. There’s no need to go around turbanating other people’s brains!’

  ‘Speaking of books,’ I say, ‘we still haven’t written ours!’

  ‘Can we be in it?’ says Alice.

  ‘Yes, please put us in the book,’ says Albert. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a character in a book. Especially one of yours!’

  ‘Of course you can be in it!’ I say. ‘In fact, you can even help us write and draw it!’

  ‘Yay!’ says Albert. ‘But what will the story be about?’

  ‘Babysitting, of course!’ says Terry.

  ‘Yeah!’ says Alice. ‘We’ll call it The Funnest and Best Babysitting Day Ever!’

  ‘Well, that is a great title,’ I say, ‘but I think we’d probably better call it The 91-Storey Treehouse or our readers might get confused.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Alice. ‘The 91-Storey Treehouse it is.’

  CHAPTER 13

  The Last Chapter

&
nbsp; We all set to work as fast as we can.

  We write …

  and we draw …

  and we draw …

  and we write …

  and we write …

  and we write …

  and we draw …

  and we draw …

  and we draw …

  and we draw …

  and we write …

  and we write …

  and, finally, we’re done!

  ‘Look!’ says Albert, as we all pore over the pages. ‘There’s me!’

  ‘And there’s me!’ says Alice.

  ‘And there’s me!’ says Terry. ‘Look, Andy! I’m in a book! I’m in a book!’

  ‘You’re in every book we write,’ I remind him.

  ‘So?’ he says, shrugging. ‘That doesn’t make it any less exciting. Jill! I’m in a book … and so is Andy … and so are you!’

  ‘Yes,’ says Jill, ‘and it’s come out pretty good, too! In fact, I think it might be my favourite one yet.’

  ‘Mine too!’ says Terry. ‘The only thing that could possibly make it even better is if we could push the big red button now. Can we, Andy? Can we push it?’

  ‘Yes!’ says Albert. ‘Can we? Can we?’

  ‘No!’ I say. ‘It’s too dangerous! You heard what Madam Know-it-all said when we asked her about it. She saw a big explosion and then a whole bunch of DOOM!’

  ‘But what if the big red thing Madam Know-it-all saw exploding wasn’t the big red button?’ says Terry. ‘What if it was Mr Big Nose’s big red nose exploding after she pushed him to the limit of his patience?’

  ‘Yes!’ says Jill. ‘She did say herself that she didn’t know absolutely everything, so it’s possible she may have been wrong about the big red button.’

  ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ I say, ‘but I don’t know— even if there’s only a small chance that pushing the button will blow up the whole world, well, that’s a pretty big risk to take …’

  ‘But not pushing it is a pretty big risk to take too,’ says Terry. ‘We might miss out on something really amazing—like rainbows coming out of our noses, for instance.’

  ‘I want a rainbow to come out of my nose,’ says Albert.

  ‘So do I!’ says Alice, jumping up and down.

  ‘It does sound quite nice,’ says Jill. ‘But, then, I wouldn’t want the whole world to blow up.’

  ‘All right,’ I say. ‘We’ll take a vote. All in favour of pushing the big red button so we can find out what happens when we push the big red button, raise your hand!’

  Terry and Alice and Albert put their hands in the air.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, ‘now all those not in favour of pushing the big red button so we can find out what happens when we push the big red button, raise your hand!’

  Me and Jill and Albert put our hands in the air. (Albert obviously doesn’t understand what voting is—or maybe he just likes putting his hands in the air. But a vote is a vote, so I count it.)

  ‘Three in favour and three not in favour,’ I say.

  ‘It’s a tie,’ says Jill.

  ‘What about the baby?’ says Terry. ‘The baby didn’t vote.’

  ‘Good point, Terry,’ I say. ‘But where is the baby?’

  We look around.

  OH NO! The baby is climbing up onto the big red button!

  ‘No!’ I yell.

  But the baby just says, ‘Goo-goo ga-ga!’ and pulls itself up onto the button …

  crawls towards the middle …

  and plops down.

  KA-CHUNK goes the button.

  ‘We’re doomed!’ I yell. ‘We’re all doomed! The baby has just pressed the big red button!’

  ‘What do we do now?’ says Terry.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ I say, ‘except wait for our doom.’

  ‘But when is it going to happen?’ says Terry.

  ‘Yeah, why is it taking so long?’ says Albert.

  ‘Yeah!’ says Alice. ‘You said the world was going to blow up! You promised!’

  ‘I didn’t promise,’ I say. ‘I said it might happen. Just be patient—you can’t rush the end of the world. It will happen when it happens.’

  ‘If it happens!’ says Jill. ‘I think it’s looking more and more likely that Terry is right—Madam Know-it-all confused the big red button with Mr Big Nose’s nose.’

  ‘Bad luck, Andy,’ says Terry. ‘Sorry you were wrong about the world blowing up.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ I say. ‘Look on the bright side: the whole world didn’t blow up.’

  ‘Yeah, but look on the not-so-bright side,’ says Terry. ‘Rainbows didn’t come out of our noses either.’

  ‘Actually,’ says Jill, ‘speaking of noses, mine does feel kind of funny.’

  ‘Is it tingling?’ says Alice.

  ‘Yes!’ says Jill.

  ‘Mine too!’ says Alice.

  ‘And mine,’ says Albert.

  ‘And mine!’ says Terry. ‘What about yours, Andy?’

  ‘Well, I must admit, I do have a very odd sensation in my nose, but that doesn’t mean …’

  ‘We’ve got rainbows coming out of our noses, Andy!’ says Terry. ‘This is the best thing ever! And to think you didn’t want to push the button!’

  ‘It is very cool to have rainbows coming out of our noses, that’s for sure,’ I say. ‘But what would make it the best thing ever would be if it could somehow help us to get our book—and the children—to Mr Big Nose on time.’

  ‘Wow!’ says Jill. ‘Look at the size of the rainbow coming out of the Trunkinator’s trunk! It’s enormous!’

  ‘Yeah,’ says Terry. ‘It goes all the way over the forest and into Mr Big Nose’s office!’

  ‘This is just what we needed! We can use the rainbow as a bridge!’ I say. ‘Come on, everybody, jump on!’

  We all climb up onto the Trunkinator’s head and slide up the rainbow …

  over the forest …

  and down into Mr Big Nose’s office.

  ‘Looks like our work here is done,’ I say, as Alice, Albert and the baby hug Mr and Mrs Big Nose.

  ‘I guess we’d better get back to the treehouse,’ says Terry. ‘Before the Trunkinator’s trunk-rainbow fades.’

  We are just about to climb back onto the rainbow when Alice and Albert come running over.

  ‘Goodbye Andy, Terry and Jill,’ says Albert. ‘Thanks for the best babysitting day ever!’

  ‘Goo-goo ga-ga,’ says the baby.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I say. ‘Come back whenever you like!’

  ‘It was really nice to meet you,’ says Jill. ‘And thanks for all your help looking after Andy and Terry.’

  ‘See you next time,’ says Terry.

  We turn to leave.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ says Alice. She takes a black texta and writes WORLD’S GREATEST BABYSITTERS on one of Mr Big Nose’s publishing trophies.

  ‘It’s for all three of you,’ says Alice.

  ‘Thanks!’ says Terry. ‘We love it!’

  ‘Yes!’ I say. ‘That’s definitely going in the trophy room!’

  We climb back

  onto the rainbow

  and slide up …

  over the forest …

  and back down into the treehouse.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ says Terry.

  ‘Build another 13 levels on our treehouse, of course,’ I say.

  ‘I hoped you were going to say that,’ says Terry.

  ‘I knew you were going to say that,’ says Jill.

  THE END

  The 104-Storey Treehouse

  ABOUT ANDY GRIFFITHS AND TERRY DENTON

  Andy Griffiths lives in a 91-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 91-storey treehouse with his frien
d 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).