Monster Pirate Cheese Boy



  Monster Pirate Cheese Boy

  By

  Suzanna Stanbury

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY

  Monster Pirate Cheese Boy

  Copyright © 2011 Suzanna Stanbury

  License Notes

  Thank you for your support.

  Cover art by Liz Ascott Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Fromagium

  It was the day of Trixie Tracy Buttercup Fleming’s birthday party and the perfect opportunity for Alfie Rains to go next door and explore their garden.

  “Alfie!” called his mother. “It’s time to go to Trixie’s party.”

  “I’m ready!” Alfie pelted down the stairs, his legs going like pistons. “Come on, Mum – let’s go.”

  Trixie Tracy Buttercup Fleming was eight years old with tweakable curly red hair and a liking for clothes in all shades of purple.

  “Yuck,” said Alfie, when he spotted Trixie’s party dress.

  “Alfie,” snapped his mother. “Be nice. I think Trixie looks delightful – just like a lilac cupcake. Alfie! Don’t do that! Go and play!”

  Alfie didn’t need a second invitation. Kicking up the soles of his scuffed trainers, he sped to end of the garden. He’d been longing to poke about down there for ages. Many times Alfie had spied Trixie’s father, Professor Fleming, walk to the end of his garden and disappear.

  A line of conifer trees, their thick branches meshed tightly together stretched all the way to the far fence. Pushing and pulling at the greenery, try hard as he might, Alfie couldn’t see any way through to the other side.

  “Rats!” said Alfie, startling a blackbird that flew out of the trees quite close to his face.

  “Hmm, I wonder…” said Alfie. Pushing away a branch in the place where the blackbird had emerged, he struggled through the dark green frondery. Twigs poked his cheek and pine fronds tickled his ear, getting into his mouth and sticking up his nose, but Alfie was determined to fight his way through. Closing his eyes against the prodding branches, he pushed forwards and then stopped. Alfie could go no further as his nose was pressed up against a window.

  “Hmm, mysterious,” he muttered, trying to wriggle his arm up to shine a clear patch on the glass, but it was far too dirty for him to see what was inside. Alfie edged along until he reached the corner of the wall.

  He’d come out into a small yard. The shed – for that was what he’d come up against, was quite large and completely hidden behind the conifers. Alfie rattled the door handle. It was locked. This time, he pulled the handle so hard his fingers slipped and he fell backwards.

  “Grrr,” said Alfie. “Blinking door.” He bounced up, giving the door a swift, but powerful kick. It quivered under his boot and something fell from up above, whizzing past his nose, to land on the ground at his feet. Alfie grinned. Using the key to unlock the door, he gave it a shove. The door flew open, hitting the wall inside.

  It was light inside the shed. Glass panels set into the roof let in a surprising amount of light. Cobwebs strung from the roof supports jiggled in the draught from the open door, disturbed dust settled in grey heaps over shelves that groaned under the weight of boxes, jars and bottles.

  “Wowza,” said Alfie. Venturing further inside and turning round in circles, he stared at the walls packed with shelves. All along one wall of the shed was a bench with a row of brass-handled drawers set into its base. A wooden chair with wheels screwed to the legs squeaked as he pushed it. Alfie tried one of the drawers. It opened easily and was filled with glass rods, trays, small rubber-ended straws and more paperclips than he’d ever seen before. He took a tiny red paperclip and put it in his pocket. Alfie’s eyes strayed to the shelf above the bench where a long line of glass jars of every shape and size were filled with an eye-popping assortment of strange contents.

  “Heatherbat?” said Alfie, squinting at a faded label. Inching along the bench, he read the labels on any jars that took his fancy. At the far end of the bench was an old oak shelving unit covered in little boxes. Each box had a neatly written label. Alfie picked one up. “Iron particulum.” A mess of tiny black specks flew out as he flipped the lid. Alfie stuffed the lid back on so fast; he elbowed the shelf next to him, almost sending a jar crashing to the floor.

  “Phew,” said Alfie, catching it. The jar seemed to be full of moss floating in a bright green liquid. He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff at its contents.

  “Pooh!” Alfie crammed the lid back on and replaced it quickly on the shelf. Next, he pulled the handle of one of the drawers. It moved about a millimetre then refused to budge any further no matter how hard he tried. Planting his feet firmly on the floor Alfie gave the handle a tremendous yank – the drawer flew out, strewing papers everywhere.

  “Stinkers!” Alfie dropped to his hands and knees and began scooping papers back into the drawer. All the time he was putting the things back he kept looking behind him to check Professor Fleming hadn’t appeared in the doorway. The Professor was a large bearded fellow with a deep voice. His jet black spiky eyebrows met in the middle over deep-set eyes making him look as if he were permanently cross. Alfie shuddered. He was absolutely sure Professor Fleming wouldn’t be at all amused if he knew someone, particularly Alfie, had been poking about in his secret workshop. When the papers were all back in place, Alfie picked up the drawer and was just trying to slot it into the workbench when he noticed something hidden in the space at the back of the drawer hole. He poked his arm in and began fishing about.

  “Got it!” Out came a dusty old tin box. It took a bit of prising to get the lid off. Eventually, it popped open revealing two bars wrapped in brown paper. Both had labels which said:

  Fromagium

  “Yum – chocolate!” Alfie pulled the paper apart on one of the bars for a closer look. He snapped off two squares, popped them in his mouth and began chewing. “Funny tasting chocolate,” he muttered, chewing hard. “Nice though. I’ll try a bit more.” Soon, Alfie had chomped an entire bar. He crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket then replaced the other bar in the tin box. Then he put the drawer back, giving it one last shove to make sure it closed properly.

  Alfie stretched out his arms and looked around the workshop for somewhere comfy to sit. He tried the wheeled chair but the plastic seat was slippery and hard. At the far end, tucked in the corner was a high-backed basket-weave chair, with a flowered cushion on the seat.

  “Yuck, purple.” Alfie flung the cushion on the floor. He climbed onto the chair, trying to wriggle into a comfortable position but the wickerwork kept poking him in the back. Reluctantly, he grabbed the cushion and stuffed it behind him.

  “Better,” said Alfie. His eyes began to close, and soon he was fast asleep.

  Strange dreams visited Alfie, making him fidget, and moan in his sleep. Twitching and thrashing, his arms and legs flailed, until eventually Alfie fell out of the chair.

  “Ouch.” Realising he must have been asleep for some time Alfie jumped up and raced out of the workshop, stopping just in time when he remembered to lock the door. He had to throw the key up to the lintel a few times and on the third time it stayed put.

  From the little yard, it was plain to see the trees had been shaped to give easy access to the garden. But, in the garden beyond the trees, no-one would have any idea the secret entrance was there. Alfie put his hands together, parting the pine fronds and moments later was standing on the grass at the bottom of the Fleming’s garden.

  He turned around, and sure enough, saw only a solid mass of greenery behind him. Each conifer tree looked exactly like the next, and if it hadn’t been for the strange taste in his mouth Alfie could well have believed he’d imagined it all.


  A distant shout and a few cheers drifted down the garden. He ran towards the house to see what he’d been missing, hoping no-one had noticed he’d disappeared and that all the food hadn’t been eaten.

  “The buffet is ready,” called Trixie’s mother.

  “Oh, good,” said Alfie, rubbing his hands together. “I’m starving!”

  “Don’t run, children! Alfie, don’t run… oh, goodness!” Mrs Fleming stepped quickly to one side as a horde of children raced towards the table to see what was on offer.

  “Eurgh!” said Alfie, shuddering at the sight of celery sticking out of a tall glass. Then his eyes alighted on a tray of sausage rolls, small puffs of pastry still warm from the oven. He was sure a few of those would rid his mouth of the taste from the strange chocolate. Alfie popped one in and then another until only a few were left.

  “Oh, Alfie,” said Trixie. “You’ve eaten all the cheese puffs.”

  “Cheese?” Alfie doubtfully eyed the little pastry roll in his hand. “I hate cheese!”

  “Those are my favourite snack,” snarled Trixie, giving Alfie a shove. “They were for my party and now you’ve eaten them all, Mummy!” Curls bouncing off her shoulders as she ran, Trixie belted off into the house.

  “Rats!” said Alfie. Suddenly he began to feel rather odd. His face felt warm and his cheeks were burning like a well-stoked fire. “Phew,” puffed Alfie. “I am hot!” Right then his stomach made a burbling noise and before he could stop it, out of his mouth came an enormously loud burp. It echoed around the table for such a long time the children stopped what they were doing, staring at him in amazement. Alfie clapped both hands over his mouth and looked very surprised.

  “There he is, Mummy!” Trixie was dragging her mother along by the hand. “Alfie Rains ate all the cheese puffs, Mummy! Mummy!”

  Still feeling peculiar, Alfie crawled under the table. “Groo,” he said. And then he collapsed, fainted clean away with his feet sticking out under the table.

  *

  When he opened his eyes Alfie didn’t know where on earth he was, but he knew that he was very, very wet. His head ached, water ran down his nose and into his mouth, and when he licked his lips – they tasted salty like the sea. Cautiously, Alfie moved his head. It felt oddly heavy and his neck hurt. Slowly, he looked up. Masts towered above him, rigging jiggled in the breeze and fresh white sails swayed in and out.

  “I’m on a ship,” said Alfie, watching a rope slapping against the mast. “How on earth did I get here?” Right then a mighty wave hit the side of the ship, the tip of its white curl came over the deck-rail, sloping water all over him. Another wave hit, sending a shower of needle-sharp droplets onto his face. Alfie tried to get up but couldn’t. Wriggling round he managed to sit up – but, something didn’t feel quite right to him.

  “Cor,” said Alfie. His legs appeared to be much longer than usual and he was wearing huge black boots with fold-over cuffs. Scruffy breeches fastened with leather laces finished just level with the boot tops. Alfie banged his feet together, jumped up and kept on going up.

  “Wow,” said Alfie. “I’m blimmin’ ENORMOUS!” So impressed was he, Alfie felt compelled to do a little dance to dry off. His big feet thumped on the deck of the ship, splashing in the water left behind by the waves. He shook his head. “What’s that tingling? Ringing dinging?” Looking down his eyes grew wide. “A beard! I’ve always wanted a beard.” Thick and black, the beard was plaited at the end, and tethered with a small golden bell.

  His black jacket had lots of gold braid sewn down the front, protruding out of the sleeves were frayed lacy cuffs draping over shovel-sized hands. He waved his hands around, enjoying the feel of the cuffs flapping in the breeze.

  “Cor,” said Alfie, lifting his hands and staring at them. “My fingers are like sausages.” He gave them a wiggle, grinning happily and curling his hands into fists the size of hams. And then Alfie noticed something else. At his waist hung a worn leather belt, silver loops hung down, each holding a dangling cutlass.

  “Swords!” Slowly Alfie removed a cutlass and stared at the blade. It was very long and looked razor-sharp. He swished the blade through the air bringing the cutlass down on the deck so hard the point stuck fast in the wood. Alfie yanked at the handle with such force he fell over backwards. Clambering up to his feet, Alfie removed another cutlass and for a while was quite lost in the sheer joy of whirling the blades round his head. Several scythed ropes and a split barrel later, Alfie returned the cutlasses to his sides, stroked the hilts and grinned happily.

  “This is great!” Alfie threw back his head and let out a whoop of joy. “Ooh, what’s that? A hat.” Alfie snatched it up from a puddle on the deck, giving it a good shake. “A real and proper pirate’s hat.” The hat was large and black with a twisted brim and a gold band and had a broken feather tilting to one side. Cramming the hat back on his head, Alfie stamped his feet again.

  “HAR-DE-HAR!” He flicked the tatty scarf hanging round his neck, going cross-eyed to look at the pattern of little knives on the material. “I’m a real live pirate! Ooh!” Enjoying the echoes of his new deep and booming voice bouncing around the ship, Alfie cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hello! Hello!” he shouted. “I’m a mighty pirate and I’m very, very loud!”

  When he stopped booming for a moment to catch his breath, Alfie heard a shout. He was just casting a glance around the ship to see where the voice had come from when another shout came from the stern. A shriek followed, and then from out of the hold appeared some hands followed by a scrawny sailor who vaulted onto the deck. Stopping in his tracks when he spotted Alfie, the man began to wail. Then he took to his heels and ran, shouting words Alfie couldn’t understand as he raced across the deck. More men appeared, crying out in terror when they saw Alfie.

  “ARR!” shouted Alfie, shaking his fists above his head. “ARRRGH!”

  He ran at a sailor, chasing him around a mast. Round and round they went until Alfie caught the struggling sailor by his collar.

  “Gotcha!” he said, triumphantly. “Ha! Now what am I going to… OW!” Alfie flung his arm wide, sending the sailor flying over the side. Alfie sucked his bitten finger staring down at the churning waves below where the sailor had sunk.

  “I’ll teach you to bite me, you bumptious barnacles.” Alfie leapt across the deck towards the next nearest sailor, thumping his feet down with all his might. “Come here you little…” Suddenly remembering the cutlasses, Alfie pulled them out and let rip a mighty battle cry. The sailors panicked and began to run shrieking in every direction.

  Alfie chased the sailors all over the ship, dipping and swooping his blades as he ran. A couple of sailors jumped overboard and swam away, others dived into barrels, some hid in coils of rope – the rest shimmied up the rigging, hugging the masts far above his head.

  “HAH!” Alfie put his cutlasses away and shook the mast. “I’m big and I’m very strong!” Bringing his palms together he made a noise like a thunder-clap. A squeak of fear came from above. Looking up, Alfie saw a sailor dangling from a thin rope, his hands slipping downwards, wriggling frantically trying not to drop on Alfie’s head.

  “Whee!” Alfie caught him, then bounced the sailor over the side. “Oh, ho!” said Alfie. “What have we here?”

  Behind a crate a green feather was waving in the breeze. Alfie peered over the top of the crate and smiled. The ship’s Captain was clutching a wooden chest in front of him. Alfie sniffed. There was a very curious smell drifting upwards that he didn’t recognise. A sudden urge pumped through his body, making him quiver and shake.

  “Mine!” shouted Alfie, whisking the crate out of the terrified Captain’s hands. Holding it up, he gave it a shake. Grinning at the satisfying rattle that came from within, he placed the chest on the deck and gave it a kick. But the chest was wrapped around with thick chains, fastened with a stout padlock. Alfie took a few steps backwards, aimed his foot at the chest, giving the lock a mighty kick. The lock flew off, landing in
a coil of rope.

  “Ouch!” said the coil of rope.

  “Hmm,” said Alfie, turning back to the chest. The chains had fallen away and the second Alfie flipped the lid open, the sun emerged from behind a bank of grey clouds, shining down on a heap of gold and jewels. For a moment, he basked in the warm yellow glow of treasure bathing his face in sumptuous light.

  “Ahh, lovely gold!” Alfie plunged his hands deep inside the chest. Rummaging about he brought up two handfuls of doubloons, then let them trickle back down into the chest. Again and again he did this, enjoying the tinkling sound the coins made. Then he stuck his nose into the gold and took a big sniff. “Ahh,” sighed Alfie. “The smell of gold.”

  Just as Alfie scooped up yet another handful of coins, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. The Captain was haring down the deck, the tails of his coat flying out behind him. In a heartbeat, Alfie was after him, his long legs covering the deck in a few strides. He grabbed the tail of the Captain’s coat.

  “Going somewhere?” said Alfie, hauling the Captain towards him.

  The Captain tried his hardest to wriggle out of his coat and only succeeding in getting into a terrible tangle. Turning in circles, the deck creaked and groaned as Alfie jumped about, hauling the Captain nearer.

  “Aha,” said Alfie, “just what I need – a loose board. Walk the plank, Captain!” Raising his foot, Alfie slammed it down so hard the plank sprung free, and with a loud twang the Captain catapulted up into the air. Over and over he somersaulted before flipping over the deck-rail, landing astride a canon poking out of the side.

  Slowly, even though he’d wrapped his legs tightly, the Captain slipped round until he was hanging upside down like a bat. First his hat fell off, dropping into the surf, moments later, the Captain followed it.

  “HAR-DE-HAR!” shouted Alfie. “The Captain’s gone, now it’s just me and the dope in the rope.” Stalking back to the coil he began to unravel it. Quick as a flash the sailor jumped out and dived over the side of the ship.

  “Wise choice,” said Alfie.

  Down the deck he strode, back towards the treasure chest. This time Alfie had a good trawl right down to the bottom and discovered a diamond tiara and a pile of glittering gems hidden beneath the doubloons.