Funny Kid Slapstick Chapter Sampler

BRRRR! CLOSE THE COVER, WOULD YOU? YOU'RE LETTING IN THE COLD AIR!

IT'S FREEZING! DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO SIT THERE WITH THE COVER OPEN? WHERE ARE YOU READING THIS? THE NORTH POLE? WELL, COME ON IN IF YOU HAVE TO. JUST CLOSE THE COVER BEHIND YOU!

NOW, ISN'T THIS COSY? I GUESS IT’S BETTER BEING SQUISHED TOGETHER THAN COLD. WE SHOULD PROBABLY INTRODUCE OURSELVES. MY NAME IS MAX WALBURT, BUT MOST PEOPLE CALL ME ...

funny kid

unnyki slapstick

written and illustrated by Matt Stanton

The ABC ‘Wave’ device is a trademark of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and is used under licence by HarperCollins Publishers Australia. First published in Australia in 2019 by HarperCollins Children’sBooks a division of HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty Limited

ABN 36 009 913 517 harpercollins.com.au

Copyright © Beck & Matt Stanton Pty Ltd 2019

The right of Matt Stanton to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000 . This work is copyright.Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 , no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher. HarperCollins Publishers Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney NSW 2000,Australia Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive, Rosedale,Auckland 0632, New Zealand A 53, Sector 57, Noida, UP, India 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF, United Kingdom 2 Bloor Street East, 20th floor,Toronto, Ontario M4W 1A8, Canada 195 Broadway, NewYork NY 10007, USA

For Josh. You’re such a fun friend to have!

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia

ISBN 978 0 7333 3948 6 (paperback) ISBN 978 1 4607 1038 8 (ebook)

Cover and internal design by Matt Stanton Typeset in Adobe Garamond by Kelli Lonergan Author photograph by Jennifer Blau Printed and bound in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group The papers used by HarperCollins in the manufacture of this book are a natural, recyclable product made from wood grown in sustainable plantation forests.The fibre source and manufacturing processes meet recognised international environmental standards, and carry certification.

If we don’t ask ourselves these important questions, we’ll end up doing all sorts of silly things just because someone says so.

Like a ball - pointless!

DON’T WASTE YOUR LIFE, PEOPLE! QUESTION EVERYTHING! AT THE VERY LEAST, IT’LL ANNOY THE BEANS OUT OF YOUR TEACHER AND IF THAT’S NOT ENOUGH OF A REASON, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS.

Can someone just tell me WHY? I mean, what is the point? Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m just asking the question. Don’t you ever ask yourself why we do certain things? Well … maybe you should. I’ll help you start. Why turn off the TV when you’re just going to have to turn it back on again? Why shower when you’re just going to get dirty tomorrow? Why use toilet paper when you have to wash your hands anyway?

Which brings me back to where I started:

what is the point?

You have no idea what I’m talking about,

do you?

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Or in the basket. Or between the posts. Why? Because … well … nope, no good reason really! See that person over there? They’re about to hit that little green ball over this net towards you.

OKAY. TAKE THIS ROUND THING HERE AND PUT IT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT LINE. OR IN THAT BASKET. OR BETWEEN THOSE POSTS. WHY, YOU ASK? OOH, THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION. YOU KNOW, I’VE NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE. How about I tell you what to do and you start asking why? You’ll see what I mean pretty quickly.

What are you going to do? You’re going to hit it back over the net.

What will they do? They’ll hit it back again, of course.

It’s not really going anywhere. You don’t want it to go anywhere. So hit it back. Go on.

How about we switch it around? See those people over there? Yep, those ones. Good. Now stop them from putting the round thing over here.

Then they do it.

Then you …

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See if you can guess. It’s one of those get-the-round-thing-into- the-goal sports, only they decided to make this one a bit harder. Why? No reason. Instead of using an actual round thing, like, I don’t know, a ball, they’ve flattened it out like a pancake so that it doesn’t roll. They call this thing a puck.

I’ve got another idea. Why don’t you take this tiny white ball and put it in this tiny hole? No, you can’t just use your hands, although that would make sense. You have to use this silly long stick instead. Oh, and the tiny hole? We’re going to put it way over there, like halfway to Uncle Ted’s house. What else? Well, how about you run over there? No reason. Just do it. Oh, you did? Good. Now run back. Do it faster than you did the first time. No, you’re not late for anything. In fact, all you’re going to do once you get back is do it again. And so we find ourselves back where we started. Sport! What is the point? Of all the sports in the world, possibly the most pointless is the one I’m watching right now.

Now, some people play sport to get a bit of ‘fresh air’. But not this sport. They decided to play this stupid game inside a large, stuffy building with no windows. Oh, and then they had a real brain wave. Someone thought, ‘Standing up, that’s too easy. Let’s make it harder!’ What if, instead of playing

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NO WAY! Let’s make them out of wood! Ice hockey will be so much more fun if it REALLY FLIPPING HURTS!

this game on, you know, the ground , we played it on ice?

Ooh. That guy just got hammered. In the spirit of asking ‘why’, you’re probably wondering why I’m sitting here watching an ice- hockey game at the Redhill Ice Rink when this sport is so absurd. Fair question, and I can assure you I’m not here by choice. I’m here because I’m being punished. SMASH!

But won’t it be freezing cold? Yes. And slippery? Yes. And wet? Obviously. Weren’t you paying attention? It’s ICE. Sound fun? Of course not, but let’s add one more challenge. We’ll put walls around the ice rink so that the people on the other team can SMASH YOU INTO THEM. Are the walls soft? You mean, like, squishy? Bouncy? Oh, that would be a good id–

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‘fun game’ between a team of kids and Redhill’s Under-16s team – the Redhill Rhinos. OOF! That’s gotta hurt. It’s supposed to be ‘a bit of fun’, but given the way that Redhill Rhino player just got squashed into processed meat, I’d say ‘fun’ is not quite the right word. We’re here because we’ve never watched an ice-hockey game before and we figured we should probably understand a bit more about our punishment. I’m a little worried that someone might mistake us as ‘fans’. I’ve only talked about why playing sport is ridiculous. Watching it is insane! As you can probably figure out, I hate sport. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that there’s nothing (not even these hot chips, which are pretty good) that could convince me to change my mind.

We all are. Hugo, Abby, Pip, Tyson and I are here because our teacher Miss Sweet (who is proving to be anything but, by the way) thinks we need to learn about teamwork. That’s nonsense, of course, because if my friends would just do what I wanted them to do all the time, then we’d be great at teamwork. Miss Sweet doesn’t agree, so she is making us join a junior ice-hockey team that’s being put together for an exhibition match in a couple of weeks. Apparently not many kids have been signing up to join the little ice- hockey league, so they’ve decided to do a one-off

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‘You’re telling me!’ Pip says, standing up and

Don’t pick me! Pick your nose.

stretching.

‘What’s a period?’ Hugo asks. Abby again: ‘It’s like the first half, only the game isn’t in halves. It’s in thirds, so they call the thirds periods.’ Now as far as I’m aware, Abby has never played one minute of sport in her life. In fact, she’s a master of getting out of it at school – doctor’s certificates for medical conditions no one can pronounce, notes from her mother about how her sweet daughter donated her sports uniform to charity without her knowledge, appointments with all sorts of different tutors. Once she even made an incredibly realistic cast for her arm out of papier-mâché! So how come Abby’s the one who knows the rules? Apparently she sees me screwing up my face. ‘What, Max?’ She rolls her eyes.

The buzzer goes and all the players skate off the ice. Team toilet break? ‘What does the buzzer mean?’ I ask no one in particular. Abby Purcell is no one in particular.

IT’S THE END OF THE FIRST PERIOD.

OH, WHAT A RELIEF.

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This has got to be some Wikipedia magic. ‘Oh, I get it.’ Tyson nods his head. ‘You have

‘How do you know about ice hockey?’ I ask. ‘I know about a lot of things, Max.’ Pip turns to us. ‘How come the players are

to do it without the ref seeing you …’

‘The rules are there to keep players safe, Tyson!’ Pip says, glaring at her brother. ‘And maybe they’ll have stricter rules when we play?’

allowed to be so rough?’

Apparently Abby knows about this too.

I HOPE NOT! I WANNA SMASH ME SOME REDHILL RHINOS!

CONTACT FROM THE FRONT OR SIDE IS FINE, BUT YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO GET SOMEONE FROM BEHIND, OR TRIP OR ELBOW THEM. IT’S UP TO THE REFEREE TO DECIDE IF ANY OF THE PUSHING AND SHOVING IS A PROBLEM THOUGH.

THEY'RE TEENAGERS, TYSON.

WHAT'S YOUR POINT?

YOU'RE ELEVEN!

He chuckles and winks in our direction. Oh, cringe. Mayor Lopez appears to be one of those adults who says things like ‘hanging with the kids’ and ‘what’s up’ and sincerely believes he’s ‘speaking our language’. Well, I hate to break it to you, buddy, but no kid winks. Ever. ‘All right … who am I going to choose … who am I going to choose …’ There are plenty of kids in the crowd, but I guess because we’re sitting down the front he’s decided that he’s going to ‘randomly’ pick one of us. Do adults realise how often us kids have to patiently play along with their games? What is he picking someone for anywa–? ‘You! In the stripy shirt!’ Mayor Lopez yells Now, there’s something you need to understand about me. I thrive on being the centre of everyone’s attention. It’s my favourite place in and points straight at me.

A man in a suit walks out to a microphone stand in the middle of the ice rink. It’s Mayor Lopez and I feel like someone should be filming this in case he stacks it on the ice.

GOOD AFTERNOON, REDHILL! I THOUGHT WE MIGHT HAVE A BIT OF INTERMISSION FUN. I’M LOOKING FOR A KID IN THE CROWD WHO DOESN’T PLAY ICE HOCKEY ... YET.

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‘Go, Max. Go!’ Pip calls out. I shake my head at the mayor. Sorry, mister,

the known universe. If I could build a house at No. 1, Centre of Attention Avenue, I would do it and put on the best Christmas lights display of all time. But there is one exception and it’s this: sport. It’s important to recognise where your strengths are, and let’s just say my strength is not a strength. Neither is speed. Or coordination. So actually walking out onto the ice in front of the whole crowd is the last thing I feel like doing.

no can do.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Abby staring at me. Clearly she can tell that I don’t want to walk out on the ice, and if she were a supportive, encouraging friend, this would be a great moment for her to volunteer to take my place. She’s not though, is she? Instead she starts a chant. ‘Max! Max! Max!’ she yells, because Abby’s purpose in life is to annoy me. Unfortunately, like an infectious disease, the chant quickly spreads and suddenly the whole ice rink is yelling my name. Parents warn you against peer pressure. They tell you that you always have a choice. Clearly they don’t remember being a kid.

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Mayor Lopez gestures for me to enter the ice

Grrrr. I sigh and stand up. The whole crowd cheers!

rink by a nearby door.

The problem, of course, is that I have no idea

Okay, well, that was a bit fun, I guess.

what I’m being called out to do.

COME ON OUT, MAX!

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‘Hurry up, Max, or intermission will be over before you get here,’ Mayor Lopez says into the microphone. The crowd giggles. I glare at him, which is a bad idea. I slip, watch my feet fly through the air and land on my bottom. The whole place erupts in laughter. My bum is instantly freezing cold and wet. I assume this is what it feels like to sit on a seal. I put my hands on the ice for balance and climb back to my feet, pointing my icy rear at the crowd as I do. There’s more laughter.

Want to kiss a seal?

I step carefully onto the ice. Firm feet, I tell myself. It would be a bit of a disaster to fall flat on my face before I even reach the ma‑a‑a-a-A-Y-O-R –

Whoops. I steady myself and look down at the ice. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and walking as though I have drying cement in my pants.

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get around the opposing players and shoot the puck past the goalie, all at the same time. But even sending the puck where you want it to go can be difficult, and that’s what our challenge is for you, Max.’ He hands me the stick. Uh-oh … ‘Forget skating, forget other players and even the goalie. The question for you is, can you shoot the puck from where you’re standing into the open goal? What do you think, Max? Can you get it in?’ Well, of course the answer is no, but let’s just go with: ‘Easy!’

Suddenly a puck slides over and stops in front of me. I look up. Mayor Lopez is walking towards me holding a hockey stick in one hand and his microphone in the other. That hockey stick better not be for me. I can barely stand up out here, so what on earth does he think I’d do with a hockey stick? Perhaps he should keep the stick and hand me the microphone. I’ve got some new jokes I’ve been wanting to try. ‘Okay, Max. Let me explain your challenge to you,’ the mayor says. ‘Our Redhill Rhinos make ice hockey look easy, but it’s actually much harder than it appears. They have to skate,

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me the thumbs-up. Except for Abby. Her thumbs are down and she’s sticking out her tongue. That’s motivation enough for me! I put two hands on the stick because that seems to be the most sensible way to hold this thing. I bend over at the waist like I saw those Rhino guys do it.

‘Ooh, Max says, “Easy!”’ Mayor Lopez says into the microphone. He turns to the crowd. ‘What do we think, Redhill? Can Max shoot the puck into the goal from right here?’ I grin confidently at the crowd. These guys have my back, I can tell. ‘Noooo!’ they all yell at once. Oh. Right. Well, you can all go and suck an iceberg, can’t you? ‘There’s your challenge, Max.’ Mayor Lopez winks. ‘Show us what you’ve got. Could you be a future ice-hockey champion?’ I look down at the puck and then all the way along the ice to the open goal. It is a long way away, but there’s nothing to stop it. Ice is pretty slippery, as I’ve already proven. Surely if I just hit it hard and straight, it will slide all the way there? ‘Max! Max! Max!’ the crowd starts chanting again. I look over at my friends. They’re all giving

I look down the ice towards the goal. I play a dramatic sports movie soundtrack in

my head.

I raise the hockey stick up behind me. I give myself a pep talk: ‘Don’t slip over!’

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And … I swing! It all happens in slow motion (which is what would happen if this were a movie). The stick comes down and I feel it hit the puck, which is half the battle really. This would have been awfully embarrassing if I’d missed it altogether. The puck goes flying forward.

I feel myself twirl like a ballerina. My shoe twists on the ice. My bottom swings around like a discus. I see the crowd. I see the roof. I see the ice. I see my feet. I see the –

OOF!

The stick is quite heavy and it keeps swinging. I hold on to it tightly so that it doesn’t go flying towards the goal as well, but the momentum starts to spin me around. This would normally be fine if I was standing on the ground. But I’m not, am I?

So this is what it must feel like to kiss a seal.

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because I am their hero. An ice-hockey champion. A sporting god. Oh, I think to myself, I might be understanding this whole sport thing for the first time in my life because: This. Feels. Awesome.

I can’t believe that just happened. I’m lying face first on the ice. I’ve completely stacked it in front of the whole crowd! This is why I hate sport! This is just humiliation dressed up as ice hockey! I am not supposed to be in the middle of an ice rink in front of hundreds of people, and they are not supposed to be staring at my wet bum and laughing! I might be the funny kid and, sure, laughter is what I’m usually after, BUT NOT LIKE THIS! Only I suddenly realise they’re not laughing. I lift my face up off the ice. They’re cheering! The red buzzer is flashing and the siren is going: GOAL! The whole crowd is on its feet. I pick myself up. The puck went in! ‘Max! Max! Max!’ They’re chanting again, not because they’re excited to see me fail but

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