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For The Young and Young at Heart.
2. Super Kids
At first the Super-kids did not know they were Super-kids. Neither did anyone else. Stephanie and Alison are sisters, Stephanie a tomboyish eight year old and Alison a stirring ten. Jason, Lee and Wally are brothers, a fact not everyone appreciates, for Jason is a thin twelve, Lee is stocky, at eight, and Wally decidedly impish at seven. They are all friends with Claire, most of the time, and depending upon your point of view, are disgustingly normal, perfectly ordinary kids.
And yet, they are not. Normal, that is. Not when all six of them get together in the same place and at the same time. That’s when they become Super-kids and have super adventures. Fortunately for the world at large this doesn’t happen too often. But when it does watch out!
On the day they first found out Alison, who reads a lot, had just finished reading “Biggles and the Camel squadron.” Seeing her close the book Jason breathed a sigh on relief. “Thank goodness for that. Perhaps she’ll now stop boring us with what it was like flying in the old days.”
Lee, who is quite bright sometimes, had an idea. “If we saw a real old aircraft, we’d know more than she does. There’s a museum,”
He didn’t have to finish. Jason had already realised the possibilities.
Unfortunately for them they forgot to tell Wally it was a secret, he boasted to Alison, and she reacting quickly said to Stephanie, “Let’s go to the old aeroplane museum.”
It was necessary to obtain her sister’s agreement otherwise her Dad wouldn’t take them.
“Why?” demanded Stephanie, who was happy enough picking off ants with her peashooter.
“To see an old Camel, of course” Alison replied, sarcastically, and since this did not appear to go down too well, added cunningly, “You never know, they might let you sit in one”
Stephanie thought that a promising idea.
Getting to the museum was a problem easily solved. Alison offered to wash up, Stephanie managed to hide the broken plates in the dustbin whilst Dad finished his after dinner coffee and then both of them, without being reminded, cleaned their teeth.
“I hope it’s worth it,” Stephanie muttered. She hated brand X. Her mother usually bought it because it was advertised so much.
“You’ll see,” Alison replied airily and ran downstairs to let Claire in.
“Sorry I wasn’t quicker,” Alison apologized loudly, to make sure her father got the point, “Steph and I were cleaning our teeth.” She went into the lounge. “Da-ad,”
The old airplane museum was in a big hanger, on the edge of an airfield.
When Alison, Stephanie and Claire arrived, Jason and Lee were already inside. Wally was not. He was having one of his difficult moments. He’d decided that the sweet shop by the gate was much more to his liking than ancient aircraft and was refusing to budge from it until he’d been bought a toffee apple.
The girls went into the hanger and started to examine the dusky old machines they found there.
“That won’t fly,” Stephanie said, taking in the first exhibit.
“It used to,” Alison replied. “The wings are made of cloth, of course. But all the rest is wood.”
Stephanie challenged that. “No it isn’t.”
“Yes it is,” insisted Alison.
“What about the engine, then?” Stephanie pointed out, triumphantly.
“I meant everything except the engine,” Alison explained, hurriedly. “Look, here comes Wally. He’ll agree with me.”
He didn’t because Stephanie got in first, but he did offer them both a lick of his toffee apple.
“Alison is quite right,” a man said, coming over to them. “Mind you, I prefer paper myself.” He looked around. “Oh good. There are six of you. Then it is Super-kids time. Come over here and help me.”
“Why?” demanded Stephanie.
The man looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you know? You are the Super-kids. An adventure is about to start. Providing you lend a hand.”
Mystified and curious they followed the man across to an empty part of the hanger. Spread out on the floor was the biggest sheet of white paper any of them had ever seen.
“Now” said the man, “Jason and Lee stand on those two corners and make sure the paper does not move. You others help me pick up this side. We’ve got to fold it in half, you see.”
When they had finished that the man gave them some more instructions. “I want all of you to stamp up and down where the fold is to make a nice, sharp crease.”
Step by step they folded and stamped quite happily, though wondering what it was they were making.
Wally dropped his toffee apple. It left a sticky patch so Jason was cross but the man said, cheerfully, “Never mind. It’ll do for glue.” Shortly after that the super-kids realised they’d actually made quite a passable imitation of Concorde.
Wally took the remains of his toffee apple out of his mouth. “That won’t take off,” he jeered. “Nothing Jason helps make ever works.”
The man looked at Wally in surprise. “It is not meant to fly. I’m going to prop it up against the wall, like this and then if you fetch that ladder you can climb to the top and slide down.”
“Great idea,” Stephanie enthused. “Bags I first.”
Later on she was quite glad Lee beat her to it. He ran up the ladder, jumped onto the top of the paper plane and with an expression of sudden uncertainty, let himself go. Down he slid, faster and faster until, as he neared the bottom, the paper plane bent under his weight so that instead of ending up on the floor he suddenly found himself going upwards, right off the end of the slide, high into the air. He passed clean over one of the old aircraft then fell straight down into the open cockpit of another.
Before he could shout out in triumph, or wonder at his escape the airplane’s engine started, the propeller whirled round and, to the astonishment of everyone there, the plane trundled out of the hanger and took off.
“Hey, come back with my brother,” Jason cried in dismay. He knew his mother would blame him.
“You’d better go after him,” advised the man. “Don’t run. Use the slide. It’ll be quicker.”
A moment later Jason found himself sliding down, down, down, then up, up, up, just as Lee had. He flew over two airplanes and then landed in the cockpit of a third which happened to be the most rickety of the lot. However, its engine started, just.
Ker fump pah; ker fump par; ker fump pah, went the engine, jerkily. Jason jerked with it. Ker fump par; ker frrump par; brmmm, brmmm, ker fump pah.
The others could see Jason’s lips moving but it was too noisy to hear what he said. Actually his words were, “Gosh,” jerk, “ooh grief,” jerk, “oh goodness,” jerk, “Oh golly,” as the plane went brmmm, brmmm and then, “Ooh well,” as it shuddered and shook its way out of the hanger and into the air.
“lf Jason can do it, so can I,” Alison thought. Fifteen seconds later she was airborne. Wally, also not to be outcome, went up the slide and down, into a rather natty airplane, painted completely red. He too headed for the clouds. Claire was next to go.
Stephanie, at the top of the ladder, realised all the old airplanes had gone. Only one machine remained. It was a shiny, silver, rocket-like brand new fighter. Written on a notice were the words “Top secret! Don’t touch. THAT means ALL RUSSIANS!”
“Well, I’m not Russian,” Stephanie grunted. Sure enough, when at last she slid down the slide and up in to the air she found she was heading straight for the shiny, silver, top-secret plane.
There was a problem. The cockpit was closed. Stephanie looked skyward, despairing at her luck and wondering when she picked herself up which part of her body she’d have to rub better. Probably all of it. Down, down she fell and, just after she closed her eyes in resignation, the cockpit canopy swung open and she fell into an exceedingly soft pilot’s seat.
“Phew,” she exclaimed. “That was close.”
“No it wasn’t,” a ti
nny voice contradicted her. “I had ten micro-seconds to spare.”
The voice was coming from somewhere amongst the controls. It went on, “Everything is automatic on this projectile. Fasten your seat belts.”
Stephanie doesn’t take orders very readily. “If you’re so clever, do it yourself” she said, challengingly.
Immediately, like snakes, two belts emerged from the seat, measured her up, then snuggled close and gripped her firmly in position. At the same time the canopy closed over her head. The light dimmed, but Stephanie wasn’t worried. She was staring at all the coloured lights around her.
“It’s like a Christmas tree in here,” she said, and went on to examine the hundreds of clock like dials in between the lights. Some had just one hand, some had two, some had three and one even had twelve, all of which started to move.
“Pay no attention,” ordered the tinny voice. “They’re only there to confuse the Russians.”
“Who are you?” Stephanie asked, in her cautious, but not unfriendly voice.
“This aircraft is absolutely secret,” the voice replied, crossly. Then it went on sadly, “It is so secret even I don’t know who I am. But,” eagerly, “there are lots of things I can do. Shall I take off?”
“Why? We have only just met,” Stephanie objected.
The voice apparently treated this as agreement for the next thing that happened was a mighty roar behind her which quickly became a whine and then even that went quiet.
“Get a move on,” Stephanie urged, impatient for action.
“We are now flying at an incredibly high but utterly secret height and moving faster than a supercharged rifle bullet,” the voice intoned, grandly. “Can’t you tell? Even our engine noise is unable to keep up.”
So that was why it was so quiet. Everything outside the window did look blurred. “Where are the others?” she asked.
“0h,” replied the voice, carelessly. “We passed them a long time ago. Ooops; now they’re ahead of us again. Ooops, sorry again, we’ve just overtaken them and, hang on a second, they’re up front once more.” The voice laughed to itself. “Work that one out, if you can!”
“It’s like a race track,” Steph thought, so she said, “The world is round so we’re lapping them.”
“Bother,” said the voice. “We can do that forever if you like.”
Stephanie wanted to be with her friends. “Can’t we slow down?”
“Not yet.”
“Where are we going?”
“To nowhere and everywhere,” the voice replied, sounding like a railway station announcer. “As many times as you like.”
“That’s useless, if we don’t stop,” Stephanie complained. “I want a nice adventure, like on a desert island.”
“I can fire rockets for you,” the voice interrupted, eager to please. “Or we can drop bombs, photograph the whole earth, shoot up some bandits,”
“I want a desert island,” Stephanie repeated, firmly. “The others must be able to get there too.”
The voice sighed. “One Desert Island coming up. Or rather, going down. Don’t you care if I get sand in my intakes?”
The next thing Stephanie knew she had been landed on a hot, sunny beach. The others were nowhere in sight.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“If madom would care to choose from our extensive menu,” the voice said, now sounding like a snooty waiter. “Madom has a preference?”
“I do like chocolates.”
“Press the green button and put your hand in the little cubby-hole beneath,” commanded the voice.
Stephanie did so. “Nothing’s happening.” Then she snatched her hand back because it had been covered in warm, sticky chocolate, squirted by the plane from a pipe.
“Please do not complain,” the voice reproached her, as Stephanie pulled a face. “If you wanted it in a tube, like toothpaste, you should have said so. Have you a favourite dish?”
“Custard!” Stephanie replied, licking her chocolate fingers. Immediately out popped a small white tube.
“I’m afraid it is brand X,” the voice informed her. “We’re not allowed to advertise.”
With a frown Stephanie undid the lid of the tube and very cautiously tasted the tiny drop she squeezed out. Her face cleared. It was real custard. With a grin she popped the end of the tube into her mouth, and squeezed.
“Careful|” warned the voice. “There’s more in there than you think!”
It was true for although she took three big mouthfuls the tube still seemed to be full up.
From a distance came a sound she recognised. “Ker fump pah; ker fump pah, oh stop it, Ker fump pah.”
It was Jason, in his jerky plane. He landed on the beach beside her. Stephanie squinted out of her cockpit and saw the others approaching. One by one all the old aeroplanes landed and the kids got out. They wanted to see who was in the shiny silver plane.
Suddenly hundreds of yelling natives burst from the trees. They swooped down on the five kids.
“My breakfast,” beamed one happy cannibal, picking up Wally and dropping him into a cooking pot some of the other natives were carrying.
Claire and Lee were grabbed next by an enormous green and white man who wore palm leaves where his trousers should be. “My dinner,” he told his friends, delightedly. “Two courses.”
“This one will do for the cheese and biscuits,” announced another cannibal, capturing Jason. Jason’s expression showed he was certainly cheesed off.
A man painted completely blue stopped Alison from escaping.
“Stay where you are,” he commanded. “Your name?”
“Alison,” Alison replied, staring at him. “Why are you blue?
“The paint hides my spots. Come along, into the pot. You’ll make a nice sweet.”
“She’s not sweet,” Stephanie thought. Maybe, maybe not, but the cannibals were content. They danced round the cooking pot, singing a very complicated song which, when roughly translated and simplified, becomes:
“You only get thinner if you hunt for your dinner,
Why work when you’re not in the mood?
Tell the witch doctor guy our larder’s the sky,
And rains people, our favourite food!”
In the silver plane the voice asked, quite politely for him, “Well, are you going to save them? They’ll be cooked pretty soon if you don’t.”
“Oh yes,” Stephanie replied sarcastically. “I’ll give them this tube of custard.”
“No need,” the voice announced. “They can have roast beef, chicken and stuffing, baked jam roll, or even,” the voice added, as if it couldn’t believe how clever it was, “Tapioca pudding!”
Stephanie was about to tell him that even the cannibals would prefer Alison to tapioca when she had an idea. “Can you really put any food in to a tube?”
“Of course,” boasted the voice.
“Even food these people will like?”
“I am so good I can actually put in spaghetti,” crowed the voice. “Not many machines can get spaghetti in a tube. Out, yes, but not in!”
“Oh good,” Stephanie said. “Then what I want you to do should prove quite easy.” She whispered five special dishes.
“And you?” queried the voice.
“I forgot me. Yes, I think you’d better do me as well.”
The coloured lights flashed, there was a hum from the cupboard and then the six tubes popped out, all labelled brand X. Stephanie took them with her when she jumped out of the plane and landed feet first in the soft warm sand of the beach.
“Run for your life,” Alison yelled when she saw her sister. “They’re cooking us and they’ll cook you too.”
“Of course they won’t,” Stephanie shouted back. “I’ve got something better tasting than you.” She waved the six tubes in the air.
A pair of naked yellow feet advanced on her. They stuck out from beneath a long white coat. Above that were two, white sleeved arms; in one hand a stethoscope whirled like a
helicopter’s propeller and in the other was clutched a dog-eared copy of “A Gourmets Guide to the Peoples of the World.” On his head the newcomer wore a tall, black pointed hat.
“I suppose,” Stephanie sneered, “you’re the witch doctor.”
“Up to now,” agreed the newcomer, gloomily.
Stephanie was glad for he was just the fellow she wanted to see. But he was not a happy man. “You look grim,” she said.
“You’d be grim,” the Witch Doctor snapped. “Life has its ups and downs but I was coping until you kids arrived.”
“We’ve done nothing!” Stephanie exclaimed.
“No? You’ve dropped out of the sky. That’s what you’ve done. Until you did that they,” he gestured in the direction of the dancing, singing cannibals, “They believed me when I told them we had to fish for our dinners, or go on hunting trips. Can you see them now? They’re laughing at me.” His voice became more menacing. “Just for that I’m going to eat you raw.” Slowly he produced a very sharp knife from under his white coat.
Stephanie took a step back and held up the tubes. “These are magic,” she said hurriedly, and unscrewed one of the tops. “Here, taste a bit.”
The witch doctor stared suspiciously and then very gingerly applied the open tube to the tip of his tongue. He smacked his lips which had the effect of changing his frown of doubt into a wide, witch doctor smile.
“It is just like eating that one!” he exclaimed, delightedly pointing at Claire. “Only better.”
“Two Claires, actually. One for now, one for later.” Stephanie told him. She held up the other tubes. “This one is like two Jasons. He’s the tall, sarcastic boy. This is two Alisons, a bit sharp. I’ve got two Lees, plump and juicy, and if you merely want a snack, here’s a Wally or two.”
“What’s that one,” the Witch Doctor demanded, pointing at the last of the tubes
“It is the best of the lot, me!”
Stephanie dodged back as the Witch Doctor made a grab for her.
“Oh, no you don’t. I’ll swap them for my friends.”
“Hah!” the Witch Doctor grunted waving his knife. “We’ll eat you all up and have the tubes as well for afters.”
“If you do that,” Stephanie warned the greedy cannibal, “my silver plane will spray you with poisonous, thick, sticky gravy. It comes out all in one lump and sets hard in five minutes.”
The Witch Doctor staggered back in alarm. “Oh no,” he groaned, for fresh in his memory was an aunt he had had who made gravy just like that--until he’d solved the problem by eating her. She’d been a bit tough but anything was better than her gravy.
Stephanie knew she was winning. She stamped her foot with impatience.
“You must choose. You can have the six of us, or these magic tubes.”
The Witch Doctor snatched one of them from her hand and ran back to his friends. In some excitement he explained what he had, pointing frequently in Stephanie’s direction. Eventually the other cannibals gathered round.
They looked dubious, unwilling to believe what he said. Even when he applied the stethoscope to the tube and invited them to listen they were unconvinced, that is until they summoned up their courage enough to have a taste. Then they smiled. Then they cheered. Then they all wanted to squeeze the tubes into the cooking pot. When they did suddenly there were three Alisons cooking, two from the tube and the third was her sister. That might not be a good idea, Stephanie thought. One Alison was enough for anyone.
The Witch Doctor ran back to her. “Give me the rest of those tubes.” he cried.
“First let Alison go free,” Stephanie insisted.
The Witch Doctor badly wanted the other tubes so he shouted instructions and Alison was lifted from the pot. Stephanie handed over another and suddenly there were three Wallys. One was freed; another tube was handed over, and so on, until there were five kids jumping up and down excitedly on the beach, eager to know how Stephanie had managed to save them. The Witch Doctor was happily giving orders to the other cannibals clustered round the pot. They could see him thoughtfully consulting his book for details of the approved level of seasoning.
“Quick! While we have the chance,” Jason cried. “Let’s get away.”
For once no one argued despite the fact it was a good idea. They jumped into their aeroplanes and took off. Even Jason’s machine somehow staggered into the air with a kef fump p, p, p bah, ker fump p, p, p pah and a “Oh my giddy goat,” from Jason himself. The cannibals did not bother to watch them go.
Back at the museum Claire’s Dad grabbed her and marched her off to a music lesson she’d a nearly managed to miss, so then they were five and were no longer Super-kids. So that was the end of the adventure.
They went their separate ways home.
Burnham on sea is an ordinary kind of town except one day it wasn’t. Shortly after the adventure a cannibal’s war canoe was seen approaching. It came straight for the beach; the cannibals jumped out, ran across the sand and headed for the shops. They completely ignored hundreds of dinners lying on the beach. It was surprising, for most of these were already unwrapped and some were being very nicely cooked by the Sun.
The supermarket manager rubbed his hands when the Witch Doctor showed him an empty tube. He pointed the way to a shelf containing hundreds more all marked ‘Brand X’. The cannibals started to fill their shopping trolley until one of them was thoughtful enough to taste what the tubes contained. Then his face contorted in an expression of disgust. More tubes were sampled and the mood turned ugly. With howls of rage tube after tube of quite pleasantly flavoured toothpaste was hurled to the floor. And Jumped on.
The supermarket manager was equally cross. He called the police. But by the time he’d managed to convince them there were cannibals attacking his toothpaste the invaders were already wrecking the shop next door. And then the one after that.
But, everyone was happy.
The supermarkets were happy. Brand X hadn’t been selling very well, because of advertising. Now it was all gone they could stock a great new line.
The kids in the town were happy because for quite some time it was impossible to buy any toothpaste anywhere.
Lots of dentists were happy for they had more work.
The police were happy, although they did not catch the cannibals, for they like a quick chase and they had a good excuse to give up. There was a sudden outbreak of missing persons to deal with. This, it was thought, was the reason why even the cannibals went home happy. Or so claimed the anxious relatives of the sunbathers who’d disappeared. It was mostly the burnt ones who’d gone.
And, of course, Stephanie was happy. She’d found out they could become Super-kids and she had saved them. So the others thought she was super clever.
But she does sometimes wonder, even now, after lots more adventures, if it was the real Jason who was let out of the cooking pot, and if the real Alison and Claire and Wally and Lee who were rescued and not the dinners which came out of the tubes.
There is no way she will ever know for certain, but, well, Wally does not seem as Wallyish as before, Alison does not stir so much; Lee looks plumper; Claire is actually a tiny bit musical; and Jason, would you believe, sometimes goes a whole hour without making a sarcastic remark. This does make tomboy Stephanie wonder, just a little, as to who her sister and their friends, the Super-kids, really are. Not forgetting herself, for occasionally, although she’ll never admit it, she actually feels like a girl!
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