Cow Trumps and Sheep Burps

When cows go missing from Hackweed Farm, the gang agree to investigate.  Little do they know that it’s all part of an extravagant plot to take over the World.

Will smelly botty burps and belly frogs overpower the intrepid gang?

Will Jackson find out Boris-the-boyfriend’s secret?

Will Danny save his missing moos?

PREFACE

It was a hot, lazy Sunday afternoon and I was lying on the couch, my head propped up on cushions, reading a book.

Alphee, our family’s Golden Retriever, was squeezed in next to me; he had taken advantage of Mum’s preoccupation with the dinner preparations in the kitchen and had sneaked up next to me. He lay with his golden head touching my ginger hair and his belly to the ceiling as he snored softly, his tongue hanging out and his paws twitching.

My little brother, Thomas, was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, watching the television. Peanut, our Labrador, was curled up next to him, her head in his lap and her eyes closed. Thomas stroked the top of her head, absentmindedly tracing a figure of eight from ear to ear.

Over the sound of the TV, I could hear Mum in the kitchen. She was chopping up food for our meal and arguing with phone company; we’d had no internet for two days, which is why we’d had to resort to TV and books. The intensity of her chopping seemed to increase with the volume of her voice.

Chop, chop. “Yes, I’ve already spoken to your Technical Support Department. They put me onto the Service Department. The Service Department cut me off. And now I’m talking to you.”

Chop, chop, chop.  “No, no! Do not pass me onto another department!”

Chop, chop, choppity-CHOP. “How about I turn you off-and-back-on-again?”

CHOP, CHOP, CHOP!

Thomas and I looked at each other and snorted a laugh; if there was one thing Mum couldn’t stand, it was the old turn-it-off-and-back-on-again chestnut.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Peanut, jumped up and began running around in circles, barking at the top of her lungs.

Thomas started shouting at Peanut to be quiet; he couldn’t hear his television program for the row.

Alphee lifted his head and watched the commotion for a moment, but then dropped it back down and closed his eyes once more; the day was too hot and sticky for seeing off strangers.

“Muummmm! There’s someone at the door!” I yelled.

There was a loud clatter from the kitchen before Mum’s feet could be heard stomping down the hallway. She stopped briefly at the lounge room door and looked in on us, glaring menacingly, the telephone still pinned between her ear and her shoulder as she dried her hands on a towel.

I gave her my most beatific smile. “Shall I get it, Mum?” I asked cheekily.

She threw the towel at me before turning and heading to the front door. It opened with a crash.

“Oh my gosh!” squealed Mum.

Thomas and I looked at each other again, and then we jumped up and ran to the doorway, peering around the corner to see who this visitor was that had Mum squealing.

Uncle Reuben, Mum’s brother, was bent over double, clutching the doorframe in his bony hands.  His sweaty face was a shade of beetroot, and he was panting heavily as if he’d just run a marathon.

“Oh! Hello, Uncle Reuben,” Thomas said, approaching the door.

Uncle Reuben glanced up at him, and I noticed he was wild-eyed and sweat had stuck his hair up in peaks which added to the mad scientist look he seemed to have adorned today. He shook his head and carried on panting for a few more minutes while Mum, Thomas and I exchanged quizzical glances.

At last, he raised his head slowly and looked Mum straight in the eye.

“It’s happening, Marie,” he wheezed. “They’ve finally found a way to end the world!”