Horrid Henry and the Mega-Mean Time Machine Read Free Page A

me.”
    “So he’s ugly,” muttered Peter.
    “What—did—you—say?” hissed Henry.
    “Nothing,” said Peter quickly. He didn’t know what to think. “Is this a trick, Henry?”
    “Course it isn’t,” said Henry. “And just for that I won’t let you have a turn.”
    “I can if I want to,” said Peter.
    “You keep away from my time machine,” said Henry. “One wrong move and you’ll get blasted into the future.”
    Perfect Peter walked a few steps toward the time machine. Then he paused.
    “What’s it like in the future?”

    “Boys wear dresses,” said Horrid Henry. “And lipstick. People talk Ugg language.
You’d
probably like it. Everyone just eats vegetables.”
    “Really?”
    “And kids have tons of homework.” Perfect Peter loved homework.
    “Ooohh.” This Peter
had
to see. Just in case Henry
was
telling the truth.
    “I’m going to the future and you can’t stop me,” said Peter.
    “Go ahead,” said Henry. Then he snorted. “You can’t go looking like that!” “Why not?” said Peter.
    “’Cause everyone will laugh at you.” Perfect Peter hated people laughing at him.
    “Why?”
    “Because to them you’ll look weird.
    Are you sure you really want to go to the future?”
    “Yes,” said Peter.
    “Are you sure you’re sure?”
    “YES,” said Peter.
    “Then I’ll get you ready,” said Henry solemnly.
    “Thank you, Henry,” said Peter. Maybe he’d been wrong about Henry. Maybe going to the future had turned him into a nice brother.
    Horrid Henry dashed out of the living room.
    Perfect Peter felt a quiver of excitement. The future. What if Henry really was telling the truth?
    Horrid Henry returned carrying a large wicker basket. He pulled out an old red dress of Mom’s, some lipstick, and a black frothy drink.
    “Here, put this on,” said Henry. Perfect Peter put on the dress. It dragged onto the floor.
    “Now, with a bit of lipstick,” said Horrid Henry, applying big blobs of red lipstick all over Peter’s face, “you’ll fit right in. Perfect,” he said, standing back to admire his handiwork. “You look just like a boy from the future.”
    “Okay,” said Perfect Peter.
    “Now listen carefully,” said Henry. “When you arrive, you won’t be able to speak the language unless you drink this bibble babble drink. Take this with you and drink it when you get there.”
    Henry held out the frothy black drink from his Dungeon Drink Kit. Peter took it.

    “You can now enter the time machine.”
    Peter obeyed. His heart was pounding.
    “Don’t get out until the time machine has stopped moving completely. Then count to twenty-five, and open the hatch very very slowly. You don’t want a piece of you in the twenty-third century, and the rest here in the twenty-first. Good luck.”
    Henry swirled the box around and around and around. Peter began to feel dizzy. The drink sloshed on the floor.
    Then everything was still.
    Peter’s head was spinning. He counted to twenty-five, then crept out.
    He was in the living room of a house that looked just like his. A boy wearing a bathrobe and silver waggly antennae with his face painted in blue stripes stood in front of him.

    “Ugg?” said the strange boy.
    “Henry?” said Peter.
    “Uggg uggg bleuch ble bloop,” said the boy.
    “Uggg uggg,” said Peter uncertainly.
    “Uggh uggh drink ugggh,” said the boy, pointing to Peter’s bibble babble drink.
    Peter drank the few drops which were left.
    “I’m Zog,” said Zog. “Who are you?”
    “I’m Peter,” said Peter.
    “Ahhhhh! Welcome! You must be my great-great-great-uncle Peter. Your very nice brother Henry told me all about you when he visited me from the past.”
    “Oh, what did he say?” said Peter.
    “That you were an ugly toad.”
    “I am not,” said Peter. “Wait a minute,” he added suspiciously. “Henry said that boys wore dresses in the future.”
    “They do,” said Zog quickly. “I’m a girl.”
    “Oh,” said Peter. He gasped.