Horrid Henry Robs the Bank Read Free Page B

ashen.
    â€œDiarrhea?”
    â€œBut he’s much better now,” said Henry. “He’s only run to the bathroom five times since we’ve been here.”
    Margaret’s mother looked faint. “My little Margaret is so delicate…I can’t risk…” she gasped. “I think you and Peter had better go home right away. Margaret! Margaret! Come in at once,” she shouted.
    Horrid Henry did not wait to be told twice. School was out!
    Ahhhh, thought Horrid Henry happily, reaching for the TV remote, this was the life. Margaret had been sent to bed. He and Peter had been sent home. There was enough time to watch Marvin the Maniac and Terminator Gladiator before Dave’s party.
    â€œI can’t help it that Margaret wasn’t feeling well, Mom,” said Horrid Henry. “I just hope I haven’t caught anything from her .”
    Honestly.
    Mom was so selfish.



“Now, let’s see,” said Mom, consulting her list, “we need pirate flags, chocolate coins, swords, treasure chests, eyepatches, skull and crossbones plates. Have I missed anything?”
    Horrid Henry stopped chewing. Wow! For once, Mom was talking about something important. His Purple Hand Pirate party wasn’t till next month, but it was never too soon to start getting in supplies for the birthday party of the year. No, the century.
    But wait. Mom had forgotten cutlasses. They were essential for the gigantic pirate battle Henry was planning. And what about all the ketchup for fake blood? And where were the buckets of sweets?
    Horrid Henry opened his mouth to speak.
    â€œThat sounds great, Mom,” piped Perfect Peter. “But don’t forget the pirate napkins.”
    â€œNapkins. Check,” said Mom, smiling.
    Huh?
    â€œI don’t want napkins at my party,” said Horrid Henry.
    â€œThis isn’t for your party,” said Mom. “It’s for Peter’s.”
    WHAT???
    â€œWhat do you mean, it’s for Peter’s?” gasped Horrid Henry. He felt as if an icy hand had gripped him by the throat. He was having trouble breathing.
    â€œPeter’s birthday is next week, and he’s having a pirate party,” said Mom.
    Perfect Peter kept eating his oatmeal.
    â€œBut he’s having a Sammy the Snail party,” said Horrid Henry, glaring at Peter.

    â€œI changed my mind,” said Perfect Peter.
    â€œBut pirates was my party idea!” shrieked Horrid Henry. “I’ve been planning it for months. You’re just a copycat.”
    â€œYou don’t own pirates,” said Peter. “Gordon had a pirate party for his birthday. So I want pirates for mine.”
    â€œHenry, you can still have a pirate party,” said Dad.
    â€œNOOOOOO!” screamed Horrid Henry. He couldn’t have a pirate party after Peter. Everyone would think he’d copied his wormy toad brother.
    Henry pounced. He was a poisoned arrow whizzing toward its target.

    THUD! Peter fell off his chair.
    SMASH! Peter’s oatmeal bowl crashed to the floor.
    â€œAAAEEEIIIII!” screeched Perfect Peter.
    â€œLook what you’ve done, you horrid boy!” yelled Mom. “Say sorry to Peter.”
    â€œWAAAAAAAAAAA!” sobbed Peter.
    â€œI won’t!” said Horrid Henry. “I’m not sorry. He stole my party idea, and I hate him.”
    â€œThen go to your room and stay there,” said Dad.
    â€œIt’s not fair!” wailed Horrid Henry.
    â€œWhat shall we do with the drunken sailor? What shall we do with the drunken sailor?” sang Perfect Peter as he walked past Henry’s slammed bedroom door.
    â€œMake him walk the plank!” screamed Horrid Henry. “Which is what will happen to you if you don’t SHUT UP!”
    â€œMom! Henry told me to shut up,” yelled Peter.
    â€œHenry! Leave your brother alone,” said Mom.
    â€œYou’re the oldest. Can’t you be grown-up for once and let him