Selby Scrambled Read Free Page B

sweating, you ninny,’ Selby thought. ‘You would be too if you were about to be operated on and you were perfectly okay.’
    ‘Quick, get him into the van. We have our mobile operating theatre in there,’ the other vetsaid. ‘Let’s open him up before he gets to Stage Three.’
    ‘Stage Three?’ Dr Trifle said.
    ‘Scraping sounds in the back of the throat. Wiggly jaw,’ the vet said. ‘If he gets to that point then his chance of survival is very slim. Let’s go.’
    Selby could see Willy and Billy giggling as the vets carried Selby to the van.
    ‘This is it,’ Selby whimpered in his brain. ‘I’ve got to talk! I’ve got to tell them that those lying little brats made everything up! I’m not having those
Animal Angel
vets cut me open and unscramble my guts when they aren’t even scrambled in the first place!’
    The van doors were folded back. Inside was an operating table and rows and rows of shiny operating instruments. One of the vets turned on some bright lights.

    ‘But what if I talk and give away my secret and then something happens? What if Willy and Billy feel guilty and confess before they cut me open? Things like that are always happening to me at the last possible second, just when I’m about to give away my secret. It’s happenedtonnes of times. I can’t talk just yet! — I can’t! I’ve got to wait till the last tiny fraction of a second.’
    Selby watched as they strapped him to the table and got their instruments ready. The vets put on masks and gowns and funny little cloth booties over their shoes.
    ‘I’ve got to hold out!’ Selby thought. ‘I know something’s going to happen and everything’s going to be okay.’
    Dr and Mrs Trifle and Willy and Billy peered in from outside the van.
    ‘Poor Dr and Mrs Trifle,’ Selby thought. ‘They’re as scared as I am. Well, maybe not quite
    …’
    Selby looked over at the beaming faces of Willy and Billy.
    ‘Those little mongrels,’ Selby thought. ‘Some day I’m going to get them. Boy, am I going to get them!’
    One of the vets picked up a knife thingy.
    ‘This is it,’ Selby thought. ‘It’s talking time. Better not wait another teeny tiny fraction of a second.’
    Selby cleared his throat and was about to say,‘Excuse me, but don’t believe a word that Willy and Billy have said. I’m not sick and don’t you dare cut me open!’ when one of the vets looked at him in horror.
    ‘That’s it! He’s definitely got it! Listen to the scraping sounds in his throat! He’s wiggling his jaw! Quick! Put him to sleep!’
    Selby yelled out, ‘Hang on a tick!’ But he was too late. The other vet had clamped one of those clear plastic putting-you-to-sleep-before-an-operation thingies over his mouth and the next thing Selby knew he was drifting into a deep sleep and thinking of the dog on TV and the gory operation that was too horrible to watch.
    ‘Too late …’ Selby thought, as everything went dark. ‘I’ll get those brats … I’ll bite …
    them … till … theyscr … ea …
    mmmmmm …’
    Soon there was music in Selby’s ears. Beautiful music that drifted through the air — music that he was sure he’d heard before.
    Then slowly Selby opened his eyes. The vets and the Trifles were bending over him.
    ‘That was a close call,’ one of the vets said.
    ‘I’ll say,’ the other vet said. ‘If you hadn’t noticed that the dog biscuits were all glued together, Dr Trifle, things could have been very serious.’
    ‘They didn’t operate?’ Selby thought. ‘Do I dare look at my tummy tum tum? No! They didn’t!’
    ‘Poor darling Selby,’ Mrs Trifle said, holding him in her arms. ‘It’s a good thing you didn’t know what was about to happen to you. And as for you, boys,’ she said, turning to her nephews, ‘I don’t believe in spanking children, but in your case I’m afraid I had to make an exception.’
    Selby looked over at the boys, who were wiping the tears from their eyes.
    ‘So that was the