The Revenge of Dr Von Burpinburger Read Free

up into the air, circled the doctor, and swooped upon him, pecking and pooping like pigeons possessed. The doctor tried to fight them off, waving his arms and shouting at the birds. But in the end he had to run for cover, cursing all the way.
    Eric and Einstein couldn’t stop laughing.
    In fact, they were laughing so much they didn’t hear Mr and Mrs Wimpleby open the door and step out onto the terrace.

    â€˜What’s so funny?’ Mr Wimpleby asked.
    â€˜Oh. Umm …’ Eric wasn’t sure what to say. His parents didn’t know about the two strange men. And he didn’t really want them to know. Not yet, anyway. It would only complicate matters.
    Actually there were lots of things Eric’s parents didn’t know. For a start, they thought Einstein was just an ordinary mouse. Eric had wanted to tell them that the little rodent was a genius, that he could speak and do thought-talk (‘telepathy’, Einstein called it). He’d wanted to tell heaps of people. But how? No one would believe him. They’d all think he was mad.
    â€˜Umm, it’s the pigeons,’ he said to his parents finally, pointing at the birds. ‘They – they’ve been, um, flying.’
    Eric’s mother wrinkled her brow. ‘Isn’t that what pigeons usually do?’
    â€˜I mean, in a funny way.’ Eric grinned weakly. ‘You know, doing tricks and stuff. It was funny.’
    But it didn’t sound funny. And Mr and Mrs Wimpleby didn’t laugh. They simply stared at their son.
    â€˜You’re not sick, are you?’ his mother asked.
    â€˜Nuh.’ Eric shook his head. ‘I’m fine.’
    â€˜That’s good,’ his father said, stepping closer. ‘Because your mother and I have been worried about you lately.’
    â€˜Really?’ Eric said, surprised. It had never occurred to him that his parents ever worried about him. They always seemed too busy.
    â€˜Yes,’ his father said. ‘We think you should rest a bit. A lot, actually.’
    â€˜But I’m not tired, Dad.’
    â€˜You need to build up your energy, though.’
    â€˜For what?’ Eric had a funny feeling this was leading somewhere. ‘What do I have to build up my energy for, Dad?’
    â€˜Well, for any competitions that might come along. You know, quiz shows, that sort of thing.’
    â€˜You mean like The Big Brain Game ?’
    Eric knew his father would bring that up again. When Eric had walked away from a milliondollars in the biggest TV quiz show of all, it had made headline news at the time. Eric only had to answer one more question in The Big Brain Game , and the money was his. And he knew the answer; Einstein had told him, just like he’d told him all the other answers. But Eric had made up his mind – I have to be myself . Einstein was the genius, not him.
    â€˜I’ve told you, Dad. Never again . I don’t ever want to go on another quiz show.’
    â€˜But you’re a smart boy,’ Eric’s father insisted. ‘You’ve got to make the most of your talents.’
    â€˜I’m not smart, Dad. I’m really not.’
    â€˜Nonsense.’ Mr Wimpleby wasn’t even listening. ‘There are some big quiz shows out there, with some big bucks involved.’ He slapped his son on the back. ‘We’d be crazy to let that sort of money walk away in someone else’s pocket, wouldn’t we?’
    Eric gave up. What was the point? His parents never listened. ‘Yes, Dad,’ the boy nodded. ‘Crazy.’
    â€˜Coo-razy,’ Einstein whispered, and winked at Eric.
    Mr Wimpleby ruffled his son’s hair. ‘That’s my boy. I can see a great future for all of us.’

IS THAT C FOR CAT?
    â€˜I wonder what happened to him?’ Einstein asked later that night. ‘The mad flying guy, I mean.’
    Eric didn’t answer. He was thinking. Einstein kept talking.
    â€˜The