Googol Boy and the peculiar incident of the Great Quiz Trophy by John Michael (good short books .TXT) 📗

can’t make me stop when I’m giving you the chop while going full speed like a spinning top, flippity flip and flippity flop, this is a mike drop which will make your ears pop!” I couldn’t keep up with her words which seemed like a blur of vowels and consonants − but still she went faster and faster. “You’re hearing only one of me, but I’m sounding like a trinity, popping like artillery, and it sounds like infinity, like a synchronicity of verbosity and acuity exploding like a symphony of ecstasy.” Savani was like some speed rapping demon. “You can’t keep up with my tenacity and vivacity and veracity and pugnacity!” She took a deep breath. “Oh... I forgot... and my audacity!”

As she finished, the crowd of students again erupted in wild cheers and applause. They were chanting Savani’s name as if she had invented the wheel, the light bulb and the printing press all in one hit — the wheeliebulb-printer. But for me, there was no coming back from that showy exhibition of Savani’s posturing and pretentiousness. I had to bite the bullet and accept my humiliating defeat.

“Alright... enough!” I proclaimed as I hung my head in shame. “You win!”

“Of course I win you buffoon! Was there ever any doubt?”

“I just never knew you were into rap.”

“I’m not... but I do know my poetry! And rhyming is rhyming. There’s an awful lot that you don’t know about me Sootfell!”

“You just got lucky Savani, if only I was able to –”

“Enough of this banal chitchat! My patience is wearing thin. Have you forgotten that we had an agreement?”

“An agreement? What agreement?”

“May I remind you that yesterday during lunchtime, I slapped you on the cheek with my glove.”

There was laughter from the crowd and I did my best to ignore them and try to uphold a decorum of dignity.

“Yeah... so?” I mumbled.

“That was the agreement you dunce!” shrieked Savani.

“You slapped my face! How is that an agreement?”

“You know what I’ve realised Howard?”

“What Savani? What did you realise? Please tell!”

“Well, I’ve realised that you’re just plain sut-ped!

“Sut-ped? What does that even mean?”

“Sut-ped because you’re too dumb to know how to spell stupid!”

“Well... uh... you’re dep-suts... no wait... make that dip-uts,” I responded. “That’s right! Stupid spelled backwards! Take that Savani!”

“Sootfell! Your ignorance astounds me. I will have you know that the glove slap has a rich and honoured tradition relating back to medieval codes of chivalry. You had insulted my honour and tarnished my good name. When I slapped you with my glove, that meant that I demanded satisfaction and satisfaction I shall have. The moment my leather glove made contact with your effeminate cheek, that constituted a binding contract. Furthermore Sootfell, throughout the 17th and 18th centuries such disputes were settled with swords and rapiers and you should be rather grateful that is no longer the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... need I remind you that I’m the State Fencing Champion.”

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. “Ah yeah, right, forgot about that one.”

“If we were to use swords instead of duelling it out at the Great Quiz, it would go the same way as the rap battle!” warned Savani. “But a lot messier!”

“But the trophy has been stolen! With no trophy, there will be no Great Quiz. It’ll be called off!”

“Yes... I too have heard those rumours,” replied Savani as she nodded her head.

“Well then, checkmate!” I responded.

“That’s why I thought I’d pay you a visit Sootfell. I have spoken to the principal and have managed to convince him not to cancel the Great Quiz.”

“You what? But there’s no trophy!”

“Trophy or no trophy you dunderhead... you’re still going down!”

“But you can’t have the Great Quiz without the Great Quiz Trophy! That would be like having a hotdog without... um... without the dog!”

“You know Tweedledee, if I didn’t know any better I would think that you stole that trophy just so you could get out of the quiz!”

“What? I scoffed. “Now you’re talking crazy talk!”

“Crazy talk? I’m talking crazy talk Sootfell? Have you been listening to your own blabber?”

“You think I’m scared of you? Bring it on Savani!”

“Save it you simpleton − haven’t you had enough of a drubbing for one day. We’ll settle this at the Great Quiz. By the way, never call checkmate... unless it’s really checkmate,” stated Savani. She then turned around and walked off. As she proceeded a little distance down the corridor she turned around and mouthed the word “checkmate” and then disappeared down the stairwell. Oooh, how I dislike that Savani!

Now that the spectacle was over, the crowd quickly dispersed and the only remaining bodies were Lenny, Fergus and Marsden and they were all still leering at me with their troglodyte faces.

“Got a beat-down there Footsmell?” snarled Lenny. “By a little girl!’

“Hehe... good one Dr Seuss, we’ll be seeing you real soon,” snickered Fergus.

“Yeah Footsmell!” laughed Marsden. “Real soon!

Great! That was all I needed − the school bullies had already singled me out to be the new Tommy Kilkenny. Things had just gone from bad to terrible to belly-up in a ditch. Well, at least I had hit rock bottom (or so I thought).

Chapter eleven

splash

Luckily we managed to catch the bus just as it was leaving. Bus driver Doris wasn’t too impressed that she had to use her brakes because of a couple of tardy students. “Ya made it by the skin of yer teeth... next time youse won’t be so lucky.”

Barney and I clambered on board and sat in gloomy silence − well, apart from the intermittent snickers and wise-cracks from the other students.

After a while I let out a doleful sigh.

“Don’t worry Howie... it wasn’t that bad,” responded Barney.

“You’re right, it wasn’t bad. It was beyond bad... it was brutal!” I replied as I reflected on the entire rap battle disaster.

“Well Howie... why didn’t you use your special powers?”

“I tried! But it’s not like I can switch it on and off like a toaster!”

“Mmm toaster... I’m hungry,” mumbled Barney.

“I don’t know what happened... maybe