The Verruca Bazooka

Special thanks to Colin Brake, GUNGE agent extraordinaire.

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

A long time ago, in

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

Preview

Collect all the books in the GUNK Aliens series!

Copyright

About the Publisher

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a bunch of slimy aliens discovered the secret to clean, renewable energy…snot!

(Well, OK, cleanish.) There was just one problem.

The best snot came from only one kind of creature. Humans.

And humans were very rare. Within a few years, the aliens had used up all the best snot in their solar system.

That was when the Galactic Union of Nasty Killer Aliens (GUNK) was born. Its mission: to find human life and drain its snot. Rockets were sent to the four corners of the universe, each carrying representatives from the major alien races. Three of those rockets were never heard from again. But one of them landed on a planet quite simply full of humans.

This one.

It started like any other Saturday, but for Jack Brady this particular weekend was the beginning of an adventure he would never forget.

Little realising that he was destined for greatness, Jack woke up, went to the loo, washed his face and hands and cleaned his teeth. Jack was a very clean nine-year-old boy.

He was also very clever. A genius, in fact. Only no one else seemed to have noticed.

At school he got into trouble for drawing sketches of his latest inventions all over his exercise books. At home Mum just wanted him to keep his room tidy. In his heart, however, Jack knew that it was just a matter of time before his genius was recognised.

He slipped on his glasses and took a look at the ‘TO-DO LIST’ pinned on his notice board.

He shook his head in annoyance. He never got round to the last item on his list. There just weren’t enough hours in the day!

Oscar thought Jack was a genius. Oscar was Jack’s best friend. He was taller than Jack, braver than Jack and better-looking than Jack but he wasn’t smarter than Jack. In fact sometimes Jack wondered if Oscar was actually a bit dim. He was certainly courageous though – he was always first to volunteer to be a crash-test dummy for Jack’s latest invention.

Thinking of Oscar made Jack frown and check his watch. It was Saturday morning. Eight o’clock. Why hadn’t Oscar come round? Most kids, after a long, boring week at school would choose to lie in on Saturday morning. But not Oscar. Oscar didn’t like to waste a single minute of the weekend.

Normally he was up before Jack, planning some kind of adventure. So where was he?

Oscar lived in the house that backed onto Jack’s garden. They shared a den – a tree house – perched in the branches of the tree at the bottom of Oscar’s garden. From Jack’s bedroom he could see into Oscar’s house.

Jack opened his bedroom window.

THWACK!

“Ouch!” exclaimed Jack.

“Sorry!” came an apologetic voice from the tree-house opposite.

Whatever Oscar had thrown at him had lodged in Jack’s unruly mop of hair. He reached up to see what it was. It was small, ovoid and very hard.

“Why are you throwing acorns at me?” he demanded.

“Because I couldn’t find any pebbles,” said Oscar, as if the answer was obvious. “Come on” he continued, “climb down the drainpipe and let’s get started.”

Jack leaned out of the window and cast a suspicious glance at the drainpipe. “Since when do I climb down drainpipes?” he asked.

“Got to be a first time for everything,” grinned Oscar. “I’d do it.”

Yes, thought Jack, but you’d stick your head in the oven to see if the gas was still on. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he promised, and closed the window.

Having taken the safer option – the stairs -he hurried through the kitchen and out into the garden, squeezed through the gap in the hedge that separated the two plots and climbed up the wooden ladder that was fixed to the trunk of the tree.

The tree house the boys shared was pretty impressive. Oscar’s dad had won it in a competition in the local paper. It was actually a small shed that had been lifted into place by a crane and secured safely to the tree. It had a little porch area at the front, a pair of windows and room for Jack’s workbench where most of his brilliant ideas took shape. It was, without doubt, the coolest tree house in town.

Jack found Oscar lying on a beanbag, clutching a skateboard to his chest. Oscar sighed loudly and theatrically as Jack, slightly breathless from the climb, came into the tree house.

“Good afternoon,” he sighed.

“Hilarious,” said Jack.

Oscar was always like this – everything had to happen right now. Jack felt that most things that were worth doing needed proper planning and preparation. But for Oscar if it wasn’t instant it wasn’t interesting.

“What’s the plan then?” asked Jack, sitting down in the other beanbag.