BILLY PLONKA AND THE GROT LABORATORY Read online

  Table of Contents

  EXCLUSIVE REPORT ON THE SHOCKING TRUTH!!!

  INTRODUCTION

  MEET THE SUCKETTS

  THE GROT LABORATORY

  THE GROTTY WORKERS

  THE PLONKA™ SCRATCH CARDS

  ORSON PLOOP

  VICTORIA SCABB

  VIOLA MUDGUARD

  SPIKE PEECEE

  MARLEY SUCKETT’S SCRATCH CARD

  THE GROT LABORATORY

  BILLY PLONKA

  THE GIANT GARBAGE ROOM

  THE GRUMPY TRUMPERS

  THE MUCKY TUG

  THE FERMENTING ROOM

  THE NEVERENDING GOBBLOCKER

  THE EEL ROOM

  THE GREAT SEE-THRU LOO

  PLONKA’S INTERNET CAFÉ

  THE SECOND GIANT PRINTER

  THE GREAT SEE-THRU LOO, AGAIN

  MARLEY SUCKETT’S GROT LABORATORY

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  EXCLUSIVE REPORT ON THE SHOCKING TRUTH!!!

  MY JAW DROPPED WHEN I HEARD WHAT REALLY HAPPENED!!!

  EXPOSED! THE FINAL TRUTH BEHIND RONALD DAFT’S BEST SELLING BOOK!

  REVEALED! THE HUSHED-UP COVER-UP CAN NOW BE TOLD!

  SHOCKING!!

  GROSS!!

  SMELLY!!

  Warning - If you are easily shocked please close your eyes when you read this.

  TO FIND OUT THE WHOLE TRUTH - TURN THE PAGE NOW!

  (Go on! Don’t read this bit, just turn the page…)

  (Turn it!)

  INTRODUCTION

  THE TRUTH ABOUT RONALD DAFT!!

  Anyone who has ever picked up a book in their life will know of a very famous story by Ronald Daft. It sold squadrillions of copies. Yes, squadrillions! It is loved and admired by children of all ages and all sizes and heights throughout the world. But I can now reveal his most famous book of all was A SCAM, A SCHEME, A FALSE, FAKE, FRAUD!! It was all a LIE!! A LIE !! I can now reveal the 100% truth behind the story and expose the devious Ronald Daft as the naughty story teller he was! After years of research I can now PROVE he changed every aspect of the story to make it make more cuddly and lovely and cute. And why did he do that? So he could sell more books and make more money - That’s why! Obvs! He changed everything. EVERYTHING!! Now, at long, long last, it can be revealed what really happened that famous day. It didn’t happen in a factory, at all, it happened in a laboratory.

  This is the true story of BILLY PLONKA AND THE GROT LABORATORY

  The Author

  These are the REAL names of the five children involved

  Spike Peecee

  Victoria Scab

  Orson Ploop

  Viola Mudguard and

  Marley Suckett

  MEET THE SUCKETTS

  This story is about the Suckett family.

  Firstly, there are four grandparents who are dusty specimens of the human race called Grandpop Fred and Grandmom Freda and Grandpop Eric and Grandmom Erica. They look like they’ve been exhumed from a very dirty pyramid long ago and forgotten to die. They are easily a hundred years old each and have false teeth, but they keep forgetting whose is which pair and end up with each other’s.

  Then there is Mr and Mrs Suckett. Well, you don’t need to know about them. Trust me, you don’t.

  And finally Marley Suckett - probably one of the worst examples of the human race ever. If you thought the bully in your school was bad that’s nothing compared to Marley Suckett. If you thought the man who lives at the end of your road and clucks like a chicken whenever you walk past was bad that’s nothing compared to Marley Suckett. If you thought some of the worst dictators in history were bad that’s nothing compared to Marley Suckett. This is his school report,

  “Worst pupil ever! He was once asked to visit the educational psychiatrist. Marley was unaffected by the visit, but the psychiatrist was later found sitting in the school pond, crying to herself and sucking on a damp teabag. Once after interviewing him, the careers advisor suggested he is best suited for work as a bank robber, global criminal mastermind or a careers advisor. He once lost the school sandpit. Then he flooded the nursery with mouldy custard. Then he stole all the toilets and sold them on ibay and he did it all in one day because that’s the only time he ever attended school. Very good at colouring in, though.”

  The entire Suckett family lived together in a mouldy old caravan. Seven of them in one caravan! It was the most gross caravan you could imagine. Stuff was dribbling down the walls, stuff was dribbling down the dribble, stuff was growing out of the walls, stuff was stuffy and it was everywhere. It was horrid, because no-one cleaned. Ever. Everything was covered in grey dust, people were covered in grey dust - even the dust was covered in dust. Tufts of fungus grew on all the saucepans, stains crawled up the walls and termites screamed for help in the sink. But to the Sucketts it was home.

  Across the tiny walls of the caravan were dusty paintings and photographs and memories of the Suckett family over the years.

  Septimus Suckett - arrested in 1798 for goldfish rustling,

  Jasper “The Shrew” Suckett - found in possession of thirty-two forged jellies,

  Hilda “Pokey Nose” Suckett - twenty years for illicit sock trafficking,

  Sir Norbert “Cringe” Suckett - life imprisonment for receiving stolen shoe laces

  Marley came from an entire family of thieves. There were hundreds of them. I could tell you more, but I really can’t be bothered doing the research. The current leader of the criminal clan was none other than Grandpop Fred. The one in the bed I told you about earlier. He had been stealing things for more years than he could remember, in fact, he had stolen more things than he could remember stealing and certainly couldn’t remember where he had stashed the things he’d couldn’t remember stealing.

  Marley would often sit at the edge of the bed learning the skills needed to be a criminal mastermind whilst Grandmom Freda did a bit of knitting and hummed.

  “You must read the mind of the victim!” said Grandpop Fred, closing his eyes. “Follow me. Imagine the mind of the victim. Think as they think, do as they do, feel as they feel…”

  When he opened his eyes Marley was wearing Grandpop Fred’s tie, his hat and waving his wallet in the air.

  “Masterful!” said Grandpop Fred, wiping away an admiring tear.

  Grandpop Fred spent his life teaching Marley the skills of being a criminal. He had showed him how to pick a pocket, pick a victim and pick a nose. He had showed him how to forge a wig, stalk a tortoise, embezzle cheese, launder stolen cuff-links and vandalise a mop. Finally Marley had mastered them all. The family were so proud. They even bought champagne to toast his success.1

  But none of this was enough for Marley. You see the Sucketts were certainly criminals, but not very ambitious ones. They could steal socks, certainly, nick the occasional radish and they were the go-to people for hot paperclips, but they still lived as one big, uncomfortable family in one small, uncomfortable caravan. None of the Sucketts had any ambition to be bigger criminals, none of them had plans to be the greatest, none of them wanted anything better for themselves. None of them, that is, except Marley, and that’s where the story really begins.

  Actually the story really begins on the day their television exploded. There it goes now….

  BANG!!!!

  * * *

  1 Well, I say bought…

  THE GROT LABORATORY

  “Arghhhhhh!”

  “What the diddling heck was that?”

  “Where’s my teeth?”

  “Where’s my tooth?”

  “I can’t feel my knees!”

  “I can’t feel your knees, either!

  “Stop feeli
ng my knees!”

  Those were just some of the words which shot from the mouths of the Sucketts the day their television exploded. You see, because they were Sucketts they had plugged plugs into plugs into plugs and overloaded the electricity supply, which they didn’t pay for anyway, and because they didn’t pay for it they were unlikely to get it back. There was no TV, no radio, no computer, no washing machine (not that they ever used it, but it made a nice home for the moles), no lights, nothing.

  All they had now was a trickle of moonlight through the broken window as clouds of frazzled dust wafted through the air and settled on every single item of furniture and Grandpop Eric.

  Grandmom Freda sniffed and said, “It’s never looked more beautiful!”

  In the quiet following the explosion the Sucketts sat and pondered what they should do next. They could tidy up, but why spoil everything? They could sing a song but they only knew rude ones. They could sit and stare at the ceiling…

  “Or we could just talk…” The voice came from the mouth on the face of Mr Suckett. It wasn’t the most pleasant of faces and, I think, his mouth would have happily left and joined another face if it wasn’t attached by his lips. Mr Suckett rarely spoke and when he did it rarely made sense. He had thick, thuggish eyebrows over thick, thuggish eyes and emerged from behind the sofa like a grumpy hippo coming up for air.

  Mr Suckett was a very unpleasant man who you wouldn’t like to meet in a dark alley or, indeed, in broad daylight. He was the kind of man who when he looked in your direction something inside you wobbled.

  “Talk?” said Grandpop Fred, scraping some dust into a pile.

  “Yes, talk,” said Mr Suckett, lurching forward and staring into the worried face of Grandpop Fred.

  “With words?”

  “Yes.”

  “To each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can’t we just stare at the ceiling?”

  The others nodded, eagerly dislodging avalanches of dust from their heads.

  “I like staring at the ceiling!” said Grandmom Freda then sneezed loudly firing her teeth from her mouth, which she swiftly caught and slapped back in her mouth with a plop.

  “Tell Marley about the Grot Laboratory!” snapped Mr Suckett.

  “I can’t remember anything about it,” mumbled Grandpop Fred, which was his standard answer to any question.

  Mr Suckett leaned closer to Grandpop Fred, located a dangly nasal hair, pinched it between his filthy fingers and pulled it tight.

  “Twonggg!” went the nasal hair.

  “N’aarrggghh!” went Grandpop Fred.

  “Tell him!”

  “Alright, alright!” muttered Grandpop Fred. Mr Suckett released the hair and it snapped back into his nostril with a boing.

  Grandpop Eric drew a spluttering candle close enough to illuminate Grandpop Fred’s face as he sat on the bed amongst the dust and clutter and wondered where to begin his tale. The Sucketts gathered close around him, caught a whiff of his BO and moved a bit further back. Marley elbowed his way between them, sat on the bed and waited for the tale to begin.

  Grandpop Fred held a grungy finger in the air and said, in a whisper, “Billy Plonka was a horrid and stench-ridden man!”

  The Sucketts clapped and nodded approvingly. They loved grot.

  “His life was riddled with toe-curling, tummy-aching, knee-knocking inventions and his story began a long time ago.

  “Clack Stetson was a New York entrepreneur, who had entrusted Billy Plonka with building the world’s tallest skyscraper. Taller than Umpteenth State Building in New York, taller than the Quadruplet Towers in Kuala Lumpur, taller, even, than the Budgi Karlif in Dubai!

  “And Stetson demanded it be made entirely of used tissue paper! Plonka spent months rummaging in skips, trash cans and waste paper baskets to discover only the highest quality used tissue paper. He dispatched his assistants across the globe to bring back the finest quality used tissue. They returned with screwed up paper flowers from Thailand, soiled paper garlands from India, crushed Origami animals from China. Only the finest used tissue paper would do.

  “Then Plonka slaved for weeks over drawings and designs and plans and blueprints. Bit by tiny bit he designed the finest building his mind could conjure up. Land was located in Upper Manhattan (near Barney’s Hotdog Stand) and construction began for the greatest skyscraper on the planet. For days and days, diggers dug, builders built and people gawped, but all was shrouded in secrecy. Large screens covered the work and no one knew what was going on, or more accurately, up.

  “Newspapers and TVs and websites were peppered with ideas and thoughts and possibilities of what it would look like. One website even held a ‘Guess the Width’ competition. The world was holding its breath.

  “Finally, one sunny day the Grand Opening was announced. The Mayor of New York was booked, various kings, queens, princes and a couple of unemployed arch-dukes were bussed in and the world’s media glared down on the building.

  “On the day of the Grand Opening Ceremony Clack Stetson, in his white cowboy hat, stood proudly on the podium and announced to the world how proud he was, how amazed he was and how rich he was.

  “He doffed his hat, snipped the red ribbon and the screens dropped from the sides of the building revealing the tallest, whitest, paperest building ever. Everyone went ‘Ooooooooo!’ then cheered, whistled, whooped and hollered. It was a major event.

  “But then it all started to go wrong - it began to rain. Drip, drip, drip turned to plop, plop, plop which turned to dollop, dollop, dollop which turned to gush, gush gush. There were torrents of rain. A whirling, swirling tempest crashed in from the East and within minutes the greatest building on earth had become the biggest pile of Papier-mâché on earth. A mountain of squelchy, squiggly, slushy paper pulp.

  “And everyone blamed Billy Plonka. They chased him down the street, out of the city, onto the docks and aboard a ship bound for England.

  “And that’s how Billy Plonka ended up here where he opened his Grot Laboratory!”

  Marley clapped and thought, he sounds my kind of guy!

  Grandpop Fred smiled, sniffed, burped and flicked dust from his nightshirt.

  “But the story doesn’t end there…”

  THE GROTTY WORKERS

  Grandpop Fred stirred his cold tea with his dusty finger, licked it, wiped it clean on his bedsheet and stared out of the broken window. Everyone else stared at where he was staring.

  At the end of the street was a dark, gloomy building staring right back at them like it wanted a fight. It looked like an old and neglected wedding cake. Five floors of angry-looking windows, grumpy doors, soot riddled walls and two tall brown chimneys looking like horns sticking out of a very bad haircut.

  “It used to be called ‘Mr Madangopal’s Flip Flop Emporium’. It was a world centre for flip flop research. They created some of the finest flip flops on earth. The Stiletto Flip Flop, The Wellington Flip Flop and the world famous iFlop. But when Mr Plonka arrived everything was closed down. He tore down the sign, covered the windows with brown paper and locked the doors. He sacked every single flip flop worker. It was a terrible day. Have you ever heard two hundred flip-flops stomping away in anger?”

  He gazed at the two huge, rusting gates at the front of the building. They looked like a muzzle you’d put on a very naughty dog.

  “For weeks the building was totally silent. No one went through the gates, no one came out of the gates. No mail was delivered, no milk bottles on the doorstep and even the pizza delivery boy tiptoed past. It was all very puzzling.

  “Everyone knew Plonka was in there, but no one knew what he was doing. But the oddest thing of all was every now and then faces would appear at the windows. Small round faces and sometimes they would wave and at other times they’d make rude gestures. If you were really lucky you could see them making weird shadow puppets.”

  “But who are they?” asked Marley.

  “No one knows!” answered Grandpop Fred. “They
could only be his workers, but knowing Plonka they probably work very cheaply.”

  He swallowed the cold remnants of the teacup, sniffed, hiccupped, wiped his fingers in his hair and said, “Now we come to the interesting part of the story…”

  “It’s the interesting part.” said Grandmom Erica, nudging Grandpop Eric who had fallen asleep and was snoring like an emptying drain.

  “One day a plume of grey smoke popped out of one of the chimneys followed by another and then another. People stopped in the street and pointed. If you listened carefully you could hear a shuddering and juddering as if machines had started to work inside. Soon the air was filled with the most rancid whiff you could ever wish to sniff. The next day a sign was unfurled outside the building which read,

  “‘BILLY PLONKA’S GROT LABORATORY’

  “Plonka was back in business!

  “But what everyone wanted to know was who was he employing and what was he making?” He stopped dramatically and the room fell silent.

  All that could be heard was the ticking of the clock and the dripping of the damp. Every eye was fixed on Fred. Marley couldn’t stand the tension.

  “Who was he employing and what was he making???” he yelled.

  “Dunno!” Fred finally said, helping himself to some stolen biscuits.

  The grown-ups chattered amongst themselves, arguing over different parts of Fred’s story while Marley slid off the bed and wandered over to the window. He stared at the factory in the moonlight. One of the lights in one of the windows switched off and immediately came back on again. It looked like an evil wink, thought Marley, and wandered off for bed.

  THE PLONKA™ SCRATCH CARDS

  So that’s sorted out the backstory,1 now let’s get on with what happens next…

  The next day Marley was woken by the sound of bleeping that his ePhone made when it got a text alert.