Grandma
Grimplemire Wartykiss
Charlie was eleven the first time he met a Worrikin. It appeared while he was asleep so he didn’t see where it came from.
It woke him up by tickling his face.
Still dozing, Charlie tried to brush away the tickle. It didn’t work, so he opened his eyes to see what it was.
It was a hair.
A long, black, wiry hair which corkscrewed out of a small wart. This wart perched on the top of a bigger wart, which grew on the tip of a bulbous nose, which protruded from a saggy, green face.
For a second Charlie stared into the piggy eyes behind the nose and tried to find the courage to scream. A bony claw reached out and clamped his lips together.
“Don’t make a sound, Charlie Fartlepants.” The thing whispered with a voice that sounded like two gigantic slugs slapping together. “You don’t want to wake your mum, do you?”
Charlie shook his head. His mum had been at work all day yesterday and Sunday was the only chance she had for a lie in.
“That’s right, Charlie Smellbags. Do as you’re told.” The claw slowly released its hold on his lips.
Charlie tried to wriggle away but he couldn’t because the thing was sitting on his chest. It wasn’t as big as he’d thought. Its head was the same size as its body which was the same size as a half-inflated football. It had spindly arms and tiny dumpy legs, and although it looked entirely monstrous, somehow it managed to look horribly familiar.
“Grandma?” The question was out before Charlie realised what he was asking.
“Ha ha ha ha! I’m not your grandma!”
“Then who are you?”
“I am Grimplemire Wartykiss.” The thing pressed one of its bony claws proudly to its chest. “At your service!”
Then, it jumped down off Charlie’s chest and started to bounce on the bed, its long warty nose vibrating with every jump.
“Shhhhh.” Charlie said. “You’ll wake mum!”
“I don’t care.” It slobbered loudly, whilst performing a perfect backward somersault and landing with arms outstretched on Charlie’s legs.
“Look,” Charlie said reasonably. “You’re not meant to be here at all. If I call my mum she’ll come in here and squash you.”
“Oh no she won’t. She can’t see me. I’m your Worrikin, not hers. She’ll just tell you off for waking her up. And she’ll think you’re a wicked, selfish piglet. And I’ll punch you in the tummy.”
To prove at least part of this was true Grimplemire Wartykiss leapt forward and punched Charlie in the tummy.
“Ooooooooooof haaaaaa.” Charlie folded in half, bringing his knees up to his chest which catapulted the thing up over his head.
Charlie rolled over onto his elbows and looked behind him. He half expected to see a huge blob of green slime oozing down the wall where Grimplemire would have splatted.
But there was absolutely no sign of the blubbery goblin.
He rubbed his eyes and blinked. There was nothing to suggest that anything had been in his bedroom at all.
Charlie sighed. He swung his legs out of bed and wriggled his feet into his slippers. He pulled his ragged Professor Y dressing gown off the floor and wrapped it around himself tight against the cold. He sat on his bed for a moment wondering if it had all been a dream.
“Boo!” Grimplemire jumped out from behind the end of Charlie’s bed, sticking out his tongue and waggling his skinny arms in Charlie’s face.
“Arrrrgh!” Charlie yelled and stumbled backwards into his chest of drawers, knocking over a stack of books, some games, a table light and, oddly, a whole pile of pots and pans from the kitchen.
“CRASH!” Grimplemire shouted. “BANG! KERRRRRRRRRANNNNNNG!”
Charlie writhed around trying to stop the pots from bouncing about, but he seemed to be making it worse. And Grimplemire was definitely making it worse by kicking the biggest pans up into the air just out of reach of Charlie.
“Please...” Charlie begged the goblin. “Please don’t wake mum up.”
But it was too late.
“Charlie?” Mum called and he could hear her getting out of bed. “Charlie? Are you OK?”
“Yes mum. I’m fine. You don’t need to get up.”
Grimplemire leered at him. “Did you like the pans? It took me ages to stack them properly. But I think the noise they made was worth it.”
“No!” Charlie said fiercely. “I did not like the pans at all.”
“Humph,” shrugged the goblin and punched Charlie in the tummy again.
“Charlie?” His mum pushed his door open which clanged against a saucepan. “Charlie, why are these pots in here? What have you been up to?”
“Nothing, Mum. I… There’s this green thing in my room. He brought them in.”
“Please Charlie. Don’t make anything up. I’d rather you just told me the truth.” Mum looked very tired.
“I’m not making it up. Look!” Charlie pointed at Grimplemire. The goblin was standing in the middle of the room picking his huge nose.
“Oh, Charlie. Just tidy this mess up, please. It’s not even six o’clock yet. I’m going back to bed to try and get some sleep before Grandma gets here.”
Grimplemire had pulled an enormous bogey out of his left nostril. It was so long and sticky, he’d managed to stretch it like an elastic band and was aiming it like a catapult at Mum’s head.
“NO!” Charlie shouted.
“Charlie!” Mum was angry now. “Don’t speak to me like that. Your grandmother loves coming to see you and you always act like a spoilt brat before she comes. Just stop it!”
“Grandma smells like rotten fish!” Grimplemire sang.
Charlie gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the goblin who was doing a little dance. “I’m sorry Mum. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Oh, whatever Charlie. Thanks very much. I’ll never get to sleep now.” His mum span around and shut the door hard as she left.
“Ooooo. Naughty Charlie. You’ve upset her.”
“No I haven’t.” Charlie couldn’t stop the tears. “It’s your fault.”
“Oh stop blubbering, snotface. You created me. I’m only here because you’re worried.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie sobbed.
Grimplemire let go of the stringy bogey and it splattered right into Charlie’s face.
“That’s what I mean.” Grimplemire giggled. “Your face is covered in snot.”
“Oh, yeeeeeeuuuurrrk.” Charlie tried to peel the green slime off his face, but it was much stickier than normal bogeys. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m only disgusting because that’s how I’ve been conjured.”
“What?” Charlie had managed to scrape most of the snot off his face. And he’d stopped crying now.
“I’ll show you.” Quick as a flash, Grimplemire darted past Charlie, flung the door open, and skipped out of the bedroom.
“Come back!” Charlie whispered through the door as loudly as he dared. But the little goblin was already creeping into Mum’s room.
Charlie tiptoed after him.
Mum had gone back to bed. She was just a lump beneath the duvet on the left side of the bed. Charlie froze. Mum didn’t stir.
Grimplemire was balancing on the dressing table and bending over a box. All Charlie could see was his fat, waggling bottom.
“Aha!” Grimplemire shouted. Charlie cringed. Still Mum didn’t move.
Grimplemire somersaulted off the dressing table, bounced twice on the bed to get some height and rocketed out of the room over Charlie’s head.
“Charlie?” Mum’s voice sounded sleepy. “Go back to bed.”
“Yes Mum.” Charlie said quietly.
The Lipstick
When Charlie got back into his bedroom, Grimplemire was crouching down on the other side of the room. He was hunched over, keeping his face hidden.
“What are you doing, now?” Charlie asked crossly. “What did you take off Mum’s dressing table?”
“You can’t see me yet. I’m not ready.” Grimplemire was putting on a stupid high-pitched voice now. Trying, Charlie thought, to make himself sound like a girl.
“Just show me what you’ve got.” Charlie marched over to the bed, determined to put a stop to this nonsense at once.
Grimplemire turned around and smiled.
It was the most hideous thing Charlie had ever seen in his life.
The little goblin had smeared bright, red lipstick all over his bulbous, blubbery lips. It stood out shockingly against his slimy green skin. He’d also puckered up and closed his eyes just like Grandma did when she was getting ready for one of her great, big kisses.
“Do you see now, my little Chuckiwucky?”
“But…” Charlie backed away. “But you said you weren’t Grandma.”
“You really are as stupid as you look, aren’t you? I’m not your ugly, old grandma. I’m one of your worries, Charlie. A Worrikin.” Grimplemire bowed, which is hard for something that looks like two footballs tied together. “The thing you’re most worried about at the moment.” He added proudly.
“I’m not worried about Grandma.” But that was a lie. Charlie hated it when Grandma kissed him.
And she always seemed to want to kiss him.
And she was coming to visit them today.
“Oooooo. Come on, Charlie. Give me a nice, sloppy kiss.” Grimplemire jumped up, grabbed Charlie’s ears and brought his lipsticky, slobbering lips closer and closer to his face. The hairy wart at the end of Grimplemire’s nose poked him in the eye.
Charlie tried to wrestle the revolting goblin away, but if he pushed one way Grimplemire managed to wriggle around and get closer from a different direction. Charlie fell back onto his bed and Grimplemire landed on top of him.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmm-MA.” Grimplemire landed a huge kiss, smack on Charlie’s forehead.
“Get off me!” Charlie yelled. “Get. Off. Me.”
Grimplemire jumped off the bed, directly onto one the pans that still littered the floor of Charlie’s bedroom. “Clang!” He yelled, as it bounced against the door.
“Charlie?” Mum said, as she pushed the door open again. “Charlie, it’s six o’clock. You can’t be shouting at six o’clock.”
She stared at him.
“What have you got on your forehead?” She was using the voice she used when she was trying not to lose her temper.
“Nothing.” Charlie said.
“It’s not nothing, Charlie. It looks like lipstick.”
Charlie rubbed his finger against his forehead and looked at it. It was bright red.
“Charlie. Have you been drawing on your forehead with lipstick?”
“No.”
“Charlie, don’t lie to me. You know, you’ll always be in more trouble if you lie.”
“I’m not lying. It’s that stupid Grandma thing.” He pointed at Grimplemire who was whistling innocently. “He stole your lipstick and then kissed me on the forehead.”
“I give up, Charlie. I really do.” Mum looked around the room, bewildered. “Now, go and wash that off your face and put these pots and pans back where they belong. Seeing as though we’re up, we may as well get ready for Grandma.”
Tidying Up With Grimplemire
Grimplemire Wartykiss made everything impossible.
After breakfast, Mum asked Charlie to do the washing up. As soon as she left the kitchen, the little goblin dunked his head into the washing up bowl. When he pulled his face out he made himself a beard of bubbles and grinned at Charlie.
“Do I look like your granddad now?”
“No.” Charlie said, as calmly as he could, trying to ignore him. “You look like an idiot.”
“Well.” Grimplemire looked sad. “There’s no need to be rude.” And he also looked a bit smaller.
Then, as Charlie started to wash one of the plates, he realised that all the water had turned to slime, an oily mixture of lipstick and long wart hairs.
Charlie sighed. He’d decided that he wasn’t going to let Grimplemire annoy him. Without getting cross, Charlie emptied the washing up bowl, turned the taps on and refilled it. He squeezed a sensible amount of washing up liquid in and waited.
“Oooo. A lovely bottom washer for me.” Grimplemire said, when the bowl was nearly full. And then he sat in it. “Not too hot. Not too cold. Ooops. Pardon me.”
Three large, brightly coloured bubbles glooped up beside the little goblin. Then, one by one, they popped, like atomic smell explosions.
Each one had its own distinct stink. The green one smelt like rotten eggs, the yellow one like Dan Clark’s feet after he’d been doing P.E., and the red one like old sick.
“Ug.” Charlie choked. “Ock.” He gagged.
“What’s the matter, Chuckiwucky? Don’t you like my smell?”
“Nobody likes those smells.”
The three smells were mixing now. Charlie watched the gases swirling around the kitchen, chasing each other, merging together, getting ready to make one great big pong.
Charlie held his breath.
The smells combined completely into a white mist that drifted around Charlie’s nose.
“Come on Charlie. Take a deep breath.” Grimplemire somersaulted out of the washing up bowl and kicked Charlie in the tummy, like a ninja.
“Ooooooof.” Charlie’s breath sighed out of him. Before he realised what he was doing he had sucked in huge mouthful of air. But it wasn’t air. It was the swirling white mist.
It smelt exactly like Grandma.
Grandma didn’t smell horrible exactly. She certainly didn’t smell like eggs, feet or sick. But whatever had crept up Charlie’s nose reminded him so much of Grandma that his tummy clenched as much from the worry of the dreaded kiss than it did from Grimplemire’s kick.
“Ha!” Grimplemire barked. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” The goblin had grown. The top of its balloon head almost reached Charlie’s chin now and it was as wide as it was tall.
“Charlie?” Mum came back into the kitchen. “Have you finished the washing up?”
There was a lot of soapy water on the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling, from when Grimplemire had launched his spinning ninja kick at him.
“Charlie! You haven’t even started.”
“It’s not my fault.” Charlie whined. “It’s Grimplemire’s.”
“He’s got a name now has he?” Mum shook her head. She picked up a plate and dunked it into the washing up bowl.
“No! Mum! You can’t use that water.” Charlie darted in front of his mum and tipped over the washing up bowl. He watched the contaminated water slurp down the drain. “Phew!”
“Oh, Charlie. You won’t have enough hot water for a bath now.” Mum said this like it was a bad thing. “Why did you do that?”
“I had to.”
“Charlie! Just tell me why. No lies.”
“Because Grimplemire pumped in it.”
Mum didn’t say anything for a long time. She looked like she was trying to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out.
“Go and vacuum the living room.” She eventually said through gritted teeth.
Charlie didn’t understand why Mum always wanted to tidy up before someone came to visit. In fact, he’d never really understood why things needed to be tidied up at all. Things always got messy again. It was just one of the laws of the universe. Like how a worm turns into two worms if you chop it in half. Or if you swallow chewing gum, it’ll stay inside you for seventeen years.
To begin with, it seemed that Grimplemire wanted to really help. He was fascinated by the way the dust and dirt were sucked up into the clear plastic cylinder and span around inside like a miniature tornado. And he loved the noise it made. He roared along in front of it like a very fat, green lion, picking up the toys which Charlie had left out to be played with later.
“That’s better Charlie. Thank you.” Mum said when she popped her head round the door.
Charlie turned to look at his mum, but she’d gone. When he turned back, Grimplemire had disappeared.
Then the vacuum cleaner started to make a funny noise. It sounded as if sludge had been poured into its workings and it began to gurgle. And then shake. And then after a loud whine, it just stopped.
Charlie pressed the button on the top of the vacuum. Click. Nothing.
He pressed it again. Still nothing.
“Mmmm mm mmm mmmmmmmmm-mmmm” Something said from inside the vacuum cleaner.
“Well get out then.” Charlie whispered. He’d liked it when Mum had thanked him and he didn’t want to spoil it by something stupid happening now. “Please. Get out.”
“Mmmmm mmmmm.” Grimplemire groaned.
“Of course you can. You got in.”
Charlie saw Grimplemire’s face squashed against clear plastic of the vacuum cleaner’s cylinder. His bulbous nose had been flattened so much that it covered his mouth.
“Mmmmm mmmmm.” Grimplemire repeated.
Charlie held on tightly to the top of the vacuum cleaner and began to rock it as hard as he could. As he did this he flicked the power switch on and off. Grimplemire turned a brighter shade of green.
“Get out!” Charlie shouted. “Get out!”
Mum ran into the living room in the exact moment the vacuum cleaner exploded. The dust went everywhere, billowing upwards and filling the room with a thick, eye-stinging fog.
“Charlie!” Mum spluttered, after she’d finished coughing. “What have you done?”
“Nothing.” Charlie said between his own coughs. “It just happened.”
“It didn’t just happen. Why were you shaking it?”
“Grimplemire got sucked in. I was trying to get him out.”
The air was clearing slowly and Mum’s face was no longer just a dark outline against the bright passageway. Charlie could see how cross she was. He looked at the broken vacuum cleaner. It was the cleanest thing in the room. And all his toys had been stuffed inside it.
“It’s because of all your toys, Charlie. How many times have I told you that you need to pick everything up off the floor before you start the vacuuming?”
Charlie bowed his head. He wanted to explain that Grimplemire had been doing that part. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.
Mum sighed. “You make it so difficult sometimes, Charlie. Go and get in the bath. Grandma will be here in half an hour.”
As she said those words Grimplemire, who had landed in the far corner, grew another twelve inches taller and two feet fatter.
Bath Time
Mum had filled the bath already for Charlie. It was shallow, lukewarm and filled with bubbles. The only thing Charlie really enjoyed about having a bath was sliding back and forwards by holding onto the handles of the bath. This made a tidal wave which would slosh to and fro, bouncing from each end of the bath, crashing over his head. He would then pretend that he was in a battleship. And the battleship was sinking.
Usually the bathroom would end up getting pretty wet. But Charlie thought that was a small price to pay for surviving a shipwreck. And the waves usually made him fairly clean as well.
Today, though, Charlie decided he wasn’t going to mess about at all. He was going to get in the bath and get washed. Then get out and get dried. Then get dressed.
Grimplemire, who was now slightly taller than Charlie, had other ideas.
“There’s not enough water in there.” He said, spinning the taps on to full power. Charlie scrambled over to the taps and tried to turn them off, but they were twisted on so tightly that he had to use both hands to turn them off.
“And you’ll need loads of bubbles to get rid of all that dust and dirt.” Grimplemire started to pour Mum’s most expensive shampoo into the water. Charlie tried to snatch it away, but the goblin was too quick and leapt onto the side of the bath and squeezed the bottle until it was empty. “There, that’s better.”
Charlie poked a toe into the water. It was freezing.
“Well you shouldn’t have wasted all that water doing the washing up, should you?” Grimplemire crowed.
Charlie took a deep breath and lowered himself into the cold bath. The dirt from the vacuum cleaner dissolved in the water turning it grey. He grabbed the soap and quickly rubbed it all over. The bathwater got dirtier.
“This is the captain speaking.” Grimplemire said, making his voice sound tinny, as if it was coming out of a loudspeaker. “I repeat: this is your captain speaking. The HMS Charlie is sinking. All hands on deck.”
Charlie clenched his teeth. He was not going to mess about. He was just going to get clean.
“All hear this. All hear this.” Grimplemire said. “A torpedo is approaching from due south. Battle stations.”
Charlie wrapped his hands around handles in the middle of the bath, readying himself for the impact.
Something huge landed in the bath behind Charlie.
“KABOOM!” Grimplemire shouted. “Fire in the hole!”
Charlie pulled himself forwards away from the splash and the water piled up in front of him, sploooshing over the side of the bath. He pushed himself backwards into the wave and crashed into the wicker laundry basket that Grimplemire had thrown in.
“Abandon ship!” Grimplemire called, making siren noises.
“No!” Charlie yelled. “Stop it.” He heaved himself up and pulled the sopping wet laundry basket out.
Grimplemire was grinning at him. “I like playing boats, don’t you?”
Charlie ignored him and pulled a towel off the rail. It seemed that the water in the bath had just spread the grime around, rather than clean him. Before long he had to use another towel because the first one was filthy. And then another.
“Are you ready, Charlie?” Mum called from the kitchen. “I can see Grandma walking across the road.”
“Ooooo. Goody!” Grimplemire said. “Kissing time!” He’d grown even taller and wider. He was now much bigger than Charlie. Bigger than Mum. And he looked far too fat to get through the bathroom door.
Charlie gave his face one more useless wipe and looked around the bathroom at the mess. He tried to use the last towel to soak up some of the water that had slopped onto the floor and over the walls. And then he stuffed all of them into the laundry basket and tried to make it stand up properly. But it kept bending over, like a soft, soggy mushroom.
He gave up trying to fix the bathroom, wrapped his dressing gown round him and raced back to his bedroom. He heard Grimplemire trying to squelch through the door after him.
Grandma
Charlie pulled open his drawers trying to find something to wear. He didn’t understand what Mum meant when she said that clothes should match, but he did his best. And he’d just finished dressing when the door bell rang. Grandma had arrived.
“Charlie?” Mum called. “Can you answer the door?”
By the time Charlie got to the door of his room he found Grimplemire blocking it. The goblin was now huge. Far too big to actually get into his bedroom, and so big that he completely blocked the passageway to the front door.
“Are you ready for your big kissywissy now, Chuckiwucky?” Grimplemire puckered up his now enormous lips. His mouth was big enough for Charlie to fit his whole head inside.
Charlie stared at the hulking, green monster standing outside his bedroom. Its face was covered with hairy warts and its slimy lips were plastered with lipstick. It looked very different to the little goblin that had punched him in the tummy when he woke up this morning. This Grimplemire was terrifying.
“Come on. Charlie!” Grimplemire tried to squeeze through the door. “Come and give me a kissywissy.” Even his voice was frightening.
Charlie backed away.
“Charlie?” Mum called again. “Your grandma’s here. Let her in, won’t you?”
Slowly, Grimplemire was oozing into his bedroom. His squashy face stretching like rubber as his flappy ears got caught on the door frame.
Charlie was rooted to the spot. He wanted to do what his mum was asking. He knew how much trouble he’d caused this morning. But he really didn’t want to have to kiss Grandma.
With a loud pop, Grimplemire got his whole head inside the bedroom and he was stretching closer and closer to Charlie. His fat, blubbery body was still in the passageway, lifted up as high as possible on his dumpy legs.
Charlie heard his mum open the front door.
“Hello, dear.” Grandma said. “Where’s Charlie?”
Charlie couldn’t look away from Grimplemire’s massive face as it inched towards him. Even though it was so incredibly ugly, it still looked slightly like Grandma.
Just slightly.
“He’s just getting dressed. He can’t wait to see you.” Charlie’s mum said from the front door. “He’s been a nightmare this morning. He’s so excited.”
“Oh, bless his little heart.” Grandma said. “I’ve been excited too. I’ve made him some of his favourite biscuits.”
Biscuits?
All of a sudden, Charlie remembered some of the nice things about his grandma.
How when she cooked biscuits, she’d let him lick the bowl out.
How when she asked him what he wanted for lunch she’d give him exactly what he asked for, no matter how peculiar it was.
How when it rained they’d snuggle up under a huge woolly blanket she’d knitted and watch old films that Charlie didn’t understand but made her cry.
He remembered how much he loved her.
Grimplemire looked surprised for a moment. Then, like a balloon being let down very slowly, he began to shrink.
Charlie took his chance. He ducked underneath the bulbous, swaying head and dived neatly between the stumpy legs. He jumped to his feet and ran down the passageway to the front door.
“Grandma!” He shouted.
“My little Chuckiwucky!” Grandma said and wrapped her arms around him.
Charlie looked up.
Grandma’s face was coming closer.
She had a lot of lipstick on.
And she had a little hairy wart on her chin.
Charlie held his breath waiting for the inevitable kiss.
And then, with a quick peck, and a warm squeeze, Grandma had let him go.
“Oh, it’s lovely to see you Charlie.” Grandma said and smiled.
“You too.” Charlie smiled back. “Did you lick the bowl out when you made the biscuits?”
Grandma shook her head and pulled a bowl out from her shopping bag. “Of course not. That’s your job.”
Charlie heard a thump. It came from somewhere down the passage. Grimplemire had shrunk to the size of a mouse. “You can’t just ignore me.” He squeaked.
“Oh, yes I can.” Charlie whispered. “Some things just aren’t worth worrying about.”Start writing here…
