'You're not taking that dung beetle with you,' said Mum.
'But Mum, Uncle Sid likes dung beetles. He won't mind.'
'Aunt Scrotch will. She doesn't even like boys. You're lucky that she lets you have a holiday there each year. You leave that dung beetle at home with me.'
'Okay,' I said. I put my dung beetle back in his matchbox and shoved it into my pocket. Aunt Scrotch would never know I had it.
The first night at Aunt Scrotch's house was terrible.
There I was, lying in bed in the dark. Aunt Scrotch wouldn't let me have the light on. She was too mean to use the electricity. Inside the room it was almost black. There was just enough light to see shadows on the wall. Just enough light to nearly see the eyes that were watching me.
Even more surprising stories:
- On the Bottom
- A Good Tip for Ghosts
- Frozen Stiff
- Cracking Up
- Spaghetti Pig-Out
- Know All