Goat Pie Read Online Free PDF Page A

phone upstairs,’ he groaned.
    â€˜What’s it doing up there?’
    â€˜I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting to be burgled today!’
    â€˜See?’ said Warren triumphantly. ‘If I had a mobile phone,
I
could phone the police!’
    â€˜Be quiet, Warren!’ hissed Mrs Priddle. ‘What are we going to do? They’re in there now stealing our things. My jewellery, Roger. The TV’s brand new. And all the presents are on top of the wardrobe!’
    â€˜Are they?’ said Warren, who had been trying to find them for some time.
    â€˜You’ll just have to scare them off,’ Mrs Priddle continued.
    â€˜Me?’ said Mr Priddle. ‘What if they’re dangerous? They might be thugs! Criminals!’
    â€˜Of course they’re criminals – they’re burgling our house!’ said Mrs Priddle. ‘Make a lot of noise – that’s what they say you should do.’
    â€˜Do they?’ said Mr Priddle nervously. ‘Don’t they say you should wait for the police?’
    â€˜Roger! They’re in our house! Are you just going to stand there and let them get away?’
    Mr Priddle could see his wife was working herself into a temper. He wasn’t sure if he would rather face her or the burglars. Screwing up his courage, he gripped the only weapon he had – the bushy green Christmas tree. It wasn’t much but it would certainly give them a scratch or two.
    â€˜When I count to three, shout and make a racket,’ he said.
    â€˜Can I shout “bogeys”?’ asked Warren.
    â€˜Certainly not!’ said Mrs Priddle.
    â€˜Shout anything! Just make it loud!’ said Mr Priddle. He decided he was better holding the base of the Christmas tree – that way the burglars would get the pointy end. He took a deep breath. This was probably the bravest thing he’d ever done in his life – or the stupidest. ‘I’m starting to count,’ he said. ‘One … two … three!’
    â€˜Arghhhh!’ screamed Mrs Priddle.
    â€˜BOGEYS!’ hollered Warren.
    â€˜Raaaaarrrrr!’ roared Mr Priddle, charging in through the kitchen and shedding pine needles in all directions. He burst in through the loungedoor and found he was running so fast that it was impossible to stop.
    There was a loud BANG! followed by a shattering of glass as the point of the Christmas tree embedded itself in the screen of the new television.
    Ulrik had leapt to his feet. So had Grumpa, who was roaring partly from fright and partly because trolls never miss a chance to roar.
    Mr Priddle looked round slowly and saw a large elderly troll staring at him. He was dressed in a filthy coat and standing on their sofa.
    â€˜Who … who are you?’ asked Mr Priddle.
    â€˜Never mind that,’ growled Grumpa. ‘Who the bogles are you?’
    Ulrik looked from one face to the other. He could see this was going to take quite a bit of explaining.

Saving Trollmas
    Mr Troll had been trying to clamber over the back fence when he heard the bang from inside the house. He had hoped he could get Grumpa out before things got awkward, but the bang and the shouting told him he was too late.
    When he and Mrs Troll finally went round to ring the doorbell it was answered by a very cross-looking Mrs Priddle. She had a good mind, she said, to report the whole matter to the police. If they couldn’t control their elderlyrelatives, they ought to be kept indoors.
    What did Grumpa think he was doing breaking into houses and stealing food from the fridge? (The remains of three chicken drumsticks had been found on the carpet.) The back door was hanging off and the new TV they’d bought for Christmas had shattered in a million pieces. (Mr Priddle pointed out he was partly to blame for the TV, but Mrs Priddle shouted at him not to interrupt.)
    â€˜And that isn’t the worst of it,’ she concluded. ‘Do you know what he called