Horror High 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

gone, and now young men with terminal hair issues suffered big-style for their preposterous pelts, their manic manes, their tremulous tresses, their furry fleeces, their creditable curls.
    And if WG had spent more time studying his thesaurus instead of combing his absurd shag pile, he could’ve added a whole bunch more clever and alliterative hair references. He couldn’t be bothered (I couldn’t either) and now the opportunity has passed forever.
    But that’s not the point. The point was this: WG Grace had copped all the hairist jokes in his day, and been called everything from ‘bear hair’ to ‘mammoth head’ to ‘werewolf’. Yes, he’d been called ‘werewolf’, as though it was an insult, and thatwas the thing that tipped the scale in our hero’s favour.
    He felt obvious empathy for Jason-Jock and the werewolf team, and at that moment of weakness he decided to help them.
    Sucker!

Or maybe they were the suckers. God, did WG Grace work those lazy werewolves. Day after day in the nets – batting, bowling, discussions, lectures, more batting and bowling. Panting laps around the oval, push-ups, star-jumps, more batting and bowling.
    They studied footage of their opponents while WG pointed out their weak spots, advising them how to capitalise on theseareas. They watched DVDs of the real pros, the Aussie team. WG laughed at their girly coloured suits festooned with junk food advertisements and mocked Warney’s sissy boy-band haircut and lay-around-the-house lardiness.
    Fangbert threw his drink in WG’s face and the cricket legend ghost chased the werewolf around the oval, swinging a cricket bat, howling with rage and vowing to crack Fangbert’s worthless skull like a rotten emu egg.
    But all in all the team got it together, and began to actually play like a team. Then, after three weeks of this tedium, dreariness, monotony and mind-numbingly boring training antics that I won’t even begin to burden you with, the legendary competition commenced.
    Â 
    The Interghouls Cricket Cup is, as everybody knows, the event of the sporting calendar for ghoul schools. Sure, everybody pretends that the swimming carnival and the hockey play-offs and the rugby arejust as prestigious, but these are the same single-celled simpletons who tell you it’s not important whether you win or lose but how you play the game.
    And we all know which vegetable patch these weeds are growing in – and why instead of being treated as heroes they’re treated with herbicide – so let’s say no more about it. Winning was everything and every student in every ghoul school knew it. They would’ve gladly died a second time to win the Cup, and the facts speak for themselves.
    Death stalked the Cup. Rates of parental homicide went through the roof this time of year, and psychotically angry parents who knocked off their child for losing the Cup were always let off by the courts on the grounds of justifiable homicide. They were given a pat on the back, an excellent meal in the courthouse cafe at the city’s expense, and free parking and carwash vouchers for their next court appearance.
    The Interghouls Cricket Cup is a sudden death play-off, as you’d expectfrom a ghoul school competition. What you might not have expected was that the Werewolves XI, suddenly and impossibly playing tight as any team can play, scorched their more docile opponents, stomped them to Hell and back, winning round after round.
    Their skill – and luck – held, and after six matches they found themselves in the finals, pitted against the team that had convincingly held the Cup seven years running, Death Valley High’s Vampires XI.

You might’ve noticed that clever sleight-of-hand tactic at the end of the last chapter. It’s a pretty convenient way of covering a whole lot of story in a very few sentences, and since I’m paid by the page I can legally pad half this