2 May The Fattest (and Least Stupid) Man (or Woman) Win

2. MAY THE FATTEST (AND LEAST STUPID) MAN (OR WOMAN) WIN Hiccup's father and grandfather came over to the boys to wish them luck. Hiccup's father, Stoick the Vast, O Hear His Name and Tremble, Ugh, Ugh, was the Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. He was built in the traditional Viking mould, six-and-a-half-feet high, belly like a battleship, eyebrows blowing in the breeze like a couple of large hamsters doing cartwheels. He was horribly hearty, and full of the joys of spring. 'Fabulous day for a Swimming Race!' he roared happily. 'I'm not sure I agree with you,' wheezed Old Wrinkly, Hiccup's grandfather, who was one of the Judges in the competition. He was a wrinkled old oyster of a man, whose ancient back had been blown into a hoop by ninety years of Archipelago gales. His long tangly white beard trailed behind him, picking up shells and seaweed as it dragged in the sand. Old Wrinkly had been trying to persuade Stoick not to take part in the Race.

'I have been looking into the Future and the Omens are not good,' whispered the old man. 'NONSENSE!' pooh-poohed Stoick the Vast. 'Everyone knows you're hopeless at looking into the Future, Old Wrinkly. Now, I'm obviously going to win this Race,' said Stoick, who didn't do modesty, 'but, Hiccup, I would like YOU to beat Snotface Snotlout and that sort of thing…' Snotface Snotlout was Hiccup's cousin. He was a good foot-and-a-half taller than Hiccup, incredibly muscly and tough, and better at Hiccup at practically everything. Hiccup had no chance of beating him in a Swimming Race. But Stoick often didn't notice things like that. Stoick gave Hiccup a kindly biff on the shoulder. 'I KNOW you can do it, son!' he said enthusiastically. 'You may be small, but you're wiry! And your legs might be just a trifle on the skinny side, but you've got the old Horrendous Haddock fight in those knobbly knees! All you have to remember, lad,' said Stoick, taking Hiccup by the shoulders and looking into his eyes, 'is one thing. Repeat after me: KEEP KICKING!' 'Keep kicking,' said Hiccup slowly. 'LOUDER!' bellowed Stoick, punching the air. 'KEEP KICKING!' shouted Hiccup, punching the air too.

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'That's the spirit!' beamed-Stoick, 'I know you'll make me proud, so don't let me down, now!' And he marched off, beaming happily. Both Old Wrinkly and Hiccup sighed as they watched Stoick bustling off. 'He's a good lad Stoick, really,' wheezed Old Wrinkly, 'but he never EVER listens.' 'No,' agreed Hiccup sadly, 'he doesn't. I haven't got a HOPE of beating Snotlout.' Old Wrinkly turned his bright, razor-shell-sharp eyes on his grandson. 'We'll see,' said Old Wrinkly. 'Now, this is very important, Hiccup. Have you got your ticking-thing?' 'Yes,' answered Hiccup, surprised. The ticking-thing was a strange round object, with a front that was hard and transparent, like ice. Behind it were all these rune numbers set in different circles, and at least seven arrows, all different colours. Hiccup had discovered many uses for the ticking-thing. One arrow seemed to tell the time. Another always pointed north, which was extremely useful if you were lost. And since it

was quite a changeable day, with the prospect of this strong easterly wind blowing you off course, Hiccup thought it might be handy on this occasion. The ticking-thing was waterproof, too. Hiccup's only worry was that he was going to LOSE it, so he had attached it to his wrist with a long piece of rope, and then tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. 'Excellent!' said Old Wrinkly. 'Hand it to me, for a moment…' Hiccup took the ticking-thing out from his pocket. Old Wrinkly opened the back of it and began to fiddle with some of the little buttons inside. 'Now, Hiccup,' said Old Wrinkly, 'I haven't got time to explain, but you have to return to this beach within THREE MONTHS, FIVE DAYS AND SIX HOURS, do you understand me?' 'THREE MONTHS, FIVE DAYS, AND SIX HOURS?' gasped Hiccup. 'What ARE you talking about? I'm not going to last more than fifteen minutes out there!' 'I've set the alarm for you,' said Old

Wrinkly, putting the ticking-thing back into Hiccup's waistcoat pocket. 'When you have less than six hours left, it will start to tick louder. And if the alarm goes off, well, then you will know you are too late… DON'T BE LATE now, Hiccup, will you? I'm counting on you, boy…' And Old Wrinkly hurried off to the Judges' Table, with Hiccup staring after him with his mouth open. 'Mad as a banana,' said Hiccup. All the competitors were crowded at the start line drawn in the sand twenty metres from the sea, chatting with each other. Big-Boobied Bertha, the Chief of the Bog-Burglar Tribe, was slapping Blubberwing fat on to her arms, her gigantic boobies flapping so buoyantly and joyously in the wind that it looked as if any second they might carry her up into the sky like a couple of hot air balloons. Bertha had a foghorn voice with the kind of carrying quality that could be heard several islands away. She was telling everyone within a two-mile radius that SHE was Bertha the Unsinkable, the Archipelago Swimming Champion, and that everybody else might as well go home right now.