Moody Margaret’s Sleepover

Moody Margaret’s Sleepover ‘What are you doing here?’said Moody Margaret, glaring. ‘I'm here for the sleepover, ' said Sour Susan, glaring back. ‘You were uninvited, remember?’said Margaret. ‘And then you invited me again, remember?’snapped Susan. ‘Did not. ' ‘Did too. You told me last week I could come. ’ ‘Didn't. '

‘Did. You're such a meanie, Margaret, 'scowled Susan. Aaaarrggghh. Why was she friends with such a moody old grouch? Moody Margaret heaved a heavy sigh. Why was she friends with such a sour old slop bucket? ‘Well, since you're here, I guess you'd better come in, ' said Margaret. ‘But don't expect any dessert 'cause there won't be enough for you and my real guests. ' Sour Susan stomped inside Margaret's house. Grrrr. She wouldn't be inviting Margaret to her next sleepover party, that's for sure. Horrid Henry couldn't sleep. He was hot. He was hungry. ‘Biscuits! ’moaned his tummy. ‘Give me biscuits! '

Because Mum and Dad were the meanest, most horrible parents in the world, they'd forgotten to buy more biscuits and there wasn't a single solitary crumb in the house. Henry knew because he'd searched everywhere. ‘Give me biscuits! ’ growled his tummy. ‘What are you waiting for?' I'm going to die of hunger up here, thought Horrid Henry. And it will be all Mum and Dad's fault. They'll come in tomorrow morning and find just a few wisps of hair and some teeth. Then they'd be sorry. Then they'd wail and gnash. But it would be too late.

‘How could we have forgotten to buy chocolate biscuits?’Dad would sob. ‘We deserve to be locked up forever! ’Mum would shriek. ‘And now there's nothing left of Henry but a tooth, and it's all our fault! ' they'd howl. Humph. Serve them right. Wait. What an idiot he was. Why should he risk death from starvation when he knew where there was a rich stash of all sorts of yummy biscuits waiting just for him?

Moody Margaret’s Secret Club tent was sure to be full to bursting with goodies! Horrid Henry hadn't raided it in ages. And so long as he was quick, no one would ever know he'd left the house. ‘Go on, Henry, ' urged his tummy. ‘FEED ME! ’ Horrid Henry didn't need to be urged twice. Slowly, ME quietly, he sneaked out of bed, crept down the stairs, and tiptoed out of the back door. Then quick over the wall, and hey presto, he was in the Secret Club tent. There was Margaret’s Secret Club biscuit tin, in her pathetic hiding place under a blanket. Ha!