Horrid Henry’s Olympics

Horrid Henry’s Olympics Chomp chomp chomp chomp. . . Burp. Ahhh! Horrid Henry scoffed the last crumb of Super Spicy Hedgehog chips and burped again. So yummy. Wow. He'd eaten the entire pack in seventeen seconds. No one could guzzle chips faster than Horrid Henry, especially when he was having to gobble them secretly in class. He'd never been caught, not even- A dark, icy shadow fell across him. “ Are you eating in class, Henry?” hissed Miss Battle-Axe. “ No, ” said Henry. Tee-hee. Thanks to his super-speedy jaws, he'd already swallowed the evidence.

" Then where did this chip packet come from?” said Miss Battle-Axe, pointing to the plastic bag on the floor. Henry shrugged. “ Bert! Is this yours?” " I dunno, " said Beefy Bert. “ There is no eating in class, ” said Miss Battle- Axe. Why did she have to say the same things over and over? One day the Queen would discover that she, Boudicca Battle-Axe, was her long-lost daughter and sweep her off to the palace, where she would live a life of pampered luxury. But until then- “ Now, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, " she glared at Horrid Henry, “ our school will be having its very own Olympics. We'll be running and jumping and swimming and-“

“ Eating! ” yelled Horrid Henry. “ Quiet, Henry, " snapped Miss Battle-Axe. “ I want all of you to practice hard, both in school and out, to show-" Horrid Henry stopped listening. It was so unfair. Wasn't it bad enough that every morning he had to heave his heavy bones out of bed to go to school, without wasting any of his precious TV-watching time running and jumping and swimming? He was a terrible runner. He was a pathetic jumper. He was a hopeless swimmer- though he did have his five-meter badge. . . Besides, Aerobic Al was sure to win every medal. In fact, they should just give them all to him now and save everyone else a load of bother. Shame, thought Horrid Henry, that the things he was so good at never got prizes. If there was a medal for who could watch TV the longest or who could eat the most candy, or who was quickest out of the classroom door when the last bell rang, well, he'd be covered in gold from head to toe. “ Go on, Susan! Jump higher. ” “ I'm jumping as high as I can, ” said Sour Susan. “ That's not high, ” said Moody Margaret. “ A tortoise could jump higher than you. ”

“ Then get a tortoise, ” snapped Susan sourly. “ You're just a lazy lump. ” “ You're just a moody meanie. ” “ Lump. ” “ Meanie. ” “ LUMP! ” “ MEANIE! ” Slap! Slap! “ Whatcha doin’?” asked Horrid Henry, leaning over the garden wall. “ Go away, Henry, ” said Margaret. “ Yeah, Henry, " said Susan. “ I can stand in my own yard if I want to, ” said Henry. “ Just ignore him, ” said Margaret. “ We’re practicing for the school Olympics, ” said Susan. Horrid Henry snorted.

" I don't see you practicing, " said Margaret. “ That’s ’cause I'm doing my own Olympics, frog-face, " said Henry. His jaw dropped. YES! YES! A thousand times yes! Why hadn't he thought of this before? Of course he should set up his own Olympics. And have the competitions he'd always wanted to have. A name-calling competition! A chocolate- eating competition! A chip-eating competition! A who-could-watch-the-most-TVs-at-the-same- time-competition! He'd make sure he had competitions that he could win. The Henry Olympics. The Holympics. And the prizes would be. . . the prizes would be. . . masses and masses of chocolate!