Horrid Henry Wakes the Dead by Francesca Simon Page A

with you boys fighting over the TV,” shouted Mom. “No TV for the rest of the day.”
    What?
    Huh?
    “But…but…” said Perfect Peter.
    “But…but…” said Horrid Henry.
    “No buts,” said Mom.
    “It’s not fair!” wailed Henry and Peter.
    Horrid Henry paced up and down his room, whacking his teddy, Mr. Kill, on the bedpost every time he walked past.
    WHACK!
    WHACK!
    WHACK!
    He had to find a way to make sure he watched the shows he wanted to watch. He just had to. He’d have to get up at the crack of dawn. There was no other way.
    Unless…
    Unless…
    And then Horrid Henry had a brilliant, spectacular idea. What an idiot he’d been. All those months he’d missed his fantastic shows…Well, never ever again.
    Sneak.
    Sneak.
    Sneak.
    It was the middle of the night. Horrid Henry crept down the stairs as quietly as he could and tiptoed into the living room, shutting the door behind him. There was the TV, grumbling in the corner. “Why is no one watching me?” moaned the TV. “C’mon, Henry.”

    But for once Henry didn’t listen. He had something much more important to do.
    He crept to the comfy black chair and fumbled in the dark. Now, where was the remote? Aha! There it was. As usual, it had fallen between the seat cushion and the armrest. Henry grabbed it. Quick as a flash, he switched the TV over to the channel for Rapper Zapper , Talent Tigers , and Hog House . Then he tiptoed to the toy cupboard and hid the remote control deep inside a bucket of multicolored blocks that no one had played with for years.

    Tee-hee, thought Horrid Henry.
    Why should he have to get up to grab the comfy black chair hours before his shows started when he could sleep in, saunter downstairs whenever he felt like it, and be master of the TV? Whoever was sitting in the chair could be in charge of the TV all they wanted. But without the TV remote, no one would be watching anything.
    Perfect Peter stretched out on the comfy black chair. Hurrah. Served Henry right for being so mean to him. Peter had gotten downstairs first. Now he could watch what he wanted all morning.
    Peter reached for the remote control. It wasn’t on the armrest. It wasn’t on the headrest. Had it slipped between the armrest and the cushion? No. He felt around the back. No. He looked under the chair. Nothing. He looked behind the chair. Where was it?

    Horrid Henry strolled into the sitting room. Peter clutched tightly onto the armrests in case Henry tried to push him off.
    “I got the comfy black chair first,” said Peter.
    “Okay,” said Horrid Henry, sitting down on the sofa. “So let’s watch something.”
    Peter looked at Henry suspiciously.
    “Where’s the remote?” said Peter.
    “I dunno,” said Horrid Henry. “Where did you put it?”
    “I didn’t put it anywhere,” said Peter.
    “You had it last,” said Henry.
    “No I didn’t,” said Peter.
    “Did too,” said Henry.
    “Did not,” said Peter.
    Perfect Peter sat on the comfy black chair. Horrid Henry sat on the sofa.
    “Have you seen it anywhere?” said Peter.
    “No,” said Henry. “You’ll just have to look for it, won’t you?”
    Peter eyed Henry warily.
    “I’m waiting,” said Horrid Henry.
    Perfect Peter didn’t know what to do. If he got up from the chair to look for the remote, Henry would jump into it and there was no way Henry would decide to watch Cooking Cuties , even though today they were showing how to make your own granola.
    On the other hand, there wasn’t much point sitting in the chair if he didn’t have the remote.
    Henry sat.
    Peter sat.
    “You know, Peter, you can turn on the TV without the remote,” said Henry casually.
    Peter brightened. “You can?”
    “Sure,” said Henry. “You just press that big black button on the left.”
    Peter stared suspiciously at the button. Henry must think he was an idiot. He could see Henry’s plan from miles away. The moment Peter left the comfy black chair Henry would jump on it.
    “You press it,”