Horrid Henry Wakes the Dead by Francesca Simon Page B

said Peter.
    “Okay,” said Henry agreeably. He sauntered to the TV and pressed the “on” button.
    BOOM! CRASH! WALLOP!
    “Des-troy! Des-troy!” bellowed Mutant Max.
    “Go mutants!” shouted Horrid Henry, bouncing up and down.

    Perfect Peter sat frozen in the chair.
    “But I want to watch Sing-Along with Susie! ” wailed Peter. “She’s teaching a song about raindrops and roses.”
    “So find the remote,” said Horrid Henry.
    “I can’t,” said Peter.
    “Tough,” said Horrid Henry. “Pulverize! Destroy! Destroy!”
    Tee-hee.
    What a fantastic day, sighed Horrid Henry happily. He’d watched every single one of his best shows and Peter hadn’t watched a single one of his . And now Hog House was on. Could life get any better?
    Dad staggered into the living room. “Ahh, a little relaxation in front of the TV,” sighed Dad. “Henry, turn off that horrible show. I want to watch the news.”
    “Shhh!” said Horrid Henry. How dare Dad interrupt him?
    “Henry…” said Dad.
    “I can’t,” said Horrid Henry. “No remote.”
    “What do you mean, no remote?” said Dad.
    “It’s gone,” said Henry.
    “What do you mean, gone?” said Mom.
    “Henry lost it,” said Peter.
    “Did not,” snapped Henry.
    “Did too,” said Peter.
    “DID NOT!” bellowed Henry. “Now be quiet, I’m trying to watch.”
    Mom marched over to the TV and switched it off.
    “The TV stays off until the remote is found,” said Mom.
    “But I didn’t lose it!” wailed Peter.
    “Neither did I,” said Horrid Henry. This wasn’t a lie, as he hadn’t lost it.
    Rats. Maybe it was time for the TV remote to make a miraculous return…
    Sneak.
    Sneak.
    Sneak.
    Mom and Dad were in the kitchen. Perfect Peter was practicing his cello.
    Horrid Henry crept to the toy cupboard and opened it.
    The bucket of blocks was gone.
    Huh?
    Henry searched frantically in the cupboard, hurling out jigsaw puzzles, board games, and half-empty paint bottles. The blocks were definitely gone.
    Yikes. Horrid Henry felt a chill down his spine. He was dead. He was doomed.
    Unless Mom had moved the blocks somewhere. Of course. Phew. He wasn’t dead yet.

    Mom walked into the living room.
    “Mom,” said Henry casually, “I wanted to build a castle with those old blocks but when I went to get them from the cupboard they were gone.”
    Mom stared at him. “You haven’t played with those blocks in years, Henry. I cleaned out of all the baby toys today and gave them to charity.”
    Charity? Charity? That meant the remote was gone for good. He would be in trouble. Big, big trouble. He was doomed…NOT!
    Without the clicker, the TV would be useless. Mom and Dad would have to buy a new one. Yes! A bigger, better, fantastic one with twenty-five surround-sound speakers and a mega-whopper 10-foot super-sized screen!

    “You know, Mom, we wouldn’t have any arguments if we all had our own TVs,” said Henry. Yes! In fact, if he had two in his bedroom, and a third one to spare in case one of them ever broke, he’d never argue about the TV again.
    Mom sighed. “Just find the remote,” she said. “It must be here somewhere.”
    “But our TV is so old,” said Henry.
    “It’s fine,” said Dad.
    “It’s horrible,” said Henry.
    “We’ll see,” said Mom.
    New TV here I come, thought Horrid Henry happily.
    Mom sat down on the sofa and opened her book.
    Dad sat down on the sofa and opened his book.
    Peter sat down on the sofa and opened his book.

    “You know,” said Mom, “it’s lovely and peaceful without the TV.”
    “Yes,” said Dad.
    “No squabbling,” said Mom.
    “No screaming,” said Dad.
    “Tons of time to read good books,” said Mom.
    They smiled at each other.
    “I think we should be a TV-free home from now on,” said Dad.
    “Me too,” said Mom.
    “That’s a great idea,” said Perfect Peter. “More time to do homework.”
    “What??” screamed Horrid Henry. He thought his heart would stop. No TV? No TV?