Just Annoying! by Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton Page A

incredible odds.
    I put it in my pocket.
    James Bond would be proud of me. I steady myself and prepare to bolt.
    â€˜Which row?’ says the usher.
    â€˜This row!’ scream the women in unison.
    The usher bends down and shines his torch right in my face.
    â€˜Good evening!’ I say in my suavest James Bond voice and then launch myself right at him and into the aisle.
    In his surprise the usher steps backwards. And falls. Ouch!
    The torch goes flying.
    I’m out in the centre aisle. But in all the excitement I can’t remember where I was sitting.

    I could yell ‘cooee!’ and hope that Danny replies, but that wouldn’t be too smart. Everyone would know where I am.
    There is one way, though.
    It’s not going to be pleasant but I have to do it. Only my uncanny sense of smell can help me now.
    I empty my lungs. I close my eyes. I breathe in through my nose, searching for a particular smell. A particularly bad smell. The worst smell in the whole world. A smell that’s kind of a cross between bad breath, dog pooh and garlic.
    Danny’s foot odour.
    Lucky for me Danny has a habit of taking his shoes off in the cinema. Judging by the smell, it must be about the only time he ever does take them off.

    Got it! Two rows back to the middle and nine seats across.
    Just in time. At least half-a-dozen torch beams start streaming down the aisles.
    Backup ushers!
    I throw myself towards the aisle where the stench is the strongest and dive under the seats before the torch beams hit.
    I move smoothly until I get to a seat without any legs in front of it. That must be mine. I emerge and slip back into my place as if nothing has happened.

    â€˜Right on!’ says Danny.
    â€˜Shut up!’ I say. ‘Just act normal.’
    The ushers are patrolling the aisles like prison guards.
    I pretend to be absorbed by the movie.
    It’s not easy. I’ve completely lost track of what’s going on. And I still can’t see the screen properly.
    All I can make out is that James Bond and his girlfriend are trapped in this enormous factory. It’s filled with smoke and fire. Explosions left, right and centre. They are desperately pressing buttons to get the doors open.
    My Jaffa!
    I have to eat the Jaffa before I lose it again.
    I put the Jaffa in my mouth. This is going to be good. I worked for this. I deserve it.
    That’s funny. I didn’t know they made Jaffas with a mint centre. And so chewy.

    That’s not right. It’s not a Jaffa. It’s somebody’s old chewing gum.
    I clutch at my throat. What if the person who last chewed that gum was really sick and now I’ve got some horrible disease?
    I spit the gum out.
    It flies through the air, straight into the hair of the woman in front of me.
    She jumps up.
    â€˜There’s something in my hair!’ she screams ‘Urgh! Chewing gum.’
    She turns to me and points.
    â€˜You did this, you nasty little boy!’
    I slump down in my seat.
    The handbag woman stands up.
    â€˜That’s the boy who tried to steal my handbag!’
    The other woman is beside her.
    â€˜He tried to look up my dress!’
    â€˜No!’ I say to them. ‘You’re making a terrible mistake. That was just somebody who looks like me!’

    Ushers everywhere. More and more people are crowding around my seat. Nobody seems to be interested in the movie any more.
    Even the little kid is standing on his seat and pointing.
    â€˜That’s him,’ he says. ‘See, Mummy! That’s the boy who was under my seat.’
    His mother stands up.
    â€˜Is this true?’ she says.
    Before I can answer, the first usher is shining his torch in my face.
    â€˜It’s you!’ he says. ‘The one who tied my shoelaces together!’
    The faces of these people appear twisted and evil in the half-light of the movie house. The usher is a dead-ringer for the villain in the film.
    I turn to Danny for support.
    â€˜Tell