Just Crazy by Andy Griffiths Page A

But it’s horrible laughter. Evil and high-pitched. And it’s coming from inside Danny’s body.
    This is too crazy. I mean, his head coming off was crazy, but this is TOO crazy.

    I’m getting out of here.
    I try to run but I can’t lift my feet off the ground. They feel like they’re nailed to the floor.
    I bend down and try to lift them up with my hands, but they won’t budge. The high-pitched laughter is getting louder and louder and louder . . .

    Oh no . . . I don’t believe what I’m seeing . . .

    Hundreds of mini-Dannys are pouring out of the neck of Danny’s headless body.
    Wave after wave after wave.
    Hundreds of them.
    Thousands.
    They’re pouring out of his neck, down his arms and leaping to the ground . . . and, worst of all, they’re heading towards me. Laughing their tiny heads off.

    They’re really close to me now. They swarm around my feet and start climbing onto my runners.
    â€˜Hey!’ I say, shaking my foot. ‘Get off!’
    But they don’t stop.
    They keep leaping. I shake even harder. They fly off and land on the carpet, but immediately regroup and keep trying to climb onto my shoes. It’s like standing on an ants’ nest. They’re getting crazier and crazier. And there are more coming. They keep streaming out of Danny’s neck. They’re everywhere.
    I’ve got no choice.
    I’m not normally a violent person, but I’m going to have to squash them.
    I start stomping.
    But it doesn’t stop them.
    As I flatten them they split into two and each mini-Danny becomes two even minier-Dannys. And the minier-Dannys laugh even harder and louder than the mini-Dannys.
    They all start leaping onto the bottom of my jeans. They’re climbing up my legs like spiders. I’ve got to stop them. If I don’t they’ll be all over me in seconds.
    I look around.
    There’s a can of flyspray on the windowsill.I brought it into my room to use against mosquitoes — I hope it works against mini-Dannys.
    I snap the lid off and start spraying my legs.

    As the spray hits them the mini-Dannys fall backwards onto the floor, spin around on their backs and kick their legs in the air.
    But it doesn’t stop the others from trying.
    For every one that I kill, two take its place. And when I kill those two, four more jump on, laughing the whole time. The noise is incredible.
    This is so horrible. It can’t be happening.
    Hang on.

    Maybe it’s not happening.
    Maybe it’s just another one of my crazy dreams. I’ve been having a lot lately.
    If it’s a dream then all I have to do is pinch myself and I’ll wake up and everything will be fine.
    I put the flyspray down on the windowsill and pinch the skin on my forearm. Ouch.
    I blink.

    The light hurts.
    I look around.
    I’m in my bed, drenched in sweat.

    At least I hope it’s sweat.
    What a relief!
    It was just a dream.
    A nightmare.
    But at least I’m awake now.
    I look over at my fishbowl.
    That’s strange.
    Goldie’s missing.
    But I only dreamed that Danny swallowed Goldie . . . didn’t I? If Goldie’s really gone, that means I wasn’t dreaming and if I wasn’t dreaming that means that . . . well, I’m not sure what it means . . .
    And why is the room shaking?
    Is this an earthquake?
    The plaster on the roof above my bed is cracking. A big chunk of it falls onto my bed.
    I hear a loud splintering sound. Dust and bits of plaster rain down onto my bed and the room is filled with light.
    It’s like the roof has been lifted off the house.
    Maybe it’s not an earthquake. Maybe it’s a cyclone.
    No!
    It’s a gigantic Danny!
    A Danny that towers into the sky.
    A Danny that looks as big to me as I must have looked to the mini-Dannys.

    He’s hideous.
    He’s horrible.
    But he’s unmistakably Danny.
    He tosses the roof away as if it’s no heavier than the lid of a shoebox. It crashes to