Just Crazy by Andy Griffiths Page B

the ground. The whole house shakes.
    Danny throws back his head and laughs. An enormous ear-splitting laugh that seems to fill the whole world.
    He reaches down, picks me up by the collar of my pyjama top and lifts me high into the air. He tilts his head back and holds me above his mouth.
    Oh no!
    He’s going to eat me — just like he ate Goldie!
    It is a horrible view from up here.
    I can see every filling in his mouth. His big disgusting tongue. I can see every crack and fissure — and there’s this yellow gunk all over it. But the worst thing is his breath. It smells like dead fish. And it’s blowing all over me.
    I don’t want to go in there.
    I don’t want to die.

    But there’s nothing I can do.
    I’m dangling in the air.
    And then Danny lets go.
    I’m going down, down, down.
    Down into the slimy dark-redness of Danny’s throat.
    It’s all around me.
    The warm squishy walls.
    Pressing.
    Squishing.
    Digesting.
    Digesting!
    I’ve got to get out of here.
    I’ve got to go up.
    But I’m going down.
    Suddenly the squishing stops.
    I fall into a big red cave.
    Dark.
    Dripping.
    Wet.
    I land on something squelchy. Everything’s sort of wobbly and unsteady. It’s like being in a jumping castle that’s covered in slime.
    I guess this must be Danny’s stomach.
    What am I saying? I can’t be in Danny’s stomach.
    This can’t be real.
    I must be dreaming.
    That’s it. Of course. I’m still in my dream.
    Or am I? Is it a dream, or maybe it’s some sort of weird hallucination. What if I’ve gone mad but I don’t know I’ve gone mad because not knowing I’ve gone mad is part of the madness? But then the fact that I’m thinking this means that I must know I’m mad so I can’t be mad. But how can I be sure that I’m not just dreaming that I’m mad — or that I’m mad and I’m just having a regular dream? I could try pinching myself again, but that didn’t really help the first time. That’s how I ended up in here. What if I pinch myself and I end up in an even worse dream? I couldn’t stand it. This is bad enough.

    No.
    I’m just going to have to deal with the situation as it is. It’s the only way.
    I have to find a way out of Danny’s stomach. But how?
    As my eyes adjust to the dimness I can see a whole landscape emerge from the gloom around me.
    It has a sort of lunar feel — everything is covered in some kind of white powder. It’s all over me. I brush myself down and sniff myfingers. I know that smell. It’s sherbet! Judging by how much of it is down here, Danny must live on the stuff.

    There’s a big lake in front of me. I have to be careful. That could be Danny’s stomach juices. I crouch down for a closer look. It doesn’t look like stomach juices though. It’s sparkling and full of bubbles, like lemonade. I put my finger in and taste a bit. It is lemonade!
    On the other side of the lemonade lake there appears to be a snow-capped mountain range. It’s not like a normal mountain range though — it’s pink and white and brown. As I peer closely I can see that it’s actually ice-cream. And next to it there looks like hundreds — possibly thousands — of donuts. All sitting around in huge piles like stacks of old tyres at a car wreckers.
    No wonder Danny is acting so strangely.
    He lives on a diet of pure sugar.
    Except for the occasional human, that is.
    But how am I going to get out?
    I look up. There’s no way I can climb back up the walls of Danny’s throat. They’re too slippery. Besides, the opening I fell through must be more than a hundred metres above me. I couldn’t reach it even if I tried.
    I look all around me.
    I see something flashing in the lemonade lake. Something that glitters.

    I move towards it.
    It’s Goldie!
    I reach down and pick her up.
    â€˜Don’t worry,