Bug Eyed Monsters Read Online Free

down, kind of thing?’
    â€˜That’s how you’d catch ‘em,’ said Joe. ‘When bits of their real selves start showing through.’
    â€˜Whoosh!’ Bal flailed excitedly. ‘Now I’m human, now I’m a monster! Now I’m – ow!’
    There was a loud thud, followed by a thump, followed by a strangulated cry, as Bal overbalanced and bounced off his locker on to the floor.
    Almost immediately, footsteps could be heard, thudding down the passage. The door flew open. Just for a second, before the light was switched on, a pair of what looked to be red golf balls hovered in the air.
    â€˜What,’ demanded Mr Snitcher, in a high-pitched screech, ‘is going on?’
    Four pairs of eyes blinked nervously in the light. The golf balls quivered. Bright red!

    â€˜Baljit Singh,’ screeched Mr Snitcher, ‘what are you doing on the floor?’
    Bal scrambled hastily to his feet. ‘Fell out of bed, sir.’
    â€˜Then fall back in and make sure you stay there!’
    The golf balls disappeared, along with Mr Snitcher. The door slammed shut. There was a long silence, broken at last by Joe.
    â€˜Did the Snitch always have red eyes?’
    â€˜Don’t think so,’ said Harry.
    Certainly not ones that glowed in the dark…
    * * *
    As well as being house master, Mr Snitcher was also Head of Year 6. This meant he had to eat breakfast with them. It was not an experience he enjoyed. Watching Year 6 eat was like watching a feeding frenzy. There was no escaping the snapping of jaws, the chomping of mouths, the spraying of crumbs. For the most part, Mr Snitcher kept his head well down over his modest bowl of sunflower seeds, which was all he ever ate. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to blot out the noise as boys slurped on their porridge and chewed on their toast.
    Harry and Joe slurped as noisily as anyone. Ryan and Bal chobbled and chewed. From time to time a foot would kick out beneath the table and a head urgently nod in Mr Snitcher’s direction. If the Snitch would just look up now and again! But Mr Snitcher bent determinedly over his bowl, picking up sunflower seeds one by one and nibbling on them like a rabbit.
    In the end, Joe could stand it no longer.
    â€˜Sir?’ he said. ‘Sir?’
    â€˜What, what? What is it?’
    Mr Snitcher’s head jerked up. Had one of the wretched boys managed to choke himself or set the place on fire?
    The wretched boys stared, their mouths hanging open.
    The eyes which had glowed red in the night were now a dull sludge brown.
    â€˜Well?’ said Mr Snitcher.
    Joe said, ‘Erm…’
    He looked round, rather desperately, at the others. But Harry was sitting frozen, a spoonful of porridge suspended in mid air,while marmalade dribbled and dripped off Ryan’s knife and Bal, never usually at a loss for words, seemed suddenly to have been struck dumb.
    â€˜Speak, boy!’ said Mr Snitcher.
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ Joe gulped. ‘Sorry, sir. Slip of the tongue, sir.’
    Mr Snitcher placed a single sunflower seed in his mouth and stared wonderingly at Joe out of his sludge-coloured eyes. Was it his imagination, or was there something not quite right about some of these boys?
    â€˜Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to disturb you.’
    â€˜Hm,’ said Mr Snitcher. Definitely something not right.
    â€˜The plot thickens,’ hissed Bal, as they left the hall.
    * * *
    First class that day was English with Miss Beam. Beautiful Miss Beam!
    â€˜I thought this morning,’ said Miss Beam, ‘we would write short essays onthe subject of
What I think I know about Unidentified Flying Objects,
since it seems to be something which is of great interest to you.’
    Yesss!
Year 6 liked that idea. They snatched up their pens and set to.
    Harry scribbled furiously. Miss Beam’s last suggestion for an essay had been
What I did over the Holiday.
Harry had spent his holiday with Gran