Johnny and the Bomb Read Online Free

killed her husband years ago and then went mental and they never found his body,’ said Bigmac.
    They looked at the bags.
    â€˜None of them is big enough for a dead body,’ said Yo-less, who wasn’t allowed to watch horror movies.
    â€˜Not a whole one, no,’ said Bigmac.
    Yo-less took a step back.
    â€˜ I heard she stuck his head in the oven,’ said Wobbler. ‘Very messy.’
    â€˜Messy?’ said Yo-less.
    â€˜It was a microwave oven. Get it? If you put a—’
    â€˜Shut up,’ said Yo-less.
    â€˜I heard she’s really, really rich,’ said Bigmac.
    â€˜Stinking rich,’ said Wobbler.
    â€˜Look, I’ll just … I’ll just put in it in my grandad’s garage,’ said Johnny.
    â€˜I don’t see why we have to do it,’ said Yo-less. ‘There’s supposed to be Care in the Community or something.’
    â€˜He doesn’t keep much in there now. And then in the morning …’
    Oh, well. The morning was another day.
    â€˜And while you’ve got it you could have a rummage to see if there’s any money,’ said Bigmac.
    Johnny glanced at Guilty, who snarled.
    â€˜No, I like a hand with all its fingers on,’ he said. ‘You lot come with me. I’d feel a right clod pushing this by myself.’
    The fourth wheel squeaked and bounced as he pushed the trolley down the street.
    â€˜Looks heavy,’ said Yo-less.
    There was a snigger from beside him.
    â€˜Well, they say Mr Tachyon was a very big man—’
    â€˜Just shut up, Bigmac.’
    It’s me, he thought, as the procession went down the street. It’s like on the Lottery, only it’s the opposite . There’s this big finger in the sky and it comes through your window and flicks you on the ear and says ‘It’s YOU – har har har’. And you getup and think you’re going to have a normal day and suddenly you‘re in charge of a trolley with one squeaky wheel and an insane cat.
    â€˜Here,’ said Wobbler. ‘These fish and chips are still warm.’
    â€˜What?’ said Johnny. ‘You picked up her actual fish and chips?’
    Wobbler backed away. ‘Well, yeah, why not, shame to let them go to waste—’
    â€˜They might have got her spit on ’em,’ said Bigmac. ‘Yuk.’
    â€˜They haven’t even been unwrapped, actually,’ said Wobbler, but he did stop unwrapping them.
    â€˜Put them in the trolley, Wobbler,’ said Johnny.
    â€˜Dunno who wraps fish and chips in newspaper round here,’ said Wobbler, tossing the package onto the pile in the trolley. ‘Hong Kong Henry doesn’t. Where’d she get them?’
    Sir John was normally awakened at half past eight every morning by a butler who brought him his breakfast, another butler who brought him his clothes, a third butler whose job it was to feed Adolf and Stalin if necessary, and a fourth butler who was basically a spare.
    At nine o’clock his secretary came and read him his appointments for today.
    When he did so this morning, though, he found him still staring at his plate with a strange expression. Adolf and Stalin swam contentedly in the tank by his desk.
    â€˜Five different kinds of pill, some biscuits made of cardboard and a glass of orange juice with all the excitement removed,’ said Sir John. ‘What’s the point of being the richest man in the world – I am still the richest man in the world, aren’t I?’
    â€˜Yes, Sir John.’
    â€˜Well, what’s the point if it all boils down to pills for breakfast?’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Well … I’ve had enough, d’y’hear? Tell Hickson to get the car out.’
    â€˜Which car, Sir John?’
    â€˜The Bentley.’
    â€˜Which Bentley, Sir John?’
    â€˜Oh, one I haven’t used lately. He can choose. And find Blackbury on the map. We own a burger bar