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rescue Bertha but I guess putting his hand up Mrs Sher’s skirt wasn’t the best of ideas. He just wasn’t thinking.
    By now we were busting our guts.
    Except for Mrs Sher.
    And Tom.
    He was getting desperate about Bertha.
    ‘There she is,’ he cried and dived under the dress. By the look on Mrs Sher’s face, old Bertha had gone places even the most intrepid of cockroaches wouldn’t dare to go.
    Tom came out, triumphantly waving Bertha in the air.
    That was another mistake.
    Mrs Sher knocked Bertha from his hand and with one swift move stamped her foot.
    The sound of crushing shell filled the air.
    Guts flew everywhere. The kids in the front row were splattered.
    There was deadly silence, and then all hell broke loose.
    Alexander Poll started hollering about the gunk in his hair.
    Mrs Sher looked like she was going to pass out. But then she pulled herself together and made for the exit, her screams ringing in our ears.
    And in the middle of it all sat Tom R. Oach, a strange look on his face.
    ‘You all right?’ I asked.
    It took him a second to answer. Then he began to grin.
    Maybe he was going mad!
    ‘Mrs Sher wears a girdle.’ He laughed. ‘Right up to here.’ His hand went to his armpit. ‘Funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’
    And with that he threw back his head and laughed and laughed and laughed.
    I told you he wasn’t someone who let things get to him.
    Besides, destiny was calling …

Chapter Nine
    A few days later Tom and me were picking up papers as part of our punishment, going over what happened that Friday and having a good chuckle at the same time.
    ‘What are you going to breed now?’ I asked.
    ‘Rats?’
    It was meant as a joke. ‘How did you know?’ asked Tom. I shrugged, not sure what he meant. ‘They do great circus tricks,’ said Tom. ‘And it’s my destiny.’
    ‘Destiny?’ I was puzzled. ‘Weren’t cockroaches your destiny? You know, Tom Rrrr-Oach.’
    Tom laughed. ‘Not when your mum means to name you after this guy called Sir Roden Cutler, some Aussie guy from the olden days, but on your birth certificate your dad accidentally puts a T at the end.’ He had a grin from ear to ear.
    I still hadn’t got it. ‘Roden? Is that what the R stands for?’
    ‘Not Roden. Rodent! Tom Rodent Oach. That’s me.’

Chapter One
    ‘Pass the slugs,’ said Macca MacTavish to his friend, Sam, as he pointed to a bowl of licorice strips.
    ‘Only if you hand over the cat’s pee,’ answered Sam, holding up an empty glass for some passionfruit fizzy drink.
    The boys were helping Ben Wu to celebrate his eleventh birthday.
    ‘Dinner,’ called Ben’s mother as she traipsed across the backyard and handed two cardboard cartons through the tent flaps.
    ‘Err,’ said Harry Michaels, pulling a face that looked like a scrunched up boxing glove. ‘This pizza tastes like a bandaid.’
    Toby Pitt grinned, took an enormous bite of pizza and rolled it around in his mouth.
    ‘Nah,’ he said, flicking some cabanossi in Ben’s direction. ‘This pizza tastes like … a bandaid with scabs on.’
    The boys rolled around the floor hooting with laughter.
    ‘Well, my pizza,’ said Ben scooping up some tomato paste, ‘tastes like a bandaid with scabs on and…’ he lowered his voice, putting on a Transylvanian accent, ‘drrripping with bloood.’
    ‘Gross,’ said Sam with a chuckle and tested it for himself. The mozzarella cheese refused to let go of the base until finally it recoiled, leaving huge blobs on his chin. Not to be outdone he added, ‘This pizza tastes like a bandaid with scabs on, dripping with blood and … ’ he pulled out another glob of cheese, leaving some to hang out of the corner of his mouth, ‘oozing with pus.’
    Harry and Toby made a quick trip to the toilet.

Chapter Two
    The peals of laughter could be heard in Mrs Wu’s sitting room. ‘It’s so nice to hear those boys enjoying themselves so much,’ she said to her husband. ‘Ben has such lovely