David O’Connell - Monster and Chips

“It’s only a spider,” he said.

A little spider must have attached itself while he was outside and it was scuttling up towards his knee.

With a yelp, Fuzzby immediately leapt up on to a table. Barry sprang after him, a look of terror in all four of his eyes. He perched trembling on top of the bigger monster’s head.

“It’s alright,” said Joe. “Look.” He scooped the little creature from his leg and carried it to a half-open window, gently letting it go on the window ledge.

Fuzzby and Barry stared in amazement.

“Did you see that, Fuzzby?” gasped Barry. “He touched it! He’s saved us all!”

“You’ve got the job, Joe – if you want it!” said Fuzzby, climbing down from the table, peeling Barry off his head and giving Joe a handshake that lifted the boy off the floor. “We’ll ignore your almost total lack of any cooking knowledge or qualifications whatsoever. If you can handle terrifying and hideous creatures with bravery like that, then you can handle anything!”

Joe didn’t need to think twice. There was adventure to be had here – adventure, monsters AND food – and Joe the Fearless was ready for it. “I’ll take the job!” he said. “Bring on the vampire mega-toads!”

“Congratulations!” said Fuzzby, obviously very pleased. He lurched behind the counter again. “How about we celebrate with some chips? You can have some to take away, Joe.”

Exactly what Mum had sent Joe to fetch! He’d almost forgotten.

Fuzzby hummed happily to himself as he chopped up some potatoes using his huge claws instead of a knife.

He didn’t seem scary to Joe any more, especially with an apron on. Joe wondered if he was the first hooman to work in a monster diner. He imagined himself in the kitchen wearing a chef’s hat, chopping up weird things at eye-blurring speed, with loads of strange creatures applauding his excellent cooking. By the time the delicious smell of frying chips wafted over the counter, Joe felt quite at home.

“All ready!” said Fuzzby suddenly.

His big green claws tipped a pan of golden, crispy-looking chips on to some paper. Joe couldn’t help drooling. They looked perfectly cooked and just the right sort of greasy. And most importantly, they were MONSTER-sized.

“Nice big dollop of ketchup and you’ll have a feast that would please a greedy bellyhog on the rampage,” said the monster.

“Thanks, Fuzzby! Those look amazing,” said Joe.

He took the wrapped-up chip parcel and tucked it under his arm. Then he remembered.

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