The Great Flytrap Disaster Page 2

  “What’s a veenos flytrap?”

  “V E N U S,” said Button. “It’s . . . oh my goodness, it says here it’s carnivorous! Catches its prey in a trap, triggered by tiny hairs.”

  Button heaved hard on the book’s cover with both hands and slammed it shut. “Lily, we need to warn the Captain and Uncle Noggin.”

  “Why? What does ‘car . . . ni . . . vorous’ mean?”

  “It means it eats living creatures,” said Button. “If that thing gets hold of any of us, we’ll be plant food. We need to be quick . . . and let the others know. Come on, let’s get going.”

  Off they went, making slow progress over the messy odds and ends.

  The moon went behind a cloud and they stumbled in the dim light. Lily held on to the back of Button’s waistcoat, following carefully, but suddenly it was gone. He wasn’t there!

  She stood still and called out. “Button, where did you go? Button?”

  “Here,” came his voice in the dark. “I think I’m trapped.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t come near,” he insisted. “It’s . . . I think it’s . . .”

  “What?”

  “It’s silky and sticky. I think . . . I’m stuck in the web.”

  “NO,” said Lily, panicking. “I’ll get you out!” But she slipped and within a moment she’d fallen inside the deep well of a milk jug, grazing her knees and banging her elbows and head.

  Mr. Dregby pattered toward them through the darkness. He came up close to Button, his six eyes looking him up and down.

  “Well, well, well . . . how exciting!” He circled Button, wrapping him up in more silky thread. “One served up on a plate . . . and one in the cupboard for later,” he chuckled, peering into the jug. “What a fine menu. For the moment I shall return to my corner and sleep off my last meal. Don’t go away now. I shall look forward to having you for dinner tomorrow. Good night, children. Sleep well.”

  “Hmmmm. I wonder why those second-rate shipmates still haven’t got back,” said the Captain. “I’m presuming they haven’t been squished or eaten.”

  “Perhaps we should go and check,” suggested Uncle Noggin. “You never know what’s around at this time of night.”

  “Well, I guess a stroll along the shelf won’t hurt. Let’s see what we can see, shall we?”

  Uncle Noggin got himself up out of his favorite piece of sponge, and Captain Crabsticks sprang to his feet. Jones lifted his head, meowed, and went back to sleep.

  “That’s right, old chap, you keep an eye on the camp,” said the Captain. “We won’t be long. Back in a whisker.” He stroked Jones’s head and tickled his chin, making him purr loudly.

  Only Button’s face could be seen sticking out from the coiled-up, silky sleeping bag that he was now trapped in. He couldn’t see Lily in the bottom of the jug and she couldn’t see him stuck in the webbing. But they could hear each other.

  “Try not to shout out or move,” said Lily. “You’ll vibrate the web and it’ll bring Mr. Dregby back down. We should try to escape while he sleeps.”

  “Good thinking,” said Button. “But how?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking.”

  “Me too.”

  The silhouettes of Uncle Noggin and the Captain wandered along in the darkness. A quick stroll along the shelf had revealed nothing. It was still and silent. Something wasn’t right.

  “I say, old Noggin, how about we climb up on to that greenery and take a look out from the top there?” suggested the Captain.

  Uncle Noggin was none too keen on climbing. “Oh I don’t know, Cap’n, my back isn’t what it used to be you know and . . .” But before he could protest any further he was already lagging behind.

  Button heard the voices coming closer. The familiar sound of his captain for sure, and the puffing and panting and complaining of Uncle Noggin.

  “Come on, old chap, keep up,” said the Captain, climbing the side of the pot like a monkey.

  Lily could hear them too. She had to make them hear her, even from inside the jug. She bellowed a loud “HELP!” and it echoed around her.

  “Well, shiver me seashells,” said the Captain. “I think I can hear a cry for help.”

  “Can’t hear nothing!” replied Uncle Noggin, who was now pulling himself up on to a huge spiky green flower. “Let me climb a bit higher.”

  “HEEEEELP!”

  “Ah, there it goes. It’s young Lily.” He turned toward the shout. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there in no time, old girl,” called the Captain. “Where the devil are you?”

  “Milk jug!”

  “Don’t go near the plant,” said Button, but he couldn’t shout because he knew he’d vibrate the web.

  “Can’t hear you, old chap. Be there in a minute. Just as soon I’ve reached the top of this plant.”

  “Arghhh, NOOOO!” shouted Lily, but by now her crewmates were climbing over the green tendrils and standing on the flower heads. “Get away from it, it’s—”

  “Ah there you are, Button old chap. Fear not, we’ll have you out of there in no ti—” SHHHHQUELLLLUMP!

  “Well that’s strange,” said Old Uncle Noggin, “one minute the Captain was right there in front of me and the next minute he was g—” SHHHHQUELLLLUMP!

  Suddenly it was silent. The sounds of Uncle Noggin and Captain Crabsticks rambling on and tugging themselves along to make a rescue had stopped completely.

  “Oh dear,” squeaked Button quietly from his cocoon. “Lily, I know where the shhhhquellllump came from.”

  “Where?”

  “From the flytrap. When it . . . you know . . . catches . . . something.”

  As Button spoke, he spotted the Captain and Uncle Noggin, who had just managed to poke their heads out from the spiky pods that had clamped down on them.

  “Ahh, I see,” said the Captain, “the Venus flytrap. Yes, of course, I knew I recognised it. Now . . . errr, let me see. Don’t worry, old chap, I’ll have us out of here before you can say Davy Jones’ Locker.”

  Uncle Noggin’s trap struggled to close around his rounded shape, but it was pulling so tight at him that he couldn’t move.

  Button’s face stuck out of his silk sleeping bag. Lily sat helpless in the bottom of the jug. And the two old sea dogs lay wrapped up in their spiky coats with their heads peeping out at the tops.

  “What now, Captain?” said Button. “Any ideas?”

  “Errrum . . . bear with me, old chap . . . I’m thinking.”

  They waited in darkness and silence and not one of them could imagine what they should do next.

  Mr. Dregby opened his eyes. His prize was still waiting. Not long before breakfast. He smiled. And then he went back to sleep.

  The night moved on. Outside the shop window the stars shone and an owl hooted in the distance. Everyone lay trapped in their junk-shop prisons, growing tired but knowing that time was not on their side. If they went to sleep it would be disastrous. They might not ever wake up again!

  The Captain and Uncle Noggin tried hard to wriggle free. They pushed and pulled with their arms and legs, but it seemed that the more they struggled inside the spiky pods, the tighter they closed around them.

  “Best keep as still as possible, Old Noggin. Looks like we’re in for a tricky evening.”

  For a moment Lily thought she had a solution. “If I can rock the bottom of the milk jug, I can tip it right over and climb out,” she said, explaining her plan to Button as she began to put her brainstorm into action. It was a simple idea but it could work. If she could break free she could cut the others down from their traps. She ran from side to side, banging her hands on the rounded walls at each end until she felt the base lifting slightly from the floor. The jug gradually began to rock on its base until it was swaying.

  “Keep going!” said Button. “It’s working, it’s moving. If you get out of there you can free us all!” He was beginning to shout loudly in excitement. The spider stirred in his sleep.

  The jug rocked from s
ide to side, the movements getting bigger until eventually . . . CRASH. It overbalanced, and with it went a stack of bits and pieces that had been piled up next to it. Matchboxes and pepper shakers. Paper clips and drawing pins. Some dice, a pine cone, and a pile of old coins spilled across the shelf, and a cotton spool went rolling off the edge.

  The jug had tipped over, but not all the way. The mustard-jar bathtub had stopped it. Lily still couldn’t climb out.

  “Ah drat,” said Lily, puffing and panting, “I’m worn out.” She sat to catch her breath. “All that effort for nothing.”

  “Do you mind?” said Old Uncle Noggin. “I’m trying to die in peace.”

  Just then a strange tunnel of light appeared in the room. It was Mr. Tooey. He had heard the noise and came peering over at them with a flashlight. The glare was blinding and they stayed still, panic-stricken as the searchlight seemed to peer right into their faces.

  “More pests,” he muttered. “Where are you?” And he ran the flashlight’s beam along the shelf.

  And then suddenly he was gone and all that could be heard was, “If I ever get hold of those mangy mice, I’ll feed them to the alley cats.”

  “Phew, it’s okay. He’s gone. Good try, Lily,” whispered Button. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe if I can stretch this web far enough, I can tear it away from the wall.” He pressed his feet against the plaster and began to push. He kept going until he was on the tips of his toes.

  The web stretched around him. He felt the silk straining and he could hear bits of thread springing and snapping. It took all his strength. He could feel his legs growing weak but he kept on pushing. He was almost there.

  But the web was too strong and when it had gone as far as it would go, it sprang back and flattened him against the wall with a thud, keeping a tight hold on him.

  Eight legs pattered down the silk and six narrowed eyes glared at him. “Now, now, Button. You’re testing my patience. All your fidgeting is keeping me awake.”

  Mr. Dregby pulled a length of Button’s emergency shoelace from his backpack and with his pincers he shredded it to pieces. Button watched the sharp jaws effortlessly cut into the rope.

  “The more you annoy me, the angrier I get. Do you understand, Button?”

  Then Mr. Dregby wrapped him up tighter with his silvery thread and returned to his corner.

  Button gulped and felt his heart thumping hard in his chest. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

  “You know how long a spider ACTUALLY keeps its victims in its web, don’t you, Button?” said Uncle Noggin.

  “Yes, I do, and I don’t wish to remind myself, thank you.”

  “Just thought it might inspire you to escape,” shrugged the old pirate.

  “Sure,” Button answered. “Want to know how a Venus flytrap eats its prey? Holds on to it tight and slowly digests every inch of it by releasing a nasty chemical and dissolving its victim.”

  “Oh . . . well, yes, I knew that, Button. Thank you. In fact, I think I can feel it happening right now.”

  “There’ll be nothing left of us,” cried Lily from the milk jug. “You’ll be plant food, and Button and I will be spider breakfast. The Pocket Pirates will be extinct.”

  “Nonsense,” said the Captain, “I’ll have us out of here in no time.”

  He looked around, racking his brain, and realizing there wasn’t much he could do with his body gripped tight from the head downward.

  “Errrum . . . but if I don’t,” he continued, “then I’ve had a thought . . .”

  “What is it?” said Button.

  “Well, we can’t leave the ship without a captain. Someone needs to look after her.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “So, if we’re no longer here . . . I hereby declare Jones will be captain of the ship . . . just in case!”

  “Pah, charming,” laughed Button. “I’m trapped in the web of a giant spider. There’s no real hope of escaping and I’m likely to be breakfast in only a matter of hours. And if by any miracle I manage to escape, my Captain is going to be a soggy, old gray kitty.”

  No one answered. Button was exhausted. They all were. It had been a long day. Button felt himself drifting, his eyes closing. The silk cocoon, fastened tight around his body, was somehow comfortable. He tried to fight the urge, but he was helpless and eventually he drifted off into sleep.

  BZzzzzZZZzzzzzZZZZzzzzzzz.

  The very thing that had woken Button the previous morning suddenly roused him again. But this time he was glad of it. He turned his head, his eyes staring into darkness. He felt a tightness around him and quickly remembered that the comfortable feel of his hammock had been replaced with silky spider thread and that he was in great danger.

  “Wake up,” said Button, whispering carefully over to the Captain. But it was no good. The Captain couldn’t hear him, and Button dared not wake the terrible Mr. Dregby by shouting too loud.

  Fortunately for the Captain, the fly buzzed over to him and landed on his face, shocking him into opening his eyes. His cry of surprise woke Uncle Noggin, who until now had been drooling over the side of the spiky plant.

  Old Noggin went into a sudden panic. “I can’t feel my legs! Arrrgghhhhhhh! It’s eaten half of me already!”

  “Shhhhhhhhh,” said Lily from the milk jug.

  “Calm down, you old walrus. You’re all there, I can see from here,” said the Captain. “I’ve been dreaming about spiders. Must have been that book I was reading. Interesting creature, the common house spider. He’s a recycler . . . a bit like us, I suppose. Eats his web so that he can spin one again if he doesn’t get too much food in the meantime.”

  “Clever idea. Isn’t nature amazing! Not much of a meal though,” said Uncle Noggin, distracted by the talk of food.

  “Oh I don’t know! Tastier than Button, I expect,” said the Captain, chuckling.

  “Oh very funny,” huffed Button. “This is no time for jokes. We need to think fast.”

  “I’m trying,” said the Captain.

  “No you’re not, you’re half asleep.” And then Button had a thought. “What was that bit again?” he asked. “The bit about eating its web.”

  “Well, apparently the web is made from protein, so instead of wasting it, he can gobble it up it and then produce more spider silk.”

  “Ah, I see. You mean a bit like packing up your tent and moving on to another campsite,” came a voice from the jug.

  “Very good, old girl,” said the Captain. “Exactly like that.”

  Button didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. He took a glance above him to check that Mr. Dregby was still asleep. In the distance he could see some hairy legs sticking out from the web. They were still.

  It was early, but a faint light was starting to come through the window. This will work, he said to himself. I know it will.

  He began to tear at the web with his teeth. After all, they were the only thing he could use. But it was obvious: He would eat his way out, just like the spider eats his web.

  Button was tearing out great chunks, but it wasn’t pleasant. It stuck to his face like cotton candy, and tasted like a mouthful of belly button lint. He spat it out below, and soon he had freed the tight coil around his neck. Leaning over toward his shoulders, he chewed away until they were free too.

  He went slowly, so that the web didn’t vibrate, but it didn’t take long before he was easing his body out at the top, freeing his hands. Then he was pulling and tearing at the thread around his legs, and he knew that he was almost ready to make the leap.

  Stretching his fingertips as far as he could, Button reached the edge of the nearby mirror frame, and pulling himself toward it, felt his feet come out of his shoes, leaving them behind. He was free!

  The Captain and Uncle Noggin had been watching Button’s every move. They kept still and silent. If they made a fuss now the old eight-legged beast would appear and it would all go wrong again. They waited and watched in wonder at the antics of the lad who they knew was the best
cabin boy in the world.

  Button climbed across the mirror frame, using his hands and feet to hang on, and when he had gone as far as he needed, he dropped on to the shelf.

  “Right,” he said, rubbing his hands. “Time for the tiniest of the mini pirate crew to show how brave he really is.”

  Button went over to the plant pot and stood beneath the Venus flytrap.

  “Don’t worry,” he called. “I’ll have you chaps out of there in no time. But Lily comes first. If that eight-legged beast wakes up and decides he’s hungry, he’ll see I’m gone and drop straight into the jug for his breakfast.”

  “But what if we get eaten by the plant?” said Uncle Noggin.

  “Don’t worry, it takes days,” Button reassured him. “Did I not mention that? I read it in a book.”

  “But what if Dregby decides he likes the look of US? We’re trapped and helpless.”

  “He won’t come anywhere near this plant,” said the Captain bravely. “These things don’t just eat flies, they eat anything. Spiders, bugs . . . oh, and small pirates of course.”

  “What are you going to do, Button?” asked Uncle Noggin.

  “You’ll see,” whispered Button. He ran to perch on a pile of old books, level with the top of the milk jug. Lily’s familiar face was staring up at him out of the dark.

  “Have you out of there in no time, old girl,” said Button, pulling his emergency rope from his backpack. And then he was reminded that now it had been shredded it was nowhere near as long as it needed to be.

  “Ah drat. Suffering seashells,” said Button. “Now what do I do?” He knew he needed to be extra careful not to fall into that jug or they’d both be a free meal and that would be the end of everybody.

  Whatever his alternative plan was, it needed to be foolproof. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything that would work. There was a pencil, but it wasn’t long enough. There had been a cotton spool, but Button had watched it roll off the shelf when the jug crashed into the corner. And the other spools lying around were empty—the thread had already been used for various adventures.