George and The Giant Mushrooms: Attack of the Mushroom Soldiers
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About this ebook
George works at Mr Taglitelli's restaurant and, apart from Biceps the Bully making school life miserable at times, George is a happy boy. Little does George know what his future holds. Mushrooms are not what they seem, neither, it would appear, is Mr Taglitelli. George and his best friend Matt are about to undertake an enormous responsibility when they offer to help Mr T. George's whole world is about to change.
Can George stop an attack of giant mushrooms. He's going to need all the help he can get.
Pamela McMaster
Escape your own reality. That's what books do for me. I live with my partner and two youngest children in a country village in Northern Ireland. It's really quite idyllic. When I'm not writing and running a household, I am a therapist, listening to, and helping clients deal with, their inner issues. I love my job as much as I love writing.
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George and The Giant Mushrooms - Pamela McMaster
George and the Giant Mushrooms
Attack of the
Mushroom Soldiers
By Pamela McMaster
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Thanks to Michael Faulkner for his editorial assistance
Copyright 2016 by Pamela McMaster
Chapter One
George was quite small, and though he was a happy enough young lad, what he wanted most in the world was to be bigger.
Why? The answer was simple. Biceps!
Biceps was a big boy in George’s school who took great pleasure in making his life miserable. He called George ‘shorty’, ‘stump’, ‘mini-man’, ‘weed’, ‘titch’, ‘baby-face’. In fact, George thought Biceps had called him every possible name to make him feel even smaller than he was.
Biceps’ real name was Paul. He earned his nickname by beating the other children at arm wrestling. And if arm wrestling had been the only thing Biceps did, George would have been a much happier boy. Unfortunately, Paul enjoyed making other children’s lives miserable. He pulled the girls’ hair, knocked books out of children’s hands as they passed him in the corridor, and gave the boys dead arms.
Paul was a bully. Secretly, George called Paul Miss Piggy because his nose was like the snout of a pig and he snorted when he laughed.
George was a friendly and helpful child who was generally happy – when he wasn’t at school. He helped out in Mr Taglitellis’ restaurant, doing the washing up at weekends in return for a meal and some pocket money. Mr Taglitelli owned the Italian restaurant on the main street, and he and George had become firm friends. Mr Taglitelli always wore a tall chef’s hat, and a white apron around his big round belly. He was a jolly man whose smile beamed from under a thick curly moustache.
Late one Friday afternoon after school, George was enjoying a last forkful of spaghetti bolognese when Mr Taglitelli boomed in his Italian accent, ‘It is good, yes? It will make you big and strong, George.’
George doubted that very much, although he secretly admitted it might make his belly big and round like Mr Taglitellis’. He smiled anyway and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He wished there was a miracle potion he could take to make him bigger and taller, just like Mr Taglitelli.
‘I wish I was big and strong,’ George said, looking down at his empty plate. Mr Taglitelli slapped him hard on the back, nearly knocking George clean off his stool.
‘Now,’ he said, sitting on the stool beside him, ‘let me tell you something very important. It is not the size of the man that matters, George, but the size of his heart and the size of his spirit.’ Mr Taglitelli pounded his chest with a closed fist. ‘It is what is in here!’
George wasn’t convinced. It was all very well for Mr Taglitelli – he was strong and tall and even had a moustache! Nobody would ever bully him. And what was the point of having the big heart and the big spirit? Nobody could see them and it wasn’t going to stop Biceps from making fun of him.
After saying goodbye to Mr T, George collected his bike from the back of the restaurant and started on his ride home.
The village wasn’t very big and so it took him only ten minutes to get to his house. It would have been even quicker if he had taken the shortcut through Pennington Park, but he had learned his lesson as far as the park was concerned.
Pennington Park was a wooded area that separated the main street and all the shops from George’s house. It had a duck pond, a play park, and a large grassy area where people had picnics and played football or cricket – or, in fact, whatever they liked. There was even a small camping area where visitors pitched their tents or parked their camper vans.
The last time George had decided to take the shortcut home, Biceps had been waiting for him. He came from nowhere – well, he came from behind a tree, but to George it seemed like nowhere. Biceps shouted so loud that George jumped with fright, lost control of his bike, swerved across the grass, hit a stone with the front wheel and was flung over the handlebars straight into the pond. All of which Biceps and his gang of friends found hilariously funny. So, George no longer took the shortcut.
‘Hello George,’ his mum called out when she heard him come through the front door. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘No thanks Mum, Mr T gave me leftover bolognese from lunch.’
‘Oh he’s such a lovely man that Mr Taglitelli. He really likes you, you know. Thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread.’
What’s so good about sliced bread anyway? thought George. They must have been able to eat it before they discovered they could slice it. Did they make it and bake it and then just stare at it on the kitchen table until someone invented a bread slicer? Surely not!
After flicking through the channels on the TV and finding nothing interesting, George went up to his room. He was working on a code that he and his best friend in school, Matt, had decided to invent. They reckoned they could send notes to each other in class and, if caught, it would all be gobbledegook to anybody else.
George had arranged to meet Matt at the gates of Pennington Park the next day. It was a Saturday so he had to do his chores at home and then rush to Mr T’s to help with the lunchtime rush. It was 3.30 by the time he got to the park.
The two friends raced each other on their bikes, laughing when they narrowly avoided picking up pedestrians as passengers on