I had breakfast and went out to the front gate. Pete was waiting for me. He is my best mate; we always walk to school together. ‘Have you got your running shoes?’ he asked. ‘Oh no,’ I groaned. ‘I forgot. It’s the cross-country race today.’ I went back and got my running shoes. I came back out walking very slowly. I was thinking about the race. I would have to go to the changing rooms and get changed in front of Scrag Murphy and all the other boys. They would all laugh their heads off when they saw my fairly underpants. We walked through the park on the way to school. There was a big lake in the middle. ‘Let’s chuck some stones,’ said Pete. ‘See who can throw the furthest.’ I didn’t answer. I was feeling weak in the stomach. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked. ‘You look like death warmed up.’ I looked around. There was no one else in the park. ‘Look at this,’ I said. I undid my fly and showed Pete the underpants. His eyes bugged out like organ stops; then he started to laugh. He fell over on the grass and laughed his silly head off. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He really thought it was funny. Some friend. After a while Pete stopped laughing. ‘Your poor thing,’ he said. ‘What are you going to do? Scrag Murphy and the others will never let you forget it.’ We started throwing stones into the lake. I didn’t try very hard. My heart wasn’t in it. ‘Hey,’ said Pete. ‘That was a good shot. It went right over to the other side.’ He was right. The stone had reached the other side of the lake. No one had ever done that before; it was too far. I picked up another stone. This time I threw as hard as I could. The stone went right over the lake and disappeared over some trees. ‘Wow,’ yelled Pete. ‘That’s the best shot I’ve ever seen. No one can throw that far.’ He looked at me in a funny way. My skin was tingling. ‘I feel strong,’ I said. ‘I feel as if I can do anything.’ I went over to the park bench. It was large concrete one. I lifted it up with one hand. I held it high over my head. I couldn’t believe it. Pete just stood there with his mouth hanging open. He couldn’t believe it either. I felt great. I jumped for joy. I sailed high into the air. I went up three meters. ‘What a jump,’ yelled Pete. My skin was tingling. Especially under the underpants. ‘It’s the underpants,’ I said. ‘The underpants are giving me strength.’ I grinned. ‘They are not underpants. They are wunderpants.’ ‘Super Jocks,’ said Pete. We both started cackling like a couple of hens. We laughed until our sides ached.
I told Pete not to tell anyone about the wunderpants. We decided to keep it a secret. Nothing much happened until the cross-country race that afternoon. All the boys went to the changing room to put on their running gear. Scrag Murphy was there. I tried to into my shorts without him seeing my wunderpants, but it was no good. He noticed them as soon as I dropped my jeans. ‘Ah ha,’ he shouted. ‘Look at baby britches. Look at his fairy pants.’ Everyone looked. They all started to laugh. How embarrassing. They were all looking at the fairies on my wunderpants. Scrag Murphy was a big, fat bloke. He was really tough. He came over and pulled the elastic on my wunderpants. Then he let it go. ‘Ouch,’ I said.’ Cut that out. That hurts.’ ‘What’s the matter, little Diddums?’ he said. ‘Can’t you take it?’ He shoved me roughly against the wall. I wasn’t going to let him get away with that, so I pushed him back- just a little push. He went flying across the room and crashed into the wall on the other side. I just didn’t know my own strength. That little push had sent him all the way. It was the wunderpants. Scrag Murphy looked at me with shock and surprise that soon turned to a look of hate. But he didn’t say anything. No one said anything. They were all thinking I was going to get my block knocked off next time I saw Scrag Murphy. About forty kids were running in the race. We had to run through the countryside, following markers that had been put out by the teachers. It was a hot day, so I decided to wear a pair of shorts but no top. As soon as the starting gun went I was off like a flash. I had kept my wunderpants on and they were working really well. I went straight out to the front. I had never run so fast before. As I ran along the road I passed a man on a bike. He tried to keep up with me, but he couldn’t. Then I passed a car. This was really something. This was great. I looked behind. None of the others were in sight- I was miles ahead. The trail trued off the road and into the bush. I was running along a narrow track in the forest. After a while I came to a small creek. I was hot so I decided to have a dip. After all, the others were a long way behind; I had plenty of time. I took off my shorts and running shoes, but I left the wunderpants on. I wasn’t going to part with them. I dived into cold water. It was refreshing. I lay on my back looking at the sky. Life was good. These wunderpants were terrific. I would never be scared of Scrag Murphy while I had the on. Then something started to happen- something terrible. The wunderpants started to get tight. They hurt. They were shrinking. They were shrinking smaller and smaller. The pain was awful. I had to get them off. I struggled and wiggled; they were so tight they cut into my skin. In the end I got them off, and only just in time. They shrank so small that they would only just fit over my thumb. I had a narrow escape. I could have been killed by the shirking wunderpants. Just then I heard voices coming. It was the others in the race. I was trapped- I couldn’t get out to put on my shorts. There were girls in the race. I had to stay in the middle of the creek in the nude.
It took quiet a while for all the others to run by. They were all speared out along the track. Every time I went to get out of the pool, someone else would cone. After a while Pete stopped at the pool. ‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘Even super jocks won’t help you win from this far back.’ ‘Keep going,’ I said. ‘I’II tell you about it later.’ I didn’t want to tell him that I was in the nude. Some girls were with him. Pete and the girls took off along the track. A bit later the last runner arrived. It was Scrag Murphy. He couldn’t run fast- he was carrying too much weight. ‘Well, look at this,’ he said. ‘It’s little fairy pants. And what’s this we have here?’ He picked up my shorts and running shoes from the bank of the creek. Then he ran off with them. ‘Come back,’ I screamed. ‘Bring those back here,’ He didn’t take any notice. He just laughed and kept running. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a stitch of clothing. I didn’t even have any shoes. I was starting to feel cold; the water was freezing. I was covered in Goosebumps and my teeth were chattering. In the end I had to get out. I would have frozen to death if I stayed in the water any longer. I went and sat on a rock in the sun and tried to think of how g to get home without being seen. It was all right in the bush. I could always hide behind a tree if someone came. But once I reached the road I would be in trouble; I couldn’t just walk along the road in the nude. Then I had an idea. I looked at the tiny underpants. I couldn’t put them on, but they still might work. I put them over my thumb and jumped. It was no good. It was just a small ordinary jump. I picked up a stone and threw it. It only went a short way, not much of a throw at all. The pants were too small, and I was my weak old self again. I lay down on the rock in the sun. Ants started to crawl over me. Then the sun went behind a cloud. I started to think about Scrag Murphy. He was going to pay for this. I would get him back somehow. Time went slowly, but at last it started to grow dark. I made my way back along the track. I was in bare feet and I kept standing on stones. Branches reached out and scratched me in all sorts of painful places. Then I started to think about snakes. What if I stood on one? There were all sorts of noises in the dark. The moon had gone in, and it was hard to see where I was going. I have to admit it: I was scared. Scared stiff. To cheer myself up I started to think about what I was going to do to Scrag Murphy. Boy, was he going to get it. At last I came to the road. I was glad to be out of the bush. My feet were cut and bleeding and I hobbled along. Every time a car went by I had to drive into the bushes. I couldn’t let myself get caught in the headlights of the cars. I wondered what I was going to do when I reached the town. There might be people around. I broke off a branch form a bush and held it in front of my ‘you know what.’ It was prickly, but it was better that nothing. By the time I reached the town it was late. There was no one around. But I had to be careful someone might come out of a house at any minute. I ran out from tree to tree and wall to wall, hiding in the shadows as best I could. I decided to make a run for it. It was the only way. I dropped my bush and started running. I went for my life. I reached our street without meeting a soul. I though I was safe, but I was wrong. I crashed right into someone and sent them flying. It was old Mrs Jeeves from across the road.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Gee, I’m sorry.’ I helped her stand up. She was a bit short sighted and it was dark. She hadn’t noticed that I didn’t have any clothes on. ‘Disgusting,’ she screeched. ‘Disgusting. I’II tell your father about this.’ I ran home as fast as I could. I went in the back door and jumped into bed. I tried to pretend that I was asleep. Downstairs I could hear Mrs Jeeves yelling at Dad; then the front door closed. I heard his footsteps coming up the starts.
Well, I really copped it. I was in big trouble. Dad went on and on. ‘What are you thinking of, lad? Running around in the nude. Losing all your clothes. What will the neighbour’s think/ He went on like that for about a week. I couldn’t tell him the truth-he wouldn’t believe it. No one would. The only ones who know the whole story were Pete and I. Dad grounded me for a month. I wasn’t allowed out of the house except to go to school. No pictures, no swimming and no pocket money either. In was a bad month. Very bad indeed. At school Scrag Murphy gave me a hard time. He called me ‘Fairy Pants’. Every one though it was a great joke, and there was nothing I could do about it. He was just too big for me, and his mates were all tough guys. I remembered the mouse race in Smith’s barn. ‘We will win the mouse race,’ I shouted. ‘It’s in a month’s time. We can use the next month to train my mouse.’ We started to train George. Every day after school we took him around a track in the back garden. We tied a piece of cheese on the end of a bit of string. George chased after it as fast as he could. After six laps we gave him the piece of cheese to eat. At the start he could do six laps in ten minutes. By the end of the month he was down to three minutes. ‘Scrag Murphy, look out,’ said Pete with a grin. ‘We are really going to beat the pants off you this time.’
The day of the big race came at last. There were about one hundred kids in Smith’s barn. No adults knew about it, they would probably have stopped it if they knew. The prize money came from the entrance fee. ‘Right,’ said tiger. ‘Get out your mice.’ I put George down on the track. He looked very small. He started to sniff around. I hoped he would run as fast with the other mice there. Scrags Murphy put his hand in the box and took out Mugger. He was the biggest mouse I had ever seen. There were about ten mice in the race- or I should say nine mice and one rat. Two rats if you counted Scrag Murphy. All the owners took out their string and cheese. ‘GO,’ shouted Tiger Glenn. Mugger jumped straight on to a little mouse next to him and bit it on the neck. The poor thing fell over and lay still. ‘Boo,’ yelled some of the crowd. George ran to the front straight away. He was going really well. Then Mugger started to catch up. It was neck and neck for five laps. First Mugger would get in front, then George. Everyone in the barn went crazy. They were yelling their heads off. Suddenly something terrible happened. Mugger jumped onto George’s tail and grabbed it in his teeth. The crowd started to boo. Even Scrag Murphy’s mates were booing. But George kept going. He didn’t stop for a second. He just pulled the fat rat along after him. It rolled over and over behind the little mouse. Mugger held on for grim of death, but he couldn’t stop George. ‘What a mouse,’ screamed the crowed as George crossed the finish line still towing Mugger behind him. Scrag Murphy stormed off out of the barn. He didn’t even take Mugger with him. Tiger handed me the prize money. Then he held up George. ‘George is the winner,’ he said. ‘The only mouse in the world with its own little pair of fairy underpants.’
