Suddenly we hear a loud gunshot. El Bandido rides into town behind me, rifles blazing.

  “What are you doing, sheriff?” says Little Joe. “You’ve led El Bandido right back to Dungville!”

  “This can’t be Dungville,” I laugh. “I followed the shadow. This is Cactus City!”

  “It’s Dungville,” says the barber.

  “It’s Cactus City!” I reply.

  “It’s Dungville,” shouts El Bandido. “The shadow pointed to Cactus City early in the day, but you got so lost out there, going round in circles, chasing your tail, the sun swung round in the sky so the shadow was pointing back to Dungville! Your sheriff here is an idiot!”

  The crowd stare at me. I can feel their disappointment.

  El Bandido smiles and shakes his head. “It’s time to accept your fate, sheriff,” he sighs. “I’m going to steal your cattle and burn your town to the ground.”

  “I can’t let you do that, El Bandido,” I cry.

  El Bandido looks at me, the smile freezing on his lips, his eyes darkening. “What are you going to do about it, sheriff?” He pulls his whip from his jacket and lets it roll out to the ground. “You’re just a nobody!”

  Granddad sent me on this adventure to learn to stand up to bullies! Well, John Smith, it’s now or never. But how am I going to stop El Bandido pinching the cattle like he once pinched Granddad’s ass? Wait a minute … maybe there is something I can do.

  “El Bandido!” I holler. “Nobody calls me nobody!”

  I try my best not to look scared, even though my legs are as wobbly as a plate of jelly trifle.

  “What are you going to do about it?” snarls El Bandido.

  “I’m going to give you … a cowpat frisbee!”

  I grab the flattest, shiniest cowpat off the ground and spin it at El Bandido’s head.

  The dirty dung bomb explodes in his face. El Bandido rocks on his heels, coughing and spluttering, fanning bits of cow poo away from his head.

  “No one gets the better of El Bandido,” he rages. “I’m going to teach you a real lesson, sheriff…”

  He lifts his whip high in the air and flicks it towards me with a huge CRACK!

  “I wouldn’t do that, El Bandido,” I mutter, backing away nervously.

  El Bandido cracks his whip again. “It’s a free country, I’ll do what I like!” he growls.

  He sends the whip’s tongue lashing out with another CRACK!

  “Seriously,” I grunt, “that is not a good idea.”

  “No one dares tell El Bandido what he can do,” he roars.

  He rolls out another curl of the whip with a massive CRACK!

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” he cackles.

  “You might cause a … STAMPEDE!”

  The cattle lower their heads and charge down the street, aiming straight for El Bandido.

  The bulls scoop El Bandido up and toss him about on their horns. The cows wallop him with their giant swollen udders. The baby cows kick him in the shins with their hooves.

  After trampling El Bandido into the mud, the angry herd turn and bolt out of town, across the desert, towards the mountains in the distance.

  Old Jake and Little Joe look at me with open mouths as the herd spread out across the plain and out of sight.

  “You’ve lost us our cattle,” sighs Old Jake. “We’re ruined!”

  The townfolk start coming towards me. Suddenly they don’t look so friendly. I might have stopped El Bandido stealing the cattle but that’s only because there aren’t any cattle to steal. They’ve bloomin’ scarpered! What am I going to do?

  “Hold it there!” El Bandido picks himself up off the ground, clutching his trampled whip. “I ain’t finished with you, Sheriff No-Name…”

  He flicks the whip out, sending the tip wrapping round my wrist.

  “Before we settle business,” he snarls, “I just wanna know one thing: what’s your real name, sheriff?”

  Right now I’d love to say the magic words and run away back to my world. But whilst we’re tied together, I might accidentally drag El Bandido back there with me, and then he’d cause all kinds of chaos and mayhem and that would be completely and utterly … BRILLIANT! This could answer all my problems!

  “You wanna know my real name,” I announce, “all right, I’ll tell you. It’s Adam Virgo!”

  Bound together by the whip, I take a lungful of dung-filled cowboy air and utter the special magic words to take me home. “Say it long, say it loud – I’m John Smith and I’m proud!”

  I’m taking El Bandido back with me!

  Chapter Eight

  El Bandido explodes into Granddad’s bedroom, bounces off the end of the bed and splats into the wall. He staggers to his feet, looks around the room, blinking in disbelief, and stutters, “What weird place is this?”

  “Welcome to my world!” I holler. “Catch me if you can!”

  I fly out of the door and crash into Hayley, accidentally smudging a fresh lick of make-up down the side of her face.

  “Idiot!” she yells.

  I sprint down the stairs, aiming for the front door.

  “Snack-time biccy?” says Mum.

  “No thanks, Mum, I’m not hungry,” I reply.

  El Bandido jumps the stairs and comes eye to eye with Mum.

  “Snack-time biccy?” repeats Mum, innocently.

  I fly out the front door, down the path and bomb up the street.

  I look back and see El Bandido scrambling into the drive, shoving one of Mum’s chocolate cookies into his greedy gob.

  I’m going to say something I never thought I’d ever say in my entire life: I’m running towards school as fast as my legs will carry me.

  “Come back here, you crazy sheriff!” shouts El Bandido.

  I sprint across the playing fields, over the road and into the supermarket car park.

  “Wheels, wheels, I need wheels…” I pant.

  I see a shopping trolley at the entrance to the store. It’s the perfect escape vehicle.

  I jump into the trolley and steer it out of the car park, on to the main road and down the hill towards Cherry Tree School.

  “OH NO!!!”

  The trolley is chained to a long line of trolleys and stuffed with bags of groceries. I pick up speed, swerving round the mini-roundabout, jumping the humpbacked bridge, charging the traffic lights.

  El Bandido sprints down the road, clutching his big Mexican hat to his head.

  “You haven’t seen the last of El Bandido,” he yells.

  He throws himself desperately into the last shopping trolley in the trolley train.

  Looks like I’ve got company.

  Suddenly, a bottle of ketchup goes whizzing past my head, followed by a bag of potatoes and five fat pork sausages. I see El Bandido in the last trolley, loading his fists with grocery missiles. Time to fight back.

  I gather everything up and return fire.

  “Bangers and mash with extra tomato sauce – my favourite!” I chortle.

  “I’m coming to get you, Adam Virgo!” screams El Bandido.

  El Bandido leapfrogs into the next trolley in the line. This is like one of those cowboy chases over train carriage roofs, but in shopping trolleys!

  “You will regret the day you messed with me,” he snarls.

  I steer the trolley round a sharp corner towards the school. The rest of the trolley train swings out wildly behind it.

  “You don’t get rid of me that easily, sheriff!” screams El Bandido as he jumps into the trolley behind my trolley.

  I look up and see a huge rubbish truck blocking the road, its jaws opened wide to show a massive mound of rubbish inside. Unless I take immediate action, this is going to end ugly.

  “Just one more trolley,” says El Bandido, “and I have you!”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, El Bandido…” I cry. I fiddle around inside my pocket and pull out the lucky silver dollar Granddad gave me. I’ve been waiting for my chance to use this.

  I slot the silver dollar into the lock and tug my trolley free of the rest of the trolleys.

  “See you around, El Bandido,” I smile.

  I steer the trolley down the side of the rubbish truck towards Cherry Tree. El Bandido and the shopping trolley fly into the back of the rubbish truck. The jaws close around him with one satisfying gulp.

  Chapter Nine

  I skid through the school gates, crash land the trolley on a grassy bank and sprint towards the playing field. School sports day, here I come!

  Adam Virgo waits for me, dressed in a full-on American football strip. We’ve all had to borrow our strips for school sports day but Adam Virgo gets his own strip with his name written on the back because as far as Mr and Mrs Virgo are concerned, what little angel Adam wants – little angel Adam gets.

  “Well, well, it’s Mr Nobody!” laughs Virgo. “Prepare to be pulped, John Smith!”

  He tightens his throat strap and trots on to the field.

  I run across the playground, round the back of the school canteen and into the changing room. Rows of American football strips hang neatly on pegs. I pull on a strip, tug the helmet firmly over my head, pull down the visor and jog confidently out towards the field of play.

  Just as I take to the pitch, I see El Bandido stumbling through the school gates.

  The referee blows the whistle and we start to play a game of American football.

  Adam Virgo picks up the ball and runs down the field, ducking and dodging the tackles, skipping past all the other players, effortlessly pushing aside the opposition.

  He’s about to do a spectacular touchdown when he’s felled by an old-style bandit from the Wild West with a big sombrero hat, a chest criss-crossed with bullets and smelling of sour milk and babies’ nappies.

  El Bandido picks Adam Virgo up and spins him round.

  “I see the name on the back of your shirt,” says El Bandido. “You are Adam Virgo, yes?”

  Adam Virgo nods underneath his helmet.

  “I have you now, Adam Virgo,” laughs El Bandido, “and I will have my revenge!”

  El Bandido starts to kick Adam Virgo in the pants all around the school playing field.

  Everyone falls around laughing.

  “Get off, stop it!” yelps Virgo.

  He runs out of the school gates with El Bandido just behind, planting his pointy cowboy boots in the heart of Adam Virgo’s butt.

  After that, Adam Virgo pretty much left me alone, especially after I magicked El Bandido back into the arms of Old Jake and Little Joe so they could claim their reward and buy a new herd of cattle.

  My adventure in the Wild West was definitely worth it. I helped save Dungville, beat the bad guys and best of all I learnt how to stand up to my very own home-grown bully. I say a massive “Yeeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaw” to that!

  But do you think anybody will believe me when I tell them I really was a cowboy in the old Wild West? Of course they won’t, because I’m John Smith.

  But you know, don’t you…

  I settle into my seat, buckle my belt, power up my spaceship and head for home. Goodbye, little satellite. Goodbye, space. I’m going to watch United win the final.

  The rockets roar as I turn the spaceship in a big circle and steer her towards Earth.

  I might be on the far side of the Milky Way but an empty tummy is an empty tummy. Time I found myself a little space snack.

  I ping the glove box open and search around for another travel sweet. “Oh dear…”

  The box is completely empty.

  I unbuckle my belt and float off looking for a nibble. As I drift to the back of the spaceship, I see a big cupboard.

  Space Food, reads the sign on the door. “What have we got in here?”

  I’ve heard all about space food – bite-sized morsels that taste like entire meals. Burger and chips! Sticky toffee pudding! Cheese toasties! The mind boggles!

  Inside the cupboard are lots of little cardboard cartons in neat rows. I pull a carton off the shelf.

  “Chicken chow mein…”

  I flip the special space carton over and read off the back.

  “Oodles of noodles in a finger-licking chicken sauce.”

  Scrum-diddly-umptious!

  “Heat in special space cooker for six minutes. Check product is piping hot before serving.”

  I whack the space food in the space cooker until it makes a little ding. It tastes just like the ready meals Mum brings home from the supermarket. I close my eyes and savour the delicious tastes.

  “Mmmmmmmm…”

  When I open my eyes, I am face-to-face with another spaceman, staring right back at me!

  The spaceman lunges at me, making a horrible growl. Underneath his helmet I see big bulging eyes and a nasty, drooling mouth.

  “AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!”

  I push away and go spinning head over heels, crashing into the flight control panel, accidentally nudging the turbo-thrust-thingy with my bottom.

  The boosters flare up; the rockets spit fire into space. The spaceship kicks on at a million miles a second. The lights start flashing on the flight control panel, the alarm starts beeping. The furry dice are flying about like crazy.

  “Mission control, mission control, do you read me?” I scream. Then I remember, mission control is sitting on the loo reading a copy of the Racing Times.

  Suddenly the darkness of space is lit up with flashes of bright white light. Out of the window I see we’re heading for a comet!!!

  I dive for the steering wheel and turn the spaceship sideways. As I do, the spaceman does a somersault and crashes into me.

  “Get off me! Get off me!” I gasp.

  We strike the tail of the comet.

  The spaceship goes spinning round in circles. Lumps of comet smash into the side of the spaceship; fire scorches the nose.

  Ice peppers the windscreen. I try pressing the windscreen wipers but they jam. Outside, red-hot flames lick at the window.

  “Mission control, mission control, do you copy?” I holler, desperately.

  The radio crackles into life.

  “Everyman One, this is mission control, sorry about that. I just nipped off for a rich tea biscuit and I thought whilst I was in that part of the world I might like to make myself a nice cup of tea…”

  “Mission control, we have a problem!”

  “So anyway, I made myself a cup of tea, and do you know what? I couldn’t find the sugar…”

  “Mission control, we have a problem!” I repeat.

  “So I had to borrow a spoon of sugar from whatshername next door…” says mission control. “You know, her with the leg…”

  “MISSION CONTROL!!!”

  “Anyway, how can I be of service?”

  “There’s another spaceman in the spaceship!” I scream.

  “Don’t be daft, Spaceman John,” says mission control. “This is a one-man flight.”

  “Oh no!” I shriek.

  The spaceship is hurtling towards a massive, lifeless rock.

  “I think we’re going to crash, Granddad,” I cry.

  “You’re breaking up on me,” says mission control. “Say that again…”

  “Crash positions!”

  The spaceship slams into the rock.

  The hatch explodes and we both fall out at a zillion miles an hour. We tumble across the craters, wrapped up in each other’s arms and legs, one big spacemen bundle, with the spaceship skidding just behind us.

  Eventually we roll to a stop.

  I scramble to my feet and holler at the other spaceman.

  “You made me crash my spaceship…”

  The spaceman takes a step towards me. This is the most scared I’ve been since I slept head to toe with Hayley in the same bed.

  I peer into the helmet and see the face on the inside in all its amazing detail. It is a face that turns my heart ice cold with fear.

  Johnny Smith is an experienced animation and live-action screenwriter. As one half of Sprackling and Smith, the comedy screenwriting team, he sold numerous original feature film scripts here and in Hollywood, including Disney’s box office hit GNOMEO & JULIET. He lives in London with his wife and children.

  Scholastic Children’s Books

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  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2015

  This electronic edition published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2015

  Text copyright © Johnny Smith, 2015

  Illustration copyright © Laura Ellen Anderson, 2015

  The rights of Johnny Smith and Laura Ellen Anderson to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work have been asserted by them.

  eISBN 978 1407 15512 8

  A CIP catalogue record for this work is available from the British Library.

 

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