Shaun the Sheep, page 2
A cross-looking chicken named Beryl wearing a red fez walked onto the stage. After bowing to the audience, she tapped her bottom with a magic wand and pulled out an egg. A murmur of amazement ran through the crowd. Beryl bowed again and then held up a nest, turning it this way and that to show the audience that it was empty. After placing it carefully on the stage, she sat on it, waved the wand, clucked irritably, and stood up. Once again, she held up the nest. This time, there was an egg in it. Jaws dropped open. Deafening applause echoed around the meadow.
But Beryl hadn’t finished. As a grand finale, she touched one of the moles with her magic bottom and produced another egg, this time from his ear!
The audience hooted and yelled and stamped their feet as the moles held up their scores: an eight, a seven, and . . . another eight. Shaun tutted. It was obvious that the eggs had been hidden under Beryl’s fez.
Feeling the ground shudder beneath his hooves, he glanced over his shoulder. The chickens waiting to go onstage were pointing at Shirley and tittering behind their wings. The giggling had made her nervous, and she was shaking so badly the floor was quaking.
Shaun tried waving them away. The chickens just made faces at him.
Next up was Hazel. With a flourish and a deep bow, Bitzer placed a new sign at the front of the stage. It read, BITZER STAGE MANAGEMENT IS PROUD TO PRESENT HAZEL’S FROG SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMING TEAM.
To a light sprinkling of applause, Hazel clanked an old metal bucket full of water and frogs onto the stage and hit play on the boom box. As classical music wafted across the meadow, she clasped her hooves in joy. Hazel had had her doubts about the frogs during training. Sometimes she had wondered if they were properly hungry for fame. Once or twice it had seemed that they weren’t even paying any attention. Now, when it really mattered, they were performing like stars! The frogs were nothing less than magnificent, weaving beautiful patterns in the bucket and swimming together in a synchronized dance like the unfolding petals of a water lily.
A tear fell from her eye. It was perfect.
The audience was baffled. From below, all they could see was a crying sheep leaning over a bucket. Some started booing and slow clapping. One of the pigs considered throwing a rotten tomato, then thought better of it and ate it instead.
Finally, the music stopped. Hazel took a bow. Her smile faded as two moles held up their scores: zero and zero. Her heart leaped when the last mole held up a ten . . . but only for a moment. After squinting at his scorecard, he realized his mistake and replaced the ten with a zero.
Backstage, chickens wiped tears of laughter from their eyes. Shaun groaned. Accepting this challenge had been a terrible mistake. What had he been thinking? Chicken laughter would follow the sheep wherever they went, and to make matters worse, Nuts was on soon. Shaun hoped that he hadn’t added any more impressions to his act at the last minute.
As Hazel left the stage, Bitzer walked on from the wings, clapping enthusiastically. No one joined in. With a shrug, he swapped the signs. Next up were CHICKENS CROSSING THE ROAD.
Shaun crossed his hooves. Maybe the comedy act would be completely and utterly useless.
It wasn’t.
Within seconds, the audience was hooting with laughter. Shaun’s jaw dropped. Chickens Crossing the Road were telling sheep jokes.
Still scowling, Shaun patted the trembling Shirley. Her eyes were squeezed closed, as if trying to block the mocking laughter of the chickens from her memory. This time would be far worse. The whole farmyard was watching. If everyone laughed at her, she would never be able to show her face outside the barn again. Except at feeding time, she added to herself. That went without saying.
The chickens were crowing again. Nuts had finished his act and left the stage. Just as Shaun had feared, his farmyard impressions had not been a smash hit. The moles held up scores: zero, zero, zero. There was just one act to go until Shirley’s, and so far the Flock hadn’t scored a single point! All hopes now rested on Shirley and her Sheep-Shape backup group.
Bitzer tap-danced onto the stage and changed the sign to SIX PECK. Chickens began clucking hysterically, flapping their wings and screeching the names of their favorite Six Peck singers.
The curtain rose. A thumping beat began.
As Six Peck leaped into their dance routine, fans held up homemade signs saying I Six Peck. A hen who fainted when one of the roosters shook his tail feathers in her direction had to be dragged away by her ankles. Another laid an egg. The air around the barn was filled with squawking, clucking, and the peeping of Bitzer’s whistle as he struggled to keep order.
The roosters lapped up the attention. Strutting and parading across the stage, they slipped into their second number as the crowd went crazy. Six Peck skidded across the stage on their knees and did star jumps in perfect time.
As the final beat faded, the audience leaped to their feet, screaming for more. The roosters bowed, then waited as the moles held up their marks: ten, ten, nine. Six Peck strutted offstage, beaks in the air and crowing mockingly as they passed poor, shaking Shirley.
Shirley gulped. Chicken laughter filled the air. Her knees were sagging. Teeth chattering, she shook her head when Shaun told her it was time to go on.
Shaun gave Shirley an encouraging smile. It was her time to shine. Shirley was petrified. She couldn’t do it! Shaun realized it was time for some encouragement. . . .
Shirley just shook her head. She was rooted to the spot. She couldn’t go onstage. She wouldn’t face the laughter.
Desperate, Shaun tried heaving her with his shoulder again. It was no good. Shirley would not be moved.
Six Peck, Beryl, and Chickens Crossing the Road began chuckling again as a tear ran down Shirley’s face. Delighted chickens danced from one foot to the other. They were going to win the Mossy Bottom Farm Talent Show. Chickens rule!
Shaun slumped against the wall. It was a disaster. He’d tried everything, and if even cake couldn’t tempt Shirley onstage, then nothing could.
Or could it?
Shaun blinked. An idea had struck him. There was one thing that might, just might, give Shirley the confidence to go onstage. Quickly, he whispered in Bitzer’s ear, then disappeared into the night.
The spotlights fell on the stage. The sign read SHIRLEY: ONE TRUE LOUSY VOICE. Underneath, in much smaller letters, were the words, WITH THE AMAZING STUPID SHEEP-SHAPE DANCERS. Backstage, a guilty-looking rooster hid a piece of chalk behind his back.
The audience flapped and cackled. Judges peered at the stage, twiddled their pencils, and whispered to one another. The Sheep-Shape dancers struck a pose, pointing to an empty space with their walking sticks.
Shirley and her one true voice were nowhere to be seen.
The judges shook their heads and scribbled notes. One cleaned his ear out with a pencil.
Still Shirley didn’t appear.
Eggy Beryl clucked a cluck full of jeering mockery and scorn. Six Peck put their heads together and crowed a brief bit of “Who’s Chicken Now?” And after peering around the curtain, Chickens Crossing the Road wondered aloud if Shirley had gotten lost. Sheep were always too dumb to find the Other Side. Laughter rippled through the audience.
Bitzer ran to the front of the stage and quickly wrote a new sign. It read: SHIRLEY: ONE TRUE VOICE. WITH VERY SPECIAL GUEST!
A sheep walked into the spotlights. It wasn’t Shirley. The sheep was a stranger to Mossy Bottom Farm, but he was a sheep everyone knew. They had seen his face on a thousand sacks of sheep dip. He was wearing a sparkly silver jacket. His floppy white hairdo fell over one eye, just like in his picture. When he smiled, his teeth twinkled.
Barry Stiles was here. He was the special guest! The crowd went wild.
The star winked at Shirley.
Timmy’s Mum checked her curlers and then clasped her front hooves together and fluttered her eyelashes.
Shirley shoved her aside. Barry Stiles held out a hoof to her and smiled a heart-melting smile. His hairdo twitched. Frowning, he shook it back into place, but not before one of Shirley’s carrot curlers disappeared into its fluffy depths. There was a munching noise.
Shirley didn’t notice. Music bubbled in her heart. She tottered onto the stage to join the Sheep-Shape dancers. Shirley raised a hoof to signal Bitzer:
The one true voice was bursting to sing. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Shirley opened her mouth. Her haunting voice rolled out over the barnyard, plucking at the heart of every animal on the farm as she crooned the theme song to the TV commercial for Barry Stiles’s Sheep Dip:
Got a muck-muck-mucky sheep?
Turn it into a luck-luck-lucky sheep!
Don’t hesitate. No, don’t delay.
Try Barry Stiles’s dip today!
Shirley began to dance. Wooden planks bent and groaned. The stage creaked loudly as she leaped into Barry Stiles’s arms.
Silence.
One minute stretched into two.
Barry Stiles’s head popped out of the pile of sheep. A gasp rippled through the audience as his “hairdo” sat up and grabbed what was left of its carrot. Then the “hairdo”— a very ticked-off white rabbit — shook a fist at Barry and hopped away, muttering to itself.
The audience gasped. Barry Stiles was an impostor! Without the disguise, everyone could see that it was, in fact . . . Shaun!
Shaun groaned. Everything had gone horribly —
Shirley’s head appeared above the other sheep. She looked around for Barry Stiles and, instead, saw only Shaun in the Farmer’s sparkly silver jacket. She folded her front legs. Shaun had better have a very good explanation!
Shaun gave Shirley a sheepish smile. Sorry was written all over his face.
Shirley continued to glare and started tapping a hoof too. She was very annoyed.
The sound of clapping broke the silence.
Shaun blinked. What was happening now?
Shirley stared out at the audience. To her surprise, no one was laughing.
Instead, all three judges were on their feet, clapping.
The pigs stood next, whistling and stamping. One was weeping. He had to use a hoof to wipe tears from his snout.
Soon the entire audience was on their feet, cheering and squawking and squealing. Wave after wave of applause rang out across Mossy Bottom Farm. Only Six Peck, Chickens Crossing the Road, and Eggy Beryl didn’t join in. The rest of the audience was mesmerized.
Shirley stood amid the wreckage of broken wood and torn shower curtains. One of her false eyelashes was hanging off, but the audience didn’t care. They cheered even louder when she dropped a curtsy.
And, finally, the moles held up their scorecards: ten, ten, and ten.
It was Shirley’s turn to laugh.
Shaun grinned. The one true voice had won the talent contest, after all!
Beneath the stars, Shaun and Bitzer leaned against the wall. The Flock was snoring in the barn, the chickens had gone squawking and clucking angrily to the henhouse, and Bitzer had finished his evening rounds. Shaun sighed happily. After all the excitement, he was looking forward to Mossy Bottom Farm getting back to normal — at least for a day or two.
Hearing the familiar roar and rattle of an engine, he squinted into the darkness. In the distance, headlights were approaching. A tractor was coming up the lane, weaving from side to side, its horn honking.
It skidded to a halt outside the farmhouse with something wobbling on its roof. “TA-DAAAA!” roared the Farmer, bounding out of the vehicle and holding a tiny gold cup aloft. “HIP-HIP-HUZZZAHHHH!”
Shaun and Bitzer stared at each other. The Farmer had won the MOSSY BOTTOM’S GOT TALENT show! How did that happen?
Bitzer gulped and pointed. Shaun turned to look.
Tied to the roof of the car was a balloon model. It was perfect in every detail and must have used at least a hundred balloons. This time there were no funny faces or missing legs. The Farmer had created balloon art. A life-size model of himself wearing a winged helmet and holding a sword aloft while riding a charging tortoise.
Shaun rolled his eyes, shook his head at Bitzer, and then smiled.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2014 by Aardman Animations Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First U.S. electronic edition 2014
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2013955954
ISBN 978-0-7636-7535-6 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-7636-7584-4 (electronic)
The illustrations were created digitally.
Candlewick Entertainment
An imprint of Candlewick Press
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visit us at www.candlewick.com
Martin Howard, Shaun the Sheep
