THE  PERFECT  PIZZA
                         

                        A Birthday Invitation

 
Scott looked at the party invitation in his hand and frowned. "What do you think, Pete?" he asked his friend, as they stood in the school ground at recess. "Should we go to Sigmund's birthday party next Saturday, or not?"
     "Er, I don't know," mumbled Pete. "Sigmund's been going to our school for a few weeks now and I really like him, but remember about... remember what was in your-"
       Scott nudged Pete hard in the ribs, so that he didn't finish what he was saying. There were other kids around and he didn't want them to hear his friend talking about tentacled monsters, hiding in his bedroom cupboard. To the rest of their class, Sigmund was just a normal boy. They didn't know about his creepy mother...
    "Are you two crazy?" asked Susan, who was standing nearby and had overheard them. "You've got to go to Sigmund's party; it's going to be the best one of the year! Sigmund told me that his family has hired a whole group of circus performers to put on a show for us. They're going to have a big barbecue with special party food, and they also have a heated pool that we'll be allowed to swim in. Best of all, the party is going to be at night!"
     Scott and Pete looked at each other and tried not to shiver. Visit Sigmund's house at night, with his creepy mother and who-knew-what sort of monsters stalking about the place? Then there was the problem of the food. What if all the party food was as weird as Sigmund's school lunches?
     "Everyone else in the class is going," added Susan's friend, Jane. "Sigmund's feelings will be hurt if you two don't turn up. He likes you."
     "Yeah, I know," sighed Scott. "I suppose we'd better tell him that we can go."
     "After all, it does sound fantastic," said Pete, in a hopeful voice.

     Sigmund was very happy when the boys said that they were able to go to his
party.
     "Great!" he said with a smile. "You've met my mum and now you'll get to meet
my dad, too."
     "What would you like for a present?" asked Pete.
     "Oh, you don't have to get me anything," mumbled Sigmund, blushing. "I'm just
glad that everybody is coming. I didn't think anyone would want to, since I haven't
been at this school for very long."
     "Of course they would!" Pete exclaimed, secretly feeling guilty.
 It was lucky that poor Sigmund didn't know what he and Scott really thought.

                                  CHAPTER TWO
            Dark Nights and Party Lights 
 
     Scott and Pete began to grow more and more nervous, as the night of Sigmund's birthday party drew closer. They decided to get him a present after all, and bought him a few packets of basketball cards with their pocket money. Everyone else at the school had them at the moment, except Sigmund. He didn't seem to know much about basketball or football, and the two friends thought that it was one more strange thing about him. He didn't even have a favourite football team, and everyone else did.
    Finally Saturday night arrived, and Scott's dad drove the boys to the address on their invitations.
     "Hmmm, your new friend lives in an expensive part of town," he said. "What did you say his name was?"
     "Sigmund," said Scott.
     "But what about his surname?" Scott's dad asked.
     "Um, we don't know," he replied. "He's just Sigmund to us."
     Scott's dad chuckled, as he pulled up outside Sigmund's house. "I suppose first names are all that matter to you kids," he said.
     Scott and Pete got out of the car and stared up at the house, which was lit up with hundreds of little glowing party lights. They could hear the sound of music playing and happy voices, coming from the back garden.
     "Wow," said Pete. "It's a mansion!"
     A tall man walked down the front driveway and shook Scott's dad's hand. "Hi, I'm Simon, Sigmund's father," he said, in a cheerful voice. "Pleased to meet you."
     "At least Sigmund's dad looks normal," whispered Scott.
     Pete nodded.
     The two grown ups chatted for a couple of minutes and then Sigmund's dad waved at the house.
     "Why don't you boys go on out to the back garden," he said. "That's where all the action is."
     Scott and Pete walked slowly up the steep driveway. There were dark green bushes on either side of it and a rustling sound was coming from them...
     "Watch out!" Pete suddenly hissed.
    Scott looked down and realised that he was about to step on an enormous cat, which had just stalked out of the bushes. He blinked his eyes and stared at it, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.
     "Er, what colour is that cat, Pete?" he asked.
     "Well, I'm not sure," Pete replied, frowning at the cat. "It's hard to tell..."
     "I think it's the same colour as the bushes. I think it's green," whispered Scott.
     The cat looked at the boys for a moment with strange, glittering eyes. Then it clearly winked at them and stalked off into the night.
     "Let's go home, " he said, grabbing his friend by the arm.
     Pete shook his head. "We can't," he sighed. "Look- your dad's gone."
     Sigmund's father was waving goodbye to Scott's dad, as he drove off down the road.
     "Perhaps we made a mistake about the cat, anyway," Pete continued. "It's too dark out here to see properly."
     "You're right," agreed Scott, trying to calm down. "Let's get to the back garden, where everyone else is. There will be more lights out there and it won't be so spooky."

     "Hi guys!" shouted Sigmund, running over to Scott and Pete, when he saw
they had arrived. "I'm glad you're here at last."
     "Happy birthday, Sigmund," said Pete, handing him his present. "Scott and I bought these between us; we hope you like them."
     "Yeah, happy birthday," added Scott, gazing around at the enormous back garden.
     Hundreds of little party lights hung everywhere, just as they did at the front of the house, and some big yellow lamps stood around a swimming pool which seemed to have purple water in it. A barbecue was sizzling away near the pool and right in the middle of the back lawn was a little circus. Two clowns were riding small bicycles about, knocking each other over and making people laugh, a weird looking man was juggling a pair of flaming torches and sometimes even putting them into his mouth, a team of acrobats were doing somersaults, and a contortionist was sitting on a cushion, tying herself into knots. Most of the other kids from their class had already arrived, and they were all having a fantastic time.
     "Wow," he said. "This is a cool party."
     "Thank you," smiled Sigmund. "And thank you for the cards, too! Now I can start my own collection."
     "We're going to teach you all about basketball," said Pete. "Will you join our after-school basketball team?"
     Sigmund looked as though he would burst with excitement. "You really want me to join your team, even though I don't know how to play?" he asked.
     "You'll soon learn," laughed Pete.
     "Hey Sigmund, what the heck is wrong with your pool water?" asked Scott, as he watched Jane jump into it. "It's a very yukky colour; has it got slime in it?"
     "There's nothing wrong with it," replied Sigmund, who stopped smiling and began to look upset at Scott's suggestion that there was slime in his swimming pool.
    "Mum put some special stuff in the water, just to make it look interesting. I hope you'll both have a swim- it's nice and warm."
     Scott and Pete looked at each other.
     "Er, I think I forgot my bathing shorts," said Scott.
     Sigmund frowned at him. "Well, there's lots of other stuff to do here, so it doesn't really  matter," he
mumbled, before quickly walking away.
     "You're an idiot, Scott," whispered Pete. "Your bathers are hanging out of your back pocket and Sigmund must have seen them. Now you've hurt his feelings!"
     "Well I can't help it," grumbled Scott. "I'm not swimming in that purple stuff; who knows what his weirdo of a mum might have put in it."
         "I suppose you're right," agreed Pete. "It's okay for Jane and the others to go jumping in. After all, they haven't seen green cats and tentacled monsters."
     Suddenly, they heard a loud "meow" from behind them. Turning around, the boys saw the cat again. This time it was sitting on the grey concrete path that they were standing on.
     "Hey, isn't that the same cat we saw out the front?" asked Scott.
     "I think so," said Pete, grinning with relief. "Look, it wasn't green at all. It's grey- almost the same colour as the concrete."
     "So it is," said Scott, reaching down to pat it.
     The cat winked at him once again and ran off into the house, before he could touch it.
     "Stupid thing," he said. "I hate cats, anyway."

                          CHAPTER THREE
            The Magician and the Cat 

     The boys began to walk around the garden, looking at the circus acts and talking to the other kids.
     "Why don't  you come into the pool?" asked Jane, who loved to swim. "The
water tastes like grape juice."
     "Swim in grape juice?" laughed Scott. "I don't think so!"
     "Why don't you ask Sigmund's mum for an ice-cream soda?" suggested Susan.
"She made me one that was bright pink, and it tasted just like sherbet. She said it was made out of rose petals."
     "I had one that tasted like licorice, but it was called aniseed, or something," added another boy, whose name was Tim. "It was delicious."
     "Weird food," Pete whispered to Scott. "I knew it!"
     "Well I'm not eating a single thing, then," said Scott. "It might come to life in my stomach, later on."
    "Yeah, like creepy worms or something," muttered Pete.
     A magician stood up on a little stage at one end of the swimming pool, and all the kids gathered around to watch him. He was very clever, making things disappear and pulling chocolate money wrapped in gold foil from behind the ears of some of the kids in the front row. For his final trick he stood a small black hat on the platform, after showing everyone that there was nothing inside it. Instead of waving a magic wand over the hat and pulling a rabbit or some birds out of it, he rattled a packet of cat biscuits above it. A puff of smoke exploded and then a big black cat squeezed out of the hat, meowing for some of the biscuits. Everyone laughed and clapped and cheered, and the magician bowed.
     "This is my uncle Samuel," said Sigmund proudly. "He is the one who arranged for the circus to come to my party."
     All the kids clapped and cheered again, and Sigmund's uncle smiled at them.
     "And this is our cat, Snoopers," continued Sigmund.
     Snoopers left the stage and some of the kids patted her, as she prowled around
the audience.
     "It's the same cat," Scott muttered. "Just look at it!"
     "It can't be," said Pete. "The other cat was grey and-"
     "No, first it was green, when it was hiding in the bushes," interrupted Scott. "Then it was grey when it was sitting on the grey concrete. Now it's black, because it was inside the black hat. It's a chameleon cat! It changes colour to match its surroundings."
     "There's no such thing," Pete whispered, shaking his head. "Is there?"
     "It must belong to Sigmund's spooky mother," said Scott. "Perhaps it's her 'familiar'. Don't all witches have a special animal that does errands for them?"
     "That sounds like rubbish to me," Pete replied doubtfully.
     Just then, Snoopers stalked past the boys. She stared hard at Scott and flicked her tail rudely.
     "I don't think she likes you," Susan said to Scott.
     "Who cares," replied Scott, in a loud voice. "I hate cats!"
     "Oh no, you've done it again," sighed Pete. "Sigmund overheard you, and I'll bet Snoopers is his favourite pet."
     Sigmund picked up Snoopers and was carrying her inside the house. He looked very upset.
     "You should go and apologise," said Susan.
     "Yeah, I will later," nodded Scott, feeling embarrassed.

     Sigmund's mum came out, carrying a big tray of food. She was wearing a black dress and her long black hair went right down her back, making it look as though she was wearing a cloak. The boys thought that all she needed was a pointy hat and a broomstick. Then she would look exactly like a witch.
     "The food is ready, children," she called out. "Help yourselves!"
     Everybody rushed over to a big table, to see what she had made. Scott and Pete noticed that there was not one piece of normal looking food to be seen. There were strange coloured ice-creams and jellies, green party pies in the shape of stars, and funny round sausages off the barbecue that were sizzling and popping on a plate, as if they were magically frying themselves. There were little cakes that glowed in the dark and hot dogs that tasted like toffees, and toffees that tasted like hot dogs!
     "Don't you think this food is revolting?" Scott asked Tim. "How can you eat it?"
     Tim shook his head.
     "It's delicious," he said, with his mouth full of green party pie. "Sigmund told me that his mum was going to try to make party food that was different from anything we'd ever had before. I think she did a great job."
     "Let's go in the house and find Sigmund," Pete said to Scott. "He hasn't come back outside since you upset him. You can apologise to him while everyone else is eating and with a bit of luck, nobody will notice that we didn't eat anything."
     "Good idea," agreed Scott.

                                      CHAPTER FOUR
                   Scott's Mistake 

     Scott and Pete sneaked inside Sigmund's house while his parents were serving up the food to the other kids. They stepped into an enormous kitchen and looked nervously about. There was a long bench in the middle of the kitchen floor, with plates of more weird party food on it. A big old stove squatted against a wall at one end of the room and a large silver pot stood on top of it.
     "That must be her cauldron," said Scott, in a low voice.
     "Maybe it's just a soup pan," Pete muttered. "My mum has one that looks a bit like it."
     "Nope, it's probably a modern cauldron," insisted Scott. "I wonder where Sigmund has got to? Let's hurry up and find him, so we can get out of here."
     The boys walked across the kitchen and peered up a long, dark hallway. Pete thought he saw the shadow of Snoopers the cat dart across the hallway, and he shivered.
     "Sigmund?" called out Scott. "Where are you?"
     There was no answer.
     "I'm not going up there," said Pete. "It's too dark and spooky."
     Scott called out again. "Sigmund, can we talk to you for a minute? I wanted to say I'm sorry for being
rude about your cat."
     Still there was no answer.
     "Perhaps he's in the toilet," said Pete. "Let's just wait here in the kitchen for a couple of minutes. Then we can try calling again."
     "Okay," agreed Scott, looking around again.
     "I wonder what Sigmund's family eats for dinner?" he said, walking over to a large fridge. "Fried tadpoles and slugs on toast, I suppose."
     "Scott, I don't think you should look in there," Pete warned him. "You never know what you might find inside. Remember the sandwich spread..."
     But Scott was too curious. He had just opened the fridge door when he heard Pete give a small cry. Then a cold hand dropped onto his shoulder.
     It was Sigmund's mum. Her dark eyes glinted as she smiled at Scott.
    "Are you looking for something?" she asked.
     "Er, Sigmund, actually," said Scott, in a shaky voice.
     "Well, you won't find him in there," Sigmund's mum laughed, closing the fridge.
     The boys thought that her laugh sounded more like a cackle.
     "We'll go and wait for him outside," said Pete, moving towards the door.
     "Wait a moment," Sigmund's mum smiled. "I noticed you two haven't had anything to eat since you arrived. Don't you like my food?"
     "We're not very hungry," said Pete, trying to be polite.
     "Maybe later," said Scott.
     "Would I be right in guessing that boys like you prefer pizza?" asked Sigmund's mum.
     "Well, yes," nodded Scott, not knowing what else to say. "We aren't used to glow-in-the-dark cakes and green party pies."
     "Then I have just the thing!" she said.
     Suddenly, the boys could smell the smell of baking pizza. Their mouths began to water and they wondered why they hadn't noticed the smell before, as pizza was their very favourite food. Every night after school they had to walk home past their local pizza shop and smell the aroma of baking pizza. They thought that it was the best smell in the whole world.
     "I put some pizza in the oven a little earlier, for those who would rather have it," Sigmund's mum explained. "It should be almost ready."
     Scott and Pete started to feel a little happier. Now this was more like it!
 Sigmund's mum opened up her oven and pulled out the most delicious-looking pizza that the boys had ever seen. It had everything: pineapple, ham, olives, anchovies, onions, red peppers, mushrooms, tomato sauce, and it was all covered with lashings of melted cheese. The golden crust sizzled in the pan, as she pushed it out onto a large plate and cut it into triangles.
     "Help yourselves," she said. "And by the way, Sigmund is out in the garden with the other children if you're still looking for him. He was out there all along."
     With that, she went back outside herself.
     "Gee, this is my idea of the perfect pizza!" exclaimed Scott, greedily picking the largest piece and taking a great big bite.
     Pete looked at the pizza and then looked at Scott, who had cheese running down his chin. All at once, he had a very bad feeling about the pizza.
     "I don't think this is such a good idea," he said slowly. "That pizza looks fantastic, but why didn't she take any of it out to the other kids? Why did she give it all to us?"
     "I don't know, but it tastes fine to me," said Scott. "Go on, have a piece."
     Pete shook his head. "Nope," he said. "I might try one of her little sausages instead. Remember the
tentacled monster in your cupboard, Scott. And the chameleon cat. I think we've upset her by not eating her party food. It's probably not a good idea to do that."
     "She didn't look upset to me," said Scott, reaching for another piece of pizza. "In fact, she seemed quite friendly."
     "Well, let's go back outside," said Pete. "You still have to apologise to Sigmund."
     "You go," said Scott in a dreamy voice, staring at the pizza as if it was the last bit of food on Earth. "I'll come later. I just want to finish this before the other kids see it."
     "What - you're going to finish that great big pizza all by yourself?" asked Pete.
     Scott nodded. He couldn't answer because he had his mouth full. With a shrug of his shoulders, Pete went back outside.
 
     Pete rejoined the party, taking a sausage from the table and putting it onto a paper plate.
     "Want some sauce with that?" asked Sigmund's dad, holding up a bottle of blue sauce.
     "Er, no thank you," replied Pete, watching the sausage sizzle away.
     Gathering up his courage, he finally took a bite. A wonderful meaty taste filled his mouth.
     "Hey," he said to Jane, who was helping herself to some hot dogs. "This is the best sausage I've ever eaten!"
     "You should try the party pies," she said. "They are much better than the ones we get at school. Sigmund's mum is a fantastic cook and she's made the food look really exciting. I'll have to get my mum to try to do the same at my next party."
     "Thank you for the compliments," smiled Sigmund's mum, who had overheard them.
     Pete took a party pie and two more sausages. Then he had a blackberry and sloe milkshake and three glow-in-the-dark cakes. He felt fine and he realised that Jane was right. Sigmund's mum was a fantastic cook; even if her party food looked weird, it tasted great. He was just about to have something else to eat, when Scott came back out into the garden.
     "Are you okay?" he asked him, when he saw that he wasn't looking very well.
     "I shouldn't have eaten all that pizza," groaned Scott. "All that cheese... all that
ham... all those olives... I feel sick!"
     "I warned you, but you were too greedy," said Pete, shaking his head. "I just hope that Sigmund's mum didn't do anything strange to the pizza, before you ate it."
     "I think I'm going to have to go home," Scott said, holding his stomach.
     "You'd better apologise to Sigmund for hurting his feelings first," said Pete.
     "Oh, I'll do it when I see him at school," muttered Scott. "I don't feel well enough at the moment."
     Pete asked Sigmund's dad to call Scott's, and soon his friend was on his way home. He stayed on at the party and even had a dip in the swimming pool and patted Snoopers. By the end of the evening he wasn't frightened of Sigmund's mum any more.
     Sigmund's family might be a bit weird, but they're really very nice! he thought.

                                         CHAPTER FIVE
                  Haunted by pizza... 

     On Monday morning, Pete met Scott at the school gate. Scott still didn't look
very well; he had a strange expression on his face and he kept sniffing the air.
     "Can you smell anything?" he asked, as the boys walked across the schoolground.
     Pete shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Can you?"
     Scott nodded, and then his eyes filled with tears.
     "Pizza," he said miserably. "Ever since I ate that pizza at Sigmund's house on Saturday night, that's all I can smell. And everything I eat tastes of pizza, too. It's awful!"
     "What do you mean?" asked Pete.
     "I noticed it when I got up on Sunday morning, after Sigmund's party," snivelled Scott. "Dad was cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast, but all I could smell was sizzling pizza. Have you ever eaten fried eggs that taste like cheese, olives and anchovies?"
     Pete shook his head.
     "Then we had sandwiches for lunch," continued Scott. "They may as well have been pizza sandwiches to me and I could hardly swallow them. Mum cooked roast chicken for dinner last night and I couldn't eat it because all I could taste and smell was -"
     "Pizza," Pete said, finishing off his sentence. "I told you that you shouldn't have eaten Sigmund's mum's pizza! Maybe she really has put a spell on you."
     "What am I going to do?" wailed Scott. "My life is ruined!"
     "I don't think so," said Pete, thinking hard. "There must be a way out of this."
     The school bell rang and the boys walked to assembly, Scott drying his eyes and trying to look as though nothing was wrong. Sigmund was already in line when they got there and a plan began to form in Pete's mind.
     "You've got to apologise to Sigmund for hurting his feelings," he whispered to
Scott. "Go on; go and tell him you're sorry."
     "But look what his mum's done to me!" protested Scott.
     "I'll bet Sigmund doesn't know about that," said Pete. "But if you want to smell and taste anything but pizza ever again, just do as I say."
     Scott and Pete walked over to Sigmund, who was standing with a group of other kids.
     "Great party Sigmund," said Pete. "The best one I've ever been to."
     "Thanks," replied Sigmund.
     Scott cleared his throat. "Er, Sigmund. Um... I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for being rude about
your swimming pool and your cat, too," he said. "I wasn't feeling very well and I was in a bad mood. I should never have been so horrible. I'm allergic to cats and it's true that I don't like them much, but Snoopers looked pretty special."
     Sigmund began to smile happily. "It's okay, Scott," he said. "I know you weren't well."
     "Will you still come to basketball practice tonight with us?" asked Pete.
     "Sure," nodded Sigmund. "My mum's going to come along to sign me up, and get my basketball shorts and singlet."
     The teachers arrived and the boys had to line up, so there was no more time for conversation.
     "Great," whispered Pete. "That takes care of part one of my plan."
     "What's part two?" asked Scott.
     "I'll tell you later," muttered Pete, as the teacher noticed he was talking and frowned at him.

     Poor Scott found it very hard to concentrate on his lessons that morning, and got into trouble twice for daydreaming. His pizza problem seemed to be getting worse. The smell of baking pizza was stronger than ever and he could taste pizza in his mouth, even though he wasn't eating anything. He asked to go to the toilet and had a drink of water while he was out of the classroom, but even the water tasted like anchovies.
     When lunch time came around he would have given anything to be able to taste a tuna sandwich, even though he usually hated them.
     "Ham and cheese," he sighed, as he and Pete unpacked their lunch boxes.
     "Your favourite," grinned Pete.
     "Too bad it doesn't taste like the real thing to me," said Scott. "Would you mind telling me what part two of your plan is? I'm desperate!"
     "Sure," said Pete. "When Sigmund's mum comes to basketball practice tonight, all you have to do is go over to her and tell her how sorry you are for being rude, just the way you did with Sigmund. Then she'll probably undo whatever it is she did to you."
     "I don't really want to," said Scott. "What if she turns me into a frog or something?"
     "I don't think she'll do that if you apologise to her," replied Pete.
     "Shhh!" hissed Scott. "Here comes Sigmund."
     "Hi guys, what have you got for lunch today?" he asked, sitting down next to them.
     "Peanut butter," said Pete.
     "Er, ham and cheese," said Scott.
     Sigmund opened his lunch box and began to smile, when he looked inside.
     "Excellent! Instead of yukky old sprout paste, I've got pizza. Mum made it last night and she must have had some left over."
     "P... p... pizza?" whispered Scott, staring at Sigmund's lunch box with a look of horror on his face. "She made you pizza?"
     "Yep, would you like a piece?" Sigmund asked, picking up a great big triangle of cheesy pizza and holding it out to Scott.
     To his amazement, Scott stood up and ran off to the toilets, holding a hand over his mouth.
     "He's still not very well," Pete explained. "He's had a bad stomach bug and I don't think he can eat much."
     "Poor Scott," said Sigmund, looking worried. "No wonder he was so grumpy at my party; do you think he'll be okay to play basketball this afternoon?"
     "Oh, I'm sure he will," Pete smiled, thinking that Sigmund was one of the nicest kids he'd ever met.

     Scott spent the afternoon holding his nose whenever the teacher wasn't looking, trying to block out the smell of pizza. He was very glad when the school day was finally over and he could go home.
     "Are you okay?" asked his mum, as he slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom and flopped down on his bed. "Don't you have basketball practice tonight?"
     "Yes, I'll be going in a minute," replied Scott in a faint voice, staring at the ceiling. "I'm just tired."
     Scott lay on his bed for quite a long time, as the smell of pizza drifted around him. He didn't want to face Sigmund's mum and considered not turning up to practice, but he was sure that Pete was right. He had to say he was sorry to her. It was the only way to stop himself from being haunted by pizza.
     "And after Sigmund's mum takes the spell off, I'm never going to eat a single slice of the stuff again," he muttered to himself, as he sat up and pulled his basketball singlet and shorts on.

                                   CHAPTER SIX
               Basketball Practice 

     Pete and Sigmund were waiting for Scott at the sports centre, when he finally walked into the gym.
     "Where were you?" asked Pete.
     "We thought you must be too sick to come," said Sigmund.
     "I'm fine," grumbled Scott. "Stop worrying."
     "Do you like my new shorts and singlet?" asked Sigmund, who was proudly wearing his new basketball outfit.
     "Sigmund's mum just got them for him," said Pete, giving Scott a hard stare and jerking his head in the direction of the back door of the gym.
     Scott looked over and saw Sigmund's mum, watching them. She was dressed in
a pair of black trousers and a black jumper, and she still looked pretty scary. He swallowed hard and then said,
     "I'll be back in a minute, guys. I just want to thank your mum for the party, Sigmund."
     "Oh, you don't need to do that," said Sigmund, with a puzzled look on his face.
     "Yes I do," Scott called over his shoulder, as he ran across the gym.
       "Hello Scott," said Sigmund's mum, her eyes twinkling as she looked at him."Sigmund tells me that you haven't been very well."
     "Er, yes," croaked Scott. "Um, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry. I was rude at the party and... and..."
     "My  goodness Scott, I don't know what you mean," she laughed. "Go and enjoy your game of basketball. I've given Sigmund some grape juice and cake for you boys to eat after practice. We had rather a lot of grape juice left over after the party, you know."
     With that, she winked at him and left the sports centre. Scott saw her get into her big black car and drive away.
     "How do you feel?" whispered Pete, coming up behind him.
     Scott shook his head and sniffed the air.
     "I'm not sure," he answered.

     The basketball coach worked the boys hard, and by the time they had finished their practice, they were hot and thirsty.
     "That was great fun!" said Sigmund, opening the bag of food his mum had left them, as they sat outside the sports centre. "I think I'm going to like basketball."
     He handed Scott and Pete a piece of cake each, and a small bottle of grape juice.
     "It was nice of your mum to give us this food," said Scott, looking warily at his cake.
     "It's only fair, since Pete's mum is giving me a ride home," replied Sigmund.
     Scott screwed up his eyes and lifted the cake towards his mouth. It looked like ordinary chocolate cake, but who knew what was really in it. Closer and closer he brought the cake to his mouth until it was touching his tongue...
     "Yum!" he exclaimed with relief. "Choc-mint!"
     "You can taste it?" asked Pete.
     Scott licked his lips and nodded happily.
     "Of course he can taste the cake," chuckled Sigmund. "Why wouldn't he be able to?"
     "Well he's been sick, hasn't he," said Pete.
     "It's delicious, Sigmund," said Scott, taking another bite. "The best cake I've ever eaten."
     "It's not choc-mint though," said Sigmund. "It's marshmallow and slippery elm and it's very good for you."
     Scott began to cough. "Whatever it is, it's great," he spluttered, as Pete slapped him on the back.
 "Much better than pizza."
     Sigmund laughed at Scott. "Nothing is better than pizza!" he said.

                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The next day, Scott and Pete walked past the pizza shop on their way home from school. As usual, the smell of baking pizza drifted past them.
     "Yum," sniffed Pete, licking his lips. "I wish I'd brought some pocket money. I
wouldn't mind a small ham and pineapple right now."
     "Oh, yuk," said Scott, shaking his head and holding his nose. "I'm never eating pizza again."
     Pete frowned at him.
     "Scott, maybe Sigmund's mum didn't put a spell on you at all. Remember when I ate that whole family sized pizza myself one night and got pizza blockage?"
     "It's called indigestion, not pizza blockage," interrupted Scott, in a grouchy voice.
     "Whatever you want to call it, that's what I had," continued Pete. "I couldn't eat anything for a whole day afterwards because my stomach was too upset. Well, maybe that's what happened to you. Maybe you just smelt pizza all the time and thought everything tasted like pizza because you were feeling guilty about being rude to Sigmund and his mum."
     "No way!" said Scott. "She put some kind of a spell on me, I know she did!"
     Pete sighed. "I suppose so. It just seems so... so unbelievable."
     "Well it really happened," said Scott. "Just like the tentacled monster. Sigmund's mum is a witch!"
     "I wonder what it would be like to have a real live witch for a mum?" said Pete.
     "I don't know and I don't think Sigmund does, either," chuckled Scott, as the boys arrived at the front gate of his house. "He doesn't seem to notice that she's different from other mums."
     "Well, I won't be telling him in a hurry," said Pete.
     "Neither will I," agreed Scott. "I think I've been in enough trouble for one week!"
                                                          
                                                      THE END
 

Copyright: 2009 Heather Hammonds.
This story may be downloaded and used by individuals or classes for the purpose of study, research, criticism, or review, or as permitted under Part VB of the Copyright Act. No part of this story may be otherwise reproduced without permission from the author. Enquiries should be directed to the author's e-mail address.