The Spooky Sponge

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Book excerpt

CHAPTER 1  - THE BEDROOM

For the third time that morning, the voice boomed, “Annie, get out of bed or we’re gonna be late again!”

Eight ‘o’ clock in the morning, with the rain lashing against the window, and the wind trying to push each raindrop through the glass, howling as it did so, Annie Morton, same age as the time, pushed the thick quilt away from her deliciously warm pyjama’d body. Instantly, the cold hit her, so she pulled the quilt back over her and once more trapped the warmth that had built up overnight, within the comfort of her lovely snuggily bed.

Annie wanted to lock the warmth away and keep it forever, but her thoughts were interrupted once more as the voice of her Mum, somewhat louder than before, bellowed “Aaaaaaaa-nieeeeee!!! Are you up yet?’

  “Mmmm,” groaned Annie.

  “Well I can’t hear you!” yelled Mum.

Losing the battle to stay in bed, Annie huffily shoved the quilt off her, swung her legs off the bed and stomped her feet on the floor.

“There!  I’m up. Alright!” she shrieked.

Satisfied that her daughter had eventually done as she was told, Mum replied in a softer and more motherly tone, “That’s a good girl.  Now get yourself in the bathroom, brush your teeth, then get a wash.  And don’t use your hands,” continued Mum.  “Use that new Sponge I bought you yesterday.”

At first Annie’s eyes had felt tired and heavy, but on hearing the words ‘new sponge’ they instantly widened.

The thought of having to use the sponge, or as she called it, ‘The Spooky Sponge,’ filled her with dread.  Getting washed on a morning was bad enough, but having to use a snot coloured Sponge with the most gruesome of faces on it, was in Annie’s eyes, one of the most scariest things she has ever had to do.  She wasn’t just scared.  She was body shakingly petrified.

Annie Morton was eight years, two weeks and one day old.  Shorter and slightly plumper than children her age, once she woke up properly she was a bouncy child who loved just about every one and thing.  Except getting washed on a morning.  She hated that.

She’d happily brush her teeth, but hated getting a wash. She’d get changed in the freezing cold, but she hated getting a wash.  She’d put up with having her hair brushed, even when it was tatty, but the one thing she’d try to dodge every morning was the splashing of water on her young lightly freckled face.

Yesterday was a day she’d never forget.  When Mum said, “Let’s go shopping Annie, I need something at the body beautiful shop,” she thought it was to look at yet another new glossy lipstick or choose one of the countless perfumes in their fancy bottles that trapped in the many blends of pongy smells.   Mum was always looking at this and sniffing at that, even though she had loads of different kinds at home.  First she’d spray one kind of perfume on a wrist then stick it in Annie’s face and ask, “What do you think of that one?”  Before Annie had time to give an opinion, another scent had been sprayed on the other wrist then stuck in her face again.  Then another bit of unused skin would be selected, then another, and another.  Until there was no skin left to sample any more of the misty fluids.  In the end, Mum would buy the cheapest then walk out the shop smelling of practically all of the shops’ perfume selection.  Was it any wonder people steered clear of her?

  In the shop, much to Annie’s surprise, her Mum walked past the counters where the different ranges of smelly stuff sat waiting to be exchanged for money or bits of rectangular shaped plastic.  Then they walked past the lipsticks. Then the bubble-bath section.  Finally, after Mum did her impression of a bouncing giraffe, jumping and stretching her neck as far as she could to see over the shelves, she stopped at a part of the shop where soaps, shampoos and sponges rested.

After looking through the various shapes and sizes of cleansing products, Mum picked what could only be described as a sickly green raggy ended thing with a face on it that had big goggly eyes that would frighten even the ghosts in the worlds scariest ghost train.

  “I am not using that,” scowled Annie as she was led to the tills.  Annie couldn’t believe how mad her Mum must be. Not only had she picked it up, but she was actually going to pay for what could only be described as, a thing. 

The Sponge was lifted from the basket and dropped onto the moving black rubber belt.

It bounced a couple of times before being grabbed by the check out girl.

One pound twenty-five flashed up in red letters as the check-out girl scanned the Sponge then slid it with the other shopping items towards Mums shopping bag.