Panda Panic by Jamie Rix Read Free Book Online Page A

it greedily. “Don’t you want anything?” he asked Ping, the corners of his mouth oozing with the juicy flesh of a pear.

    â€œI’m not really a fruit lover,” admitted Ping.
    â€œI could get you some bugs,” said Little Bear helpfully. “If we can find rotting garbage nearby there’s bound to be some moldy maggots we could share.”
    Ping clutched his stomach and shuddered.
    â€œNo bugs!” he said quickly.
    â€œThen no bugs it is,” said Little Bear, tossing a peach into the air and catching it in his mouth. “Can you do that?”
    â€œNo,” said Ping. “I can toss a stick of bamboo in the air like a cheerleader’s baton if you’d like to see that?” But before he could demonstrate, his stomach rumbled loudly and the search for a bamboo baton was overtaken by the search for a bamboo meal. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Little Bear, “I need a little snack. And then, who knows, I might dig myself a hole and have my forty-second poop of the day.”

    A few minutes later, while squatting over his hole in the woods, Ping looked candidly at his situation. For the last few hours he had been bending over backward trying not to disappoint Little Bear by shattering the image he had of Ping as a hero. Well, maybe now Little Bear didn’t need to find out that Ping wasn’t the Emperor’s bodyguard. Ever since they’d come across the village, Ping’s luck had changed. Far from his lie being exposed, it had been backed up time and time again. Maybe his mother was wrong. Maybe sometimes lies could turn out to be true.

    And it was in that frame of mind, with a confident swagger to his step, that Ping strode back into the village, believing that anything he said would eventually come true.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    B y the time Ping got back to the village it was getting late.
    â€œShall we find somewhere to sleep?” he asked.
    â€œOoh, yes. Let’s sleep in the palace,” squealed Little Bear. “Can we, Ping, please? I’ve always wanted to sleep in a fancy place!”
    â€œI don’t see why not,” said Ping, looking around for a house that might pass for a palace. “Over there,” he said, pointing to the largest house in the village, which was the only one to boast a veranda as well as a front door.

    Little Bear was all for just barging straight in, but Ping had been taught to knock before he entered somebody else’s house. He held Little Bear back by the scruff of his neck while he waited for someone to open the door. When nobody came, he and Little Bear walked around to the back of the house.
    â€œWhy?” asked Little Bear impatiently.
    â€œBecause you don’t go bursting into a palace without being announced,” Ping said. “For all we know the Emperor may be outside in the yard playing croquet.”
    He wasn’t. The backyard was deserted except for a clothesline filled with clothes, a garden rake standing upright in a vegetable patch, and a rocking chair sitting on a small patio made from concrete slabs.
    â€œYou know what these are, don’t you?” exclaimed Little Bear, rushing forward and jumping up to reach the flapping material. “The Emperor’s clothes!” He caught hold of a T-shirt and pulled it down on top of his head. Standing up, he tugged his legs through the arm holes, tied the bottom around his stomach and then, to lend himself an air of importance, borrowed a pair of stripy socks off the line and popped them onto his ears.
    â€œThat looks fun!” cried Ping, joining in the game. Now that there was nobody around, Ping’s bravery knew no bounds. He grabbed a flowery dress from the clothesline and threw it around his shoulders with a flourish. “This is the Emperor’s cape,” he declared. “And this—” he reached up for a pair of white underpants and tugged them down over his head