Sticky Beak by Morris Gleitzman Read Free Book Online Page A

turned the tractor off, leant forward, grabbed me under the arms and swung me onto his lap.
    It felt good, even though his belt buckle was stabbing me in the kidney.
    â€˜Ro,’ he said quietly, ‘that’s dopey.’
    Then he slid me onto the seat next to him and jumped up onto the engine cover and took his hat off and put one hand over his heart and tilted his head back and yelled up at the trees.
    â€˜I swear on my Grannies and Jonathans,’ he shouted, ‘that no kid will ever come between me and my precious Tonto, cross my heart and hope to get root weevil.’
    I glowed inside.
    I would have glowed even more if he’d looked at me and said it quietly, but with Dad you have to take him the way he is.
    He jumped down from the engine and I slid down from the seat and he picked me up and hugged me so tight that his belt buckle left an imprint on my tummy
    I glowed even more and Uluru Rock suddenly melted away and all that was left was a wonderful feeling that everything was going to be OK for ever and ever.
    It lasted for about ten seconds.
    Less time than the red back-to-front rodeo rider above my bellybutton.
    Because I ruined it.
    I’ve never known when to keep my hands quiet. ‘For a moment there’ I said to Dad, ‘I thought you were going to sing.’
    Dad grinned.
    â€˜Almost did,’ he said, ‘but I couldn’t think of a song that said exactly what I wanted to say’
    â€˜Never mind,’ I said, ‘perhaps Carla Tamworth’ll sing one at the concert on Saturday.’
    Dad’s face clouded.
    â€˜I’ve been meaning to tell you,’ he said, ‘I can’t go to the concert on Saturday.’
    I stared at him.
    â€˜Sorry Tonto,’ he said. ‘Not with the baby due on Sunday. Too much to do. You do understand, eh?’
    I nodded.
    I couldn’t move my face, only my neck.
    â€˜Good on you,’ said Dad. ‘You can go with Amanda, eh?’
    I nodded again.
    â€˜Run off and have your breakfast then, love,’ he said, and fired up the tractor.
    I walked away.
    At that moment I couldn’t have forced food down myself with a crowbar, but I knew Sticky Beak would be hungry.
    When I got over here to the old shed and opened the door, Sticky blinked at me from inside his cage.
    He looked as stunned as I felt.
    Perhaps cockies have got super-sensitive hearing and he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
    A man who once drove six hours to get to a Carla Tamworth concert saying he can’t be bothered taking his daughter to one six minutes away.
    I wonder if cockies know about child neglect?
    I shouldn’t be talking like this, not even in my head.
    Dad’s just doing what any normal person would do in his position. Concentrating on the birth of his new baby. All fathers get a bit sidetracked when they’ve got a new kid on the way. Specially when it’s one that doesn’t have anything wrong with it.
    What’s so bad about that?
    Nothing, and I shouldn’t be blubbing like this, it’s stupid.
    I can see Sticky thinks so too.
    I’m making his seed all wet.
    He’s just told me to fall off a rock.
    I think he’s trying to cheer me up.
    Poor Sticky, he’s the one who should be crying, not me. Stuck in here all by himself trying to recover from a nervous condition brought on by six years of inhuman treatment by a monster.
    Darryn The Heartless Peck’s the one who should be punished, not Dad.

 
    I’m so excited.
    All Sticky’s problems are solved.
    Well, they will be soon.
    Once Amanda gets written permission to use her parents’ video camera.
    What’s more, if my plan works, no Australian cockatoo or budgie or dog or cat or hampster or mouse need ever suffer again what Sticky has suffered.
    Going to school this morning I didn’t have a clue that this was going to be such an important day in the history of pet care.
    For starters, I’d