The Punjabi Pappadum by Robert Newton Read Free Book Online Page B

one word for you, Veejay … are you ready?”
    He was.
    â€œG R O U P I E S,” mouthed Dexter slowly. “And I’m not talking about eighty-year-old women in wheelchairs.”
    â€œDo you mean girls?” asked Veejay excitedly.
    â€œHundreds.”
    â€œI’m in.”
    One down and one to go.
    â€œTravis?”
    â€œIt all sounds very nice, but there are a couple of very important things you’ve forgotten.”
    â€œThere are?”
    â€œNone of us can dance.”
    â€œDance,” protested Veejay. “You didn’t say anything about dancing.”
    â€œTake it easy, I’ve got it covered. That’s where Theo Ryan steps in. How hard can it be to string a couple of moves together?”
    â€œI’m not dancing,” croaked Veejay. “No way.”
    â€œThe other thing,” continued Travis, “is that there are only three of us.”
    â€œI’ve thought about that,” retorted Dexter. “And I say we advertise for the fourth spot. They’ll be knocking down the door to be a part of this.”
    To minimise the risk involved in sneaking out late at night for the stake-out sessions, the boys decided on a rotating roster. Each of them took it in turns with Ron in the old Morris. To date, the report sheet (Veejay’s idea) mounted on the sparkling dashboard remained empty.
    During the day, however, things were hotting up. A punchy advertisement placed in last week’s Longwood Tribune had proved a great success. It read:
    HAVE YOU EVER DREAMED OF BEING FAMOUS? WONDERED WHAT LIFE ON THE ROAD WOULD BE LIKE - FULL OF LIMOUSINES AND HOTEL MINI BARS?
DOES THE IDEA OF ENDLESS SHOPPING MALL APPEARANCES GET YOU GOING?
    IF YOU ANSWERED YES TO ANY OR ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS, THEN GIVE US A CALL. WE ARE A TRIO OF SINGERS SEEKING A LIKE-MINDED FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD TO JOIN. OUR NEWLY FORMED BOY BAND. OUTSTANDING SINGING VOICE ESSENTIAL. THOSE EASILY EXCITABLE NEED NOT APPLY AS SOME HANDLING OF FEMALE UNDERWEAR MAY BE INVOLVED.
NO WEIRDOS PLEASE.

LAMB VINDALOO .......... $11.95
‘CAUTION’—This one’s HOT!! Lamb marinated in a blend of spices and vinegar, then cooked in piquant sauces with onions and potatoes.
    E verything was set. Three chairs sat neatly behind the trestle table in the Macallisters’ garage. Dexter had arranged for candidates to enter through the front door where they would be greeted by his mother and offered light refreshments. At twenty-minute intervals, each candidate would be led out to the garage for their audition. Simple.
    â€œCome on,” barked Dexter, “we’ve got ten minutes before they start arriving.”
    â€œI don’t know what’s wrong with ‘Vindaloo’,” protested Veejay.
    â€œYou can’t call a boy band ‘Vindaloo’,” snapped Travis. “It sounds ridiculous.”
    Veejay looked hurt. “I suppose you’ve got something better?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact I’ve got two names. Ron’s favourite, which he wanted me to pass on, is ‘The Nancy Boys’. But my choice is ‘Roundhouse’.”
    â€œDexter?”
    â€œI still like ‘Deadly’, myself.”
    â€œYeah, you would.”
    Before the boys had time to decide on their new name, two figures appeared at the garage door.
    One was Dexter’s mum and the other was a scary-looking bloke wearing dark lipstick with huge bags under his eyes. A mop of tangled hair, jet black, hung well below his shoulders.
    â€œBoys, I’d like you to meet X Cubed,” croaked Mrs Macallister. “Mr Cubed is first up.”
    With that, Dexter’s mum turned to leave.
    â€œThanks for the cuppa, Mrs Mac,” said X Cubed.
    â€œIt’s a pleasure.”
    Nervously, the boys took their seats behind the trestle and opened the interview sheets.
    â€œX Cubed,” pondered Veejay. “I must say that’s a little