Horrid Henry looked out of the window. AAARRRGGGHHH! It was a lovely day. The sun was shining. The birds were tweeting. The breeze was blowing. Little fluffy clouds floated by in a bright blue sky.
Why couldn’t it be raining? Or hailing? Or sleeting?
Any minute, any second, it would happen … the words he’d been dreading, the words he’d give anything not to hear, the words –
‘Henry! Peter! Time to go for a walk,’ called Mum.
‘Yippee!’ said Perfect Peter. ‘I can wear my new yellow wellies!’
‘NO!’ screamed Horrid Henry.
Go for a walk! Go for a walk! Didn’t he walk enough already? He walked to school. He walked home from school. He walked to the TV. He walked to the computer. He walked to the sweet jar and all the way back to the comfy black chair.
Horrid Henry walked plenty. Ugghh. The last thing he needed was more walking. More chocolate, yes. More crisps, yes. More walking? No way! Why oh why couldn’t his parents ever say, ‘Henry! Time to play on the computer.’ Or ‘Henry, stop doing your homework this minute! Time to turn on the TV.’
But no. For some reason his mean, horrible parents thought he spent too much time sitting indoors. They’d been threatening for weeks to make him go on a family walk. Now the dreadful moment had come. His precious weekend was ruined.
Francesca Simon, Horrid Henry and the Mega-Mean Time Machine