Sergeant Smelly
And
Captain Chunder
Save The Day
By
JAMES SHARKEY
Other titles by James Sharkey
Sergeant Smelly And Captain Chunder Save The Day Again
Sergeant Smelly And Captain Chunder: Lost in Time
Sergeant Smelly And Captain Chunder: Dimensions
A Sergeant Smelly Christmas
Sergeant Smelly And Captain Chunder: Aliens
Sergeant Smelly And Captain Chunder Save The Day Audio book
www.sergeantsmelly.co.uk
Copyright © 2013 James Sharkey
All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To Connor
With special thanks
to John
Table of Contents
1. The Beginning
2. Café McPoo
3. The Pie From Heaven
4. Back to Café McPoo
5. The Evil Onionman
6. Back to Work
7. Back to Café McPoo Again
8. Back to Café McPoo once again
9. Superheroes
10. The Evil Secret Lair
11. The Bad News Onion
12. Onion Interrogation
13. The Rise of Onionman
14. Sergeant Smelly and Captain Chunder meet Onionman for the first time in the chapter with the extremely long title (Part 1)
15. Sergeant Smelly and Captain Chunder meet Onionman for the 1st time in the chapter with the extremely long title (Part 2)
16. Prime Minister Onionman
17. Sergeant Smelly and Captain Chunder at the evil not-so-secret lair
18. Sergeant Smelly and Captain Chunder meet Onionman for the 2nd time in another chapter with an extremely long title
19. The Final Battle (Introduction)
20. The Final Battle (Part 1)
21. The Final Battle (Part 2)
22. The Beginning part at the end
23. This is the End?
About the Author
Other books
Coming soon
1. The Beginning
Sergeant Smelly was a normal man, who wore normal clothes and ate normal food. He lived in a normal village, full of normal people. Even his address was normal. He lived at 1 Normall Street in the village of Normall Normall. The village was so normal they named it twice. His first name was almost normal too - Norman. Before he was a Sergeant, most people knew him as Normal Norman from Normall Normall. He lived an exceedingly normal life.
Well, it was a normal life, if you considered being in court on exploding fart charges normal.
Normal, if producing fire from your butt was normal.
Normal, if having a name like Sergeant Smelly was normal.
All of his body parts were normal apart from one. His butt. His butt was extremely not normal. His butt was abnormal, although his abs were normal. It used to be a normal butt, but that all changed in the blink of a fart…
"Sergeant Smelly, you are charged with the crime of producing exploding fire-farts due to eating too many Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean pies and being unable to control your soldiers, not to mention your bottom. How do you plead?" asked Army Judge Mental.
Sergeant Smelly began his army life as a Private in the Scots Haggis Regiment and was promoted through the ranks to Sergeant over the last five years. But a few weeks ago, he found a wonderful new dish at a local café, and now his career was in danger.
One fateful morning, Sergeant Smelly was suffering from a horrible cold. Knowing the best way to get rid of a cold was to feed it, he trudged into town to find a place to eat. He stopped at the window of Café McPoo and witnessed lots of people tucking into delicious looking food. The plain wooden tables and white tablecloths oozed simplicity, but the food on the tables outshone the plain exterior of the café. Silence filled the air as the customers focused fully on the mouth-watering food on their plates, enjoying their meals immensely. Alas, his cold was so bad, he didn’t smell the odorous pong emanating from the café.
His cold, however, who was called Rhys, did smell the awful pong and begged Sergeant Smelly to reconsider. He tried to turn his attention to the Sandwich shop on the other side of the street, but Sergeant Smelly could not hear his cold speaking to him, as his ears were bunged up with wax. Rhys the Cold could see disaster was around the corner.
Major Disaster walked around the corner and greeted him in a bright and cheery fashion.
"Morning Smelly," said Major Disaster in a bright and cheery fashion.
Rhys the Cold was correct. He could also sense nothing good was going to come of Sergeant Smelly eating at Café McPoo. It had Disaster Area written all over it. But the graffiti artist had been caught red handed last week and was hard at work wiping the words ‘Disaster Area’ off the front of the café.
Rhys the Cold frowned and prepared himself for the worst.
"Ah well, here goes for nothing."
And so it began.
2. Café McPoo
Jimmy McChunder owned Café McPoo, which was famous for making food that would test the strongest of butts. It was testing on the nose too, but not due to the smell of the food. His food smelled and tasted scrumptious. The bad odour was the horrendous smell of the farts afterwards, which in itself was proof the food was delicious. Most of his customers didn’t mind the smell, as they were too busy enjoying their food and smelling their own farts.
You see, most of the dishes on the menu contained foods that would make you fart for your country. Beans, chillies, pickled eggs, cabbage and Brussels sprouts were a few of the ingredients that produced the putrid pumps.
An example of his menu was;
Starter - Baked Beans on toast with Chilli sauce and a side order of Cabbage and Anchovies
Main Course - Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean pie
Dessert - Chilli Chocolate Ice Cream
Sergeant Smelly walked into Café McPoo eager to feed his cold. Rhys was less eager for Sergeant Smelly to be fed, but was merely a cold and had no say in Sergeant Smelly's actions, other than sneeze and drip bogeys from his nose.
The other customers gave him a strange look as they didn't recognise him. And most important of all, he didn’t smell…
…YET!
"A table for one," demanded Sergeant Smelly.
"Farting or Non-Farting?" asked the waitress.
Sergeant Smelly thought the waitress was having a laugh, so he went along with the joke.
"Oh, it has to be Farting please," he said with a smile on his face. But the smile on his face was soon to be wiped off. A waitress appeared from nowhere with a large damp cloth and wiped the smile off Sergeant Smelly’s face. She directed a bewildered, wet faced and smileless Sergeant Smelly to his table. He sat down and immediately realised the waitress was not joking. There was only one person in the non-farting section. It was Frankie NonFarter from Germany, who had his fart gene removed due to a bizarre gardening accident involving asparagus, garden shears and his rather large bottom. He looked around and saw everyone in the farting section discreetly lifting their leg and letting one go every ten seconds or so. There was nothing discreet about their farts though. He heard all the types of fart you could possibly im
agine;
• The someone just stood on a duck fart
• The watery, squelchy, best check your trousers fart
• The machine gun fart
• The vuvuzela fart
And many more he did not know the names of, or could not describe. He wasn't a big farter before. But that was about to change.
The waitress handed Sergeant Smelly the menu.
"I see you have Haggis on the menu. Is it Burns Night?" enquired Sergeant Smelly.
"It will be after you’ve eaten it," replied the waitress with a serious expression.
Again, he thought the waitress was joking, so he laughed heartily.
"I’ll have the Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean pie please."
"With or without chilli sauce?"
"Oh definitely with please."
And so it began…for a second time.
3. The Pie From Heaven
The waitress returned with the Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean pie with chilli sauce and the smell wafted up Sergeant Smelly’s nose, captivating his senses. The gorgeous aroma swirled around his nostrils sending Rhys the Cold into bogey oblivion. He now understood why they were enjoying their food so much.
Sergeant Smelly tucked into his Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean Pie with chilli sauce and he could not believe the flavour. It was absolutely, without a doubt, the best pie he had ever tasted.
"YUMMA YUMMA YUMMA YUMMA!" he proclaimed at the top of his voice, forgetting he was in a crowded café.
The customers glared at him, but sniggered as they remembered the first time they tasted the Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean Pie with chilli sauce.
"Please give my compliments to the chef, waitress," said Sergeant Smelly.
"Whatever Smelly," she replied walking away.
Sergeant Smelly looked confused. How did the waitress know his name? This was his first visit to the café and he didn't know anyone. He thought she must be a special kind of woman to know his name without asking. His thoughts wandered back to his food and he finished off his pie in a matter of minutes.
Once the gourmet grub was finished, he left the café a contented man and walked home, thinking about his next visit to Café McPoo. He made himself a nice cup of tea and settled into his favourite couch. It was a normal couch and his only couch, but his favourite nonetheless. But a rumbling sensation in his stomach interrupted his relaxation. It felt like a flatulent hamster was running on a spinning wheel inside his tummy. The feeling moved slowly downwards to his bottom. And without any further warning…the pumping pandemonium began.
An eruption exploded from his bottom that produced a small earthquake in the village of Normall Normall and it shook for a few seconds trying to get to grips with Sergeant Smelly’s fart bomb. A huge rift in the space time continuum appeared due to the strength and quality of the fart that emanated from his enormous bottom, which caused his cup of tea to be sent back in time.
Sergeant Smelly jumped up in pain but it was far from over. Fire erupted from his enormous butt and set his favourite couch alight. It was a normal couch and his only couch, but his favourite nonetheless. He rushed to the kitchen and picked up a fire extinguisher and rushed back to the flaming couch. He sprayed the fluid over the flames and extinguished the fire. He breathed a sigh of relief as he examined the damage to his couch. But another fart whooshed out from his humongous backside and set his coffee table on fire. As soon as he put the fire out on the coffee table, another fire-fart whooshed out and set his favourite couch on fire again. It was a normal couch and his only couch, but his favourite nonetheless.
Each time he extinguished a fire, the item opposite his bum went on fire. This process continued for an hour, but luckily, his fart gas ran out at the same time as his fire extinguisher. After an exhausting night he had no energy left, and he fell asleep on his burnt out favourite couch, a tired and smelly man.
He used to just be Smelly by name, but now he was Smelly by nature too.
4. Back to Café McPoo
The next morning, Sergeant Smelly awoke to a burnt, foul smelling room. The pong was still lingering from his fartathon the previous night. The stench of rotten egg and cabbages made him retch. But unbelievably, all he could think about was eating another Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean Pie with chilli sauce.
He arrived at the café just as it was opening and was led to the same seat as before. He was astounded to see exactly the same customers who were there yesterday, and it was only 8.30am.
"Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Bean Pie please," said Sergeant Smelly to the waitress.
"I’m sorry Sir but that isn’t on the breakfast menu. You will have to come back at lunchtime if you want that."
Sergeant Smelly picked up the menu an unhappy man, but his sadness was short-lived. Something on the menu caught his eye. The waitress apologised for catching Sergeant Smelly’s eye with the menu.
"Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Beans omelette please," said Sergeant Smelly with a huge smile on his face and a sore eye. A waitress appeared from nowhere with a large damp cloth and wiped the smile off Sergeant Smelly’s face for no apparent reason. He didn’t care, as he was looking forward to getting some more gorgeous grub. Smile or no smile.
Sergeant Smelly was not disappointed when the waitress returned. His omelette was
delicious.
"Waitress, this is the best omelette I have ever tasted. Please pass on my compliments to the chef, whoever he is," said Sergeant Smelly. "What is the chef’s name?" he continued.
The waitress replied. "His name is…"
A drum roll could be heard in the background to add to the suspense. Something exciting was about to happen.
"His name is…will you shut those drums up please. You aren’t playing for another two hours yet," shouted the waitress at the drummer who was playing at the café later that day.
Sergeant Smelly was confused.
"Will you shut those drums up please. You aren’t playing for another two hours yet. That’s an unusual name. Is it Russian or something East European?"
"No, you idiot…his name is…"
The waitress had a pregnant pause, looking around, making sure there was nobody else playing the drums. There wasn’t. And don’t ask me why pregnant women pause so much.
"His name is…"
Sergeant Smelly could wait no longer. This genius of a chef obviously had such an amazing name with all the drum rolls and the pregnant women pausing.
"Tell me his glorious name for goodness sake," shouted Sergeant Smelly.
"His name is Jimmy McChunder," said the waitress with a huge anticlimax.
"Oh," replied Sergeant Smelly feeling rather let down. "That’s not a great person’s name is it. I was expecting something like Alfredo GreatCheffio or Manuel Di Fantastico, or something cool like that. Not Jimmy McChunder!"
"Whatever," said the waitress rolling her eyes towards the heavens. She had obviously been through this before with other customers.
Sergeant Smelly was disappointed with the Chef’s name but not with his food. He was so not disappointed he ordered another helping of Haggis, Pepperoni and Baked Beans omelette and scoffed the lot in two minutes flat. He still felt a bit peckish, so he ate a couple of spicy haggis rolls with Tabasco sauce and a side of beans. He left the café contented but bloated.
You can guess what happened next can’t you?
.
.
.
.
What do you mean you can’t guess what happened next?
Haven’t you been paying attention?
.
.
.
Yes, that’s right. He went to the cinema and watched a film.
.
.
.
Then he went home and set some of the contents of his house on fire with his amazing fire-farts. Fortunately, he bought a few more fire extinguishers and extinguished the fires quicker this time, having learned his lesson from the previous day. He didn’t comple
tely learn his lesson though, as he visited Café McPoo every day for the next two weeks when he was on holiday.
But a major catastrophe was just around the corner.
Major Catastrophe lived around the corner from Sergeant Smelly.
But that was another story.
5. The Evil Onionman
Meanwhile, in an evil secret lair nearby, the dastardly evil Onionman was plotting to rule the world. He was interrupted by a laughing onion.
"What is so funny Onion 211?"
"I just remembered a joke. What do you call a laughing vegetable soaked in vinegar?" replied Onion 211.
"I don't know?" replied Onionman.
"A tickled onion. Isn't that funny?"
"No Onion 211. It is not funny. And neither are you. And because you are so unfunny, I will demonstrate what happens to onions who try to be funny in my presence and fail. I’m not saying you shouldn’t try and be funny in my presence, just be prepared to pay the ultimate price if you are about as funny as diarrhoea. Which is not funny!"
With the rules of attempted humour explained to all the onions, they stood open eyed, waiting on the fate of the unfunny onion. Onionman jumped menacingly over to the unfunny onion and tripped on a tomato.
"What’s tomato with you?" said a nearby onion, hiding in case Onionman did not see the funny side.
Onionman picked himself up and stared at the onion. "Now that’s funny Onion 357," for that was the onion’s name. Onionman thought it would be a great idea to name all his evil onions with a number. A particularly bad idea considering the thousands of onions he employed. He sometimes mixed-up their names as a result of this.
"I’m Onion 347 Sir, not Onion 357," said Onion 347.
"My apologies Onion 347. You do look a bit like Onion 357 though, and that was a good joke, so I’ll let you off. See Onions, I’m not ALL bad," said Onionman. He casually walked towards Onion 211 and chopped him up finely, mixed him with some tomatoes and red peppers and renamed him Salsa 211, keeping with his usual naming convention.
"Now hear this my fellow evil onions. Let this be a lesson to anyone who thinks they are funny but are not. Like those people on X Factor who think they can sing, but can sing about as well as a crocodile with diarrhoea. Not that I have ever heard the song of a crocodile with diarrhoea, but I’m sure they would be similarly painful and awful. Now please, no more interruptions. Soon, my fellow onions, we will take over the world. My new invention will enhance our ability to make people cry. It will also make you the same size as humans, as it would be difficult to rule the world when you are all onion size.