When seven-year-old Pollyweena Grubble's parents go away for a week, Great Aunt Mabel comes to babysit. Polly can't wait for Auntie to meet her best friend, Gertie. But when Auntie finds out that polly and Gertie have chewed filthy bubble-gum they collected from the pavement, she bans them from playing together.
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Adventures of Molly Mavis Gumnut
Polly is miserable enough when Auntie bans her from playing with her best friend, Gertie, but when she's given a discusting meal of spaghetti and liver, she nearly chucks up all over the dining table. If Polly doesn't eat her dinner, she'll be in even more trouble, so she hides it in between the clean sheets in the linen cupboarsd. Auntie soon discoveres the filthy mess and sends polly to bed with no supper.
The next morning, Polly decides she's not going to be a starved prisoner in her own bedroom and she sneaks off to Gertie's house before Auntie wakes. Polly sits in the basket attached to the handlebars of Gertie's new bicycle, and the two rascals head off for a joyride.
As Gertie speeds down the hill, Polly sees the someone on the footpath in front of them and yells at Gertie to stop. But Gertie never listens to anyone and she runns the headmistress off the path and onto the road. The headmistress is just as mean as Auntie and now the two rascals are in even bigger trouble.
With an evil smile, Auntie curled a finger. “Come with me, Polly.”
I shivered. I didn’t want to go with her. She was not a nice woman.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me upstairs to the bathroom. “I have a job for you.”
“What sort of job?” I asked. I didn’t want to do chores.
Auntie gave me a bucket of soapy water and passed me a toilet brush.
Frowning, I looked up. “What’s that for?”
She folded her arms and grinned. “You’re going to clean the toilet.”
I stared at that bristly white brush. “I don’t know how to clean a toilet,” I said. “I’m just a little kid.”
“Well,” she said, “You’re never too young to learn.”
Poo! That toilet stunk. I squinted at her and said, “I don’t want to clean a yucky toilet bowl. Mum never makes me.”
“Really?” she said. “But you didn’t mind eating other people’s filthy chewing gum and mouldy dog poo. Did you?”
I put my hands on my hips. “I didn’t eat them,” I said. “I just tasted them a bit.”
“Well, from now on,” she said. “You can clean the loo every time you’re naughty. Now get on with it. And wipe the floor while you’re at it.” She passed me the mop on her way out. But as soon as she closed the door, I shook it at her. Then I leaned it against the wall.
My friends didn’t have to clean toilets. Pinching my nose, I peered into the bog hole. Gross! I didn’t want loo slime on my fingers. But that toilet brush was way too short. I grabbed the mop instead. I dunked it in the bucket and shoved it down the poo hole. After jiggling it about, I pressed it down real hard. Auntie wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t clean it good.
Oops. It jammed in the bend. I pulled and pulled, but it wouldn’t come out. Yipes! Now what would I do?