The Smelly Finger

"Smell my finger," Charlie said to his sister Maybelle.

She jumped up from where she was lying on the couch reading comics.

"Don't be disgusting," she said.

"Go on, smell it," Charlie said, waggling a brown, sticky finger at her.

Maybelle screamed and jumped off the couch.

"Go away," she warned, "Or I'll tell mom."

Charlie and his finger moved closer.

Maybelle backed away.

He dived at her.

She ran.

"Sally, Sally," Maybelle yelled, running into their big sister's room. "Tell him to stop!"

Sally was painting her nails.

"What is it?" she said.

"Smell my finger," Charlie said again.

"He's being disgusting," Maybelle said, "Just look at him."

Charlie shoved his finger at Sally.

"Smell," he said.

Sally screamed and ducked away.

Both girls ran.

But the brown, sticky finger came closer and closer.

They jumped over the bed and ran down the passage. They ran into the garden and hid behind the shed. But Charlie found them.

"You don't know where these fingers have been!" he crowed. "This one was picking my nose," he said, waving it at them.

They squealed and backed away.

"This one was picking up dog poop," he said.

The girls yelled, "Mum! Mum!"

They ran as fast as they could back inside the house.

They ran into the kitchen to see their mum taking a large, chocolate cake out of the oven.

"Mu-u-u-m," they both whined, "Why didn't you tell us you were baking?"

"Well, I did send Charlie," their mother said, "Didn't he tell you?"

They all looked at Charlie and, very slowly, Charlie licked his brown, sticky finger.

"That was de-licious mum," he said. "Tell me when you've finished with the icing bowl."

Charlie's sisters gave one yell and Charlie ran.