"No talking! Everybody stop talking!" Mr Bentley yelled to his silent class. "Good morning, welcome to my class…stop talking! Year eight is a big, big year, much bigger than any of you would imagine, and I will not have any of you talking!"

A boy raised his hand.

"What is it?" the teacher shouted.

"I would just like to introduce myself, I am…"

"Shut up!"

The boy seemed a bit startled.

"I told you, no one, no one at all is permitted to talk!"

"I just wanted to…"

"Come up in front of the class, talk-boy!" he yelled. The student approached him. "Below my neck level!"

"I am," the student told him.

"Shut up! Listen carefully. Shut up. Okay! Be quiet. DO NOT SPEAK. That goes for everyone!" he pointed. "Absolutely, under no circumstances, does anyone emit vocal gas!"

"I’m very sorry," the boy told him.

"SHUT UP! Can’t you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, or is it just me?"

"What?"
"SHUT UP!" Mr Bentley yelled. Before the boy ran back to his seat, the teacher tugged his fringe and groaned under his breath: "Just shut up. Okay."

The class remained quiet and took their books out.

At the back of the classroom sat Percy. He was new to the school, and having been moved from his previous school by his mother meant that he was now ‘the new kid on the block’. It was a legacy that basically meant he had missed out on the big first year of college. At this college anyway, and Percy knew as well as anyone what that would mean. Isolation, complete isolation. No one would bother talking to him, would they? I mean, he wasn’t even at school for the first year!

"Hey, Percy! How are you going? I’m Stav!" came the friendly face of the boy sitting in front of him.

"No talking!" the teacher yelled.

"Hey!" whispered the boy next to Stav. "Percy! You ready for tonight?"

"Sorry?" Percy smiled.

"YOU! SHUT UP!" screamed Mr Bentley.

"Hey, Hagar, have you got the xylophone ready?" Stav asked the boy next to him.

"Almost, but it’s pretty much set," he replied.

Percy looked at them in amusement.

"It’s not a laughing matter, Percy!" Stav insisted. "Look, remember our plan!"

"What plan?" Percy whispered.

"The tree, Percy! The paint! The car!"

"What?"

"Look, I’ll recap, you idiot. I’m up in the tree, right, at 8 PM tonight. Bring the paint, I’ll hand you the xylophone…"

"What tree?"
"For the love of…Fawkner park, South Yarra, spastic! Now, you drive the car…"

"I can’t drive, Stav…"

Stav lifted his head and looked at Percy in bewilderment. "You what?"

"I can’t drive."

"Idiot!" Hagar cursed. "Look, get your licence quickly, after school."

"Okay, guys, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here…"

Mr Bentley screamed across the room. "You! The little moron at the back there! SHUT THE HELL UP!"

"What are you saying, Percy?" Hagar snarled.

"I had problems like this at my last school. I’m sorry, I just can’t."

Hagar and Stav simultaneously exchanged frowns, stood up and ran out of the door.

"Shut up!" Mr Bentley yelled as they slammed the door shut.

Percy knew that he had to stand up for himself sometime or another, and sometimes the truth can hurt.

Soon a knock came from the door. Mr Bentley didn’t flinch. The door opened and in walked the Year Eight Coordinator himself, Mr Winterbottom.

"Excuse me, Mr Bentley?"

Mr Bentley didn’t move, until Mr Winterbottom tapped him on the shoulder.

"What the!" he yelled. "Shut up! Everyone shut up! Leave me alone, shut…" Suddenly he saw the Coordinator. "Oh, um, be quiet class, Mr Winterbottom is here."

"Look, I don’t mean to bother you but if I could just borrow Percy for a moment…"

"Oh, yes you may," Mr Bentley said. "Which one is he, then?"

"Just that little runt over there…"

"Oh, the moron?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

Percy stood up and walked to the door with Mr Winterbottom.

"Uh, I don’t mean to trouble you, Mr Winterbottom, but I thought you said you were borrowing Percy," Mr Bentley interrupted.

"Yes, Bentley, I am…"

"Well, I have to scan the barcode!" he smiled.

"Oh, Bentley!" Mr Winterbottom laughed. "You’re full of them! A laugh a minute!" He and Percy walked outside as Mr Bentley carefully snuck his scanner back into his drawer.

"What is the problem, sir?" asked Percy.

"As if you don’t know, runt-boy," Mr Winterbottom spat.

"Well, I’m afraid that I don’t."

"Shut up!" Mr Winterbottom yelled and threw him into his office where Stav and Hagar were sitting. "These boys have told me about your little prank, Percy. I suppose smuggling runs in the family, does it?"

"What?"

"Shut up! Stav, what did Percy say?"

"I only heard that he was planning to smuggle liquid paper into the school, he was bragging about it at the back of the oval!"

"Is this true, Percy?"

"Um…" he stuttered.

"No, I don’t want to hear it, mushroom!" Mr Winterbottom sneered. "Now, I’m going to let you off because you’re new here. Let me just put it this way. Boy College will not tolerate you sort of troublemakers. One more false move…and you’re out of here! Gobish?"

"Sorry?" Percy asked.

"I’m sorry that I blew your big secret, Percy," Hagar smiled. "But Mr Winterbottom had a right to know."

"You do not owe Percy an apology Hagar," Mr Winterbottom frowned. "Percy owes you and Stav an apology. Come on, let’s hear it!"

"I’m sorry, guys," Percy mumbled.

"Shut up! Get out of here, Percy and get back to class! Hagar, Stav, keep an eye on Percy, can you? Make sure he realises that Boys College is a school of discipline, respect and dignity!"

Hagar and Stav shoved Percy out the room and back to class.

"What on earth are you two playing at?" Percy asked angrily.

"Hey, you saw that! Mr Winterbottom will find out more of your little secrets if you don’t cooperate with us!" Stav sneered.

"What little secrets?"

"Okay, we’ll go and tell him then!" Hagar smiled.

"No, okay, I’ll do your stupid plan. What do I have to do?"

"We told you! Tonight, Fawkner Park, 8 PM. Don’t forget the car and the paint!"

"I don’t have a car!" Percy protested.

Stav looked at Hagar and nodded. Hagar pushed Percy to the ground and held him down. Stav took off his school bag and from inside tore a sharp, bony wing from a barbequed chicken. They began to poke it into Percy’s ear.

"Hey! What are you doing, get off me!"

"Gonna bring the car?" Hagar yelled.

"But I…"

Stav nodded again.

"Ow! Stop it!" Percy screamed. "I’ll do it, just stop!"

They twisted the wing out of his earhole. "There’s more where that came from!" Stav warned.

"Okay, I’ll be there tonight," Percy groaned, wiping the access chicken skin out of his ear and leaving back to class. It seemed that if he wanted to stay at Boy College, he’d have to call his mother to book a driving test immediately.

As his mother had arranged, Percy stood in front of ‘Uncle Peter’s Driving School’ that afternoon. It wasn’t quite what Percy expected, it was a small, quaint cottage and there was no car in sight. Nevertheless he stepped inside.

To his amazement a small car, a Punch Buggy in fact, hung from the roof over a giant pit of cheese! It seemed to be attached by a piece of string!

"Uh, excuse me!" Percy called out. "My name is Percy Pumpernickel! My mother booked a driving test here!"

He looked up at the sound of a window being wound down from the punch buggy. An arm reached out with a pair of scissors and cut the string. Percy ducked as the vehicle landed into the cheese-pit with a splash. The punch buggy floated freely.

"Ah! Salutations, chum and schoolboy!" said the man inside the punch buggy. "You happy?"

"Ah, yes, I’m Percy!"

"Well," smiled the bald, moustached man, and put his top hat back on. "Allow me to introduce myself!" Percy waited, and the man sighed. "If you’ll allow me, make the noise of a hippo."

"But…"

"That’ll do," he frowned. "I am Uncle Peter. I hope you’re here to drive because the string is a bugger to reattach! And the cheese would have splashed for little to no reason!"

"Yes, my mum booked an appointment here," Percy explained.

"That she did! Now if you’ll just shut your mouth for one second, fix your lower appendages in my car!"

Uncle Peter crawled out of the punch buggy and Percy jumped in.

"Now, drive away!" he commanded.

"I don’t know how to!" Percy smiled.

"Fool! You steer and go!" he growled.

Percy carefully swam the car out of the cheese and onto the cottage’s floorboards. "I’m ready to roll!" he said, excitedly.

"First things first, Percy-maid," Uncle Peter warned. "I am to be referred to as Uncle Peter. If you don’t comply, serious repercussions will take place. Secondly, to drive is not a matter of driving. It is a matter of cows." With that, he opened up the door and forcefully threw Percy out of the car. "Push that button, over there near the door!"

Percy looked around but there was no button to be seen. "Where?" he asked.

"Idiot!" Uncle Peter yelled, pulling out a remote and aiming it at a large door. It slowly opened and revealed a beautiful, green paddock where cows could be seen grazing. Uncle Peter sped through into the paddock and began doing wheelies. "Wee! Wee! Wee!" he sung.

"Could I have a shot, sir?" Percy asked.

"Wait your turn!" he yelled.

Percy waited and after a few more wheelies and skids, etcetera, Uncle Peter stopped the car.

"You’re supposed to be learning to drive, not camp in the sunshine all day!" he yelled, stepping out and letting Percy in. "Now, drive, you bugger!" Uncle Peter commanded. "Hit more than twenty cows and you fail!"

Percy started driving around in figure eights, avoiding all cows easily; there were only eight cows in the paddock.

"I didn’t say not to hit any!" Uncle Peter complained, chasing the car. Panting, he opened up the door and threw Percy out again. "I’ll show you how to have some real fun!"

He stepped down on the accelerator and sped towards a grazing cow. Percy looked in horror as the cow tried to run, and then with a ‘moo!’, Uncle Peter collided with the side of its body. The cow flew a few metres in the air before landing, spraining its ankle.

"This man is awful!" Percy told himself. Then to his alarm, Percy noticed that the punch buggy was heading towards him!
"Out of my way, pedestrian!" Uncle Peter laughed, and beeped the horn. Percy jumped to the side, but Uncle Peter still managed to knock him over.

"Ow! Why’d you do that for!" Percy yelled.

"Just get in the car, you dumpling!" he commanded, and swapped places with Percy. "Now, you have another drive, and soon you’ll have your licence. I just have to do a wee-wee."

Percy stepped back into the punch buggy. It wasn’t as fun as he’d thought. At least he’d have his licence soon, so he could sort out the mess he was in with Stav and Hagar.

"Now go!" Uncle Peter yelled, and Percy began driving again. You know, despite all the problems that he’d been facing, he realised that driving was not as hard as everyone made out. He was now one of them! Percy felt very special indeed. Percy looked in the rear view mirror to see how he was doing. But Uncle Peter was not to be seen!

"Boo!" shouted Uncle Peter suddenly, poking his head over the roof, in front of the windscreen.

"What the hell?" Percy asked and slammed the brakes.

Uncle Peter jumped across the bonnet of the car onto the grass, and pointed at him. "Ha, ha, ha! You should have seen your face! You were so startled! I should have taken a photo of you and sent it to a frightened gallery!"

"Did you have to do that?" Percy asked irritably.

"My frog, pedestrians do that all the time! I’m just trying to help you out, so don’t start getting on your high horse and threatening me! I’m just doing my job, you piece of frogspawn!"

"Okay, well, thanks," Percy sighed.

"Now get driving! Your mother’s been paying for all of this!" he yelled.

Percy started driving, and to his delight, Uncle Peter didn’t do anything silly for a while. But soon Percy was a bit anxious that he couldn’t see his driving instructor. Where was Uncle Peter?

Suddenly, from out of the long grass in front, Uncle Peter leapt out from hiding. "Boo!" he laughed, and leapt in front of the car.

The frightened Percy felt a thud and slammed on the brakes. "Oh, no!" he cried. Stepping out of the car, he saw the motionless corpse of his driving instructor and fell to his knees in front of him.

"Oh, no! Speak to me, Uncle Peter, speak to me!" Percy wept. But there was no reaction. Had Percy killed him?

"You bastard!" Uncle Peter yelled suddenly, and took hold of Percy’s throat. "You almost killed me you maniac! That’s it! You fail! You have failed your driving test!"

"I…didn’t expect you…to jump out…" Percy choked.

"I don’t care! Driving is over! You had all those cows to hit, but you chose me! I hate you! Eat cheese with me!"

"Pardon?" Percy asked.

"Come on!" Uncle Peter smiled. "Back to the cottage, and I’ll fix you up some cheese!"

Percy stood up, adjusted his collar and wiped the sweat off his brow. "Okay, then." What was he going to do? Without a licence, he’d be expelled!

Inside the cottage, Uncle Peter gave Percy a generous helping of boiled cheese in a mug. "Drink up, my little floor tile!" he ordered.

Percy began to drink the cheese, and after a mouthful, he spoke. "Uncle Peter, you wouldn’t happen to know a good place to get some paint, would you?"

Uncle Peter looked up from his cheese and glared at Percy. "My god you’ve got guts!"

"Sorry?"

"How dare you! What else do you want to know? That’s why you tried to kill me before!"
"No, I…"

"You’re with Stav and Hagar’s crowd, aren’t you, you bloody Smurf!"

"I don’t know!" Percy insisted. "They told me I have to bring them paint tonight!"
"Well, you’re mine now!" Uncle Peter laughed. "And you know what you’re going to do?"

"What?" Percy asked.

"You’re going to take my paint and hand it to those naughty boys. But don’t tell them I sent you, Percy."

"What are you going to do?" Percy asked.

"You distract the boys. When they give you the xylophone, I’ll burst from the bushes with my cheese-hose! They’ll wish they never touched poultry food, let me tell you!"

Percy had no idea what his driving instructor was talking about, but going along with his plan was better than facing up to the might of Stav and Hagar alone.

"So…I’ll just go along to Fawkner Park tonight?" Percy said.

Uncle Peter handed him a tin of paint. "Yes, at 8 PM sharp. As soon as you arrive at the tree and they hand you the xylophone, I’ll let them have it!"

"But I’m supposed to have a car!" Percy told him.

"Listen wisely, chum," Uncle Peter said sternly. "The punch buggy will be available as you enter the park. Don’t vex yourself. Just hand the paint over and I’ll take care of everything afterwards!"

Percy gulped down the remainder of his cheese and left the cottage. He had two hours to be there!

Broom! Percy found the punch buggy outside the park and, after carefully driving it over the fence, drove to the tree. The tree with Stav and Hagar in it.

"Stav and Hagar, sitting in a tree!" Percy said to himself, humorously. Luckily, nobody could hear him and therefore no one could throw anything sharp or firm at his head.

The punch buggy came to a halt under the tree and Percy pulled the handbrake, just like Uncle Peter should have told him.

"Pst! Percy! Have you got the goods?" came a whisper from up in the tree.

"Yes," Percy smiled, winding down the window and holding out the tin of paint. "Here it is, Stav!"

"I’m Hagar, you neverwas!"

From a higher branch, Stav grabbed the tin off Hagar, passing down a xylophone which was given to Percy through the car window. Percy waited for Uncle Peter to jump out from a bush, but something must have gone wrong. Not his problem, he thought to himself. He’d return the punch buggy later and everything would be settled.

"Now, quick! Put it at the other side of the park, as quick as you can!" Hagar yelled. "Near the pile of shoes! Hurry, no time to lose!"

Percy was baffled. "What?" he asked.

Stav shook his head and jumped down from the tree. What was he going to do? Hagar and Percy watched Stav as he kicked the grass until a patch of dirt formed, and wrote something down into it.

"Percy!" he commanded. "Put your headlights on!"

Percy complied and there, on the dirt, were the words: No Time to Lose!

"Can’t you read," Hagar yelled, pointing to the dirt. "Move, you loser!"

Percy quickly sped across the park, xylophone in hand. Sure enough, up ahead lay a pile of shoes. Who was that digging dirt over them? As he slowed down to a stop, he realised that it was Mr Winterbottom! What on earth…

"Are you doing here?" the Year Eight Coordinator yelled as he saw his most hated student pull up next to him.

"Oh, hello sir," the baffled boy replied. "I was just, uh…"

"You don’t mention a thing about the shoes to anyone, you little brat!" Mr Winterbottom threatened. "Just pull away, and I won’t expel or kill you."

"Sure, sir," Percy said, and switched into first gear before Mr Winterbottom stopped him.

"Wait just one minute!" he shouted. "What the hell is that in your hand?"

"Oh, that? Nothing," Percy assured him. His coordinator was obviously not convinced.

"That’s my xylophone, you dirty little bastard! I will kill you! No! I’ll expel you! Oh, bloody hell, who cares! I hate you! Why did you have to be a year eight this year? I only became coordinator this year…couldn’t you have just…argh!" he yelled, diving at the punch buggy and opening the door. "Stand up, and fight me like a man!"

Percy stood up and handed him his xylophone. "Look, I just wanted to give it to you!" he explained.

After punching Percy in the stomach, his coordinator took back his xylophone. "That’s it. I’ve had enough, you runt!"

Just as Mr Winterbottom lifted his arm up at Percy’s head, Uncle Peter jumped out from inside the boot! On a cow! With a hose and tank strapped on!

"Not so fast, eggplanter!" Uncle Peter laughed. Percy gulped. What was going to happen?

"Who are you?" Mr Winterbottom asked in shock. "If it’s about the shoes, I can assure you, all of the chinamen were sent compassionate letters of apology!"

"Enough!" Uncle Peter laughed, and gave a spray of cheese into Mr Winterbottom’s startled face.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Mr Winterbottom cried, trying to rub the cheese out of his eyes.

"I don’t want to hear it, dogwiper!" the driving instructor roared, and gave another spray, this time into the poor man’s ear.

"Please, you don’t have to do that!" Percy urged.

Uncle Peter frowned and gave a quick spray at Percy’s back. "Go wet your pants!" he jeered. Percy left the punch buggy and the two men to settle their differences alone. He was obviously getting in the way and his mum would be worrying about where he was.

As Percy walked into Mr Winterbottom’s office the next day he was greeted coldly by the stares of his coordinator, a policeman and the crippled Stav and Hagar.

"Officer Simon would like to ask you a few questions, Percy," Mr Winterbottom told him sternly.

"Yes," Officer Simon said. "I was just wondering if you’re doing anything tomorrow night…"

"Sorry," Percy said. "I’ve got a lot of homework…"

"What about the next night?" the policeman pleaded.

"Look, I’m flattered," Percy assured him. "But I really don’t have time for that sort of thing."

"You’ll miss me when I’m gone," Officer Simon said as he walked out of the office. "You’ll miss me when I’m gone."

"Now that that’s over with," Mr Winterbottom snapped. "You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!"

"I don’t understand!" Percy said.

"Oh, shut up you little nobody!" the coordinator spat. "First you stole my xylophone! Then you hired a driving instructor to attack me with cows and cheese! And now I’ve found that you’ve had Stav and Hagar crippled by a professional hitman! You coward!"

Although the two of them were completely bandaged, they managed to nod.

"You’re not going to expel me, are you?" asked Percy.

"Percy," sighed Mr Winterbottom. "Yesterday I swore that I wouldn’t just expel you, I’d kill you. Now after what you’ve done to Stav and Hagar, I think that you deserve to be ritually sacrificed!" Then his coordinator sighed. "But everyone deserves a forth chance, Percy. Help me get revenge on your driving instructor. Help me," he pleaded.

"Okay," Percy sighed. "What do I have to do?"

Mr Winterbottom pulled open a draw in his desk and withdrew a live, fully-cluckable hen.

"Take this and follow me. We’re going to pay the driving school a visit! Move your arse, shorty," he said to Percy as they left the office together. "Get rid of that bloody chicken you runt!" he said in disgust. Percy let it go and followed his coordinator to his car.

"Do I have to go in first?" Percy asked as they stood outside the driving school.

"Percy, think about it, it’ll look strange if I, a fully licensed driver, walked into the…anyway, shut up! If you want to avoid expulsion, death and criminal charges, I suggest that you go in first!"

Percy sighed, took a deep breath, and opened the door. What was he really supposed to say to Uncle Peter? His driving instructor was strange, but at least he taught him to drive! Uncle Peter gave him the paint for Stav and Hagar, and also lent him the car! No, he decided that it wouldn’t be right to trap his driving instructor, even if it meant expulsion or death.

"No, Mr Winterbottom!" Percy rebutted. "I won’t do it!"

Mr Winterbottom gave a sigh and pushed him through the door. On the other side stood Uncle Peter!

"Uh, Percy! I’ve been expecting you!" he smirked.

"What do you mean?"

"You fell for my trap!" Uncle Peter laughed.

He was right. Percy was sinking! He’d stepped into a pit of cheese and was sinking! "I can’t get out!" Percy howled. "Help me, Mr Winterbottom!"

"Get stuffed, loser!" his coordinator grinned, and shook hands with Uncle Peter. "After you left yesterday, your driving instructor had a little chat…after his cheesy prank that is."

"I thought he was my auntie," Uncle Peter explained to the sinking Percy who was now up to his hips in cheese.

"And we figured out how to get you, once and for all!" Mr Winterbottom laughed.

"This’ll teach you for attacking me with my own punch buggy!" Uncle Peter said spitefully.

"Now you’re really finished!" his coordinator said, and began to laugh. "No one deserves a forth chance, loser! No one!"

Percy looked at himself sinking and realised that this was indeed the end. He then looked up to see that Stav and Hagar had arrived on the scene. In perfect health!

"This’ll teach you for yesterday!" they pointed, laughing. "A tin of paint, we asked you for! Not a tin of cheese!"

Percy watched as Uncle Peter and the two boys exchanged smiles. He was now up to his neck in cheese and saw that the end was coming. It was then that his teacher, Mr Bentley, could be seen laughing. "Don’t talk! Don’t say anything, moron!" he giggled.

Percy didn’t, but he noticed that the policeman he’d seen before had turned up at the cottage as well.

"Well," Officer Simon smirked. "You would have missed me when I was gone, but I will not miss you when you’re gone!" he laughed, pointing at Percy. Before Percy could respond, a camera crew arrived. A microphone was brought down to Percy’s mouth.

"Percy Pumpernickel? You’re on candid camera!" Dan Curry, the host, declared with a smile. But Percy couldn’t respond; his mouth had disappeared into the cheese pit. "Well, that’s ruined everything, hasn’t it!" Dan Curry laughed, and pointed at the head of Percy. As the boy’s head sunk completely into the cheese, the group pointed at him and laughed.

"Three, two, one…" they chanted. And Percy was gone. The crowd was silent.

"That wasn’t as fun as it sounded…" Uncle Peter said quietly. The group muttered similar things amongst themselves. "Tell you what…who's in for a nice cup of hot, creamy cheese?"

They all raised their hands and Uncle Peter served them all the nicest cheese that they’d had in a long time.

"If all of the cheese tasted like this, I envy Percy!" Mr Winterbottom said, and everyone laughed.

"You don’t really, do you?" asked Hagar, taking a mouthful of cheese.

"Nah," he answered.