“I suppose so, Bab,” said the Prof. “But that fluffy tuft doesn’t look like the Pharaoh’s Beard to me.”
“There’s a good reason for that,” Bab explained. “It isn’t the Pharaoh’s Beard, except for a few hairs. It’s a Cotton Beard that Prong grew.”
Prong pointed a wing at the pot that Prof Sharkey was carrying. “Thank you for saving my favourite pot from Mumphis,” she honked. “That’s almost as lucky as my cotton plant pot.”
The faded pot was blue and yellow, and shaped like a cat’s head.
“It’s a beauty, Prong,” said the Prof. Her wiry hair was practically dancing with glee. “As soon as Mumphis appeared, I felt strangely drawn towards a certain place inside the city. I hurried straight there, dodging those cranky cactuses, and spotted this pot. It was sitting on a funny little nursery cart in the town square.”
“Prong’s Plants,” declared Prong with pride.
Scaler chewed at the hook in her lip. “What’s so hot about that pot?” she asked flatly.
“This is the hottest pot of the lot,” the Prof said, beaming. “It’s the pot I’ve been searching for all these centuries. This is it, Bab!”
Bab gently took the pot and studied it in disbelief. “You don’t mean–”
“I do mean,” the Prof interrupted. “It’s the very pot Andica used to store my missing chunk of brain! She showed it to me at the time, four thousand years ago, to tease me. I’m not likely to forget it, it looks like such a cute little cat.”
Bab thought he might faint. “So . . . what was inside it, Mum? Was the mummified piece of brain still in there?”
The Prof blinked at Bab from behind her crooked glasses. “Do you know, I grew so excited I quite forgot to look inside. How very vague of me.”
Scaler patted the Prof’s shoulder with a gazelle hoof. “You are missing a chunk of brain, after all,” she pointed out.
The Prof took the pot back from Bab. The cat’s ears formed a wobbly lid, which she popped open. But as she peered inside, her face fell. “Oh my stars,” she said. “It’s empty.”
It was Prong’s turn to grab the pot. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, flesh-mum,” she honked, “but this is no brain chunk pot. This is my potato pot.”
Bab fixed his eyes on Prong. “Prong? What do you mean, ‘potato pot’?”
Prong strutted proudly back and forth, tapping the pot. “Exactly what I say. This is a pot for growing potatoes. Well, I managed to grow one potato in it. Little brown, wrinkly thing. As you know, I popped it inside my head to use as a brain.”
Bab felt as if a pyramid really had collapsed on him. “You mean your potato brain came out of this pot?!”
Prong grinned. “Yes, and I never managed to grow another. Been trying for about four thousand years. I just wish I could give all the Animal Mummies potato brains as good as mine. They wouldn’t be fighting each other and following Unpharaoh Beards if they all had vegetables for brains, you know.”
Bab stamped his feet. “Prong, I hate to tell you but you didn’t grow a potato in that pot. You found Mum’s mummified brain chunk in there. And you’ve kept it in your head ever since! No wonder you remind me of her sometimes.”
Prong honked in delight and wrapped her creaking wings around the Prof. “Oh, flesh-mum. I’m proud to call you my brain buddy!”
Blushing, the Prof patted Prong’s pink hat.
WUMP
WOMP
NEE-NAW, NEE-NAW, WEEA-WEEA-WEEA-WEE
In the distance, there were more explosions and sirens. Bab remembered they had a rampaging Unpharaoh to deal with – not to mention an army of Animal Mummies under her command.
“Will you join us, Mum?” he said. “We have the rest of your brain, and that means your magic might finally be powerful enough to fight your sister.”
A look of gentle sadness clouded the Prof’s face. “I’m afraid you’re right, Bab. Let us put a stop to her. For the last time.”
Through the baking heat, Bab led the way.
The streets of Cairo were usually tricky to navigate. But things were even trickier when everyone was trying to escape from a hairy Unpharaoh.
Bab picked his way along as best he could, following the screams and the fire.
“Oh dear,” said the Prof, “sounds like my sister’s causing rather a scene.”
They caught up to the Unpharaoh a few blocks ahead. “Careful,” Bab told his gang. “Let’s hide behind this bakery at the corner and see what she’s up to.”
What the Unpharaoh was up to was blasting fireballs and the occasional lightning bolt from her hairy nostrils, leaving devastation in her wake. Meanwhile, her Animal Mummy slaves did their best to break windows, yank down street signs and scare people away. They were doing a pretty good job, too, though Bab could tell they weren’t enjoying themselves.
Cainus, on the other hand, looked like he was having the time of his life. He snarled and snapped at anyone who crossed his path. That is, until some police in black uniforms rushed towards him – then he leaped behind his hairy mistress and cowered.
The police didn’t get far, though. The Unpharaoh blasted nostril flames into their path.
“Why don’t you all give up?” the Unpharaoh shrieked. “I am your Pharaoh! I have proven myself the smartest, the best!”
CHUKKA-CHUKKA-CHUKKA-CHUKKA!
A helicopter whirled overheard. Bab figured it must be an army helicopter, come to stop the attack.
The Unpharaoh peered up at it and narrowed her scarlet eyes. She had been hovering a little above the pavement, but now she reached down and pushed her prickly hands onto the ground.
“What’s she doing?” Bab whispered in horror.
The Unpharaoh used her hairy arms to jump. She sprang up amazingly high . . . and turned herself into a helicopter.
HOGGA-CHOGGA-HOGGA-CHOGGA, went the Beard Helicopter.
“Whoa,” breathed Bab. “The old Pharaoh’s Beard couldn’t fly at all.”
“It didn’t have the angry spirit of a sorceress inside it,” his mum pointed out.
The Beard Helicopter was dark and
