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There once was a girl with long, black curly hair who loved to go fishing. Across the road from her lived another girl who was short, fat with straight blond hair and hated fishing. This girl's name was Bobo- the other girl was Charlie.

Often Bobo would be made to go fishing by her evil mother. Charlie would happily bait the line and catch fish whilst Bobo sat and felt sorry for herself.

One day Bobo said to Charlie in her unusually deep voice, "Tomorrow is the festival of the dead, are you coming?"

"Ah, 'fraid me can't," Charlie replied in her unorthodox style of speech, "I gots meself a place reserved down by the lake. It's ware the bream have bin a biting like madness. Cannot miss that- NO NO NO."

It took a couple of moments for Charlie's words to sink in, but when Bobo finally realised what she was saying - she replied, "That's a shame, this year at the festival of the dead they'll be a live band playing."

"Who are these living sing songers then?" Charlie enquired.

"I think it's Bardot covering some Led Zeppelin songs. Should be good."

Charlie screwed up her face so much you could barely recognise her.

"I prefer bream!"

So Bobo went to the festival alone. Well she would have been alone if she hadn't been accompanied by her mother, father, six brothers, two sisters and grandfather.

The festival had a brilliant atmosphere like usual, and like usual, after a couple of hours of festivities, some guy announced into a megaphone all the people that had died during the year. This usually went for quite some time and Bobo found it quite boring.

"Morris Chapner is dead... Lavinia Wallcroft is dead... John Howard is not dead (a few laughs from the audience)... Mary-Lou Jones is also dead... Dr. Ronnie Smith is dead...Oh what's that...okay folks we've got a new one just come in.. Charlie Christianlove has died.

Bobo immediately snapped out of her stupor. Charlie was dead! How could have this have happened? Maybe it had been wrong of her to let Charlie go fishing on her own... maybe she should have tried harder to persuade Charlie into coming to the festival oft he dead. Oh how, how could have this have happened, Bobo though helplessly.

"Oh, forgive me," the announcer said suddenly, "Charlie Christianlove is NOT dead, I must have misread. Charlie Christianlove will die soon. This message has been signed by anonymous. Ooh, a bit of a mystery there. Well anyway on we go... Harold Snotcher is dead... snuffles the rabbit is dead...."

Bobo looked around desperately. She spotted her evil mother strapping her younger siblings to post so they wouldn't get away. Her father and grandfather were getting some beer. This was her chance. Bobo ran as fast as her chubby legs could take her to the lake. It was a tough run, but she had to warn Charlie about this mysterious message.

By the time she reached the lake, she was puffing like she had never puffed in her pudgy life before. She looked around wildly for Charlie. Charlie was sitting at the jetty with three lines dipping in the water.
"Charlie, CHARLIE!"

Charlie turned and looked at the now hysteric Bobo - and rolled her eyes.

"Soooo, you've decided ya perfer bream too, eh?"

"Nah, Charlie, some guy named anonymous is going to kill you."

"Put on the brakes, Bobo, who is this anonymous fellow?"

Bobo was surprised by Charlie's cool reaction to such alarming news.

"I'm not quite sure, they just announced at the festival that you were going to die and the note was signed anonymous."

Charlie smiled calmly. "Bobobobobobobobo,"(that's what it sounds like when Charlie says Bobo's name four times very fast) "Where is the sense? Where is the reasoning? Me good chum, Bobo, who on Jupiter would want ME setting off on a journey to the after-world? Me! Me! I am the adworable girl with long black curly hair and an unorthodox style of speech!"

Bobo stroked her chins. Charlie had a point - there was no possible motive, thus, no suspects.

"Charlie! Look!" Bobo screamed.

"What is it Bobo!" Charlie screamed back.

"Your fishing lines!" Bobo roared.

"Sweet mother of Humphrey B Bear!"

It wasn't as terrifying as the two girls made it out to be. Charlie's fishing lines were being pulled into the lake. Up jumped Charlie and reeled in all three lines at once. In a matter of minutes a gigantic green octopus lay on the bank before them.

"So, can't you think of any suspects at all then?" Bobo asked as she watched the octopus turn on the spit.

Charlie’s eye suddenly started to twitch.
“What an idea have I!”

Bobo took a long stick and thumped one of the octopus’ tentacles. Obviously the beast was still alive, as it had just tried to strangle her. Charlie threw another log of wood on the fire and the octopus shrieked in pain as it slowly died.

At just that moment the man announcing the deaths at the festival received a new message.
“Oscar the octopus has died…”

“So what’s your idea Charlie?” Bobo mumbled with a mouth full of Oscar the Octopus.

“I believe you are aware of the peeeeculiar little gentleman in our school, renowned for breeding head lice for the market, ya?” Well he likes it when things tend to DIE.”

“Yes, yes,” Bobo replied, trying her best to sound smart, “I believe we have our first suspect.”

Instead of waiting for school the next day, Charlie and Bobo decided at the stroke of midnight to go to this boy’s house. Leif Licelover (for that was his name – his REAL name) lived on the edge of the town.

Charlie packed up her fishing gear and Bobo stuffed her pockets with leftover octopus meat – then they set off.
When they reached the Licelovers house, they knocked on the door but no one answered. They knocked again but still no one answered. So Bobo banged both her fists up against the door and screamed “Let me in!” but still no one answered.

“This is hopeless!” Bobo cried.

“Sshhh!” Charlie hissed, “Listen closely.”

Bobo listened carefully and soon she heard it too.

“Molly Peters is dead….”

“They must still be at the festival of the dead,” Bobo reasoned, “Makes sense.”

“Does that ceremony ever cease?” questioned Charlie.

“Well people just keep on dying, don’t they,” reasoned Bobo.

“Ya, but I aint planning to be one of em!” Charlie said back, “Anyway whats we gonna do about this peeeculiar little bug lover?”

“I’m tired tiirrreed,” yawned Bobo, “Let’s just sit here and wait for him to come home.”

“Bobobobobobobobo,” said Charlie, “Ya a fat, lazy bum aint ya?”

Back at the festival it had just been announced that Ziggy Ziltchworth had died and that was the end of the announcements. It was announced that the fireworks would start in half an hour. But Leif Licelover was in a hurry to get home – he had a girl to kill.

He had been planning for two years and was absolutely sure that there was no way that Charlie Christianlove could escape her unfortunately untimely death. Besides, the lives of his precious little head lice depended on the fresh blood Charlie would no doubt have.
But one thing was worrying him. Charlie had been warned of her death. It seemed impossible. No one had been informed of his plans for murder… so how had they known?