Grandma Raided a Pharaoh's Tomb

By Wit Funnybones

Part of the Grandma Series, this story has the right mix of mystery, adventure and hilarious funniness to keep 9 to 12-year-old children glued until the end. Perfect for fans of David Walliams and Roald Dahl.

Grandma Bonkers receives a call from Omar Cash-O-Kut, a descendant of the ancient Pharaoh of Egypt, King Kaputapotato. He wants the fearless and ever-victorious Granny to bring him the magical Heelosickle fruit, which cures all illnesses. Omar gives Granny a map of King Kaput’s tomb, showing where the fruit grows. According to him, no one has found this place before. At first Granny denies Omar’s request, but then Omar forcefully inserts a vial filled with the deadly belladonna poison behind Granny’s ear. With one tap of a key on Omar’s computer, he can send the poison into Granny’s veins, killing her within a minute. The message is simple - get the fruit or die. Granny has no choice. And so she and her grandson, Billy, set off to raid the pharaoh’s tomb.

On their quest, Granny and Billy make gruesome discoveries and encounter weird creatures with sinister motives. Will they be able to overcome the enemy and bring the Heelosickle fruit back to Omar in time before it dies?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wit Funnybones
• Release date: Oct 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9780639734064

Wit Funnybones

Hi there all you lovely boys and girls, teachers, librarians, and parents. My name is Wit Funnybones. Well, it's not my real name. Only a pen name. My real name is sooooooo long and difficult to remember that I made it easy for you guys to remember me by choosing a simple name.I love to write funny, witty adventure and mystery stories for 9 to 12-year-old children. It makes me jump for joy when you laugh until your toes curl and your tummy aches.A bit about myself. I live in South Africa in a breathtakingly beautiful area called Wilderness. I built my house and settled in a few months ago to write children's stories. I have a gorgeous daughter, a devoted mother, and three cats, whom I adore. I love my cats so much that I even based a FREE story for you on one of them. Read more about Jittery's victory in overcoming her fear of the vacuum cleaner on my website.​I'd like it very much to get to know you better. You are welcome to pop me an email and tell me about yourself and the stories you like to read.​I regularly give away stuff for free. Check it out on my website.​Enjoy!

Book preview

Grandma raided a Pharaoh’s Tomb

Grandma Series Book 4

To Jesus Christ all the glory for freely giving me my writing gift.

Text copyright 2022 MM (Martie) Janse van Rensburg

Cover design and illustration copyright 2022 MM (Martie) Janse van Rensburg

Published by Martie Janse van Rensburg at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Foreword

An ominous call

Yousef ‘Explousive’

A Vile Vial

On Our Way

A Tight Squeeze

Hands up!

Abracadabra

Smeagols!

I don’t speak Phaoreet!

Yikes, mutants!

Someone sent an angel!

Fight man! Come pumas, mutants or freaking dragons!

The most magical sight on earth (actually under the earth)

In the skeleton den

Ingenious Granny

The unlikeliest rescue

Dung beetle race

Did it die?

Other Books by Wit Funnybones

Connect with Wit Funnybones

Sample of the next book in the Grandma Series

Foreword

Hi there guys, thank you again for your interest in my stories. I love to write them with Wit Funnybones. I would appreciate your input. Tell me if you like the stories. Also, give me ideas of adventures that Grandma and Billy can undertake.

Head over to https://www.wit-funnybones.com for freebies and other stories. If you subscribe to Wit’s newsletter, you will be the first in line for free books and discounts.

But enough of that. Let me start with another groundbreaking adventure with Grandma. This time, she went berserk. She took on ghosts and mutants and robbers and what-have-you when we raided a Pharaoh’s tomb. It was hectic! Why don't you find out?

Enjoy!

Your friend,

Billy

An ominous call

I was at Granny’s bungalow again. Maybe she should adopt me since I’m always there. I love to watch her bake her delectable, smack-licious, award-winning cakes. It’s not only tasting the cakes that are full of surprises but also her baking process. It’s so much fun to watch.

Granny had a bandana around her curls, and a cigar hung from her mouth’s corner. Huge blue smoke puffs curled up into the air as she leafed through a tattered old recipe book on the table. She pushed her glasses back from the tip of her nose and absentmindedly groaned as she raised herself from the chair. She stomped into her pantry, probably to find the ingredients for the cake. What will it be this time? I couldn’t wait to find out.

Grandma came back from the pantry. She plonked a few things on the table.

There we go, Billyboy. I think I have everything for the cake, she said.

I turned the boxes to read the names on them.

Granny, this one is rat poison! I shrieked.

Grandma grabbed the box.

What? she exclaimed, looking at the name on the box.

Oh, don’t worry. Now, I remember. I put the flour in the rat poison box the other day. I couldn’t find the flour container. If I can remember correctly? she said dryly, frowning.

Granny! I cried out.

Hold your goslings in a row, Billy. We will soon find out.

Yeah, when we meet in heaven, or in hospital, should we be that lucky? I said.

No man, I’ll just take a sniff and perhaps a nip to taste. Then we’ll know for sure, Granny said.

And with that Granny opened the paper bag inside the box and dipped her finger in the white powder. She took a tentative lick from her fingertip.

My eyes bulged. It looked like the bullfrog’s eyes in Granny’s pond, when he spotted a fat fly on a lily.

I held my breath. Was Granny going to drop dead? Right there on the ground? No, please, not that.

Granny burst out with a roar of laughter. Only she can laugh like that. I could see her little tongue at the back of her throat vibrating as she threw back her head and guffawed.

Granny, it’s not funny! I snorted.

Ah, Billy, it’s always such a joy to see your expression when I make a joke. I love it, she snickered.

Well, Granny, it’s not fair. You’re having fun at the expense of my ever-so-fragile nerves.

I knew it was flour. To see your face, I put it in the rat poison box. I should have taken a photo and put it on the mantle. Maybe it would scare away robbers. Or old Mrs. Fleabody with her pesky visits in the middle of my favourite soapies, Granny said.

Granny finished adding the ingredients to a bowl. Eggs, flour, milk, and for extra flavour, a few sour jelly worms, marshmallows, wine gums, and Chappies.

Granny, the Chappies are bubble gum. It won’t work in the cake.

No worries, Billy dear. I’ve added them many times. They make the batter extra stringy.

I was looking forward to exactly how rubbery and full of tough strings that cake was going to be. But unbeknown to me at that point, we didn’t get to eat that cake until after our raiding of a Pharaoh’s tomb. This is how it went.

Grandma’s phone rang. She picked up.

Yellow, Bonkers here. 

Grandma’s surname is Bonkers. She kept quiet for a while, listening. 

Then she said: Who are you? 

Granny waited and finally replied: Oh, okay. Okay, okay, we will be there. Toodle-oo.

She hung up.

Who’s that? I said.

Billy, my all-time hero, we are meeting Omar Cash-O-Kut. He has a very interesting project for us we cannot pass by, she said, fetching her cane and handbag.

Who’s Om....? I said.

Granny interrupted: Never mind. You’ll see. Come, come. Hurry! We wanna get there before someone else beats us to it.

What on earth was Granny talking about? And who was this Omar guy? I could sniff another fun-fabulous adventure sneaking up on us as Goodboy, my dog, does when he gets a whiff of a skunk prowling our yard.

Yousef ‘Explousive’

Granny and I were purring along in Rolly, Grandma’s multi-coloured Rolls Royce, into a scaly run-down neighbourhood on the outskirts of town.

Granny, are you sure this Omar guy is kosher? Looks flaky to me, I said.

Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. He sounded fine over the phone, Granny said.

And that’s the thing about Granny. She is incredibly gullible. She will completely trust anything and everyone that remotely sounds or looks okay. Occasionally this precise trust-thing of hers will get us into a lot of trouble and sometimes it causes marvellous adventure. I was in this split between allowing Granny or not - not that I can stop her when she was determined. At such times, she’s like a matador’s bull. Nothing stands in her way.

I glanced sideways at Granny. Her red bandana was flapping in the wind and she pushed her face almost against the steering wheel as she unflinchingly headed down the road to Omar’s joint. I love my Granny. She is such a lively, optimistic person. About nothing can get her down. She’s always game for adventure - be it dangerous.

We screeched to a halt at the shop. Omar had draped lots of colourful flags, and what looked like sails over the awning at the door. Granny is a wild driver. She drives with gusto, stepping hard on the accelerator when she pulls away and doing the same with the brakes when she needs to stop. Blue smoke spewed from Rolly’s tires as she nearly ran the car onto the curb.

Granny! I said, Be careful.

Ah, Billy, what’s a car for? To be driven, man. That’s what men made them for. Rolly can take the punch.

We walked into the shop. Someone has stacked a mishmash of artifacts of all sizes and variations of shininess on every available shelf space in the shop. There were African masks, stuffed animal heads peering at us with glassy eyes, golden Buddha statues, and other gods staring at us disgustedly for disturbing their peace. Omar has stacked bowls, cups, plates, and other dishes in teetering piles on tables, shelves, and even on the floor. Several were colourful, and others looked dirty, like the pots in Mom’s potting shed in our backyard. In a bowl near the counter, a stick was burning, filling the shop with a putrid smell.

A bell jingled as we opened and then closed the door. At the back of the shop, a man appeared from behind a curtain.

Hi di-di do, Granny said, We’re looking for Omar.

The man disappeared without a word.

How rude, Granny smirked.

I looked suspiciously around me. Coughing loudly, I contemplated pushing the bowl of burning incense to the ground - by ‘accident’ you know - and stomping it with my foot.

A man with a headscarf, wearing a long robe-tunic thing, opened the curtain. He was petite, about a boy’s size, only a tad taller than me. The boy-man had lined his eyes with black eyeliner or something, and he had a thick gold chain around his neck with an emblem hanging on it.

How queer, Granny proclaimed.

Granny! I