My Dad Is Fantastic Roald Dahl Pdf [DIRECT]

I hear whispering. I hear a giggle—and it is not my father’s giggle. Then I hear a small, wet voice say, “Oh! Oh, I see! Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Let me tell you about the first time I knew. It was a Tuesday. It was raining. And the cat had just eaten my mother’s best hat.

He opened the lid. Inside was a raw egg. Perfect. Uncooked. Dripping with yolk. my dad is fantastic roald dahl pdf

Most children, I suppose, have ordinary fathers. Fathers who wear grey suits and carry briefcases and smell of boiled potatoes and worry. But not me. No, no, no. My father is quite different. My father is FANTASTIC.

You see, I have a monster under my bed. His name is Grumblegut. He has three eyes, seventeen teeth, and a breath that smells like old cheese and thunder. Every night at 11:17, he tries to grab my ankles. I hear whispering

And he flicked a switch. The Whizzpopper 3000 hummed like a bee with a sore throat. A green light flashed. He took a hard-boiled egg from his pocket (he always kept one there, just in case), placed it inside the machine, and pressed a red button.

PING!

Most fathers would say, “Don’t be silly, there’s no such thing.” Not my father. My father takes a torch, lies down on the carpet, and slides under the bed.