“Psst,” he whispered. “If you eat one more hat, I shall teach you to knit your own.”
I screamed with joy.
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.
I can’t create a PDF file directly, but I can give you the full text of a short story written in the style of Roald Dahl, titled "My Dad is Fantastic." You can copy and paste it into a word processor (like Word or Google Docs) and save it as a PDF. my dad is fantastic roald dahl pdf
And when I say fantastic, I do not mean the sort of fantastic you say when someone gives you a new pencil case. I mean FAN-TAS-TIC with capital letters, like a giant walking through a forest.
“My dear child,” he replied, “impossible is just a word invented by people who have never tried to un-boil an egg.”
But the very best thing—the most fantastic thing of all—is what he does with the monsters. “Psst,” he whispered
My mother was standing in the kitchen, making a noise like a boiling kettle. “That cat is a menace!” she shrieked. “A FURRY MENACE!”
He opened the lid. Inside was a raw egg. Perfect. Uncooked. Dripping with yolk.
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?” My father takes a torch, lies down on
But that was only the beginning.
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 leaned close. His breath smelled of licorice and secrets. “It un-boils eggs,” he said.
“What did you say to him?” I ask.
Every Saturday, my father takes me to the shed at the bottom of the garden. It is not a normal shed. It does not contain rusty rakes or old paint. No. It contains the Whizzpopper 3000 .