Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (15 page)

“No hard feelings, huh, Goon?” said Paul.

“Are you kidding, that was great!” said Gary as Marsha Posey touched his head. “Pie in the face. Seltzer. It was classic!”

Leslie Ann Cummings looked but didn’t touch.

“You’re all right, Goon,” said Paul.

“You really are bald,” said Ryan.

“As bald as your butt,” said Gary.

All the contestants were brought back on stage. Miss Langley held her hand over each
student’s head, and the audience applauded accordingly.

Third prize, ice cream sundaes for two, went to Susan Smith, the gymnast. Brenda Thompson won second prize, the gift certificate at Zulu’s Records. And to thunderous applause, Gary Wolfgang Boone was awarded first prize.

He tipped his hat to the crowd.

His parents were waiting for him when he stepped down from the stage. “I’m just glad I didn’t know,” said his mother. Then she hugged him.

His father hugged him as soon as his mother let him go.

“You’re not mad?” asked Gary.

“You already cut it off,” his mother said. “What good would it do to be mad? Just do me a favor. When we visit Grandma next week—leave your hat on.”

“There’s the superstar!” said Abel Persopolis. “May I have the privilege of shaking your hand?”

Gary shook Abel’s hand, and Gus’s. Gus winked at him.

Melissa took off Gary’s hat and kissed him right on top of the head.

“You must be Gary’s parents,” said Abel. “Abel Persopolis. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“Spencer Boone,” said Gary’s father, shaking his hand. “But you can call me Spoon.”

They all laughed.

“Too bad Angeline couldn’t be here,” Gary’s mother said.

“Well, we videotaped it for her,” said Melissa. She nodded to the boy holding the camcorder. “We’ll show it to her tomorrow before the croquet game.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” said Gary’s father. “And Gary, you be sure to wear your hat until after the video is over. No, even better, take it off right at the same time you take it off in the video!”

“You might want to shave your head again tomorrow morning so there’s no stubble,” suggested Gary’s mother.

Gary looked at them in disbelief. Were these his parents?

“Why don’t you all come over for dinner after your croquet game,” said Gary’s mother. “I’ve got a new recipe for dead skunk.”

Abel, Gus, and Melissa laughed.

“Just be sure to bring a garage door opener
with you,” said Gary’s father. “In case you have to use the bathroom.”

Abel pointed at Gary and said, “Now I know where you get it.”

The fifth-grader who had operated the camcorder asked Gary for his autograph.

Fred Furst was leaving with three people who were obviously his parents and big sister.

Gary went after them. “Hey, Fred!”

Fred stopped and turned.

“Thanks,” said Gary.

“For what?”

Gary smiled and shrugged. “You want to play croquet tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“Great,” said Gary.

He gave him directions to Angeline’s house. “Oh, and you have to wear a hat.”

“No problem,” said Fred.

“And if anybody asks you, ‘What’s cookin’?’ you say ‘Mashed potatoes and gravy.’ ”

“Why?”

Gary shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” said Fred.

“Do your bird calls for Angeline. She’ll know if you were just making them up.”

Fred smiled.

Mrs. Carlisle, Gary’s English teacher, firmly shook Gary’s hand. “Congratulations,” she said. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Thanks.”

“You put a lot of work into it, didn’t you?” she asked.

He nodded.

“It showed,” she said. “Now if only you’d put that same creativity and effort into your classwork …” She smiled at him.

Gary shrugged. “I’ll try,” he said, although he knew he wouldn’t. Why would he ever want to work that hard for
school?

“Very professional,” Mrs. Carlisle continued. “Have you ever thought about being a stand-up comic?”

“Not really,” said Gary.

“Hey, Goon. Football tomorrow?” asked Joe Reed.

Gary turned. “Can’t. I’m playing croquet.”

“Croquet?” asked Joe. “You crack me up, Goon.” He reached toward Gary as if he was going to rub his head, but then he brought his hand back—afraid to touch it.

“You want to play?” asked Gary.

“Croquet? You sure you didn’t shave off part of your brain?”

“Mr. Bone will be there. Remember, our fifth-grade teacher? And Angeline Persopolis.”

“You’re sandbagging me, right?” asked Joe.

Gary still didn’t know what he meant by that.

Zack joined them. “So, is he going to play?”

“He can’t,” Joe said somewhat snidely. “He’s playing croquet with his fifth-grade teacher.”

Someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around.

“Congratulations, Gary,” said Leslie Ann Cummings.

“Thanks. I thought you should have won too. You sang better than Brenda Thompson. I would have voted for you.”

She smiled. “Oh, I don’t care. You know how it is. The popular kids always win. I mean, unless you’re
supertalented.
”

Gary blushed.

“So, when will it grow back?” she asked.

It took Gary a second to figure out what she meant. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably about four months.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” said Leslie Ann. “I get my braces off in four months.”

She hurried away.

Gary watched her for a moment. Did she just say what he thought she said?

He’d left his bag of props under the bench on stage. He went back up to get it, then sat down for a moment and rested on the bench. He suddenly felt very tired.

He took a long deep breath as he held his chin in his hands, propped up by his elbows. The buzz of the auditorium seemed to surround him, or maybe it was his own brain that was buzzing.

He took another long deep breath.

He looked at the back of the purple curtain. It had worn thin in a number of places and was tattered around the edges. It really was quite dingy.

He would have thought the school would take better care of its curtain. At least clean it once in a while!

He took out his big towel and wiped a tear from his eye.

He was still crying fifteen minutes later when his mother came up on stage to see what had happened to him.

“Hilarious! Stupendous! Amorphous!”

—Fred Furst

“I never stopped laughing. Funny? He redefined the word. Tunny’ doesn’t mean what it meant yesterday.”

—Angeline Persopolis

“He deserved to win. He was quite funny, in an amazing sort of way.”

—Nancy Langley

“Well, sure. I could have won too if I had shaved my head.”

—Matt Hughes

“The world’s greatest sandbagger!”

—Joe Reed

“He’s going to be famous someday.”

—Abel Persopolis

“That’s my son. I used to be known as quite a wit myself. Or was that a half-wit? Ha. Ha. He even looks like me. And who knows, maybe in a few years, after I lose a little more hair, he’ll look more like me.”

—Spencer Boone

“Brilliant! Just don’t look at him.”

—Prentice Boone

“I laughed. I don’t know why I laughed. But I laughed.”

—Mrs. Walls

“Yeah, he’s hilarious. Now, are we going to play football, or are we just going to stand around talking about Goon?”

—Zack

“I’ve known Gary since he was in my fifth-grade class. I always knew he had it in him. I was glad to see him finally reach his potential. Yuck, I sound just like a teacher, don’t I?”

—Melissa Turbone

“Way to go, Buster! Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my mud bath.”

—Gladys Pigbubble Snitzberry

“I don’t get it.”

—Ira Feldman

“He’s the tops. He’s the Tower of Pisa. He’s the smile on the Mona Lisa.”

—Leslie Ann Cummings

“He’s still a you-know-what.”

—Ryan Utt

“Strange
, but funny. Still, I don’t think he should have won
first
prize.”

—Brenda Thompson

“I didn’t think all the jokes about nudity were appropriate. This is a school, not a Las Vegas nightclub.”

—Mrs. Ward

“Like I’m really going to imagine Gary Boone naked. Gross!”

—Julie Rose

“You have to admire the Goon.”

—Paul Wattenburg

“How could flushing a toilet cause a garage door to open? That’s impossible.”

—Michael Higgins

“Don’t ask me. I don’t know who shaved his head.”

—Gus

“He’s got something inside him that I don’t think any of us realized before. There’s a spark.”

—Mrs. Carlisle

“So what? It was just a rinky-dink junior high school talent show.”

—Philip Korbin

“I swear I don’t know Gary Boone, but my teacher read this stupid book to our class and now everyone is picking on me. Thanks a lot, Goon!”

—Phil Hart (Foxbury, North Dakota)

David is only trying to be cool when he helps some of the popular kids steal Old Lady Bayfield’s cane. But when the plan backfires, he’s the one the “old witch” curses. Now David can’t seem to do anything right. The cool kids taunt him, and his only friends are weirdos. He even walks into Spanish class with his fly unzipped! And when he finally gets up the nerve to ask out a cute girl, his pants fall down in midsentence. Is it the Bayfield curse at work? Or is David simply turning into a total loser?

“Readers will empathize with David’s troubles and cheer his triumph in this delightful, funny book.”
—Publishers Weekly

“Plenty of wildly funny moments.”—
Kirkus Reviews

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