Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (7 page)

Gary shrugged.

There was stunned silence.

“Hah!” exclaimed Gus, clapping his hands together. “I knew I’d get you one day, Gary Boone!”

He smiled.

Gus was so happy he had finally stumped the great Gary Boone, he forgot to finish his joke.

“Why did Mrs. Snitzberry tiptoe past the medicine cabinet?” Angeline asked impatiently.

“Oh,” said Gus, “she didn’t want to wake up the sleeping pills.”

Angeline laughed.

Of course Gary knew the punch line. He just wasn’t allowed to tell jokes. In fact, not only did he know Gus’s punch line, he knew an even better one:

Why’d Mrs. Snitzberry tiptoe past the medicine cabinet?

She didn’t want to embarrass the “Bare” Aspirin
.

“Bird feathers!” exclaimed Angeline as Gus’s ball crashed into hers.

Gus placed his ball next to her ball, stepped
on his ball, then slammed his mallet against it, knocking her ball to the far end of the court.

“One of these days you’re going to break your foot that way,” said Abel.

Gus laughed. He turned to Angeline. “That ought to keep you busy for a while.”

She stuck out her tongue at him.

He stuck out his tongue back at her.

For hitting Angeline’s ball, Gus got another shot. He aimed for the wicket but missed, and his ball kept rolling until it was almost as far away as Angeline’s.

“Bird feathers!” he exclaimed.

“So what’s the deal, Gary?” asked Abel. “How come you haven’t told us any jokes?”

“Oh, sure he has!” Angeline said. She looked at her father like he was crazy.

“No, I haven’t,” said Gary.

“Really?” asked Angeline.

He told them about his deal with his parents.

Gus thought it was a “bum deal,” but Angeline agreed with Gary’s parents. “If you keep all your jokes bottled up inside, then when they come out, they’ll be even funnier. Like a balloon. The more air that’s forced inside, the louder the pop!”

“That’s right!” said Gary. “That’s exactly what happens. I don’t tell any jokes at school, but then when I get home, they all burst out of me.”

“Oh, I wish I could hear them,” said Angeline. “But don’t tell me.”

“I won’t,” he assured her.

“I’d like to meet your parents,” Abel said. “They sound very interesting.”

“Huh?” said Gary.

“Do they like to play croquet?” asked Gus. “Why don’t you ask them to join us next time.”

Gary couldn’t imagine his parents spending time with Abel and Gus—especially not Gus. “They don’t like to wear hats,” he said.

“So you sound really serious about this talent show,” said Abel.

“I’ve been making up jokes all week. My plan is to make up jokes for two weeks and then choose my best ones.”

“La
crème de la crème
,
” said Gus.

Gary laughed. “Then the last week, I’m going to just work on putting the jokes in some kind of order, and then practice them over and over again. People think that to be a comedian all you need are good jokes, but timing is just as important.”

“The important thing is, you’re willing to work at it,” said Abel. “It doesn’t really matter how much talent you have. You have to be willing to work at it. Nothing comes easy.”

“I’m working at it, all right,” Gary said. “My motto is: Whatever it takes, one hundred percent!”

Gary and Angeline were alone on her sofa. Gus and Abel had gone to get pizza.

“Did you ever wish you could be somebody else?” asked Gary.

“Like who?”

“Joe Reed,” said Gary. “Do you know who he is?”

“He was in Mr. Bone’s class,” said Angeline.

“He’s got the perfect life,” said Gary. “Everyone likes him. He’s smart, a great athlete, but he’s not stuck up or anything. He’s nice to everybody. Sometimes I wish I was him.”

“Maybe you are him,” Angeline said. “Maybe he’s you.”

“Huh?”

“Maybe just this second, when you said you wanted to be Joe Reed, you suddenly traded places. You’re now Joe Reed. He’s Gary Boone.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m still here talking to Gary Boone. He became you. He has your body. Your brain. Your memory. He doesn’t remember ever being Joe Reed. He thinks he’s always been you. And you think you’ve always been him. So even though you just traded places, nothing’s changed.”

“Yeah,” said Gary. He saw her point. At least he thought he did. On second thought—he had no clue.

“No matter how many times you trade,” she said, “there’s always going to be a Gary Boone.”

She smiled at him, apparently glad there would always be a Gary Boone. She took off his hat, then placed her pink cowgirl hat on his head. She put Gary’s hat on her head.

“So I guess I should just try to be the best Gary Boone I can be,” he said. He shrugged. “I may be a goon, but I’ll be the best goon there is.”

“Whatever it takes, one hundred percent,” said Angeline.

Gary woke up feeling funny. Not sick-funny. Funny-funny. Hilarious-funny! Supercalifragilisticexpialidociously-funny!

He felt like he could make up the funniest jokes of his life. The jokes were exploding inside him, ready to burst out, like Angeline’s balloon.

But first he had to get through school—six hours of mind-numbing, maggot-infested drivel.

There was a book report due in first period. This was the first time Gary had heard about it.

Fortunately, it was only supposed to be an oral report, so as long as Mrs. Carlisle didn’t call on him, he was safe.

Unfortunately, he was the first person called.

“I’m not ready,” he said. “I didn’t know about it.”

“You didn’t
know
about it?” Mrs. Carlisle asked incredulously. “Ashley. When did I assign the book report?”

“Three weeks ago,” said Ashley.

“Three weeks,” Mrs. Carlisle repeated. “Where have you been for the past three weeks, Gary?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either,” said Mrs. Carlisle.

Gary laughed along with several other kids in the class.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” said Mrs. Carlisle. “I think it’s sad. I will call on you again, on Friday, and by then I expect you to have a book report ready. And Gary,” she added, “not a jokebook this time.”

Gary sighed. She didn’t have to say that. The first time she assigned a book report, at the beginning of the year, she didn’t say it couldn’t be a jokebook, so how was he supposed to know? Now he knew. She didn’t have to mention it
every single time
.

“What does she think I am—
stupid?
”

And besides, he thought, how am I supposed to know where I was three weeks ago when she assigned the book report? Maybe I was in the bathroom. It’s not like she’s been talking about it every second for three weeks. It’s just like a murder mystery. Where were you at exactly 8:23 on the night of July 13? How’s anybody supposed to remember? Only the murderer knows. The innocent people don’t remember things like that.

He talked to Miss Langley before class started.

“Yes, Gary?”

“May I see the list?”

“What list?”

“For the talent show.”

“I wish you cared as much about math as you do about the talent show.”

“I just want to see if anybody else has signed up yet.”

“You’re not the only one,” Miss Langley assured him. She showed Gary the list.

“I don’t want to be first,” said Gary.

“Pardon?”

“Just because I was the first to sign up, I don’t want to have to be the first one up on stage.”

“That’s not up to me,” said Miss Langley.

“Who’s it up to?”

“Brenda Thompson, I believe.”

Gary nodded and said, “Oh.”

“Gary,” Miss Langley said gently. “I wouldn’t get my hopes too high about the talent show.”

He shrugged.

“No offense,” Miss Langley continued, “but telling jokes isn’t exactly a talent—like singing, or playing the piano, or even
bird calls
. I’m sorry.”

“I just hope somebody laughs,” said Gary. Then he went to take his seat.

“Gary! Hey, Gary!”

Gary turned. It was Steve (or maybe Michael) Higgins.

“Look what I got!” said Steve (or Michael), waving a baseball card in Gary’s face.

“Oh, a baseball card,” said Gary.

“ ‘A baseball card,’ he says,” said Steve (or Michael). “It’s not just a baseball card! Look at it!”

Gary looked at it again. “Bob Bremly,” he read aloud. Gary’d never heard of Bob Bremly, but he didn’t want to disappoint Steve (or Michael). “Great!” he said, trying to sound excited. “He’s a great player, all right.”

“No he isn’t,” said Steve (or Michael). “There is no Bob Bremly. Bob
Brenly
was a catcher for the Giants. But see, they spelled his name wrong. It should be Brenly, not Bremly.”

“Oh. Well, maybe you could take it back and they’ll give you a new one.”

“Are you kidding? Ira already offered me fifty bucks for it, but I wouldn’t sell it for less than two hundred. That’s how much you’d have to pay at a card show.”

“So it’s good they spelled his name wrong?” asked Gary.

“It’s great! And would you believe it? I got it in just a regular pack of baseball cards!”

Gary smiled politely. He had no idea why Steve (or Michael) was showing this to him.

“So, do you collect baseball cards?” asked Steve (or Michael).

“No,” said Gary.

“Oh,” said Steve (or Michael). He seemed disappointed. “You should.”

Gary shrugged.

“Well, see ya, Gary,” said Steve (or Michael).

“ ’Bye,” said Gary. He continued on to math.

What was that supposed to mean, he wondered, “You
should
”? Collecting baseball cards was something you either wanted to do or didn’t want to do. It wasn’t something you
should
do. “Why should I?” he asked aloud.

He caught up to Joe on the way to the football field. “So Joe,” he said. “I hear you’re going to be in the talent show.”

Joe laughed. “Big deal,” he said.

“Me too,” said Gary.

“I know.”

“So you’re going to do a rap, huh?” said Gary. “Sounds cool.”

“Just fooling around, you know how it is,” said Joe.

Gary didn’t know how it was, but he was glad Joe thought he did. “I’m going to tell jokes. I’m making them all up myself. But I can’t tell you any. I’m keeping them all inside so they pop out like a balloon.”

Joe looked at him a moment, like he wanted to tell Gary something, but then just smiled. “Sounds cool,” he said. He turned away and quickened his pace.

“Thanks,” said Gary, staying with him. “Hey, how about letting me do something today, besides just hiking the ball.”

“Sure, maybe,” said Joe.

“Do you know if Matt is making up his own jokes, or is he just telling jokes he already knows?” asked Gary.

“What?” snapped Joe. He stopped walking and turned on Gary. “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask him?”

Gary shrugged. “Could you do me a favor? Could you tell Brenda Thompson I don’t want to be first? Just because I was the first to sign up for the talent show doesn’t mean I want to be on stage first.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Brenda Thompson decides the order. You
know—which act goes on first, second … Tell her I don’t want to be first.”

“Why don’t—” Joe stopped. He put his hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Look, don’t take the talent show so seriously, okay? It’s for fun. We’re all just going to get up on stage and make big fools out of ourselves. It’s just for fun.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, don’t be so uptight about it, okay?” Joe said. “Go with the flow. No matter
what happens.
”

“Sure,” said Gary. “So will you talk to Brenda Thompson for me?”

“Sure,” said Joe.

When Gary got home, he started reading the book about the pirate and the beautiful girl that Angeline had given him a long time ago. He didn’t make up any jokes. He had too much work to do. And he no longer felt funny.

Miss Langley assigned four pages of math homework.

Just pour it on, Longlegs! thought Gary. You’re the faculty adviser for the talent show, but you don’t care if I have time to make up jokes!

He went to see her after class.

“No one else has signed up since yesterday,” she said.

He shrugged. That wasn’t what he was going to ask her. He started to leave, then stopped. “This isn’t the only class I have, you know,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“Four pages is a lot of homework. Other teachers assign homework too. I have to read a whole book and do a book report by Friday. How am I supposed to work on my act for the talent show if I have to waste all my time doing
homework?
”

“Maybe if you had started that book report when it was first assigned three weeks ago, you wouldn’t have this problem.”

He couldn’t believe it. How’d she know that? He would have thought that teachers had better things to do than talk about him.

“Goon, over here!” Joe Reed called to him as he stepped out of class.

Joe was standing out by the library. No one else was near.

“I thought of a great idea for a football play,” said Joe. “If you’re up for it.”

“Sure,” said Gary.

“No clownin’ around?”

“No clownin’ around,” Gary assured him.

Joe checked to make sure no one else was listening, then told Gary the play. “Now, you’re sure you can catch?” he asked.