Stink and The Ultimate Thumb-Wrestling Smackdown (4 page)

Woo-oo-woo! Woo-oo-woo!
Stink threw the reading quilt over it.

Mrs. D. rushed into the room. “What in the world?” She ran to her desk, grabbed the remote, and pushed buttons. Ahh. Quiet.

Mrs. D. put her hands on her hips. Mrs. D. made her serious teacher face. Mrs. D. said I’m-not-happy words.

“Somebody must have dropped a math book,” said Webster.

“Or knocked over the wastebasket,” said Skunk.

Heather Strong pointed at Stink. “Stink Moody was thumb-wrestling!”

Before you could say Ultimate After-School Thmackdown, Stink was out in the hall with Mrs. D. Tomorrow, Stink would not be thumb-wrestling at school. Stink would be picking up litter on the playground at recess. And he had to take a not-happy note home to his parents.

A note from the teacher was worse than a U on his report card. A note from the teacher was UN-satisfactory! A note from the teacher meant only one thing: IN BIG TROUBLE.

“Did Mom and Dad read the note? Are you in trouble?” Judy asked Stink.

“I won’t be seeing my allowance till I’m a teenager,” said Stink. “AND I have to think up a new sport.”

Stink ran up to his room. “This is not the end of Shark Hammersmash,” he whispered to his thumb mask.

No fair! Stink was pencil-snapping mad. He slammed his hand fist-down on his desk. Yikes. He snapped a pencil right in half.

Stink did not know his own
strength
! Stink had the
stamina
to snap more pencils. Suddenly, Stink felt like punching stuff. Stink felt like kicking stuff. Stink felt like chopping stuff with his bare hands. Stink had a new
strategy
— he, Stink E. Moody, would be the new karate kid!

So what if he did not have a karate uniform? He pulled on his blue bathrobe. He wrapped the belt around his waist (twice) and tied it in a knot. Presto! Stink was already a blue belt.

Ka-pow!
Stink threw a vertical punch.
Kee-yah!
Trading cards went flying off the mirror.
Ka-poom!
He kicked his sand-dollar collection off the shelf. Stink pulled back his elbow and
wham!
He knocked out the Hulk, Iron Man, Wolverine, Sabretooth, and all four of the Fantastic Four.

Stink karate-kicked the air.
Ha-cha!
His cardboard guitar fell off the wall.
Yee-ah!
His lava lamp almost tipped over.
Youch.
One kick to the wall, and he ripped his original
Star Wars
poster and his Super Reading Award certificate.

There just wasn’t enough room for a super high-flying ultra-death-defying karate kick. Stink ran across the hall to Judy’s room. He stuck one leg out and gave a super-duper, mile-high-flying foot jab way up in the air.
BANZAI!

Uh-oh. Something fell and crashed to the floor.
E-I-E-I-O!
Judy’s trophy! Her Giraffe Award — the third-grade prize she’d won for sticking her neck out for others — had just become the Headless Giraffe Award.

Stink duck-taped it back together. Good as new! Almost. He hid the now-wobbly, bobble-headed Giraffe Award behind some piles of Nancy Drew books.

He ran downstairs to tell Mom and Dad all about his new sport. Mom said karate was right up Stink’s alley. Dad went online and signed him up for a class!

Stink could not wait to get started. In the living room, he karate-chopped the encyclopedia.
Youch!
In the kitchen, he karate-chopped spaghetti, pretzel sticks, and a box of cereal. Mood Flakes flew across the floor. In the TV room, he spied Judy’s lost-and-found pencil collection sitting on a shelf. Perfect!

U-na-gi!
With each karate chop, another pencil went zinging through the air. Smiley-face pencils, Student-of-the-Week pencils, Virginia Dare School pencils.

“Stink!” Judy yelled at her pencil-snapping, cuckoo-head brother.

“So what? These are just loser pencils you found on the floor at school.”

“I’m collecting them. To show the principal how many pencils are wasted.”

Stink held up his hand. “Don’t talk to me. Talk to The Hand. This bad boy is a human chopping machine. It can’t stop. It has to chop.”

“Here. You can chop my Attitude Is Everything pencil. But that’s all.”

Stink raised his hand. Mouse dashed under the couch. Stink karate-chopped the pencil. Now it said
TUDE IS EVERYTHING.

“Fear The Hand.” The Hand sliced the air. “You’d better be way nice to me now. I’ll be able to grab you by the hair and flip you upside-down.”

“Ha. I don’t think so.”

“It’s ka-rah-tay. My new sport. By next week, this bad boy will be chopping through cement blocks.”
Chop-chop-chop-chop-chop.
“Just call me
Chop
zilla.”

Chopzilla karate-chopped a couch pillow. Feathers went flying. The room became a whirling, swirling snowstorm of white feathers. Snow-globe city!

Mouse streaked through the snowstorm and out of the room.

“Pff.” Judy tried to talk, but only a feather came out. “Mom’s gonna freak. It looks like you wrestled the Abominable Snowman. I’m going to my room.”

“Don’t go upstairs!” Stink yelled, following her up the steps.

“Stink? What did you do?” Judy looked all around her room. “Why do you keep staring at my Nancy Drew books?” She rushed over to the shelf. “STINK! You broke my Giraffe Award? This is one-of-a-kind!”

“Please don’t be mad. I’ll glue all the loser pencils back together, and I’ll help pick up pencils after school for the rest of the year.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? For real?”

“Okay. You can help me pick up pencils after school.”

“I will. I swear. Itchy kata’s honor. I’ll help. Every day. Except Tuesdays and Thursdays and every other Friday, because that’s karate.”