Barry Loser: I Am Not A Loser

by Jim Smith

  After us there were about eight million more acts, which were all rubbish and three-quarters. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Mr Hodgepodge was introducing a brother and sister whose names rang a bell inside my head, which was still inside the vending machine costume by the way.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the Trumpet Face twins!’ he shouted, and Mrs Trumpet Face’s twin kids walked on stage. I looked over at Bunky and he smiled proudly. I think he thinks he’s actually their dad just because I said he was Mr Trumpet Face that time.

  ‘We’re the Unkeel Gang!’ shouted the boy Trumpet Face twin.

  ‘Yeah,’ said the girl Trumpet Face twin, ‘and we like knocking on people’s doors then running off doing farts cos we’re so scared!’ Then they ran around the stage doing blowoff noises and looking like the biggest losers ever.

  Their play went on for ages and the audience loved it, laughing and nudging each other and saying, ‘It’s so true to life!’

  The end was them on the phone calling some old granny and asking if Poopoo was there and a poo coming on the phone telling them they were losers and them crying.

  Bunky whooped and cheered along with everyone else and I stamped on his foot and then apologised, calling him Snookyflumps again.

  First prize went to the Trumpet Face twins for their ‘hilarious and realistic portrayal of loserness’.

  I clapped with my little fingers as they stood there and said how they would share the Future Ratboy costume, all the parents whispering about how mature they were and Mrs Trumpet Face coming up and cuddling them and everyone getting all emotional about it.

  Darren and Stuart came second, winning a month’s supply of Fronkle organised by Fay Snoggles’s Dad, who works for Fronkle and who said he’d never heard of a Mr Loser working in his office and that no, Banana Fronkle was not coming out soon.

  It was weird looking at Darren, because he was stuck between being the happiest person in the whole wide world amen, due to winning a month’s supply of Fronkle, and the most annoyed because of me lying to him.

  I was starting to get my vending machine costume out of there before he came and found me when I heard Mr Hodgepodge announce third place. It went to Barry Loser and Bunky for Vending Machine Mum, which was us and that was our act, so we went up on the stage to get our prizes, giggling and blowing off with keelness.

  After that the local paper did a story about the school talent contest and there was a photo of Darren on the front page having a bath in Fronkle while drinking Fronkle.

  The title was ‘The Fronkle Kid’ and there was a quote from Darren that was just a burp that went on for two pages.

  The Trumpet Face twins got so famous at school they had to have a security guard, who looked like an action hero and drove Mrs Trumpet Face around everywhere. I think Bunky was jealous because he still thinks he’s Mr Trumpet Face.

  What’s rubbish is that after the talent contest, Mrs Trumpet Face told my mum about me and Bunky and my mum made us write her a sorry note.

  SORRY FOR COMPLETELY RUINING YOUR LIFE, it said, Mrs Trumpet Face catching us as we were putting it through her letter box and inviting us in for biscuits and Fronkle and a look at the Future Ratboy costume.

  ‘Can I try it on?’ I said, hoping she’d forgotten how horrible I was.

  ‘Let me think about that,’ she said, but she still hasn’t let me so I think that’s probably my punishment from her.

  What’s also rubbish is that third prize was a roll of grannyish wallpaper from the wallpaper exhibition, which my mum and dad made me wallpaper my bedroom with so now it looks like Granny’s lounge except it hasn’t got Invisigrandad in it.

  Not that Granny’s lounge has got Invisigrandad in it either any more, since she cleared him out because of Mr Hodgepodge coming over every five seconds for cups of tea and knitting lessons.

  ‘Can I be in the Keel Gang, too?’ he asked when me and Bunky went over there the other day.

  ‘Let me think about that,’ I said, and we high fived but he missed because of his cross-eyes.

  Darren Darrenofski stopped being so horrible after the talent contest. When he found out there was no such thing as Banana Fronkle he ran into the playground crying and a bird did a poo on his head.

  That’s supposed to be good luck, but I’m not sure it is if the poo has what looked like a bit of my old cut-off shoelace in it.

  ‘Sorry I called you a loser even though you are a Loser,’ he said to me a few days later at school in the playground.

  ‘Sorry I lied about Banana Fronkle even though you look like a crocodile,’ I said back and we laughed and he burped in my ear.

  So I’m OK with being Barry Loser again, which is keel.

  What’s not so keel is that everyone heard my mum call me Snookyflumps at the talent contest last week, Mr Koops included, who can suddenly remember who I am for the first time in my life, unfortunatelyingtons.

  ‘What’s going on here, Snookyflumps?’ he shouted through his megaphone the other day, when me, Bunky and Darren were carving our names into the big tree in the corner of the playground.

  I’d written ‘Barry is the keelest’ in massive capitals with three exclamation marks and underlined it.

  ‘I didn’t do it, Mr Koops,’ I said in my nicest voice and Bunky and Darren started laughing and looking at leaves like they were really interested in them so they didn’t get in trouble, too.

  ‘No banana,’ laughed Mr Koops. ‘Give me three laps of the playground, Snookyflumps!’ he screeched, and it echoed through his megaphone and everyone in the whole school heard it, and some of the people walking past on the street outside, too.

  So now I’m Barry Snookyflumps, which has got to be the most loserish name in the whole wide world amen.

  Except for the fact that I secretly quite like it.

  Jim Smith is the keelest kids’ book spellchecker in the whole wide world amen.

  He graduated from art school with first class honours (the best you can get) and went on to create the branding for a sweet little chain of coffee shops.

  He also designs cards and gifts under the name Waldo Pancake.

  As well as spellchecking, Jim offers a free smellchecking service with every book.

  This one stinks.