by Nancy Krulik
“Hey! Watch where you’re skating,” one guy shouted.
“You almost bashed into me,” his friend added.
“Dude, I’m coming!” Alex started skating toward George.
George’s hands reached out and grabbed Sage by the hand. He spun her around on the ice.
“Oh, Georgie!” she squealed. “We’re skating doubles! It’s like the Olympics!”
Whoosh! Suddenly it felt as though someone had taken a pin and popped a balloon right in the middle of George’s belly. The super burp was gone. But George was still there—holding Sage’s hand.
George dropped her hand fast.
“That was awesome, Georgeroonio,” Kevin said as he skated over. “Wait until I tell the guys at home.”
Alex frowned and looked sadly at George. “That was a big one,” he said in a low voice. “Sorry I couldn’t get over to you in time.”
George nodded.
A skating instructor in an orange vest glided over to the boys. “Kid, you can’t go flying around the ice like that,” he told George. “You’re banned from the ice for the rest of the day.”
George didn’t argue with him. After all, he had gone flying around on the ice. Everyone had seen him. What they didn’t see was why. A magical super burp wasn’t something you could see. It wasn’t even something you would believe existed—unless, of course, you were the one burping it.
“You don’t have to get off the ice, too,” George said as he and Alex took off their skates and headed over to the café. “I’m okay hanging here by myself.” He sat down at a table and looked out at the ice. Kevin was skating around in circles by himself.
“It’s all right,” Alex said, taking the seat across the table. “I can look for some more ABC gum. You wouldn’t believe how many people stick their gum under tabletops once it loses its flavor.” Alex reached under one of the tables and pulled off a glob of green gum. “This is a fresh one,” he said. “Still gooey.”
“That glob puts you one piece of gum closer to being in the Schminess Book of World Records,” George told him.
“Hey, I almost forgot to tell you,” Alex said. “There’s a traveling Schminess Book of World Records show. It’s coming to Beaver Brook for one day. There will be lots of creepy stuff . . . the longest fingernail in the world, a potato that looks like Elvis Presley, and of course, there’s the current world’s largest gum ball. It belongs to some guy from Alaska. I definitely want to see that.”
“Totally,” George agreed.
“I’m going to talk to the Schminess people there about entering my gum ball,” Alex continued. “I’m nervous, but I think I should do it.”
“Well, I can go,” George said. “You wouldn’t be so nervous if you knew you had a friend with you. And I bet Kevin would go, too.”
Alex didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said, “Yeah . . . I guess that’d be okay. It’s Wednesday afternoon.”
“Sure . . .” George began. Then he stopped himself. Wednesday was the day of Kevin’s karate championship. “Uh-oh!”
“What? Is that a problem?” Alex asked.
Oh yeah, George thought. But this ABC gum ball was really important to Alex. He couldn’t let him down. He was his best pal in Beaver Brook.
Before George could say another word, some of the other kids came into the café.
“I’m starved,” Julianna said, heading over to the counter.
Louie said, “I’m in the mood for a hoagie.”
“I want a hoagie, too,” Max said. “Exactly like Louie’s.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” Mike told Max. “How come you always copy me?”
“Georgie, you want to share cheese fries?” Sage asked. “You can have most of them.”
“Nah,” George said.
Kevin walked up to the lady at the counter. Her name tag said STELLA. “Can I just get some tomatoes?” he asked.
“Sorry, kid,” Stella said. “We only serve tomatoes on a hamburger.”
Kevin thought about that for a minute. “Well, then give me a hamburger with extra tomatoes, please,” he said.
“Okay, we can do that,” Stella said. She wrote the order on her pad.
“But hold the mustard and the ketchup,” Kevin said. “Hold the bun, too. And hold the hamburger.”
Stella looked down at her pad. “But that only leaves the extra tomatoes.”
Kevin gave her a big smile. “Exactly.”
“I once saw Kevin eat three pints of cherry tomatoes for supper,” George told the kids.
“And for dessert I had a massive beefsteak tomato,” Kevin boasted.
“Didn’t all that citric acid give you diarrhea?” Alex asked him.
“All that what?” Kevin asked.
“Citric acid,” Alex said. “That’s what’s in tomatoes. It can give you the runs.”
“Sounds like a good enemy for Toiletman,” Chris said with a laugh.
“For who?” Kevin asked.
“Toiletman,” George repeated. “He’s a superhero Chris made up.”
“Oh.” Kevin laughed. He turned to Alex. “My stomach is like iron. I’m the champion tomato eater of Cherrydale Elementary School!”
“Yeah?” Alex said. “Well, I’m going to be a world champion soon. I’ve been collecting ABC gum, and soon I’ll have the world’s largest gum ball in the universe.”
“So it’s not the biggest yet?” Kevin asked him.
Alex shook his head. “But I’m entering it in next year’s record book. There’s a Schminess show here on—”
“Hey, whose turn is it to order food?” George interrupted. He wanted to change the subject before Alex announced that the Schminess show was the same day as Kevin’s karate tournament.
“What are you having?” Kevin asked George. “It’s my treat!”
The truth was George wasn’t hungry at all. Tomatoes weren’t the only thing that could give a guy a bellyache. Having to choose between your two best friends could make you pretty sick to your stomach, too.
“Take that, Cave Dweller,” Kevin shouted later that day as he clicked the button on his video game controller. The caveman on the screen picked up his club and smashed the other guy on the head.
“You’ve destroyed another one of my guys!” George groaned. “I have only two left in my whole tribe. Are you sure you haven’t played this game before?”
“Never,” Kevin insisted. “Watch out! Here comes another avalanche of boulders.” He clicked a button on the control pad, and his caveman leaped over them.
Just then, the phone rang.
“George, it’s Alex,” George’s dad shouted a moment later. “He says it’s important.”
“Call him back later,” Kevin said. “You can talk to Alex any time. I’m only here for a few days.”
“Oh, come on,” George said. “I’ll make it fast and come right back.”
“Then I can go back to destroying you,” Kevin said with a grin.
“Whatever.” George went into the hall and picked up the phone. “Hey, Alex,” he said.
“Hey, dude,” Alex replied. “That was one bad burp this afternoon at the rink.”
“Yeah,” George agreed.
“But listen to what I found on this new website. It’s called The Burp No More Blog,” Alex said excitedly. “Marshmallows can cure burps.”
“Marshmallows?” George asked.
“Uh-huh,” Alex said. “They’re sticky, so when you eat them they kind of glue the bubbles together into one giant bubble that’s too big to move out of your stomach! If the bubble can’t leave your stomach, it can’t be burped.”
That made sense. And marshmallows tasted a whole lot better than mustard. George hung up the phone and went back to his room. “Kevin,” he said. “I thin
k it’s hot cocoa time.”
Kevin looked at him strangely. “I thought we were going to finish this game.”
“We can do that later,” George told him. “Right now, I want some cocoa . . . with lots of marshmallows.”
“What are you trying to do?” Kevin asked as he watched George pour half a bag of mini marshmallows into his mug. George added a few more marshmallows and then splashed a little hot cocoa on top of them.
“You have cocoa your way, and I’ll have it mine,” George said. Then he took a sip. Only he couldn’t really sip; he mostly chewed the marshmallows.
Kevin stared at him. “Does that taste good?” he asked.
George didn’t hear a word Kevin said. He couldn’t. Kevin’s voice was drowned out by the band of bubbles playing in his belly. There were bing-bangs and ping-pangs. Then bing-bongs and cling-clangs.
The super burp was back!
Quickly, George slurped up another huge mouthful of marshmallows, trying to stick those bubbles together. But the bubbles fought back, bouncing harder than ever inside him.
And then . . .
George let out a chocolate-marshmallow-flavored super burp. It was only a miniburp, but it was still magic. The next thing George knew, his fingers started grabbing marshmallows from the bag and shoving them up his nose.
Kevin started laughing. “You crack me up.”
George’s fingers shoved a few more mini marshmallows up his nostrils. Then his nose got into the act and let out a humongous sneeze.
“Achooo!” Ooey, gooey white marshmallow shot out across the kitchen.
“Gross!” Kevin shouted. “But in a good way,” he added with a laugh.
“Achoo!” George’s nose sneezed again. More flew out.
Whoosh! Just then, George felt something pop in the bottom of his belly. All the air rushed out of him. The super burp was gone. But there were still mini marshmallows up his nose. George poked his little finger into his nostril and pulled them out.
Kevin laughed so hard, hot chocolate came out of his nose. “Hilarious, Georgeroonio,” he said.
But George didn’t think it was hilarious. He thought it was awful. How many burps could a guy take in one day, anyway?
The next morning, George and Kevin woke to the sound of the vacuum cleaner. They went downstairs to find George’s mom cleaning the living room.
“Make your own breakfast,” she told them. “I have too much to do before our New Year’s Eve party. I’m running around like a chicken without a head today.”
George cracked up. The idea of a headless chicken wearing his mother’s bathrobe and slippers and vacuuming the living room rug was hilarious. But his mom wasn’t in the mood to laugh. So George shut his mouth and walked toward the kitchen.
“Is it just going to be a bunch of grown-ups and us at this party?” Kevin asked George.
“Nope,” George said. “I invited Alex, too.”
“Oh.” Kevin didn’t sound too happy about that.
“Alex is a good guy,” George said.
“It wasn’t nice the way he bragged about maybe getting in the Schminess Book of World Records,” Kevin said.
George thought about mentioning that Kevin had been bragging about eating tomatoes, too. But what would be the point?
“After breakfast, I have to practice my karate,” Kevin said as he poured himself a bowl of Crunchy Munchies. “The tournament is tomorrow afternoon.”
“Don’t remind me,” George mumbled as he shoved a spoonful of Wheat Wonkers into his mouth.
“What?” Kevin asked.
George swallowed his cereal. “I . . . um . . . said, ‘You don’t need to remind me,’” George fibbed. “Because . . . um . . . what kind of a guy would I be if I forgot about your karate tournament?”
A guy with one less best friend, George thought quietly to himself. Because no matter which friend he went with, come Wednesday, that was exactly the kind of guy he was going to be.
Later that morning before George’s mom left for work, she warned him. “Your dad came in late from the base last night, so he’s taking a nap. Please don’t wake him. And whatever you do, don’t make a mess.”
“We won’t,” George promised.
“Okay, so what do we do now?” Kevin asked.
“You want to play video games?” George suggested.
“Nah,” Kevin said. “I’m played out.”
The boys sat there, trying to come up with a plan that wasn’t noisy or messy.
“I’m hungry,” Kevin said finally.
“But we just finished breakfast,” George said.
“I know,” Kevin said. “But I can always eat. You got any tomatoes?”
“I think there’s a few left,” George said.
“Cool,” Kevin told him. “Maybe we could chop them up with some marshmallows, since you like them so much.”
George thought about that. The super burp had been a small one. Maybe the marshmallows had helped a little. It was possible that the more he ate, the less he’d burp.
“And then top the whole thing off with chocolate syrup,” Kevin continued. “A chocolate, marshmallow, and tomato parfait!”
George wasn’t sure what that would taste like. But he figured it would be fun to make. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out the tomatoes. Then he took the chocolate syrup and the marshmallows from the cupboard.
“I’ll chop the tomatoes while you mix the marshmallows and the chocolate syrup,” Kevin said.
George nodded and poured what was left of the marshmallows into a big bowl. Then he squeezed the chocolate syrup container. But nothing happened.
“I can’t get the chocolate out,” George said.
“Squeeze harder,” Kevin said. “Here. Let me try.” Kevin took the bottle, squeezed, and . . .
Squirt! Chocolate syrup flew out of the bottle. It was like all the chocolate in the bottle came out in one giant glob. But instead of landing in the mixing bowl, thick, gooey syrup splattered all over the floor, the counter, and the clean tablecloth George’s mom had put out that morning.
Uh-oh! “My mom will kill us if she sees this,” George said.
“I’m so sorry!” Kevin said. “We’ll clean up fast and just stick the tablecloth in the washing machine.”
“Do you know how to use a washing machine?” George asked him.
Kevin shook his head.
“Me neither. And we can’t wake up my dad,” George reminded Kevin. He looked around the kitchen.
“How hard could it be to run a washing machine?” Kevin said as he gathered up the tablecloth and headed for the laundry room.
“How much soap do you think we should put in?” George asked Kevin a few minutes later as they stuffed the tablecloth into the washer.
“Lots,” Kevin said. “It’s pretty dirty.”
“Yeah.” George poured in more soap. “I think half the box should do it.” He closed the lid and pressed the button that read WASH. Immediately, water began to pour into the machine.
“We did it!” Kevin cheered.
“Now let’s go clean up the rest of the mess,” George said.
They were wiping down the counters and floor when George and Kevin heard some weird clunking noises coming from the laundry room.
“Does your washer always sound like that?” Kevin asked.
George shook his head.
“Uh-oh!” Kevin screamed and pointed.
The laundry room was knee-deep in a sea of soap bubbles!
“This is ba-a-ad!” George cried out.
“Maybe we put in too much detergent,” Kevin said.
“Gee, you think?” George asked him angrily.
“Don’t get mad at me,” Kevin said. “You poured it in
.”
“Yeah, but you told me to put in a lot,” George pointed out. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I have to turn this thing off.” He walked toward the machine.“Whoa!” he exclaimed as he slipped and fell.
At the same time, Kevin slipped and landed on top of George.
George scrambled out from under Kevin and tried to crawl to the machine. “Which do you think is the off button?”
“I don’t see it,” Kevin answered. “Just pull the plug.”
“I can’t find the plug,” George said.
“WHAT’S GOING ON IN HERE?”
George turned around at the sound of his dad’s booming voice.
“We . . . uh . . . we got chocolate sauce on mom’s tablecloth, and we knew she’d be mad, and so we tried to wash it, and . . .” George stopped midsentence. The rest was pretty easy to figure out.
George’s dad was shaking his head as he turned off the washer. But when he spoke, he didn’t sound so mad. “Come on, soldiers. We have to get this cleaned up before the water soaks through to the basement. George, you go upstairs and get some towels. Kevin and I will start mopping.”
“I’m sorry we woke you, Dad,” George said as he headed upstairs.
“I actually wish you’d woken me up before you tried to do the laundry,” his dad said. “Now get moving and find those towels. This cleanup is going to take a while.”
Oh man. Even without a burp, George just couldn’t get away from bubble trouble.
“Is this hill as good as the one behind our school in Cherrydale?” Kevin asked George as the boys dragged George’s sled a few blocks to Jumping Mouse Lane. George’s dad had ordered them out of the house after they’d cleaned the kitchen and the laundry room. He said it was probably safer that way.
“This hill’s awesome,” George promised Kevin. “There aren’t any trees, so you’re not always smashing into things on the way down.”
There were plenty of kids on the hill when the boys arrived. Julianna was zipping down on a red sled. Chris and Alex were right behind her. Max and Mike were busy dragging Louie up the hill on a shiny metal disk that must have been a Christmas present. Sage was busy making snow angels.
