The Twelve Burps of Christmas

by Nancy Krulik

  “You mind if I go first?” Kevin asked.

  “Go ahead,” George said.

  “I’ll bring your sled right back so you can have a turn,” Kevin told him.

  As Kevin started whizzing down the hill, Alex came trudging up, pulling his sled. “Have you tried eating marshmallows yet?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” George said. “They didn’t exactly work. I’m beginning to think there is no cure for a super burp.”

  “There’s a cure for everything,” Alex told him. “Sometimes scientists take decades, even centuries, to find cures. But they find them eventually.”

  George frowned. Decades? Centuries? Eventually?

  “I need help now, Alex,” George said. He stopped speaking for a moment. “Actually, I need help right now!” Because at just that moment, something was brewing in the bottom of George’s belly. Something bing-bongy and ping-pongy.

  Couldn’t the burp give George even one afternoon off?

  Bing-bong! Ping-pong! Apparently not.

  Alex looked at George. “Oh, dude, not again!” he said.

  George nodded. But this time the burp wasn’t going to escape. George was going to get that burp to go in reverse! He dropped to his knees and began to roll down the hill. First his head was up. Then his feet. Then his head. The burp was getting more and more confused. It didn’t know which end was up.

  George rolled faster and faster through the cold snow. Feet. Head. Feet. Head. Up. Down. Up . . .

  Whoosh! Suddenly, George felt all the air rush out of him. It was like someone popped a balloon in the bottom of his belly. Hooray!

  George stood and raised his fist in the air. Victory! Cold, wet snow was in his hair, on his face, under his collar, and all over his coat and pants. Even his tighty whities were cold and wet. But it was worth it.

  “Look, Daddy!” a little boy shouted, pointing to George. “It’s Frosty.” He began to sing. “Frosty the Snowman was a jolly, happy soul . . .”

  George was jolly and happy, all right. He’d just squelched a belch!

  For the rest of the afternoon, until the sky began to grow dark, George and his friends kept on sledding. He had snow in his underpants, up his nose, and even between his toes. But that was okay with George. Cold and wet was how a normal, burp-free ten-year-old was supposed to be.

  George set his sled up for one last run. “Look out below!” he shouted. “HERE I COME!”

  That night as the boys got ready for bed, Kevin jumped around George’s room, punching at the air and screaming “KEEYAH!” over and over again. Kevin was in his karate uniform. He kicked his leg up high in the air. “Oh yeah! I’m ready for tomorrow!”

  That makes one of us, George thought to himself. Here it was Tuesday night, and he still hadn’t figured out a way to cheer Kevin on at tomorrow’s karate tournament and go to the Schminess show with Alex. He couldn’t choose between his two best friends. No matter which one he chose, someone was going to be hurt.

  “KEEYAH!” Kevin shouted again for the one hundred and first time. “Wait until you see me break a board in two with my foot.”

  George wished Kevin could break him in two. Then George could be in both places at the same time.

  Suddenly, George opened his eyes wide. He had an idea. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He ran downstairs for the newspaper. There were announcement ads with the addresses for both the Schminess show and the tournament.

  “Are these places near each other?” George asked his dad.

  “Right down the block from each other.”

  That was the answer George wanted to hear. Maybe there was a way he could be in two places at the same time. Or almost the same time. And if he did it just right, neither Kevin nor Alex would ever have to know.

  “KEEYAH!”

  Kevin’s shout filled the martial arts center. He gave a kick and—crack!—broke the board in two.

  George leaped up in his seat and started cheering loudly so Kevin could hear him. Kevin bowed to the karate master, took the two pieces of wood in his hands, and went to sit on the sideline with the other contestants.

  Now Kevin’s back was to the audience. That was George’s cue! He jumped out of his seat, threw on his coat, and headed for the door.

  The hall where the Schminess exhibit was being held was right down the block. Quickly, George ran outside and headed for the other end of the street.

  George didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Alex was waiting.

  “Dude, you’re late,” Alex said when George met up with him a few minutes later.

  “Sorry.” George huffed and puffed as he caught his breath. “I lost track of time.” There. That wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “At least you’re here now,” Alex said. “Where’s Kevin?”

  “He . . . uh . . . couldn’t come.” That isn’t exactly a lie, either, George thought.

  Alex didn’t seem disappointed about not seeing Kevin. “My ABC gum ball’s in a garbage bag,” Alex told George. “It’s way too big to carry in my backpack now.”

  “Impressive!” George exclaimed.

  “So you want to check out the competition? The record-holding gum ball is down that aisle,” Alex said, pointing. “Or we could start at the guy with the beard that reaches the floor. Or maybe . . .”

  There was no way George could visit a lot of exhibits and get back in time to watch Kevin spar against another green belt. But of course he didn’t tell Alex that. Instead he said, “Why don’t we go talk to the Schminess guys before there’s a big line?”

  “I don’t know . . . I’m kind of nervous,” Alex admitted.

  “We’re going together,” George told him. “I’ve got your back. You’ll be cool.”

  “If you say so.” Alex didn’t sound very sure.

  “I say so,” George insisted. He looked at his watch. “Come on. Let’s hurry.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Alex was still talking about his gum ball to the Schminess guys. And talking. And talking. Alex didn’t act like a kid who was nervous at all.

  But George was nervous that he would miss Kevin’s next event if he didn’t leave soon. He really had to go.

  Go! That was it!

  “Um, excuse me, Alex,” George interrupted. “I have to go.”

  “Go?” Alex asked him. “Where?”

  The guy from Schminess said, “I think your friend’s telling you he has to go to the men’s room.”

  “Oh,” Alex said. “You need me to go with you?”

  Alex thought George was about to burp! But that wasn’t it at all.

  “Nah, you keep talking,” George told him. “I’ll meet you at the world’s smallest man.”

  “Okay,” Alex said. “Give me a few minutes.”

  George smiled as he raced off. He hadn’t lied to his best friend. He’d just said he had to go. Which he did. Alex didn’t suspect a thing. The plan was working perfectly.

  George was out of breath and sweating when he got back to the martial arts center. But it was so cold outside that the sweat on his face was starting to freeze. Instead of icicles, he had sweatsicles. Yuck!

  Kevin was already in the middle of the floor, fighting against another boy. He turned and gave his opponent a roundhouse kick.

  “Point,” the judge said, gesturing toward Kevin.

  Kevin’s opponent let out a strong forward kick, which landed in the middle of Kevin’s chest protector.

  “Point.” The judge was now gesturing toward the other boy.

  Then Kevin let loose a series of sharp kicks and punches.

  “Point,” the judge said, gesturing toward Kevin. “And winner!”

  George let out a cheer. He made it extra loud so he could be sure Kevin knew he was there. Then George headed for the door.

  The wind was bl
owing really hard as George raced to the Schminess show. His eyes were tearing from the cold. Sweatsicles were forming on his face. But George kept running as fast as his feet could carry him. Nothing was going to get in the way of his getting to the Schminess exhibit.

  Nothing except Alex, that is.

  “Wait up!” Alex shouted as he spotted George running down the street. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Why did you leave?” Alex asked. He sounded mad.

  “Me?” George asked. “I . . . uh . . . well . . . I was out here looking for you.” Okay, that one was a lie. But what could he say?

  “Why would you look out here?” Alex demanded. “We said we would meet by the world’s smallest man, which is where I was standing for a really, really long time.”

  “Well, you see, the thing is . . .” George started, not sure what to say.

  “There you are!”

  Both George and Alex turned around just in time to see Kevin coming down the street.

  Uh-oh . . . again.

  “What are you doing out here?” Kevin asked. “You missed seeing me win my division in the sparring contest.”

  “No. I saw you fighting . . . ,” George began.

  “What? George has been with me at the Schminess Book of World Records exhibit!” Alex told Kevin.

  Kevin said, “No, he wasn’t. George was at the karate tournament with me.”

  Both boys looked at George. “Weren’t you?” they asked at the exact same time.

  George was trapped. “I was at the tournament,” he told Kevin. “And at the Schminess show,” he told Alex.

  “That’s scientifically impossible,” Alex said. “You can’t be in two places at the same time.”

  “Right,” George said. “But I was with you when you met with the Schminess people.” He turned to Kevin. “And I saw you break your board and spar.”

  “But you’re here now,” Kevin said. “And they’re giving out the trophies in, like, fifteen minutes. Some best friend you are.”

  “I can go back and see you get your trophies . . . ,” George began.

  “I thought you were going back to the Schminess exhibits!” Alex said. “You should be with me. Especially after all I’ve been doing to help you cure your you-know-what!”

  “What you-know-what?” Kevin demanded. “How come he knows about your you-know-what and I don’t even know what the you-know-what is?”

  “Because the you-know-what started in Beaver Brook, and you don’t live here,” Alex said. “George and I have a lot of secrets you don’t know about.”

  “Not as many secrets as George and I have,” Kevin said.

  George was beginning to feel like the rope in the middle of his best friends’ tug-of-war. “Stop it, guys! I’m friends with both of you!”

  “So are you going to tell me what the you-know-what is or not?” Kevin demanded.

  George gulped. What was he supposed to do now? If he didn’t tell Kevin, Kevin would probably never talk to him again. But if he did tell him, he might think George was crazy. A magical super burp sounded kind of nuts, unless you were the kid who was burping it.

  “Well, the thing is, Kev,” he began, “ever since I came to Beaver Brook, I’ve been having this problem . . .”

  “Happy New Year!” George shouted as he and Kevin greeted Alex at the door on New Year’s Eve. He blew into his noisemaker. Toot!

  “Hi, guys,” Alex said.

  “Here’s a noisemaker for you,” Kevin said. “It’s NBB.”

  “NBB?” Alex asked him.

  “Never been blown,” Kevin said.

  Alex laughed. “Good one, dude.”

  George grinned. He was really glad his two best buds were finally getting along. After he’d explained what was going on, Alex and George had gone to the karate tournament to see Kevin get his trophies. And then all three of them had gone back to the Schminess exhibit. After spending the whole afternoon together, Alex and Kevin had even teamed up to try to find a cure for the super burp.

  George tooted his horn and then led Alex and Kevin into the living room. The guys made their way past the cheese balls, around the cut-up vegetables, behind the cookies, and over to the corner of the room where they could talk without any of the adults hearing.

  “I’ve had George blowing into his noisemaker since this morning,” Kevin told Alex. “I figure if the air is going out of his body, it can’t all bubble up inside of him.”

  George blew into the noisemaker. Toot.

  “George, that’s enough,” his mom called to him from the other side of the room. “You’re making everyone crazy with that thing.”

  “They’d go crazier if the super burp came out,” George told his friends.

  “That’s for sure,” Alex agreed. “Kevin’s idea about blowing air out is good.”

  Kevin smiled proudly.

  “And I have another idea,” Alex continued. He pulled a paper with a graph on it out of his pocket. “I’ve been keeping track of your burps the past few weeks. This green bar is the burp that almost came out on Jumping Mouse Lane. Remember?”

  George nodded. “I remember every burp. Even the ones that don’t make it out.”

  “Well, you did somersaults that day,” Alex said. “And that stopped the burp. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because all the rolling flattened the bubbles.”

  “Kind of how we used a rolling pin to flatten the dough for the cookies we made this morning,” Kevin suggested. He turned to George. “Blow.”

  George blew into his noisemaker. Toot!

  “George! I told you to cut that out,” his mother shouted across the room.

  Alex folded the chart and put it in his pocket. “Try the somersault thing,” he said.

  George got down on the floor and did a forward roll—right into the leg of his mom’s friend Mrs. Gottelheimer.

  “Ouch!” Mrs. Gottelheimer said. “George, what are you doing?”

  “Um . . . a somersault?” George said.

  “Why?”

  George didn’t answer. Instead, he blew into his noisemaker. Toot.

  Mrs. Gottelheimer shook her head and walked away.

  “Feel any burps coming on?” Alex asked George.

  George shook his head. “I’m bubble-free.”

  “Great!” Alex said. “By my scientific calculations, if you keep somersaulting—”

  “And blowing,” Kevin interrupted.

  “Right, and blowing,” Alex agreed, “you will make it through New Year’s Eve without a you-know-what.”

  That sounded great to George. He blew into his noisemaker. Toot. Then he did a double somersault. Flip. Flip.

  “I’m hungry,” Kevin said. “Where are those pigs in a blanket?”

  “They’re in the kitchen,” George said. He somersaulted his way to the kitchen, stopping every now and then to give his noisemaker a toot.

  Toot. Toot. Flip. Flip. Toot. Toot. Flip. Flip.

  “Ouch!” That came from George’s dad. George had just rolled right onto his foot.

  “Sorry,” George apologized.

  Two burp-free hours later, George’s mother called out from the living room, “Only ten minutes until the ball drops in Times Square. I’m turning on the TV.”

  “I want to see this!” Kevin shouted. “I’ve never been allowed to stay up until midnight before.”

  “Me neither,” Alex said.

  George’s two best friends walked toward the living room. George followed them, but it was hard to keep up. He couldn’t roll as fast as they could walk.

  Toot! Flip. Toot! Flip. To—

  Suddenly George stopped tooting. He stopped rolling. He had to. There were too many bubbles in his belly for him to even mo
ve. Already they had ping-ponged their way up to his chest and bing-bonged their way into his mouth and . . .

  It was the last burp of the year. And it was a whopper!

  George’s feet sprang into action, running through the house and heading for the hall closet.

  “Whoa! George, slow down,” his dad said as George passed him in the hall. “We still have a few minutes until New Year’s.”

  But burps can’t tell time. They only know now! And right now, the super burp was making George’s hands grab a basketball from the closet. Then he popped out of the closet and started dribbling down the hall.

  Bounce! Bounce! Bounce!

  “George! There’s no ball-playing in the house!” his mother warned.

  But George’s ears weren’t listening.

  Bounce! Bounce! Bounce! George’s hands kept dribbling. His feet ran upstairs.

  “It’s time for the ball drop!” George’s mouth shouted from the top of the stairs.

  Everyone at the party looked up.

  “What’s George doing?” Mrs. Gottelheimer wondered out loud.

  “Look out below!” George’s mouth shouted as his hands tossed the ball down toward the crowd below.

  Immediately, George’s pals leaped into action. Kevin caught the ball in midair. Alex raced up the stairs and pushed George into his room before he could cause any more trouble. Then Kevin burst into the room and shut the door behind them.

  Whoosh! Suddenly, George felt something pop in the bottom of his belly. All the air rushed out of him. The super burp was gone.

  “You’re just lucky Alex and I were here to stop you from doing anything worse,” Kevin told him.

  That was true. George was lucky to have two amazing best friends. With Alex and Kevin helping him, maybe this would be the Year of the Cure.