Attack of the Mutant Underwear

by Tom Birdseye

  Until Libby hisses right in your ear, “Spotlights, numskull!” And you jump and flip the wrong switch and the stage goes black.

  Amy shrieks and you hear three juggling balls hit the floor. Libby screams at you to “Do something!” So you do. You begin throwing every switch you can get your fingers on. Finally, you know you’ve found the main switch, because every light on the stage flares up in a blinding flash. There is a sizzling sound in the lighting panel, and the whole auditorium goes black. Cool! Now you’ve really done it. You’ve blown a fuse!

  STEP 12. People start to panic. Shouts fill the air. All you can see out there is the red glow of the exit light over the auditorium doors, and you remember that there is a light switch nearby. Maybe it’s on a different circuit. You’ve done a great job of creating a really good disaster, but there could be one last thing you can do to make it even better!

  “Don’t worry!” you shout. (Which is very funny coming from you.) You jump off the stage and stumble to the exit door, grabbing blindly for the light switch, forgetting that there is a fire alarm right beside it.

  Yep, a fire alarm. When all else fails, pull that for a really good disaster. Just ask me. I’m an expert.

  Friday, March 9

  This morning it felt like spring for the first time, so I decided to ride my bike to school. It was great. The sky was clear blue, not a cloud in sight. The air smelled fresh, and the sun beat warm on my back, and—

  Okay, okay, the real reason I rode my bike was because I was seriously thinking about skipping school. Maybe even skipping town, after the disaster last night. I rode along completely ignoring the blue skies and smells of spring. All I could think about was getting away and starting a New Life in a New Me place. But where? Australia would work. Nobody would know me.

  Anyway, I was so caught up in planning my great escape, I didn’t see Zach and the sixth-grade boys standing with their bikes at the corner of Cedar and Twenty-third Street until I’d about run into them. I braked hard. “Hi, guys,” I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. Yep, Australia, I thought. ASAP.

  Zach looked over his shoulder at me and nodded, but quickly turned back to the sixth graders. He was right in the middle of telling them something. “You won’t believe what my brother did to me last night,” he said.

  Whit, the biggest of the sixth graders, said, “If you’re talking about Travis, I’d guess he gave you another wedgie, right?”

  Zach glared. “Yep. Jerked my underwear up so high I could have used it for a T-shirt.”

  At the word “underwear” I flinched so bad I almost fell off my bike. To me, it’s like someone yelling, “Shark!” at the beach. None of the guys noticed, though. Zach was too much into his story. “I got Travis back this time, though,” he said with a big grin. “And the best part is that I didn’t have to lift a finger to do it. Mom did it for me. Came right up behind him and gave him a wedgie! She told him, ‘There, now you know how it feels.’ I couldn’t believe it. It was great!”

  Whit and Nate and Deshawn and Theo all laughed. I did, too. “That’s so awesome!” I said, louder than I meant to.

  All the boys stopped laughing and looked at me. There was a long moment of silence, then Whit said, “Hey, aren’t you Cody, the kid who pulled the fire alarm at the talent show?”

  “Uh … well …” I started backing my bicycle away from the curb.

  “My third-grade sister was in the choir,” Whit said, walking toward me. “She said you ruined the whole thing.”

  I kicked my bike pedal around and put my foot on it. My heart was pounding as I looked around for the best escape route. Australia, now!

  “Cool,” Whit said.

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  He grinned. “Very cool!” And all of a sudden Whit and Nate and Deshawn and Theo were gathered around, giving me high fives, and telling me what a great prank I’d pulled off, and how I had “potential.”

  Finally, the sixth graders headed off for middle school, but Zach let me ride with him to Garfield. We made a game out of trying to spit in the little holes in the manhole covers. Then in the distance I heard the bell ring and started to pedal faster.

  But Zach said, “Cool, we’re late.”

  So I said, “Yeah, cool,” and slowed down again. I was tardy and had to go to the office, and got into Old Me double trouble. But you know what? For the first time in my life, I didn’t care. It felt … well, it felt good!

  Saturday, March 10

  Mom got kitty litter at the grocery today. Since it’s my turn again to clean out the box, I had to completely empty it, scrub it—disgusting!—and put in the new litter. In the meantime, Emma decided it would be fun to pee under the dining room table.

  Mom said, “She’s still upset from the Kitty Whiz.”

  “Yeah,” Dad said, “probably Kitty Whiz posttraumatic stress syndrome.” He laughed like that was supposed to be really funny. I have no idea what he was talking about. But I do know what it all boiled down to: guess who had to clean up the pee in the dining room, too?

  Yours truly.

  Who has truly had it with that cat!

  One more time and I’m putting her up for adoption!

  Tuesday, March 13

  During science Ms. B said that with a long-enough lever and a pivot to set it on, you can move just about anything, even planet Earth!

  Zach said, “Cool! I’m gonna give it a try!”

  Libby said, “Where would you move it, Mr. Smart Guy?”

  Zach said, “What difference does it make?”

  Libby said, “A lot. I live here.”

  Zach said, “Oh, so maybe I should put a lever under you!”

  Later, Ralphster got out again. Emerson found him this time, so he got a thank-you note from Amy. He was grinning from ear to ear, like it was some kind of big deal. He’s clueless.

  Thursday, March 15

  Made farting sounds under my arm today in PE. Emerson said, “Peeuw!” Amy rolled her eyes. But Zach laughed! I had to sit against the gym wall for ten minutes of time-out, but it was worth it.

  Friday, March 16

  MC and Jordy practiced for St. Patrick’s Day, which is tomorrow, by sticking green ribbons up their noses and swinging them back and forth as they marched around the living room.

  Mom did not think this was funny.

  Jordy went home early.

  Saturday, March 17

  St. Patrick’s Day. Not one nostril ribbon in sight. MC actually cleaned out the litter box, but it’s my turn again come Monday. Which I don’t want to do!

  So I got back on the Internet and typed in “cats” and “litter box” again. I surfed around in some different places, and up popped the answer to my dreams: the Littermaid Self-cleaning Deluxe Litter Box! It said, “Never touch, toss, turn, scoop, or clean your cat’s litter box again!” Plug it in and an electric eye senses when your cat has used the box. Ten minutes later a rake moves forward, scooping the clumps into a “sealed, airtight container.” When the container is full, you just throw it away!

  All of which sounded too good to be true … until I saw the price: $144.95. Ouch!

  Sunday, March 18

  Printed out the info on the Littermaid Self-cleaning Deluxe and showed it to Mom and Dad. Dad said, “Sorry, bud. Way too expensive.” Mom said, “Not a chance.”

  “How about as a birthday present?” I said. (My birthday is pretty soon.)

  “No, Cody.”

  “You wouldn’t have to get me anything else, or anything for next Christmas, either.”

  “No, Cody.”

  “Plus I’d throw in all the money in my sock drawer, too—twenty-three dollars and fifty-five cents!” (I was desperate.)

  “No, Cody.”

  “Pleeeease!”

  “No, Cody.”

  “Don’t you know anything else to say besides ‘No, Cody’?”

  “No, Cody.”

  Monday, March 19

  Tyler’s name got drawn out of Ms. B’s hat, so he gets to
take Ralphster home for spring break. Amy looked disappointed. What does she think, it’s her hamster?

  Tuesday, March 20

  I was worried about not having my homework done for science today until Zach said, “Just act like you’ve got it done.” Then he gave a great demonstration. It’s pretty easy, actually. All you have to do is keep your eyes to the front of the class, like you’re paying attention. Nod your head every now and then. Raise your hand a few times, too, like you want to give the answer. But don’t raise it first, only after you see Ms. B is going to call on someone else. Besides that, look confident and smile.

  I tried it. It works!

  Friday, March 23

  Last day of school before spring break. Tyler hit a foul ball at recess that landed on the flat part of the cafeteria roof. Nobody knew what to do about it, until I noticed that the big tree by the cafeteria had a limb that had grown out over the building.

  So I climbed up the tree and got the ball. As I was about to climb back onto the limb, Zach said, “Bet you won’t jump off into the Dumpster.”

  I looked down. It didn’t seem that far. And besides, the Dumpster was almost full. The trash would cushion my landing. I said, “How much?”

  Zach said, “A buck.”

  After our beloved principal, Mrs. Mead, helped pull me out of the Dumpster and sent me to the bathroom to get cleaned up—lots of leftover spaghetti in that Dumpster, as it turns out—she called Ms. B into the office. Ms. B couldn’t believe it when she heard what I’d done. “What has gotten into you lately?” she demanded.

  It was a very Old Me moment, until I went back out in the hall. Kids I didn’t even know came up to me and said it was the most superstar Dumpster plunge they’d ever seen. I was famous! Plus a dollar richer!

  Saturday, March 24

  Spring break. So far, so boring.

  Later, Saturday, March 24

  Ran into Tyler and Zach at the park. We talked for a while, then they had to go to Tyler’s house. Still, it was cool.

  Sunday, March 25

  Saw Tyler and Zach at RJ’s restaurant. They were playing the new video game Doom Tomb. Like Zach said, it was “over the top!”

  Spring break—so far, so good.

  Monday, March 26

  MC came running into my room—without knocking, of course—and said, “Amy and Libby just rode by on their bikes!”

  I went and looked, but they were already gone. MC giggled, so I had to set her straight and say, “Like I care?”

  Which is the truth.

  Almost told Zach and Tyler about my birthday (it’s this coming Sunday) but chickened out. They’ve probably got plans anyway. And besides, Mom and Dad haven’t even asked what I want for a present, much less if I’d like to have a party.

  Tuesday, March 27

  Mom and Dad announced at breakfast that we are going to the beach. “A surprise vacation,” Dad said. “We were both able to get a few days off work.”

  I said, “I don’t want to go.”

  Which actually surprised me as much as it surprised Mom and Dad and MC. I love the beach. But when I thought about it, I figured that my mouth was just ahead of my brain, that’s all. It already knew that I’d rather stay home and hang out with Tyler and Zach, and maybe even the sixth graders, than go anywhere with my family.

  We leave tomorrow.

  Friday, March 30

  Got sick of MC bugging me at the beach and yelled at her to take a long walk off a short pier.

  Mom said, “Watch it, Cody. You’re headed for trouble.”

  We finally got back home and found the kitty litter box full to the brim. MC laughed and said, “It’s your turn, na, na-na, na-na!” And I sort of … well, I guess you could say I really lost my temper and threw a scoopful of cat turds at her.

  So now I’m grounded for the rest of spring break, which includes my birthday.

  Sunday, April 1

  Okay, here’s a riddle for you. Picture this: I’d been grounded in my room all day, on my birthday (which seemed about as mean as parents could get). So when Mom called me to come down for dinner, I wasn’t in the best of moods. I walked into the dining room, and there was MC piling a mountain of brown sugar on top of … a waffle.

  “Waffles?” I said. “For dinner?” I love waffles. They’re up there with chocolate chip cookies and pizza on my favorite foods list.

  “It’s not a waffle,” MC explained, “it’s a volcano.” She poked her thumb into the summit of Mount Sugar, then poured syrup into the crater. “Look, it’s erupting!” she said as the syrup oozed down the side.

  Of course I ignored her, because she’s my little sister, but, more important, because at that very moment Mom was putting two fresh waffles on a plate for me.

  “Waffles?” I said again. “For dinner?”

  Mom smiled and said, “It’s your birthday. We thought you’d enjoy a special treat, especially after being grounded. Would you like whipped cream on them?”

  “Whipped cream?” I said as she spooned on a mound. “For dinner?”

  “How about some strawberries, too?” Dad said. He plopped a big spoonful into the whipped cream.

  “And of course maple syrup!” Mom said as she poured a river of the lovely stuff over everything.

  I stared, bug-eyed. They’d turned my regular old waffle (which I really like) into a Belgian waffle (which I really, REALLY like). And for dinner! This ranked above chocolate chip cookies and pizza on my favorite foods list!

  “Oh, and then there’s this,” Dad said, and laid a hundred-dollar bill in front of me. Yep, one hundred dollars, as in more money than I’d ever had in my entire life. Wow!

  Then he added a hundred dollars more.

  “Happy birthday, Cody!” Mom and Dad both said, and gave me a double hug.

  So the riddle is this: What’s wrong with this picture? Yes, what’s wrong with it?

  Any ideas?

  C’mon, think, think, think!

  Okay then, I’ll tell you. What’s wrong with the picture is that the waffle was made of Styrofoam. And the “whipped cream” was actually shaving cream. And those strawberries Dad was so generous with were made of plastic. And that maple syrup was motor oil. And those one-hundred-dollar bills were fake!

  “April fool!” my family shouted.

  They’d gotten me again. It’s the curse of being born on April first.

  “Not bad,” I admitted, “but no more tricks, okay?”

  “No more,” everybody said, “we promise.”

  Right. I could see them crossing their fingers behind their backs. So it didn’t surprise me that after our dinner of real waffles, with real whipped cream and strawberries and syrup, Mom brought out cooked cauliflower (my least favorite food ever), then teased me that I had to eat it before I could have any of my birthday cake.

  When they finally brought the cake to the table, I was ready for anything: more shaving cream, plastic sherbert on the side. Well, almost anything, except a birthday cake made to look like a kitty litter box.

  That’s right, a kitty litter box, complete with crumbled white cookies to look like the litter, and Tootsie Rolls to look like … well, you get the idea. The joking and pranks went on and on and on. I finally gave up and got into it. Funny thing, as soon as I did, I felt better, and better, until I felt great. We had a grape fight at the dinner table, catapulting them with spoons. (MC started it.) Outside MC and I glued a quarter to the sidewalk, then hid in the bushes and watched people try to pick it up. (Our own little April Fools’ trick.)

  But the best part was the present from Mom and Dad and my grandpa Irving in Kentucky—a Littermaid Self-cleaning Deluxe Kitty Litter Box! Just like on the Internet. They’d gone in together to give it to me. “In the interest of world peace,” Dad said.

  So anyway, a day that started out looking uglier than ugly turned into a ten!

  Monday, April 2

  Amy asked Tyler twenty thousand questions about Ralphster’s spring break, then kissed him (Ralphster
, not Tyler) on top of the head. Zach said, “Blggh!”

  I agree.

  Tuesday, April 3

  To celebrate being back from spring break, Jordy stuck peas up his nose at lunch and blew them into his mashed potatoes.

  MC thought this was very funny, until Jordy sucked in by accident and the pea got stuck way back in his nose. He panicked and started digging in there with his little finger, then hacking and making gagging sounds. I thought someone was going to have to do that first aid thing, the Hemlock method or whatever it’s called. But all of a sudden Jordy coughed really loud and got this big smile on his face. He opened his mouth. There was the pea on his tongue.

  MC clapped and clapped like this was the work of a comic genius. Nope. Just the work of a bozo.

  Sunday, April 8

  Flipped back to page one of this journal and read what I’d written in September, all that stuff about me becoming a superstar and all that.

  Ha! Who did I think I was kidding? Myself, I guess.

  No more, though. That kind of talk is for silly kid dreamers. Good thing I’ve grown up, and am writing like a REAL New Me.

  Title idea: The REAL New Me Journal of Cody Lee Carson.

  Thursday, April 12

  Zach picked me to be on his and Tyler’s soccer team during recess. “Cody’s fast,” Zach said. Which was cool.

  Emerson wanted to be on our team, too, but Zach said, “No, you’ll just get in the way.” Which was right.

  Still, it felt weird to see Emerson go slouching away.

  Friday, April 13