by Dan Gutman
Dedication
To Miriam Chester
Contents
Dedication
1. The Coolest Sport Ever
2. The Secret Grand Prize
3. The Talented Mrs. Lane
4. No Talking, Please
5. Next!
6. Fantastic News!
7. Who Needs TV?
8. The World around Me
9. The Big Night
10. Awesome-nificent
11. Murder at the Talent Show
12. The Big Surprise Ending
About the Author and Illustrator
Credits
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
My name is A.J. and I hate getting hit by water balloons.
Do you and your friends ever have water balloon jousts? Water balloon jousting is the coolest sport ever. Especially when you joust on bikes.
One time we were having a water balloon joust on the grassy field next to our school. My friend Alexia and I were the knights. We got on our bikes at opposite ends of the field. Our friends Ryan and Michael were the squires. Squires are people who help the knights. Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes, was the judge. He put a line of orange cones on the grass so Alexia and I wouldn’t crash into each other.
I put on my bike helmet. Alexia put on her helmet.
“Hand me my water balloon, squire,” I told Michael.
“Yes, my liege.”*
Michael handed me a big red water balloon. Ryan handed Alexia a blue water balloon at the other end of the field.
“Are the knights ready?” shouted Neil.
“Ready!” I shouted.
“Ready!” Alexia shouted.
“On your mark . . . ,” yelled Neil. “Get set! Joust!”
Kids, please don’t try this at home. We’re professionals.
Alexia and I started pedaling toward each other. It’s not easy to pedal a bike on the grass while you’re holding a water balloon in one hand.
We were getting closer to each other.
I held up my water balloon, ready to let it fly.
Alexia and I were twenty feet away from each other.
“Nail him, Alexia!” shouted Ryan.
“You can do it, A.J.!” shouted Michael.
Alexia and I were ten feet away from each other.
It’s really hard to hit somebody with a water balloon from a moving bike. You have to throw it at the exact perfect moment.
Alexia and I were five feet away from each other. It was time.
“EEEEE-YAH!” I hollered.
Just as I was about to let go of my water balloon, Alexia heaved her balloon. It exploded all over me. I was soaked. My water balloon sailed wide, missing Alexia entirely.
“Bam!” Alexia hollered as she rode by. “In your face, A.J.!”
“Alexia is the winner!” shouted Neil.
After that we switched places so Michael and Ryan would be the knights and Alexia and I would be their squires.
It was a blast! I got nailed three or four times, but I hit Alexia a few times, too. Everybody was drenched and falling-down laughing. We kept jousting until we ran out of water balloons.
That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. I noticed that somebody was hiding behind the bushes nearby.
Well, that’s not the amazing part, because people hide behind bushes all the time. The amazing part was who was hiding behind the bushes.
I figured the person watching us was Andrea Young, this annoying girl in my class with curly brown hair. But it wasn’t Andrea. You’ll never believe in a million hundred years who was spying on us.
It was Mr. Klutz, our school principal!
He has no hair at all. I mean none. He must save a lot of money on shampoo and combs. I wonder if he uses a hair dryer to dry his head.
“Uh-oh!” I said. “It’s Mr. Klutz!”
“We’re in trouble now,” said Ryan.
Mr. Klutz came over to us. It was too late to run away. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.
“We’re sorry, Mr. Klutz,” I said. “We won’t do it again.”
“Please don’t tell our parents we were jousting with water balloons,” begged Neil the nude kid.
“Don’t be silly!” said Mr. Klutz with a big smile on his face. “I really enjoyed watching you. In fact, you kids have given me a great idea.”
“We have?” said Alexia.
“What’s the great idea?” asked Michael.
“I’m not going to tell you,” said Mr. Klutz.
“Please? Please? Please? Please?” we all begged.
Usually, if you say “please” over and over again, grown-ups will get sick of hearing it and give you what you want. That’s the first rule of being a kid.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you my great idea,” said Mr. Klutz.
“Yay!”
“I’ll tell you my great idea . . . at the assembly tomorrow.”
“Boo!”
The next morning our class had to walk a million hundred miles to the all-purpose room for the assembly. Andrea was the line leader. Her crybaby friend Emily was the door holder.
I don’t know why they call it an assembly because we don’t put anything together. If you ask me, they should make assemblies and toys the same way: no assembly required.
I sat next to Ryan and Michael. Everybody was gabbing, like always. Even the teachers. When Mr. Klutz climbed up onstage, he made a peace sign with his fingers, which means “shut up.”
“Good morning,” Mr. Klutz said. “I was watching some of our students playing on the field after school yesterday, and it gave me a great idea.”
“Maybe he’s going to give us an award or something,” I whispered to Ryan.
“That would be cool,” he replied.
“I realized how talented you students are here at Ella Mentry School,” said Mr. Klutz, “so I’ve decided that we’re going to have a talent show! We’re going to call it Ella Mentry School’s Got Talent!”
WHAT?!
“Yay!” said all the girls.
“Boo!” said all the boys.
“Talent shows are for girls!” I shouted.
“Yeah,” agreed all the boys.
“I’m not going to be in some dumb talent show,” said Ryan.
“Me neither,” said Michael.
“Oh, I should mention one thing,” said Mr. Klutz. “The winner of the talent show will get a secret grand prize. So if none of the boys will be participating, I guess a girl will win the secret grand prize.”
Secret grand prize? I love secret grand prizes!
“Where do I sign up?” I shouted.
“You can sign up right here in the all-purpose room after school today,” said Mr. Klutz. “But right now I want to introduce the woman who is going to be in charge of our talent show. She’s a real professional talent coach, and her name is . . . Mrs. Penny Lane!”
At that moment, the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. A lady came out on the stage.
Well, that’s not the weird part, because ladies come out on the stage all the time. The weird part was that she came out on the stage riding a unicycle. Not only was she riding a unicycle, but at the same time she was juggling three goldfish bowls, with real live goldfish in them! And not only was she riding a unicycle and juggling three goldfish bowls, but she was also whistling “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”
“WOW!” everybody said, which is “MOM” upside down.
It was totally amazing! Mrs. Lane is really talented!
Mr. Klutz told us to give Mrs. Lane a round of applause, so we all clapped our hands in circles.
“How
dy, y’all!” said Mrs. Lane as she took a deep bow.
She must be from Texas. People in Texas say “y’all” all the time. Nobody knows why.
“Mrs. Lane is the perfect person to run our talent show,” Mr. Klutz told us. “As you can see, she’s very talented herself. In fact, you may have seen her on TV.”
Everybody got all excited, because anybody who’s on TV must be really famous. Mr. Klutz asked Mrs. Lane to tell us some of the TV shows she’d been on.
“Well,” she said, “I was a contestant on America’s Not Stupid, Are You Smarter Than a Turnip?, America’s Next Top Garbage Collector, Keeping Up with the Librarians, Who Wants to Win a Million Pizzas, Pancake Wars, Wheel of Misfortune, and Undercover Mother.”
“WOW,” everybody said again.
“Mrs. Lane is a real celebrity!” said Andrea. “She’s famous.”
Mr. Klutz asked Mrs. Lane if she had any other talents. She got off the unicycle and did a handstand while singing “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”
“WOW,” everybody said again.
We gave her another round of applause. Mrs. Lane was all out of breath.
“That was amazing!” said Mr. Klutz. “You are multitalented, Mrs. Lane.”
Multitalented means “many talents.” I knew that because every morning my mom gives me a multivitamin. It has ten different vitamins in it. How do they jam all those vitamins into one pill? Nobody knows.
“I’m so excited to be in charge of Ella Mentry School’s Got Talent,” said Mrs. Lane. “This is going to be so much fun! Your brothers and sisters will be there. Your parents will be there. You might even get in the newspaper.”
“Does anybody have any questions for Mrs. Lane?” asked Mr. Klutz.
Ryan raised his hand.
“Do armpit farts count as a talent?” he asked.
“What’s an armpit fart?” asked Mrs. Lane.
All the boys started making armpit farts. With hundreds of us doing it at the same time, it sounded like an orchestra. Except with armpits instead of musical instruments.*
“Yes, I suppose that would qualify as a talent,” said Mrs. Lane.
“How about regular farts?” I asked.
“No,” said Mr. Klutz firmly. “Regular farts do not qualify as a talent.”
“That’s not fair!” somebody shouted.
“Yeah, if armpit farts are a talent, then real farts should be a talent, too,” said Neil the nude kid.
“That’s discrimination against certain kinds of farts!” said Alexia. “And we were taught that discrimination is wrong.”
“Yeah!”
Everybody started talking about farting and discrimination until Mr. Klutz made the shut-up peace sign again.
“Are there any questions that don’t concern farting?” he asked.
Emily raised her hand.
“What if somebody doesn’t have a talent?” she asked. “Does that mean they can’t be in the talent show?”
Mrs. Lane came down off the stage and went over to Emily.
“Everybody has talent, sweetie,” she said. “I’m sure y’all can do something that most other people can’t do. For instance, maybe y’all can play the spoons.”
Mrs. Lane pulled two spoons out of her pocket and started hitting them against her legs in rhythm. It was cool.
“I can’t do that,” said Emily.
“Well, maybe y’all can yodel,” said Mrs. Lane.
Mrs. Lane started yodeling. It was cool.
“I can’t do that either,” said Emily.
“Or maybe y’all can turn your eyelids inside out,” Mrs. Lane said. And then she turned her eyelids inside out.
Ewww, gross! I thought I was gonna throw up.
“I can’t do that either,” said Emily.
“I bet y’all are talented at something,” Mrs. Lane told Emily. “Y’all just have to find out what it is.”*
With that she picked a hula hoop up from the stage and started hula hooping while reciting the Gettysburg Address in a Donald Duck voice.
Mrs. Lane is weird.
We walked a million hundred miles back to our classroom with our teacher, Mr. Granite. Neil was the line leader. Michael was the door holder.
“This is so exciting!” said Andrea. “I can’t wait to be in Ella Mentry School’s Got Talent.”
“Maybe I’ll do some magic tricks,” said Michael. “I got a magic kit for Christmas.”
“I’m going to do some tricks on my skateboard,” said Alexia. “That’s a talent.”
“No talking, please,” said Mr. Granite.
“I could play the violin,” said Neil the nude kid.
“I could eat something that isn’t food,” said Ryan.
“Eating isn’t a talent,” said Andrea.
“That depends on what you eat,” said Ryan.
“If armpit farts can be a talent,” said Michael, “then eating can be a talent, too.”
“No talking, please,” said Mr. Granite.
“What are you going to do in the talent show, A.J.?” Neil asked me.
I really didn’t know. I couldn’t sing or dance or do magic tricks. But that’s when I came up with the greatest idea in the history of the world.
“I could tell jokes!” I said.
“Oh, yeah?” said Andrea. “Let’s hear one.”
“What’s the difference between snot and broccoli?” I asked.
“What?” everybody said.
“Kids will eat snot.”
“That’s disgusting, Arlo, and it’s not funny,” said Andrea. “It’s not even a joke. It’s a riddle.”
“No talking, please,” said Mr. Granite.
What is Andrea’s problem? If being annoying is a talent, she’s the most talented kid in the world. Why can’t a truckful of broccoli fall on her head?
“I don’t know what I can do in the talent show,” said Emily. “I don’t have a talent.”
I felt a little sorry for Emily. It’s sad to have no talent at all. But she is annoying, so I didn’t feel that sorry for her.
“I know what I’m going to do in the talent show,” said Andrea. “I’m going to sing a medley of songs from the musical Annie.”
Oh no, not again!
Andrea loves that show Annie, and she never misses the chance to sing songs from it. She sings songs from Annie every day. If I have to listen to “Tomorrow” one more time, I think I’ll go crazy.
“Can I sing with you in the talent show, Andrea?” asked Emily.
“I prefer to sing solo,” Andrea replied.
“Why don’t you sing so low that we can’t hear you?” I told Andrea.
“Oh, snap!” said Ryan.
“No talking, please,” said Mr. Granite.
I don’t get it. For the first few years of your life, all grown-ups do is teach you how to talk. And then, for the rest of your life, all they do is tell you to stop talking. What’s up with that?
The last thing I want to do after school is to stay after school. But this day was different. As soon as the three-o’clock bell rang, the gang and me rushed to the all-purpose room to try out for Ella Mentry School’s Got Talent.
I don’t know why they call it the all-purpose room. It can’t be used for all purposes. I mean, you can’t go skydiving in there.
Anyway, lots of kids in all the grades from first through fifth showed up to try out. We had to wait in line behind a bunch of first-grade Munchkins so we could write our names on the sign-up sheet.
“I see we have a lot of talented students at Ella Mentry School,” said Mrs. Lane. “I can’t wait to see y’all show your talent!”
Mr. Klutz was there too. I guess he wanted to make sure nobody tried to do an act that involved farting.
“Can you tell us what the secret grand prize will be?” asked Andrea, who loves to win prizes.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” Mrs. Lane replied.
She took the sign-up sheet and sat in the front row. Each of us had one minute t
o do our act.
“Okay,” Mrs. Lane said to the first kid on the list. “Show me what you’ve got.”
It was a second-grade girl with red hair. She said she was double jointed. Then she got down on the floor and wrapped both of her legs around her neck at the same time.
That’s a talent? Who knew?
“Next!” shouted Mrs. Lane.
Two fourth-grade boys climbed up onstage and acted out a scene from Star Wars. It ended with them fighting with light sabers. That was pretty cool.
“Next!”
A girl from the first grade came out.
“I can name all the months of the year that have the letter Z in them,” she said.
“None of the months of the year have a Z in them,” Mrs. Lane told the girl.
“There! I did it!”
“Next!”
“I can write my name in the air with my butt,” said this first-grade boy.
“Next!”
After that some fifth graders did a skit about four bananas that go out for a walk and are suddenly attacked by meteors. It made no sense at all. They were followed by a bunch of clumsy girl dancers, bad lip-synchers, terrible rappers, and a dumbhead who spun plates on a stick.
I slapped my head. Man, those acts were horrible! They should call the show Ella Mentry School’s Got No Talent. It was going to be a cinch for me or one of our gang to win the secret grand prize. But we had to sit through all the dumb acts. It was taking a million hundred hours.
I had looked up a few jokes in a joke book I had in my backpack, but I didn’t know if they were funny or not. I was getting nervous.
“Next!” shouted Mrs. Lane.
Michael got up onstage and did a magic trick where he made some flowers pop out of his sleeve. It was cool.
“Want to see me make a candy bar disappear?” asked Michael.
“Sure,” said Mrs. Lane.
Michael took a candy bar out of his pocket and ate it.
“See?” he said. “I made it disappear!”
“Next!”
Ryan came out.
“I can communicate with dolphins,” he said.
“Do you have a dolphin with you?” asked Mrs. Lane.
