'Snot Funny Read online

  For Danny B., who knows that one of the best things about living in an NYC apartment is never having to shovel snow!—NK

  For Bubba and Little Stinker—AB

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  Text copyright © 2015 by Nancy Krulik. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Aaron Blecha. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN 978-0-698-19883-8

  Version_1

  Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author and Illustrator

  “Georgie stole the cookie from the cookie jar . . . ,” Sage sang out as the yellow school bus rolled down the highway late Friday afternoon.

  George Brown frowned and sank down in his seat. He really hated when Sage called him Georgie. For a minute, he thought about ignoring her. But since his teacher and his parents were also on the bus, that wasn’t a good idea.

  So he replied, “Who, me?”

  “Yes, you,” the other kids on the bus sang.

  “Couldn’t be,” George said.

  “Then who?” the other kids sang back.

  “Julianna stole the cookie from the cookie jar,” George chanted.

  “Who, me?” Julianna sang.

  “Yes, you,” the others chanted back.

  As the kids turned their attention to Julianna, George reached into his snack bag and pulled out a chocolate-chip cookie.

  “I wish Sage wasn’t on this trip,” he whispered to his best friend, Alex, who was sitting next to him.

  “Don’t let her ruin your weekend,” Alex said. “It’s going to be great. How many kids get the chance to go on a community-service ski trip?”

  George almost hadn’t believed it when his teacher, Mrs. Kelly, first announced that the fourth grade of Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School would be taking part in a snow-sports competition to help raise money to buy books for the library in an elementary school in China. But that was exactly what they were doing.

  The kids had been studying earthquakes in science class when they read about a big one that struck a poor, small village in China. The quake hit near an elementary school, and the entire school library had been destroyed. That’s when the fourth-graders at Edith B. Sugarman Elementary decided to come to the rescue by raising money to replace the books that had been lost in the quake.

  At first, George figured they were going to have a few bake sales to raise the money. But going on a ski weekend with his friends and their families was a whole lot better than selling cupcakes! Not even Sage could ruin that.

  “Can I have another one of your mom’s cookies?” Alex asked George. “All my mom put in my snack pack were carrots and apple slices.”

  George reached into his bag and handed one to Alex. George felt bad for his friend. Alex’s mom was a dentist. Candies and cookies were in short supply for him.

  “Thanks.” Alex popped the cookie into his mouth. “So, did you get that new snowboard you wanted?”

  George was about to explain that his parents had told him the snowboard he’d been eyeing was way too expensive, but something stopped him.

  Apparently Sage wasn’t the only trouble George was facing on this trip. Something much worse had come along for the ride. Something scary. And dangerous. And bubbly. There were hundreds of bubbles bouncing around in George’s belly!

  Bing-bong! The bubbles were bashing into his bladder. Ping-pong! They were pouncing on his pancreas. And wiggling up his windpipe!

  George shut his lips tight and tried to keep the bubbles from bursting out. He rubbed his head and tapped his stomach. That was the secret signal he was supposed to give Alex whenever he felt a burp coming. If Alex saw the signal, he knew to get George out of there.

  But Alex couldn’t help George today. “Dude, not now!” he whispered, trying not to draw any attention to what George was doing. “We’re trapped on a bus.”

  George may have been trapped, but the bubbles weren’t going to stay that way. They tickled George’s tongue and twisted around his teeth. And then . . .

  George let out a burp so strong and so loud that mountain climbers at the top of Mount Everest could probably hear it.

  Now that the burp was out, it was in charge. Whatever it wanted, George had to do. Because the super burp wasn’t just loud. It was magic.

  “George!” his mother scolded. “What do you say?”

  George wanted to say “excuse me.” He really did. But George didn’t control what he said. The burp did. And what the burp wanted to say was, “I stole the cookie from the cookie jar!”

  “That’s not how you play the game, Georgie,” Sage told him. “You’re supposed to wait your turn and then say someone else’s name.”

  But super burps play by their own rules. So the next thing George knew, he was flinging cookies all around the bus, like tiny chocolate-chip-filled Frisbees. “Incoming cookies!” George shouted. He flung one at Sage’s head.

  “Ow!” Sage exclaimed. “Thanks for the cookie, Georgie. But you could have just passed it to me.”

  “Here comes another,” George announced, flinging a cookie into the air. His pal Chris ducked. The cookie sailed over him and bounced off Max’s nose.

  “George, please behave!” Mrs. Kelly scolded.

  “Stand down, soldier,” George’s dad demanded.

  Uh-oh. When George’s dad used army-speak, it meant he was angry. Not that George blamed him. Throwing cookies around the bus wasn’t a smart thing to do. But George couldn’t help it.

  “Yo, Julianna!” George shouted. “Heads up!” He threw a cookie right at her.

  Julianna opened her mouth and caught the cookie between her teeth.

  The kids cheered. But the grown-ups weren’t cheering. They were angry.

  “George, halt!” his dad shouted. “Put the cookie ammunition back in the bag.”

  “What have I told you about wasting food?” his mother added. “Stop that right now.”

  Unfortunately, George was powerless to stop. The burp made him reach into his snack bag, pull out another cookie, and . . .

  Pop! Just then, George felt something burst in the bottom of his belly. All the air rushed out of him.

  The super burp was gone.

  But George was still there, on the bus, with angry adult eyes gla
ring at him.

  George opened his mouth to say, “I’m sorry.” And that’s exactly what came out.

  Mrs. Kelly sighed and shook her head. “I know it’s hard to sit still on a long bus ride,” she said finally. “But it will be worth it when we get there. So can you just try to behave for a little while longer?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” George said. He looked down at his feet. It was a lot better than looking at the disappointed expressions on his parents’ faces. He’d seen those expressions a lot since they’d moved to Beaver Brook.

  It all started when George and his family first moved there. George’s dad was in the army, so the family moved around a lot. By now, George understood that first days at school could be pretty rotten. But this first day was the rottenest.

  At his old school, George had been the class clown. He was always pulling pranks and making jokes. But George had promised himself that things were going to be different at Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School. He was turning over a new leaf. No more pranks. No more whoopee cushions or spitballs shot through straws.

  No more goofing on teachers when their backs were turned.

  But George didn’t have to be a math whiz like Alex to figure out how many friends you could make being the unfunny, well-behaved new kid in school. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

  That night, George’s parents took him out to Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium. While they were sitting outside and George was finishing his root beer float, a shooting star flashed across the sky. So George made a wish.

  I want to make kids laugh—but not get into trouble.

  Unfortunately, the star was gone before George could finish the wish. So only half came true—the first half.

  A minute later, George had a funny feeling in his belly. It was like there were hundreds of tiny bubbles bouncing around in there. The bubbles hopped up, down, and all around. They ping-ponged their way into his chest, and bing-bonged their way up into his throat. And then . . .

  George let out a big burp. A huge burp. A SUPER burp!

  The super burp was loud, and it was magic.

  Suddenly, George lost control of his arms and legs. It was like they had minds of their own. His hands grabbed straws and stuck them up his nose like a walrus. His feet jumped up on the table and started dancing the hokey pokey. Everyone at Ernie’s started laughing—except George’s parents.

  The magical super burp came back lots of times after that. And every time it did, it got George into trouble. Like the time it got him stuck in the giant nostril slide at the science museum. Or the time it made him drop ooey-gooey pizza dough all over his head at the pizza parlor. Or the time it made him dance his pants off on live TV—giving all of Beaver Brook a look at his tighty whities. Now that was embarrassing.

  The only other person who knew about the burp was Alex. George hadn’t told him. Alex was just so smart, he’d figured it out for himself. And now he was trying to help George find a cure for the burps.

  Unfortunately, so far the boys hadn’t been able to come up with anything that would stop the bubbles in their tracks. So George kept on getting in trouble for things the burp made him do.

  George shoved another cookie into his mouth and looked out the window. There were snowcapped mountains on either side of the bus. Any minute now, they would be at the ski resort.

  George sure hoped the burp wouldn’t show up there. Because a snowboarding super burp was bound to bring an avalanche of trouble—right down on George.

  “Check out those mountains!” George exclaimed as he hopped off the bus. “I can’t wait to get my snowboard on those slopes.”

  “The frozen lake is so pretty,” Sage added. She batted her eyelashes in George’s direction. “I bet that’s where the ice-skating competitions are going to be held. Are you going to come watch me compete in the figure-skating contest, Georgie?”

  George was about to tell her there was no way that was happening when suddenly he heard shouting from behind the bus.

  “Louie’s here! Louie’s here!” Mike and Max cheered. They raced toward a big black limo that had just pulled in to the parking lot.

  “Those guys always seem lost without Louie,” Alex told George.

  “That’s funny,” George said. “I always wish Louie would get lost.”

  No one could blame George for saying that. Louie Farley had hated George from the moment they met. George had never been able to figure out why. All he knew was that Louie seemed to spend his days trying to figure out ways to make George miserable.

  “I don’t know why the Farleys insisted on going in their own car,” George’s mom remarked. “We all had so much fun together on that bus.”

  George hadn’t had so much fun—thanks to the super burp. But he didn’t say that to his mom. What was the point in reminding her?

  “Look at all that stuff!” Chris exclaimed as the limo driver unloaded the Farley family’s skis, skates, boots, parkas, snowboards, backpacks, and suitcases. It seemed like they’d packed a whole ski shop in that car.

  “One of you take my skis, my boots, and my snowboard,” Louie commanded Max and Mike. “The other one of you can carry my suitcase and my knapsack.”

  “I got the suitcase,” Mike said.

  “No, I got it,” Max said.

  The two boys grabbed for the big bag at the exact same time. Boink! The suitcase popped open. Louie’s clothes flew all over the place.

  “Check out the red footie pajamas!” George howled. “They have a flap in the back!”

  Louie’s face turned as red as his pajamas.

  “Okay, everyone, let’s go to our rooms,” Mrs. Kelly said. “We’ll meet back here in half an hour. That’s when the fun begins!”

  George looked over to where Louie was shoving his footie pajamas back into his suitcase and laughed. “I think the fun’s already started,” he said.

  “Welcome to the Lumi Lodge Snow Resort!” a man in a bright orange ski parka announced to the fourth-graders as they gathered outside the lodge a half hour later. “I’m very pleased to greet our competitors from Carl Crumbunny Elementary School, Delores F. Snarfblatter Elementary School, and Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School.”

  The kids all started cheering as their schools were mentioned. As soon as he heard “Edith B. Sugarman,” George shoved two fingers into his mouth and let out a loud whistle.

  Oops. That wasn’t exactly school behavior. But when he glanced over at Mrs. Kelly, she was grinning and nodding her approval. Phew!

  “This competition is going to be fierce. We’ve arranged for a lot of races—downhill skiing, cross-country skiing, tubing, snowshoe running, and luge sledding. And of course we have figure skating and speed skating. Not to mention our ice-sculpting and snowman-building competitions.”

  George shuffled back and forth in the snow. All those activities sounded fun. But they weren’t what he was listening for.

  “And then, there’s our last event,” the man in the orange parka announced. “Our snowboarding event.”

  George perked up. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he told Alex and Chris.

  “In each event, the winning team will score three points. Second place is worth two points. And third place is worth one point,” the man in the orange parka continued. “I know you are here to raise money for your different charities. And you will all go home with some cash. But the winning school will go home with a check for five thousand dollars to donate to the charity of their choice.”

  Wow! George was impressed. Those kids in China could buy a lot of books for their school library with five thousand dollars!

  “Our prize money has been generously donated by professional snowboarder Dice Nieveson!” the guy in the orange jacket announced.

  George knew all about Dice Nieveson. He was a world-champion snowboarder. He’d even invented his own stunt moves. Really tough ones like the rott
en banana peel and the twisted tail wagger. George had tried to do a few of them, but they were too tough. Only a guy who was as talented and skilled as Dice could really pull them off.

  That was why Dice had been on the cover of all sorts of sports magazines. He even had his own line of designer snowboards. Dice Nieveson was the coolest snowboarder ever!

  “Mr. Nieveson is going to be arriving here Sunday to judge the final event—the snowboarding competition,” the guy in the orange parka continued. “And to give out the prize money personally.”

  Whoa! George couldn’t believe his ears. He was signed up for the snowboarding competition on Sunday. Which meant he was going to be boarding in front of Dice Nieveson!

  “We haven’t forgotten you parents and teachers,” the man in the orange parka continued. “When you’re not cheering on your kids, you can take a ski lesson, go skating, enjoy a sleigh ride, or hang out in the lodge. We want you to have fun this weekend, too.”

  Aaaachooooo! Just then George let out a big sneeze. Aaachooooo! And another. Big ropes of gooey green boogers flew out of his nose.

  “Ooo, gross!” Louie shouted loudly.

  Everyone turned around just in time to see George whip off his glove and wipe his nose with his hand.

  “George, that’s disgusting,” his mother said. She handed him a tissue. “You really should carry some of these in your pockets,” she added.

  “Aw, Mom,” George groaned. “Real snowboarders never carry Kleenex.”

  “You’re not a real snowboarder,” Louie told him. “You’re just a kid with a leaky nose.”

  George smiled to himself. That’s what Louie thought. But George knew better. He was a real snowboarder. A good one. He would prove it on Sunday, in front of everyone—especially Dice Nieveson!

  “George Brown, world-champion snowboarder, mounts his board,” Alex announced loudly. “He flies into the air. He passes his leading hand through his legs and . . . grabs the back of his board! Yes! He has just completed a perfect chicken salad! The crowd is going wild!”