It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's Toiletman! Read online

  For my dad, who bought us comic books every Sunday. (Some things you never forget!)—NK

  For Dexter, Nicko & Elias—AB

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  Penguin Young Readers Group

  An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

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  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Text copyright © 2016 by Nancy Krulik. Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Aaron Blecha. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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

  eBook ISBN 978-0-399-54278-7

  Version_1

  “It’s so cold out here my boogers are freezing,” George Brown told his friend Alex as the boys trudged through the snow on their way to their friend Chris’s house.

  “This wind is making my eyes tear,” Alex said. “It’s lucky the salt in tears keeps them from freezing. Can you imagine having icy eyeballs?”

  “The only good thing about it being so cold,” George said, “is that none of the grown-ups are going to want to go outside and shovel their own walks, which means more money for us.”

  George reached up and pushed Chris’s doorbell. A minute later Chris came to the door—in his pajamas!

  “You can’t shovel in those,” Alex told him. “Put on your snow pants. We’ve got to get to work before some other kids start a shoveling business.”

  Chris shook his head. “I can’t shovel today,” he told the boys.

  “What are you talking about?” George said. “We planned it all out last night when they announced school was going to be closed.”

  “I know,” Chris admitted. “But I’m working on my new Toiletman comic book. And I’m really on a roll. I can’t stop now.”

  George frowned. He knew Chris loved making his comic books. But they were talking money here! “Can’t you draw later?” he asked.

  “No. I have to get at least five pages drawn today to stay on my schedule,” Chris explained.

  Alex and George looked at each other. What was Chris talking about?

  “What schedule?” Alex asked him.

  “Rodney said if I can draw a twenty-two-page Toiletman comic book, he would print it for me and sell it as a limited edition,” Chris explained. “He’s doing a special local-artists’-week promotion at his store. If I want to be part of it, I have to get this done really fast!”

  “Wow,” George said. That was impressive. Rodney was the owner of the Made for Mutants Comic Book Shop. If Rodney thought Chris’s Toiletman comic was good enough to sell, it had to be really terrific.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” Chris apologized. “But I can’t shovel snow with you today.”

  “It’s okay,” Alex said. “Come on, George.”

  George nodded. “Good luck with the comic,” he told Chris. “We’ll see you in school tomorrow.” He looked out at the mounds of snow and the gray clouds overhead. “If there is school,” he added. “You never know. It might snow again today!”

  “Think of it this way,” Alex said a little while later as he and George shoveled the snow that had piled up outside George’s mom’s craft shop, Knit Wits. “We only have to split the money two ways, which means more money for each of us.”

  “True.” George added a big pile of snow to the mound he and Alex were building off to the side of the store.

  “What are you going to do with your cash?” Alex asked him.

  George didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was afraid to open his mouth. Something awful might slip out if he did.

  Bing-bong. Ping-pong.

  The something awful was already bouncing around inside his belly.

  There were bubbles in there. Hundreds of them. And they weren’t ordinary run-of-the-mill stomach bubbles, either. They were magical super-burp bubbles. And there would be trouble if those bubbles broke loose. There was always trouble when the magical super burp came around.

  George’s bubble trouble had started right after his family moved to Beaver Brook. George’s dad was in the army, and his family moved around a lot, which meant George had been the new kid in school lots of times. So he understood that first days could be rotten. But this first day was the rottenest.

  In his old school, George was the class clown. But George had promised himself that things were going to be different this time. No more pranks. No more making funny faces behind teachers’ backs. Unfortunately, George didn’t have to be a math whiz to figure out how many friends a new, unfunny kid makes on his first day of school. Zero. None. Nada.

  That night, George’s parents took him out to Ernie’s Ice Cream Emporium just to cheer him up. 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 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 Ice Cream Emporium started laughing—except George’s parents, who were covered in the ice cream he’d kicked over while he was dancing.

  After that night, the burp came back over and over again. And every time it did, it made a mess of things. That was why George couldn’t let that burp burst out of him now—not right in front of his mom’s store.

  But the magical super burp really wanted to come out and play.

  Cling-clang. Fling-flang. The bubbles were beating on his bladder and leaping over his lungs.

  Boing-bong. The bubbles trampled onto George’s tongue.

  Gling-glong. They gathered on his gums.

  And then . . .

  Bubble, bubble, George was in trouble.

  “Dude! No!” Alex shouted.

  Dude, yes! The magical super burp was free. Now George had to do whatever the burp wanted to do.

  And what the burp wanted to do was have a snowball fight!

  George’s hands reached down for some snow. They packed it into a tight ball and . . .

  Bam! George pelted Alex right in the leg with the snowball.

  “Hey!” Alex shouted. “Okay. You asked for it!” He bent down to pick up some snow of his own.

  Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Before Alex could even stand up, George pelted him with four more snowballs—right in the rear end.

  Normally, George would never have been able to make that
many snowballs that fast. But it’s a little-known fact that magical super burps are snowball-making machines.

  Alex stood up. He tried to run away from the oncoming snowballs.

  But the burp was ready for him.

  George threw a snowball at Alex’s head with his left hand. He threw a snowball at Alex’s belly with his right hand.

  Alex tried to leap out of the way.

  George threw a snowball at Alex’s knees. He threw another at his shoulder.

  Alex moved to the left.

  Bam! George got him in the gut.

  Alex jumped to right.

  Bam! George slammed him in the ribs.

  “George, stop that right now!”

  George heard a familiar voice. He turned around to see his mother. She had come outside to see what was going on.

  “Get back to work!” his mother told him. “I need this sidewalk shoveled so my customers can get through.”

  George wanted to get back to work. He really did. But burps don’t like to work. Burps just want to have fun.

  So George made another snowball. And another. And another. Then he started juggling the snowballs. Throwing and catching. Throwing and catching.

  George’s mom walked toward him, scolding, “Stop that now. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you!”

  “Dude! Stop!” Alex pleaded

  But George couldn’t stop. The burp wouldn’t let him. Throw. Catch. Throw . . .

  SPLAT! A snowball hit George’s mom, right on top of her head.

  Her eyes grew really big. She was really surprised.

  Pop! Just then, George felt something burst in the bottom of his belly. All the air rushed out of him. The magical super burp was gone.

  But George was still there. And so was his mom. She had snow in her hair.

  It was dripping down her cheeks and over her nose.

  Alex didn’t look any happier. He was staring at all the snow he was going to have to shovel all over again now that George had thrown it all over the place.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” George’s mother asked him angrily.

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

  “Not as sorry as you’re going to be if you don’t start shoveling,” his mother said.

  George picked up his shovel and got right back to work.

  He frowned as his mom walked back into her craft shop. Stupid super burp. It was always getting him in trouble. And it never stuck around long enough to take the blame.

  “Can you believe how much money we earned yesterday?” George asked Alex as the boys walked home with Chris after school the next day.

  “I made a list of all the things I want to buy,” Alex said. “It was two pages long.”

  “Too bad you were busy,” George told Chris. “You could have been rich, too.”

  Chris shrugged. “I got a lot of drawing done,” he said. “I think this may be the best Toiletman comic I’ve ever done.”

  Just then, Julianna came running to catch up with the boys. “I’m sorry my dad wouldn’t hire you,” she said. “He always makes me and my sister do the shoveling.”

  “It’s okay,” George said. “Pretty much everyone else in town hired us.”

  “Yeah, we’re rich,” Alex added happily.

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha!” Louie Farley interrupted. “You guys? Rich?”

  “We made a lot of money yesterday,” Alex insisted. “More than you did.”

  “That’s the point,” Louie said. “When you’re rich, you pay other people to do your work. That’s why my dad paid you to shovel our walk while I stayed inside.”

  “He’s right,” said Louie’s friend Max.

  “Louie’s always right,” Louie’s other pal Mike added.

  George hated when Louie bragged about how rich his family was. So he basically hated Louie all the time, because that’s all Louie ever talked about. There was nothing worse than hearing Louie talk about money.

  “Georgie!”

  Okay, maybe hearing Sage call him Georgie was worse.

  George turned around. Sure enough, there was Sage. She was doing the weird eyelash-batting thing she did whenever she saw George.

  So George did that eyeball-rolling thing he did every time Sage called him Georgie. “What do you want?” he asked her.

  “I want to predict our future,” Sage replied. “With a real fortune-teller.”

  Gulp. “What do you mean our future?” George asked her.

  Sage pulled a piece of folded paper out of her jacket pocket. “My cousin made this fortune-teller for me,” she told the other kids. “She said it never lies.”

  “You’re going to tell the future with some wrinkled-up paper?” George asked.

  Sage stuck her fingers into the pockets she had folded into the paper. “First I tell the fortune-teller my favorite color. B-L-U-E.” Sage opened and closed the paper fortune-teller four times as she spelled the word. “Now I pick my favorite place. B-E-A-C-H.” She opened and closed the paper fortune-teller five times as she spelled.

  “What does that have to do with the future?” Julianna asked her.

  “Watch,” Sage replied. “Now I count out my favorite number. And then, when I stop, I lift up the flap. That will give me the first initial of my special guy.”

  George groaned.

  “My favorite number is five,” Sage continued. She opened and closed the paper fortune-teller. “One . . . two . . . three . . .”

  George really hoped that thing didn’t open up on the letter G.

  “Five,” Sage finished. She smiled at George. “Are you ready to hear our future?” She began to open the flap. “My special guy’s name begins with . . . what?”

  “What’s it say?” George asked her.

  “M.” Sage shook her head. “That can’t be right.”

  “M,” Julianna thought out loud. “That could be Max. Or Mike.”

  Max and Mike stared at each other nervously.

  George didn’t care which one of them it was. He was just glad it wasn’t him.

  “Do you want to stop for a snack?” Alex asked Chris and George a few minutes later as they turned the corner onto Main Street.

  “I don’t have any money for a snack,” Chris replied. “I spent every penny I had on new drawing supplies. But my mom baked cookies yesterday. So if you want—”

  Before Chris could finish his sentence, Max and Mike came running from behind. They raced around George and his friends, and zoomed down the block.

  “Hey, Louie, wait for me!” Max cried out.

  “And me,” Mike added.

  “Those guys can’t be without Louie for a second,” Alex said.

  “But I never saw them run that fast to catch up to him before,” Chris added.

  Just then, Sage’s voice rang out. “Maxie! Mikey! Where are you going?”

  George laughed. That explained why Louie’s pals were running so fast. They weren’t running to Louie. They were running away from Sage.

  “Look at them go!” George laughed. “They’re practically flying.”

  “WHOA!”

  “WHOOPS!”

  George watched as Max and Mike really flew—right into the air after slipping on the ice—and crashed right into Louie, knocking him into a snow pile.

  “What the . . . ?” Louie shouted, as he fell face-first into the snow.

  George laughed so hard he snorted. “This is better than TV,” he said.

  “No kidding,” Chris agreed.

  Alex turned around. “It’s about to get even better,” he said.

  George turned around just in time to see Sage running in his direction. “Oh brother,” he groaned.

  But this time, Sage ran right past George and over to Max and Mike.r />
  “There you are, Maxie and Mikey,” she said. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

  “We weren’t waiting,” Mike said.

  “No way,” Max added.

  Sage pretended she didn’t hear that. “Where are we going for snacks?” she asked.

  “I’m going for pizza,” Louie replied, pointing at Mr. Tarantella’s Pizza Palace.

  “I’m having pizza, too, then,” Max said. “I always have my after-school snack with Louie.”

  “Well, so do I,” Mike insisted.

  “Pizza it is,” Sage said. “Let’s go, guys.”

  George grinned. It was great the way Sage had just completely ignored him.

  “So do you guys want to come over for those cookies?” Chris asked Alex and George. “They’re the really good kind. With sprinkles.”

  George shook his head. “I want to watch Mike and Max deal with Sage. It’s going to be hilarious.”

  “Pizza it is then!” Alex agreed.

  “I can’t,” Chris said, shaking his head. “I told you, I’m out of money.”

  “Oh right,” George said. “Well, don’t worry about that.”

  Chris started to smile.

  “We’ll call you after and tell you what happens with Sage, Max, and Mike,” George continued. “I promise.”

  Chris stopped smiling.

  “Yeah, Chris,” Alex added. “We’ll give you every detail.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Chris looked down and kicked sadly at the ground. “I guess I’ll see you guys later, then,” he muttered quietly.

  Then he began walking home, all by himself.

  George turned to Alex. “Come on,” he said. “We gotta hurry. I don’t wanna miss a minute of this.”

  “I want to sit next to Louie,” Max said.

  “No way,” Mike said. “You sat next to him last time.”

  “We can both sit next to him,” Max suggested. He slid into the booth and sat on Louie’s left.