The Twelve Burps of Christmas Read online

  George started to laugh. Loo Loo Poo was funny. Then he stopped, because what was happening in the bottom of his belly was definitely not funny. The super burp was back!

  Quickly, George tried to get Alex’s attention. The boys had a signal: If George felt a burp coming, he was supposed to rub his belly and pat his head. Then Alex would get George out of the way.

  Bing-bong. George rubbed his belly.

  Ping-pong. He patted his head.

  But Alex was busy staring at the lights in Louie’s yard.

  Bing-bong. George rubbed his belly harder.

  Ping-pong. He slammed his head with his fist.

  Finally, Alex turned and looked in George’s direction.

  It was too late. The burp escaped. And now it was ready to have a holly, jolly Christmas—right on Louie’s front lawn!

  “Dude! I’m sorry!” Alex shouted.

  But George was already on Louie’s porch, marching next to the wooden soldier. “Hup, two, three, four!” George’s mouth shouted. “Hup, two, three, four.”

  “George, Beaver Scouts march when they’re hiking, not decorating!” Troop Leader Buttonwood said.

  But George kept marching.

  “George! Stop acting weird at my house!” Louie shouted.

  George wanted to stop acting weird. He really did. But he couldn’t. George wasn’t in charge anymore. George saluted the giant nutcracker. Oops. The nutcracker fell over and one of its arms fell off.

  Troop Leader Buttonwood hurried toward the porch. “Ouch!” he shouted as he whacked his head on a big oak tree. “Hey, who put that tree there?”

  “That nutcracker is a valuable antique!” Louie’s mother shouted. She reached out to grab the collar of George’s coat.

  George’s feet hurried off the porch and raced across the lawn. His legs leaped on top of the giant Rudolph, and his tush started bouncing up and down. “Yahoo!” his mouth shouted. “Ride ’em, cowboy!”

  “George Brown, get off that reindeer!” Louie’s mother shouted. “Or I’ll call the police!”

  George’s hands grabbed a long piece of tinsel off the sleigh and started twirling it like a lasso over his head. “Yee-haaaaa!” his mouth shouted out.

  Rudolph wobbled from side to side. His red nose began to flicker. And then . . .

  Pop! George felt the air rush right out of him. The super burp was gone.

  Plop! Rudolph’s nose fell off. There was a loud crackling noise, and all the lights on the Farley mansion went out.

  “You broke the light circuit!” Louie’s mother shouted at George. “It took seven men five days to put up these decorations. You destroyed them in one minute!”

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

  “Mrs. Farley, on behalf of the Beaver Scouts, I’m very sorry, too—” Troop Leader Buttonwood started to say.

  But apparently sorry wasn’t good enough for Mrs. Farley. “Get out of here!” she shouted to George.

  George ran from Louie’s front yard as fast as he could. There was no point in staying, anyway. George wasn’t earning a Good Neighbor badge tonight. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t kicked out of the troop.

  Mrs. Kelly was taking the Holiday Spectacular really seriously. So seriously that she’d insisted the kids come to school on Saturday for rehearsal. The show wasn’t until Friday, so George didn’t understand why there wasn’t enough time to get it right during the school week. Mrs. Kelly was really going nuts over this thing.

  Still, George headed off to Edith B. Sugarman Elementary School the minute he got out of work at Mr. Furstman’s pet shop. That meant he had no free time at all today.

  George had been in a grumpy mood since last night when Mrs. Farley called his parents to tell them what had happened to her Christmas decorations. George’s mom and dad were so angry that they were making George give Mrs. Farley all his money from his job at the pet shop for the next two weeks to help pay to fix the giant wooden soldier and Rudolph. But that wasn’t as bad as it could have been. If he had to pay it all back, he’d be working to infinity.

  At least Alex was waiting on the steps of school when George arrived. “Hey, dude.”

  “Hey,” George answered grumpily. “Do you believe we have to do this?”

  Alex reached into his backpack and pulled out something wrapped in gold foil. “This will cheer you up,” he told George. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Now? It’s kind of early,” George pointed out.

  “After last night,” Alex said, “I figured this couldn’t wait.”

  George unwrapped the gift and stared at it strangely. A bottle of mustard? Huh? “Gee . . . um . . . thanks,” George said.

  “I read on a website that people use mustard to stop burps,” Alex explained.

  “Wow,” George said. “A burp cure for Christmas! Just what I wanted. Thanks! I have something for you, too. I was saving it for Christmas Eve. But now is good, too.”

  George unzipped his backpack and pulled out a plastic bag filled with globs of pink, green, blue, and white already been chewed gum. “It’s for your ABC gum ball,” George told him. “I’ve been buying and chewing gum all month.”

  “Gee, thanks!” Alex said. “That’s a great present.” Alex was trying to get into the Schminess Book of World Records for the biggest wad of chewed gum.

  George grinned. He was glad Alex liked his gift. He was also hoping that Alex’s gift was the sure cure he’d been hoping for. Then Alex would be more than his best friend. He’d be his hero.

  The boys went inside and took their seats in the auditorium. Since it was Saturday, Mrs. Kelly wasn’t wearing her regular teacher clothes. She was wearing her normal person clothes. Well, normal for a person like Mrs. Kelly, anyway. Not too many people would wear a shirt with dancing cats all over it.

  “All carolers go to the music room with Mrs. Cadenza,” Mrs. Kelly announced. “Everyone else stay here with me. We’ll work on your dance numbers.”

  Chris’s hand shot up in the air. “I’m a bear. I don’t dance or sing,” Chris said. “Where should I go?”

  Mrs. Kelly thought for a minute. “You can lie on the stage and practice hibernating.”

  “Okay,” Chris said, standing up. “Sleeping onstage isn’t as easy as it looks,” he told George and Alex.

  “We’ll start with the snowflakes and the Winter Wonderland Watusi,” Mrs. Kelly said. “I want to make sure you wiggle when you’re supposed to.”

  George knew a lot about wiggling. And jiggling. And jumping. And bumping. Because that was what was going on inside his belly right now. The super burp was back!

  Oh man. This was ba-a-ad! Mrs. Kelly never wanted any goofing around at her rehearsals.

  Then he remembered that Alex’s Christmas gift was in his backpack! Quickly, George unzipped his pack and began squirting big, gooey globs of spicy mustard down his throat.

  “Whoa,” George wheezed. “Spicy.”

  “What are you doing?” Sage asked.

  George didn’t answer. He just kept squeezing mustard into his mouth. His lips felt like they were on fire. His eyes were tearing, but . . .

  Whoosh! Suddenly, George felt all the air rush out of him. The super burp was gone!

  George’s throat was on fire. He swore he could feel smoke coming out of his ears. But none of that mattered because the burp had gone up in smoke!

  Wahoo! Alex had found the cure for the super burp. It was a miracle! A scientific miracle! Alex was a genius!

  When George got home from rehearsal, he was in the best mood ever. From now on, all he had to do was carry mustard everywhere he went. Mustard was his friend. He’d never have to be scared about burping again. He figured he’d eat a whole bottle right before the Holiday Spectacular, then no worries!
/>   “George, there you are.” His mother greeted him. “I have a surprise for you. I’m going to give you one of your Christmas presents early!”

  George grinned. This day just kept getting better.

  His mom handed him a green and red box.

  Uh-oh, George thought as he opened the box. There it was: the ugly Rudolph sweater that had been hidden in the pile of dirty laundry.

  “It’s from Great-Aunt Catherine,” George’s mom said. “She knit it herself. She’s coming over for dinner tonight. I thought she might like to see you in it.”

  “But it’s got a pom-pom on it,” George mumbled.

  “I know,” his mom said. “Isn’t it cute?”

  “It’s too hot indoors to put on a sweater,” George tried.

  “I’ll lower the heat,” his mother answered.

  And that was that. George was going to have to wear the ugly sweater. Well, fine. He’d do it tonight. But after that, it was going in the bottom of his drawer, never to be seen again.

  “I knew you would love that sweater, George,” Great-Aunt Catherine said during dinner that night. “Green is your color.”

  George looked down and poured some more mustard on his pot roast.

  “Mustard on pot roast?” his dad asked. “That’s a new one.”

  “I like mustard on everything,” George said. He poured some on his mashed potatoes, too.

  “Since when?” his mother asked.

  Since this afternoon when it squelched the belch, George thought to himself. But out loud he just said, “Is anyone else hot in here?” He pulled at the sweater and scratched his neck. The wool was itchy.

  George’s mom gave him a stern look. George went back to eating his mustard and pot roast.

  “George is going to be a snowflake in the school play,” his mom told Great- Aunt Catherine. “He’s singing and dancing. What’s the dance called again, George?”

  “The Winter Wonderland Watusi,” George grumbled. He really hated that dance.

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Great-Aunt Catherine said. “I bet he’ll be as cute as a button.”

  George had no idea why Great-Aunt Catherine thought buttons were cute. And he didn’t care.

  “How is business at the store?” Great-Aunt Catherine asked George’s mom.

  George didn’t hear his mom’s answer. Some funny business was starting in his belly. There were bubbles bouncing around. Lots of them. Bing-bong. Ping-pong. Bing-bang. Ping-pang.

  But George wasn’t worried. He had the cure! He picked up the bottle of mustard and started pouring it down his throat.

  The mustard burned. But the bubbles didn’t stop. They just bounced harder and faster.

  The mustard made George’s eyes tear up and his nose run. The bubbles were running, too. Right up into George’s mouth, over his tongue, around his teeth, and . . .

  Everyone at the table—his mom, his dad, and Great-Aunt Catherine—stared at George. He opened his mouth to say “Excuse me.” But that’s not what came out. Instead, he shouted, “Everybody, Watusi!”

  George’s feet jumped up. His tush started to wiggle all around. His shoulders started to shake. Then his whole body began to spin around and around like a snowflake in the wind.

  A thread from George’s sweater got caught on the back of his chair. George didn’t realize it, but the more he spun around, the more the sweater unraveled.

  “Wa-Wa-Watusi!” George’s mouth shouted. “ Join in, folks!”

  “Oh, George!” His mother had both hands over her face.

  “Soldier, take your seat,” his dad ordered.

  But the super burp didn’t take orders from anyone. It gave orders. And right now it was ordering George’s body to spin harder—which made the yarn unravel faster.

  “The sweater!” Great-Aunt Catherine shouted.

  “Watusi!” George’s mouth shouted back. His rear end wiggled. And then . . .

  Whoosh! George felt the air rush out of him as if something had popped in the bottom of his belly. The super burp was gone, and George was standing in the middle of what used to be the ugly Christmas sweater. Now there was a big pile of yarn and a bright red pom-pom.

  “Son, what did you think you were doing?” George’s dad demanded.

  George looked down at the pile of wool. “Um . . . the Watusi?” George said quietly. He reached down and picked up Rudolph’s red nose. “At least the pom-pom’s still good,” he added hopefully.

  George spent the rest of the night in his room. He was sorry that Great-Aunt Catherine had been so upset. Yet in some ways, the super burp had actually done him a favor. He’d never have to wear that ugly sweater again. And it turned out that he was really amazing at the Watusi. He hoped he’d be as good for the holiday play . . . but without the burp, of course!

  “Well, the mustard worked once,” Alex said.

  “Once is not enough, I’m afraid,” George said as he and Alex waited backstage with the other fourth-graders on Friday afternoon. The Holiday Spectacular was going to start any minute now. “But I’ve been burp-free since then. So I figure maybe the burp is already on winter vacation.”

  Alex didn’t look so sure.

  “I brought lots of stuff in case of an emergency,” George continued as he opened his backpack so Alex could see all the things he had inside. There was mustard to burn the burp, a rolling pin to roll the bubbles out of his body, a brown paper bag to blow all that extra air into, and a bottle of water to drown the bubbles.

  “One of these just has to work,” George said. This show was dumb enough as it was. The last thing it needed was a surprise guest performance by the super burp.

  “We’re about to start,” Mrs. Kelly told everyone.

  Louie had his guitar. He stared at George’s white, glittery snowflake costume and started laughing. “You look beautiful,” Louie teased.

  George didn’t answer. He knew he looked ridiculous, especially next to Louie, who wore jeans, a black leather jacket, and dark sunglasses.

  “Good luck!” Mrs. Kelly called out. She looked really stressed out. As she pulled a tissue out of her sleeve and raised her arm to wipe the globs of sweat from her forehead, George could see a big, wet pit stain on her shirt.

  George was glad the snowflake dance was first. That way he’d get it over with quickly.

  “Chris, when you’re onstage, curl up in a ball,” Mrs. Kelly said. “Don’t move around. Remember, you’re hibernating.”

  “Don’t worry,” Chris answered as he pulled on his bear mask. “I’ve been practicing. Yesterday I took a two-hour nap, and it went perfectly.”

  Once Chris took his place onstage, the curtain rose.

  George started to feel something weird in his stomach. There was no binging or bonging. It felt more like hundreds of centipedes crawling around his insides. Oh no! He couldn’t burp now.

  George waited in fear for the centipedes to crawl up into his throat. But it didn’t happen. The creepy-crawlies stayed in his belly. This wasn’t the super burp. It was good old normal stage fright. Not that stage fright was so wonderful, either.

  “Come on, Georgie,” Sage whispered as the music started. “That’s the cue for the snowflakes.” She smoothed her costume and pulled at his arm.

  George walked onstage behind her. He looked out into the audience. There were his parents, Principal McKeon, and the kids and teachers from all the other grades. It felt like they were all staring at him, daring him to mess up. George just stood there, a snowflake frozen with fear. He couldn’t dance. He couldn’t even move.

  The music started up.

  “Georgie, come on,” Sage insisted. “Wiggle your Watusi.”

  George started to laugh, which helped him relax. A second later he was dancing the Watusi and singing with the othe
r snowflakes. He pretended to be floating just like Mrs. Kelly had told them to. He spun Sage around in a circle—and didn’t once stick his tongue out at her, even though she was doing that weird blinking-her-eyes thing whenever she looked at him. At the end he lay down on the ground like he was part of a blanket of snow. “Snow is falling everywhere, snowflakes flying in the air. Landing softly on a branch, dancing a lovely snowflake dance.”

  George ran off the stage as soon as the song was over. Phew. He’d made it through—and without a burp. The nightmare was over. He started to pull the glittery snowflake costume over his head.

  “No, George, you have to leave that on for the final bow,” Mrs. Kelly reminded him.

  Bummer.

  As Max and Mike went onstage with Julianna to sing their “Happy Elves” song, Louie walked over to George. “At least you didn’t freak out like you did at the talent show,” Louie said.

  Was Louie ever going to let him forget that? So what if George had dive-bombed into the principal’s arms during the performance? Was he the only kid in the world who ever did that?

  Actually, he probably was.

  “You’re next,” Mrs. Kelly told Louie. Her hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat.

  “See you later, Snowflake,” Louie said to George. Then he headed off onto the stage.

  “You know, when I blow, winter’s here,” Louie sang as he played his guitar onstage. “I’m a cold, cold wind. Gonna blow the snow, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

  Suddenly, George felt as if a wind were blowing in the bottom of his belly. The wind was whooshing bubbles all up through his chest and around the red thing hanging down in the back of his throat.

  George leaped toward his backpack. He needed his mustard or the rolling pin or the bottle of water. But there was no time . . .

  Bubble, bubble. George was in trouble.