Judy Mood And The NOT Bummer Summer (5 page)

“This has gotta be worth some thrill points,” said Opal, too cheerily.

“Not as much as a cemetery Creep ’n’ Crawl.”

Aunt Opal opened the picnic basket. “I know. Sorry ’bout that. Let’s see, baloney for you… and turkey for Stink.”

“But no mayo, right?” said Stink. “Mayo is gross-o.”

Judy pulled out her sandwich and raised it to her mouth.
JUST
as she was about to chomp down, she sniffed her sandwich. “Something smells weird.”

Stink took a whiff of his sandwich. “Mine smells funny, too. Almost like —”

Her teeth touched the bread. She was about to take a bite, when —

“SCAT!” Stink swatted the sandwich out of Judy’s hand. He flipped it over. Stink jumped up and pointed. “Oogley-boogley, ugh, ugh, ugh!

Judy stared at something brown and squishy on the bottom of her sandwich. “What IS that?”

“It’s scat! As in doo-doo! Dung! Manure! POOP!” He showed her his sandwich, smeared with brown goo.

Judy and Stink hopped up and leaped as far away as they could, falling off their giant teacup and screaming “AGHHHHH!”

Aunt Opal slammed the basket cover on the rest of the bags. “Crap!”

“That too,” Stink said, smiling.

A week later, Judy took her new postcard from Rocky up to her room. She taped it to Jaws, next to her laptop.

HAPPY
NATIONAL
HOT
DOG
DAY!
(If you get this on July 23.) I’m up to
60 POINTS!
–The Rock Man

Judy turned on her computer and started typing an e-mail.

bq.
Dear Rocky,
Sorry I haven’t written in soooo long. You won’t believe all the stuff that’s happened in the last couple of weeks. Have you ever been on a poop picnic? I have and it STINKS on ice! Hardee-har-har.


Judy heard loud laughter coming from Stink’s room. “Be quiet, you guys! I can’t hear myself write!” She popped her head into Stink’s room. He was giving Aunt Opal a driving lesson on his race-car bed. “So the main thing is, you hold your hands on the steering wheel at ten and two, like a clock.”

“You guys are
driving
me crazy,” said Judy. “Can’t you play a
quiet
game like Sign Language or something?”

“Or something,” said Stink. He hopped up and shut the door.

Judy went back to her letter.

bq.
We canNOT find Mr. Todd anywhere! Frank and I looked — at the mall, at the park, at Speedy Market. We even found a guy with a GOT MUSIC cap just like Mr. Todd’s, but he turned out to be A STATUE!


Amy has a bazillion Borneo points. Get this: I’m almost out of dares and I still don’t have ONE SINGLE thrill point! No lie! I tried to ride an elephant at the zoo. But Aunt Opal wrecked the car on the way there and we got hauled away by a tow truck. Zero thrill points. One night last week we tried to sneak out after dark and do gorilla art. (Long story.) Bad idea. Rained out. Then there was the surfing lesson with Frank at the beach. Really, really bad idea. I ended up kissing a dead jellyfish! Bluck!


So my thrill point count is nada, zip, zero, zilch, thanks mostly to SpongeFrank SquareBottom! Please, please, PUH-LEASE think up some more dares for me because summer is more than half over and I’m gonna be a no-point, dare-doing loser!


About a week later, Judy was pulling a torn and dirty wedding dress on over her shorts when the doorbell rang. “Judy! Frank’s here!” called Aunt Opal. “Or should I say
Frankenstein’s
here?”

Judy gave one last tug to the beehive fright wig on her head. “Coming!” She grabbed her backpack and raced downstairs.

“Hey, Judy! Ready for the Evil Creature Double Feature?”

“I love your square head,” said Judy. “Are those real bolts in your neck?”

“Who are YOU?” asked Stink.

“Bride of Frankenstein. Who else?” said Judy.

“And I’m Frankenstein!” said Frank proudly.

“Of
corpse
you are!” Stink cracked himself up. “Oo-oh. Frank and Ju-dy, sit-ting in a tree!
K-I-S-S-I-N-G
.”

Frank turned beet red as Judy clamped a hand over Stink’s mouth. “Take it back or I’ll feed you to Jaws,” said Judy.

“
G-N-I-S-S-I-K
.” Stink shot out of the room.

When Judy and Frank got to the movie theater that night, the sign said, A
MIDSUMMER
NIGHT’S
SCREAM
SUMMER
FESTIVAL! Creepy music piped over the loudspeakers. They handed their money to a vampire-faced ticket seller with blood-dripping fangs.

“I vant to take your money! Mu-wha, ha, ha!”

“Since when do vampires wear ski jackets?” Judy asked. “It’s summer.”

“Since it’s freezing in here! The air conditioner went psycho.”

Judy looked at Frank. Frank looked at Judy. “Did he say ‘freezing’? As in cold?” she asked.

“MR. TODD!”

Once inside, they raced around the lobby, searching here, there, and everywhere. No Mr. Todd.

“I’ll check the boys’ bathroom,” said Frank. He burst through the door. Judy busted in after him.

“Hey!
GET
OUT! No girls allowed!” Frank pushed Judy out the door.

She waited. “Well? Is he in there? Did you find him?”

“Nope. Just Count Dracula and a mutant lobster,” Frank said. “I give up. Mr. Todd’s probably training penguins at the North Pole or something.”

“Or something,” said Judy.

Judy and Frank got buckets of popcorn and headed up the stairs. The small theater was packed with popcorn-throwing, candy-chewing vampires and zombies. Judy and Frank sat in the front row, dead center.

“Remember, this is a double feature. So no being a wimpburger, Frank. We have to stay till the very end if we want to get points.”

“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who’ll be screaming your pants off as soon as the lights go out.”

Judy glanced at her mood ring. Amber. Amber was for
Nervous, Tense.

Just then, the lights went out. A bloodcurdling scream filled the room. On the screen, a pack of zombies staggered toward a woman. Her party dress got snagged in a car door. She let out a spine-chilling scream.

Frank grabbed Judy’s arm. “Alone, bad. Friend, good,” he said in a Frankenstein voice. He chewed his popcorn extra-fast.

“GRRrrrrrrrr,” the zombies moaned and groaned.

“AHHHHH!” the woman screamed again.

A zombie’s eye fell out and rolled down the street.

“Holy eyeball!” yelled Frank.

“Good thing he’s dead already,” said Judy.

“SHHH!” said a zombie cheerleader behind them.

“It’s true. The dead are among us,” said a spooky voice. “They’re taking over the town of Pittsylvania. Lock your doors. Bolt your windows.”

Zombies marched through town, punching through walls and knocking down doors. One zombie ate something that looked like a human leg.

Frank gasped, spraying Judy with soda. “I, um, just remembered… I forgot to feed my goldfish.” He stood up to go, spilling soda everywhere.

Judy pulled him back. “Sit. Down. Don’t get all Franken-scared on me now. This is our absolute last chance to earn thrill points!”

A zombie staggered. His milky eyes and blood-streaked face filled the screen. “I
COME
FOR
DINNER
. I
COME
FOR
YOU-U-U-U-U!”

“AGhhhh!” Frank screamed. He jumped over Judy’s legs, toppling her bucket of popcorn. “I’m outta here.”

Judy grabbed his shirt. “You are so
NOT
leaving, Frankenstein!” Frank pulled away and
RIPPPPP!
She had half the shirt in her hands.

Frank ran up the aisle. Judy tore after him, catching up to him just outside the theater.

“You are dead, Frank Pearl!”

“No. Zombies are dead. I’m going home!”

Judy threw up her hands. “Great. Just great. Rocky and Amy are having the Funnest Summer Ever and I’m stuck with Frankenscreamer!”

“Hey!” said Frank.

“Rocky and Amy wouldn’t bail after two seconds of Zombie! Rocky and Amy wouldn’t knock me off a tightrope! Rocky and Amy wouldn’t puke all over me!”

Frank glared at Judy. “Look who’s talking! All your stupid points and dares and charts — they suck the fun out of everything. You’re nothing but one big wet… 
FUN
SPONGE!” Frank stomped off down the street.

“Fun sponge?” Judy yelled after him. “Rocky and Amy wouldn’t call me a fun sponge!”

Frank kept walking. He didn’t look back. Judy cupped her hands to yell at him.

“Well, if I’m a fun sponge, then you, you’re a big fat fun… MOP!”

Frank turned a corner and disappeared. Judy kicked at the sidewalk. She turned back toward the theater.

“Hold on there, Bridezilla. Where’s your ticket?” said the ticket taker.

“Inside. In my backpack. Honest! I already paid! Ask the vampire.” Judy pointed to the ticket booth, but it was empty. No vampire.

“Sorry. No ticket, no movie,” said the ticket taker.

Judy spun on her heel and stomped away. She kicked a leaf. She kicked a stick. She kicked a rock all the way home. “Fun. Sponge. My. Elbow!” The rock tumbled down the street and stopped in front of her house.

“What the… ?”

In the middle of the front yard, a mountain of junk — tuna-fish cans, burlap bags, old carpet remnants, chicken wire, ropes, and pipes — had been made into a giant statue. BIGFOOT!

Aunt Opal was on a ladder, smearing plaster on Bigfoot’s face. Stink was working on his two large feet. Aunt Opal waved.

“What. Is. THAT?” Judy asked.

“It’s Bigfoot, of course,” said Aunt Opal. “I guess I really am a ‘gorilla’ artist now.”

“Wanna help?” Stink asked, grinning.

Judy trudged toward the front door. “I’d
LOVE
to. Only I can’t because I’m going to spend the rest of this bummer summer
in my room
! I mean it this time.”

“Look out. She’s in a mood,” Stink said to Aunt Opal.

“Am not!” She ran up the steps, letting the screen door slam behind her. Judy stepped on a postcard. She peeled it off her shoe. The postcard had a picture of Rocky making a lion jump through a hoop. It said,

85 thrill points!

“ROAR!” Judy ran up the stairs and flung herself onto her bed. She couldn’t help noticing that her mood ring had turned dark blue. For
Unhappy, Mad.

Tingalinga, ding! Ding! Ding!
Late the next morning, Judy woke up to the jangling of the ice-cream truck. She covered her head with a pillow.

“Hey, Judy!” called Aunt Opal. “It’s the ice-cream truck! Judyyyyyyy… !”

A few minutes later, Aunt Opal, with a grape Popsicle in hand, tapped lightly on Judy’s door.

“Come back when school starts!” Judy called.

Opal pushed the door open a crack. “Sorry, but this’ll be melted by then.”

Judy didn’t budge.

“You don’t
REALLY
want to spend the rest of the summer in your room, do you?” Opal gently lifted the pillow off Judy’s head.

“Why not? My summer is totally wrecked. For sure and absolute positive,” Judy griped. “But I will take the Popsicle. Don’t tell Mom.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Ye-ah! Frank Pearl, my used-to-be-second-best-friend-but-now-he’s-my-first-worst-enemy, called me a
FUN
SPONGE
.”

Aunt Opal couldn’t help laughing a little. “That sounds
BAD
.
Are
you a fun sponge?”

Judy slurped her Popsicle. “No way! HE’S the sponge. It’s
HIS
fault I can’t get any thrill points!”

“Righhhht. Thrill Points.”

“Well, they’re important. You can’t have a
NOT
bummer summer without them.”

“Oh, absolutely. Duh. That’s like the Number-One Rule of summer,” Aunt Opal agreed. “So, we just need to get you more thrill points. We still haven’t put hats on those lions!”

SLURP
,
SLURP
,
SLURP
.

“The hats got all ruined, remember?”

“Well, let’s think of something else.”

“But I’ve already thought of everything. For sure and absolute positive.”

Just then, a loud voice bounced in through the window. “Testing, testing…”

Judy and Aunt Opal looked at each other. They scrambled over to the window. A NewsBeat van was parked at the curb. A lady announcer stood in front of the Bigfoot sculpture, interviewing Stink.

“And your name is… ?”

“James Moody. But everyone calls me Stink,” Stink said, beaming.

“So, Stink, Bigfoot fever is sweeping the county with twenty-seven recent sightings nearby. Is that what inspired you to build a statue of Bigfoot?”

“Stink’s on TV!” Judy screeched.

“Last one downstairs is a fuzzy pickle!” said Opal. They pounded down the stairs and out the door.

“People say Bigfoot isn’t real. How do you answer that, Stink Moody?”

“He is
too
real. And I’m gonna catch him!”

“If you
do
catch him, Mr. Stink Moody, you’ll be the most famous kid in —”