Stink and the Incredible Super-Galactic Jawbreaker (2 page)

“Like a fireball?”

“Like the earth’s core!” said Stink.

“RARE!” said Judy. “Do you think it’ll really break your jaw?”

“It better!” said Stink.

Stink took one lick. Then another. Then another. The giant jawbreaker was way too big to fit into his mouth.

Slurp.
He licked that jawbreaker all the way home.

Sloop.
He licked it all the way up to his room.

Slop.
He licked it while he fed Toady one-handed. He licked it while he played with his president baseball cards (including James Madison, thanks to Judy). He licked it while he did his homework one-handed. He licked it the whole time he talked to Grandma Lou on the phone, telling her all about the Pajama Day they were going to have in Mrs. D.’s class.

He even licked it while he set the table for dinner. One-handed, of course.

Pretty soon his lips were green and his tongue was blue and his hands were as sticky as gum on a sneaker bottom.

“Hey,” Judy asked at dinner. “Why is there a big fat sticky blue fingerprint on my plate?”

“Oops,” said Stink, licking off his fingers. “Finger-lickin’ good!”

“Stink’s eating a jawbreaker for dinner!” said Judy, pointing.

“Stink, put that jawbreaker down and eat some real food,” said Dad. “Here. Have some macaroni.”

“This
is
real food,” said Stink. “It contains vitamins A and C and calcium. No lie.”

“And dextrose, sucrose, fructose, and other stuff that makes you comatose,” said Judy.

“It’s NOT going to make me comb my toes,” said Stink.

“And don’t forget wax,” said Judy.

“Macaroni,” said Mom. “You heard Dad. And green beans.”

“But it didn’t break my jaw yet,” said Stink. “It didn’t even stretch my mouth one bit.”

“You already have a big mouth,” said Judy.

“Hardee-har-har,” said Stink. “Well, it didn’t set my tongue on fire yet or make my cheeks feel like a chipmunk, either.”

“It may not break your jaw,” said Judy, “but all your teeth are going to fall out. For sure and absolute positive. Did you know Queen Elizabeth ate so many candies from her pockets that her teeth turned black? No lie!”

“At least I won’t have to brush them every day!” said Stink.

Every day, Stink ate a little more and a little more of his jawbreaker. He ate it in bed first thing in the morning before he brushed his teeth. He ate it at recess in between playing H-O-R-S-E with his super-duper best friend, Webster. He ate it on the bus and all the way home from school.

He gave a lick to Mouse the cat. He gave a lick to Toady the toad. He even tried giving a lick to Jaws the Venus flytrap.

Stink’s jawbreaker went from super-galactic to just plain galactic. From golf-ball size to Super-Ball size.

“Are you still eating that thing?” asked Judy. Stink stuck out his tongue.

“Well, you look like a skink,” said Judy. She pointed to his blue tongue.

Shloop!
went Stink.

Stink ate his not-super-galactic jawbreaker for one whole week. He ate it when it tasted like chalk. He ate it when it tasted like grapefruit. He ate it through the fiery core to the sweet, sugary center. He ate it down to a marble. A teeny-tiny pea.

Then, in one single bite, one not-jaw-breaking crunch, it was G-O-N-E, gone.

Stink was down in the dumps. He moped around the house for one whole day and a night. He stomped up the stairs. He stomped down. He drew comics.
Ka-POW!
He did not play with Toady once. He did not do his homework. He went outside and bounced Judy’s basketball 117 times.

“Somebody got up on the WRONG side of the bed,” said Judy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a MOOD.”

“I can have moods too, you know.” Stink kept counting. “One hundred eighteen, one hundred nineteen . . .”

“Is it because your jawbreaker’s all gone?” asked Judy.

“It’s because that jawbreaker lied. They should call it World’s Biggest UN-jawbreaker. I ate and ate that thing for one whole week, and it did not break my jaw. Not once. It didn’t even make my mouth one teeny-weeny bit bigger. See?” Stink clicked and clacked his teeth open and shut.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Judy. “I mean, if it did break your jaw for real, wouldn’t you be mad?”

“Yeah, but instead I’m madder.” Stink had an idea.

A brilliant what-to-do-when-you’re-mad idea. Stink would write a letter. A real-and-true official snail-mail letter. A letter with a greeting and a body and a closing, just the way Mrs. D. taught them in their how-to-write-a-letter unit at school.