Fudge-a-Mania by Judy Blume

Author:Judy Blume
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2011-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

Green Gurgling Gas

On Wednesday Sheila got a phone call during breakfast. As soon as she hung up she started bawling.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Fudge asked.

“My friend Mouse Ellis has chicken pox and can’t come to Maine!”

Grandma put her arms around Sheila. “You must be terribly disappointed.”

“I am,” Sheila wailed. “Everything happens to me! Why does it have to be my friend who gets sick? Why couldn’t Jimmy Fargo get chicken pox instead?”

“Jimmy had chicken pox in second grade,” I said. “Don’t you remember . . . we all had them.”

That made Sheila cry even harder. “But it’s soooo unfair!”

“Where is it written that life is fair?” Grandma asked. “It’s all ups and downs, isn’t it, Buzzy?”

Buzzy Senior nodded. “These things happen,” he told Sheila.

That’s when I burped. I didn’t mean to. It just came out. Probably I drank my orange juice too fast. But Sheila glared at me. “I heard that, Peter!”

“Heard what?” I asked.

“That stupid laugh!” Sheila said.

“That was no laugh. That was a burp.”

Sheila turned to Buzzy Senior. “Grandpa . . . make him stop! He’s so mean . . . he’s glad Mouse can’t come to Maine.”

Before I had the chance to explain, Tootsie flicked a spoonful of oatmeal across the table. It landed on Sheila’s face, halfway between her mouth and her eyes.

“You see . . .” Sheila cried. “You see how everything happens to me?”

“It’s just oatmeal,” Grandma said, handing Sheila a piece of paper towel.

“That’s not the point!” Sheila turned and ran from the room.

I sure hoped things would improve before tonight, when Jimmy Fargo gets here!

* * *

After breakfast, Mom helped get my room ready for Jimmy. She moved Fudge’s things down the hall, into the room Grandma is sharing with Tootsie. She set up a rollaway bed for Fudge right next to Tootsie’s crib. “I hate crowding you in like this,” Mom said to Grandma.

“I don’t mind,” Grandma said. “Sleeping in the same room as my grandchildren is a privilege. It’s a lot more fun than sleeping in a room by myself.”

“You should get married, Grandma,” Fudge said. “Then you wouldn’t have to sleep in a room by yourself.” He jumped on the rollaway bed.

“That bed isn’t designed for jumping,” Mom told him. “It’s going to collapse if you don’t stop.”

Fudge tumbled off the bed like some Olympic gymnast and landed on his feet. If I tried that I’d probably break a leg. “Do you still snore, Grandma?” he asked.

“Fudgie!” Mom said. “That’s not a polite question.”

But Grandma didn’t mind. She said, “I really don’t know, Fudge. You’ll have to tell me.”

“Snoring keeps the monsters away,” he said.

“Yes,” Grandma said, “I’m sure it does.”

“When I get married I won’t have monsters in my room,” Fudge said.

“Says who?” I asked.

“You don’t get monsters when you sleep in a bed with somebody else.”

“That’s why you want to get married?” I said. “So you won’t get monsters in your room?”

“Why else would I get married?”

“You should talk to Mitzi,” I told him. “She’s got monster spray.

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