THE TIME WARP TRIO
Summer Reading
Is Killing Me!
by Jon Scieszka
PUFFIN BOOKS
ONE
“CLUCK, CLUCK,” the thing rumbled in a deep voice.
“Is that thing talking to us?” said Fred.
I looked around the small playground. Fred, Sam, and I stood at one end against a chain-link fence. A very large, white, feathered thing stood next to the swing set at the other end, It had yellow, scaly legs as big as baseball bats, little red eyes, and a dog collar.
“I think it’s a giant chicken,” I said.
Sam cleaned his glasses on his T-shirt and took another look at the other side of the playground. “Yes, that is a two-hundred-fifty-pound chicken standing there.”
The sun glittered in its hungry little eyes.
“And yes, he looks like he’s planning to hurt us,” added Sam.
“Hey, it’s not my fault,” said Fred. “I didn’t touch The Book.”
“You did too,” I said.
“Did not,” said Fred.
“Did too.”
“Did not.”
“Excuse me, guys,” said Sam. “Did you ever get the feeling that all of this has happened before, exactly like this?”
The super-size chicken eyed us. He gave another gut-rumbling “CLUCK.”
“Well, except with maybe a black knight instead of a giant chicken, of course.”
Fred pushed back his Red Wings hat and scratched his head. “Hey yeah. It’s like ‘a la mode’ or something.”
The chicken pecked the ground hungrily with jackhammer blows of its beak.
“You mean ‘deja vu,' ” said Sam, backing up against the fence. “And Joe, isn’t this right about when you should do some magic trick and get us out of here?”
I stood there stunned, looking at a giant white chicken on a city playground. The swing set, the
slide, the gravel, even the impossible chicken . . . Sam was right. Everything did look familiar, but not really familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Uh, Joe. Joe?” said Sam, elbowing me in the ribs while keeping his eye on the hungry chicken. “The magic trick?”
“It’s like I’ve been here before, but I haven’t really been here before,” I said.
The monster bird twisted its head. It looked us over with one eye, then the other.
“Well, thank you for sharing your feelings,” said Sam. “And you know we would
just love to hear more . . . later. Right now it looks like that bird is thinking about his own idea of chicken dinner— us. So how about that magic trick?”
The killer fowl started bobbing and walking toward us.
Fred bounced his fist off the top of my head. “Yeah, come on, Joe. You are the worst magician I’ve ever known. Your Book got us into this. Do a real magic trick for once and get us out of here.”
The chicken started trotting.
I racked my brain, There was no way I was going to try the classic “abracadabra” or “hocus pocus” magic words to stop a charging chicken. And don’t even remind me of that “please” and “thank you” mistake I made earlier in my career. But I had a flash of an idea. I thought it could work. It just might work. So I gave it a try.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” I yelled.
The chicken only flapped its wings and ran faster.
I cupped my hands like a megaphone and yelled punch lines: “To get to the other side. To buy the newspaper. To get away from Colonel Sanders.”
Nothing worked. The monster chicken just looked madder and ran at us faster.
“I don’t want to end up as chicken feed,” wailed Sam, plastered against the fence.
At that moment, I saw a sign out of the corner of my eye. And I knew where we were.
The chicken thundered toward us, its deadly sharp beak pointed directly at us.
I stepped in front of Sam and Fred with my chest out.
“Hoboken,” I said.
“Chicken,” said Fred.
“Emergency!” screamed Sam.
“Exactly.”
TWO
This is going to be impossible to explain. But give me a chance and just let me try. I think I know what happened.
To go back to the very beginning—my life has not been the same since my uncle Joe gave me The Book for my birthday. This book is a small book.
A dark blue book with strange silver writing on it.
A book like no book I’ve ever read before or since.
It’s a time-warping book.
I know. I know. I can hear you laughing right now. You’re saying to yourself, “What’s with this guy? He probably still believes in the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Everybody knows you can’t travel through time with a book.”
I don’t blame you for not believing. I didn’t really believe it myself, either. Then we opened The Book and started going places.
Since then, my friends Sam and Fred and I have gotten into trouble in just about every time from the Stone Age to the future. We’ve run into pirates, robots, cavemen, you name it. We’ve been chased by a woolly mammoth, stampeded by cattle, turned into mummies, and nearly suffocated by one very nasty-smelling giant.
And we still have absolutely no idea how to work The Book.
The only thing that seems to stay the same is the green mist that takes us places. And that once we go to another time, the only way to get back home to our time is to find The Book in that time.
So anyway, there we were—sitting in my room the very first day of summer vacation. We were trying to be careful. We really were.
Fred was sitting on my bed, putting new wheels on his skates, showing off his new Detroit Red Wings Stanley Cup Champions hat. Sam and I were at my desk.
“No more classes, no more books. No more teachers’ dirty looks,” chanted Fred.
Sam raised one eyebrow. “What a poet. You wouldn’t know it. But your feet show it. They’re Longfellows.”
Fred looked up from his skates. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean . . . ?“
I stepped in between them before they started anything. “Okay guys. Forget the poetry. We are gathered here today to decide one great question:
How do we spend our summer vacation?”
Sam raised his hand. “May I first suggest how we don’t spend our summer vacation?” He pointed to a thin blue book with silver designs on my bookshelf. “Can we please promise not to open The Book and get sucked into some time-travel trouble like we always do when we get together?”
I started, “But—”
“No buts,” said Sam. “Every time you figure out some new way to keep track of The Book, we just get in more trouble. Let’s stay right here, right now.”
“I’m with you,” said Fred, spinning his wheels. “I say we do nothing but skate, skate, skate, and skate. We don’t have to open any books.”
“Well, now that you mention books,” said Sam, “I was thinking we might get an early start on this list. Then we can do whatever we want for the rest of the summer. “
Fred grabbed the piece of paper from Sam’s hand and read the heading. “Summer reading list? Are you crazy? This is vacation. We don’t have to read anything. That’s why they call it vacation.”
Sam took his list back. He read aloud, “Each student must read four books during the summer and fill out the attached study guide for two of them. “
“How can you be thinking about books?” said Fred. “We’ve got skating moves to practice.”
“Hmmm,” said Sam. “The list has Hatchet, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Hoboken Chicken Emergency.. .“
Fred used the edge of my bed to practice his street skating moves. “We’ve got to perfect the unity, the mute grab, the backside royale... “
“... Matilda, Flat Stanley... “
“... gumby, stale Japan... “
Fred and Sam traded skate moves and book titles one-on-one.
“... or here’s Tuck Everlasting... “
“...rocket three-sixty... “
“...Bunnicula... “
“.. .fish brain . . . “
Without looking up from the list, Sam grabbed Fred’s hat and tossed it on the floor.
“Encyclopedia Brown. “
Fred did a half-twist flip off the bed and took Sam’s list. He stuck it in a book from my shelf, shoved the book back on the shelf, and jumped back onto the bed.
“Mistyflip. “
“George and Martha. “
“One-eighty monkey plant.”
“Guys—”
“Frog and Toad. “
“Alley-oop soul.”
“Forget it, you guys!” I yelled. “You don’t have to decide.”
Fred and Sam both stopped and looked at me. “What do you mean we don’t have to decide?” I pointed to my bookshelf.
“The way I figure it, we have about three seconds before this green mist leaking off my bookshelf decides for us.”
All three of us stared at the wisps of green mist swirling out of the thin blue book with silver designs.
“Aww no,” said Fred. “How did that happen? I didn’t do nothing.”
“Anything,” said Sam. “You didn’t do anything.., except put our summer reading list inside The Book.”
“So, what will that do?” asked Fred.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I said.
Then the familiar green mist washed over us. And we were flung through time and space to who knows when or where.
THREE
The chicken thundered toward us.
“Don’t worry,” I said, standing in front of Fred and Sam. “I know exactly what’s going to happen next.”
Sam crouched down and covered his head. “Yeah, death by chicken.”
The galloping chicken was ten feet away and closing fast.
“Are you sure you know what’s going to happen? “ said Fred.
“Yerrbbfff, “ said Sam’s muffled voice.
The enormous chicken hopped, flapped, and launched itself right at us.
I thought I knew what was going to happen. I hoped I knew.
The feathered monster rose up... up... and . . . just over us. It cleared the fence behind us with a foot to spare, and landed with a ground-shaking thud. The big bird gave one more “CLUCK” and then disappeared down the street.
Sam froze in his crouch. “I can’t bear to look. Are we dead yet? “
“Yes,” said Fred. “And I’m the ghost of Fred.” Fred nudged Sam with one knee. Sam fell over, still curled in a ball. He carefully opened one eye.
“Fred, Joe—you’re alive! “ said Sam. “You’re sideways, but you’re alive! “
Fred rolled Sam back upright.
“Like magic,” said Sam. “Now you’re perfect.” Sam got on his knees and bowed to me. “Joe the Magnificent, I take back all of the bad things I ever said about you. You are a genius. You did know what was going to happen. “
“Well—” I began.
Sam wrapped his arms around my knees. “So you must know where The Book is and how we can get it and go back home and not stick around to fight giant chickens or slay dragons or wrestle pirates or—”
“Not exactly—” I began.
Fred hopped a handrail, practicing a backside royale. “What do you mean ‘not exactly’? And how did you know that chicken was going to jump?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said. “I saw that sign that says HOBOKEN DELI and I knew exactly where we were. “
“Hoboken?” said Fred.
“Brilliant,” said Sam.
“Well not exactly Hoboken,” I said. “I saw Hoboken, then the chicken, and then Sam said 'emergency.' "
A look of understanding came across Sam’s face. “No. This is not possible.”
“It’s exactly like this book I read,” I went on. “The Hoboken Chicken Emergency. This kid lives in Hoboken. He gets a two-hundred-sixty-six-pound chicken for Thanksgiving. He takes it to a playground. Then it runs away and jumps over the fence. “
Fred and Sam stared at me with their mouths hanging open.
“Are you telling me we are inside the book The Hoboken Chicken Emergency by D. Manus Pinkwater?” said Sam.
“It all fits,” I said. “The playground. Hoboken. The two-hundred-sixty-six-pound chicken.”
“We can’t be in a book,” said Fred. “That only happens in those geeky movies. Besides, there is no way I am going to spend my summer vacation in a book.”
Sam slowly shook his head. “This is very weird, but quite possibly true. What if story characters are real in some way? What if they have a life we just don’t know about?”
“That would explain everything,” I said. “Almost everything,” said Fred, tugging nervously on his hat. “Everything except that frog in a suit coat and pants over there.”
I looked around. “There’s no frog in a suit in The Hoboken Chicken Emergency. Where? “
“Right there,” pointed Fred. “Next to the toad in the plaid jacket.”
“Frog?” I said.
“Toad?” Sam said.
We looked at each other in horror.
“Frog and Toad?” we said.
And we knew then and there that something had gone terribly, mixed-uply, summer-reading-listly wrong.
FOUR
F red, Sam, and I hung on the playground fence. We watched the human-size frog in a green suit coat and striped pants and the toad in a plaid coat turn the corner and run down the street.
“I saw it, but I don’t believe it,” I said. “How did they get here?” asked Fred. “The summer reading list was for the whole school,” answered Sam. “First grade through eighth grade. Green Eggs and Ham through 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”
I shook my head. “But you don’t really think all of those books...? I mean did we...? Are they... ?“
Black clouds swept over the sun. A bolt of lightning flashed. Thunder cracked.
A rabbit in a blue coat with brass buttons, a curious-looking monkey, and a boy pushing a wheelbarrow filled with one very large orange carrot ran toward us down the street.
Sam’s eyes widened. “Quick, hide! “ He pushed us under a bench behind a bush.
“Why are we hiding from Peter Rabbit?” whispered Fred.
Another flash of lightning split the dark Hoboken sky. The crack of thunder shook the ground under us. A giant figure with a bleached skull head and antlers galloped his black horse behind Peter.
I peeked through the slats of the bench and the leaves of the bushes. The antlered giant swung his sword overhead, then reined his horse to a stop. He turned his flaming eyes our way. I could have sworn he was staring right at us. My heart stopped. Just then, the monkey let out a shriek. The antler guy turned his head, then spurred his horse and rode off.
...
widez2