Melonhead and the Vegalicious Disaster
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It's not fair! Not only is Melonhead's new fifth-grade teacher notoriously strict and mean, his mother is making him eat more and more vegetables. So Melonhead and his pals come up with a genius idea to get out of eating his mom's vegalicious meals, all the while convincing her that they actually love them. But the genius idea leads to totally unexpected and stinky results!
time.” “Write about Fred Astaire, the dancingest man of all time,” Lucy Rose said. “He had so many moves he could dance with a broom.” “I am not doing a dancing man,” I said. At recess, Sam, Pip, and I threw rocks at the kickball that’s been stuck in the maple tree since last year. Pip has great aim. Lucy Rose and Jonique tied their ankles together with Lucy Rose’s yellow bandana. “We’re practicing three-legged racing,” Jonique yelled. “Time us.” “Ready, steady, GO!” I shouted. “Pip,”
“Congratulations!” Pop said. I could hear Madam in the background. “Congratulations for what?” she was asking. “I’ll let Melonhead tell you himself,” Pop said. “What’s the news?” Madam asked. “Are you sitting down?” I asked. “I’m lying down, actually,” she said. “Even better in case you faint,” I told her. “Because guess what? When I eat beets my pee turns red!” “You must be very proud,” Madam said. “Anybody would be,” I told her. When I came back upstairs my parents were standing
said. “Sally Ann’s breath smells like Chiclets,” Lucy Rose said. “Jonique’s talking about Ms. Mad’s teeth.” “Why should Sally Ann brush Ms. Madison’s teeth?” Pop asked. “If Ms. Madison is old enough to teach fifth grade, she is old enough to brush her own teeth.” That made everybody fall apart with wild hyena laughing. “Ms. Madison can’t be this awful,” my mom said. “Can she?” “Ms. Mad doesn’t care a skink about human children,” Lucy Rose said. “Is skink your Word of the Day, Lucy
“She’s not home, Gnome,” I said. “Bad deal, Carrot Peel.” I topped him with “You’re vegalicious, Aloysius.” “Call your dad,” Sam said. “He’s probably waiting next to the phone.” It turned out he was waiting in a meeting. “Daddy-O!” I yelled. “What’s up, Sport?” “Remember you said Bart Bigelow should get another skill because there is no job for a boy with his talents? Boy, were you wrong.” “I was?” he said. “In France, people get paid to fart,” I said. “Well, they did in the olden days.
you’re eating matching food?” I said. Aunt Frankie gave Pop the Cinni-mini with the most icing plus a dog snickerdoodle for Gumbo. “May I take a number from the Now Serving machine?” I asked. “No,” Aunt Frankie said. If she keeps saying no I am going to quit asking. We sat outside at the table under the red umbrella. “How was dreaded Ms. Mad?” Pop said. “Were her fangs showing?” “She doesn’t have fangs,” Jonique said. “Just really large teeth.” “Three guesses what happened, Pop,” Lucy