asked.
"Yes," Fudge said. "Rocks don't need sun or water. They don't get slugs. Animals can't eat them. And they never die."
I looked at Sheila.
61
"It was his idea," she said.
"It was my idea," Fudge repeated.
"I like this garden," Mitzi said. She got down on her hands and knees to help.
"Mom and Dad are going to be surprised when they see your garden," I told Fudge.
"I know," he said.
"They're going to be surprised that you dug up this much grass to plant rocks. Especially since this backyard doesn't belong to us."
"Who does it belong to?" Fudge asked.
"The people who own this house," I told him.
"So..." he said, "the people who own this house will be happy when they see my garden."
"Maybe," I told him. "Or maybe they'll say, Who dug up our backyard?"
"Really, Peter," Sheila said. "You're such a worrier!"
"Yeah, Pete," Fudge said. "You worry too much."
"I don't worry!" I told them. "I think ahead." When the rocks were all planted--six rows of them, with ten in each row--Mitzi scooped up a handful of dirt. "Now let's make mud pie!"
"Mud pie," Fudge said. "That's what they have for dessert at Tico-Taco. Right, Pete?"
"But it's not made of mud," I told him.
"Then why do they call it mud pie?" he asked.
62
"Because it looks like mud," I explained.
"Yum... mud pie," Mitzi said, licking the dirt off her fingers.
"Spit that out right now!" Sheila told her. "That's full of bacteria."
"Yum... bacteria!" Mitzi said. "I love bacteria. Don't you, Fudge?"
"Bacteria's my favorite," Fudge said. Then he looked up at me. "What's bacteria, Pete?"
"They're like germs," I told him.
"Yum... germs!" Mitzi said. "Germs are really tasty."
"Cooties are tasty, too," Fudge said. "And slugs. Slugs are fat and juicy!"
"You two are disgusting!" Sheila said.
"Germy germy germs and sluggy sluggy slugs," Mitzi sang.
"Yummy yummy down my tummy?" Fudge held his arms straight out to the sides and began to twirl. Mitzi copied him. They twirled around and around--faster and faster--until they got so dizzy they fell to the ground, screaming and laughing. Then they started all over again.
"Stop that!" Sheila shouted.
"We can't," Fudge yelled, twirling and whirling.
"It's Fudge-a-mania! " Mitzi shrieked. "Once you get it you can never stop."
63
"I'm going to count to three..." Sheila shouted.
But Sheila's threat didn't bother them. "You better watch out," Fudge sang, "because it's catching!" He twirled over to me and swatted my behind. "Now you've got it, Pete! You've got Fudge-a-mania too!"
I started twirling, slowly at first--then faster and faster--until everything was a blur. I twirled over to Sheila and smacked her on the back. "Look out, Sheila... you just caught it from me!"
"I did not catch anything from you!" Sheila shouted. "I will never catch anything from you!"
The door to the house slammed and out marched Libby. She was wearing her Snoopy T-shirt. It's so big it hangs down to her knees. She stomped across the yard. "Just what exactly is going on here?" she asked. She didn't wait for an answer. "And how am I supposed to sleep with this racket?"
"Sleep?" Mitzi asked. "Now?"
"Yes, now!" Libby said. "It's only ten o'clock in the morning!"
"You sleep until ten o'clock in the morning?" Mitzi said, like she couldn't believe it.
Libby put her hands on her hips and glared. "I try!"
64
"But morning is the best time to play," Mitzi said.
"Who is this kid?" Libby asked Sheila.
"Mitzi Apfel," Sheila said. "A neighbor."
"I'm five," Mitzi told her. "And I walked here all by myself. I didn't need anyone to show me the way."
"I'll tell you what you need..." Libby began.
But Mitzi didn't wait to hear what Libby had to say. She raced off, shouting, "It's Fudge -a-mania''
Fudge followed Mitzi.
Sheila chased both of them.
"You're all maniacs , " Libby shouted.
"Fudge-a-maniacs," I added.
Either Libby didn't get my joke or she decided to ignore it. Because she said, "This is all your fault, Peter! Chaos follows you and
"Yes," Fudge said. "Rocks don't need sun or water. They don't get slugs. Animals can't eat them. And they never die."
I looked at Sheila.
61
"It was his idea," she said.
"It was my idea," Fudge repeated.
"I like this garden," Mitzi said. She got down on her hands and knees to help.
"Mom and Dad are going to be surprised when they see your garden," I told Fudge.
"I know," he said.
"They're going to be surprised that you dug up this much grass to plant rocks. Especially since this backyard doesn't belong to us."
"Who does it belong to?" Fudge asked.
"The people who own this house," I told him.
"So..." he said, "the people who own this house will be happy when they see my garden."
"Maybe," I told him. "Or maybe they'll say, Who dug up our backyard?"
"Really, Peter," Sheila said. "You're such a worrier!"
"Yeah, Pete," Fudge said. "You worry too much."
"I don't worry!" I told them. "I think ahead." When the rocks were all planted--six rows of them, with ten in each row--Mitzi scooped up a handful of dirt. "Now let's make mud pie!"
"Mud pie," Fudge said. "That's what they have for dessert at Tico-Taco. Right, Pete?"
"But it's not made of mud," I told him.
"Then why do they call it mud pie?" he asked.
62
"Because it looks like mud," I explained.
"Yum... mud pie," Mitzi said, licking the dirt off her fingers.
"Spit that out right now!" Sheila told her. "That's full of bacteria."
"Yum... bacteria!" Mitzi said. "I love bacteria. Don't you, Fudge?"
"Bacteria's my favorite," Fudge said. Then he looked up at me. "What's bacteria, Pete?"
"They're like germs," I told him.
"Yum... germs!" Mitzi said. "Germs are really tasty."
"Cooties are tasty, too," Fudge said. "And slugs. Slugs are fat and juicy!"
"You two are disgusting!" Sheila said.
"Germy germy germs and sluggy sluggy slugs," Mitzi sang.
"Yummy yummy down my tummy?" Fudge held his arms straight out to the sides and began to twirl. Mitzi copied him. They twirled around and around--faster and faster--until they got so dizzy they fell to the ground, screaming and laughing. Then they started all over again.
"Stop that!" Sheila shouted.
"We can't," Fudge yelled, twirling and whirling.
"It's Fudge-a-mania! " Mitzi shrieked. "Once you get it you can never stop."
63
"I'm going to count to three..." Sheila shouted.
But Sheila's threat didn't bother them. "You better watch out," Fudge sang, "because it's catching!" He twirled over to me and swatted my behind. "Now you've got it, Pete! You've got Fudge-a-mania too!"
I started twirling, slowly at first--then faster and faster--until everything was a blur. I twirled over to Sheila and smacked her on the back. "Look out, Sheila... you just caught it from me!"
"I did not catch anything from you!" Sheila shouted. "I will never catch anything from you!"
The door to the house slammed and out marched Libby. She was wearing her Snoopy T-shirt. It's so big it hangs down to her knees. She stomped across the yard. "Just what exactly is going on here?" she asked. She didn't wait for an answer. "And how am I supposed to sleep with this racket?"
"Sleep?" Mitzi asked. "Now?"
"Yes, now!" Libby said. "It's only ten o'clock in the morning!"
"You sleep until ten o'clock in the morning?" Mitzi said, like she couldn't believe it.
Libby put her hands on her hips and glared. "I try!"
64
"But morning is the best time to play," Mitzi said.
"Who is this kid?" Libby asked Sheila.
"Mitzi Apfel," Sheila said. "A neighbor."
"I'm five," Mitzi told her. "And I walked here all by myself. I didn't need anyone to show me the way."
"I'll tell you what you need..." Libby began.
But Mitzi didn't wait to hear what Libby had to say. She raced off, shouting, "It's Fudge -a-mania''
Fudge followed Mitzi.
Sheila chased both of them.
"You're all maniacs , " Libby shouted.
"Fudge-a-maniacs," I added.
Either Libby didn't get my joke or she decided to ignore it. Because she said, "This is all your fault, Peter! Chaos follows you and
Similar Books
Footsteps on the Shore
Pauline Rowson
The Stranger
Kyra Davis
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 3 From the Ashes
Melissa Myers
Street Fame
K. Elliott
Sixteen
Emily Rachelle
Nightshade
Jaide Fox
Burnt Paper Sky
Gilly Macmillan
Dark Debts
Karen Hall
That Furball Puppy and Me
Carol Wallace, Bill Wallance
Thirty-Three Teeth
Colin Cotterill