Tommy Puke and the Boy with the Golden Barf (2 page)

 

*****

Chapter 3

Tommy Puke was already pretty ripe with B.O., and as the afternoon grew warmer, he got even riper. I didn't want to be rude after he'd saved me and all, but I had to keep my distance as we walked through the neighborhood. If I got too close, the smell got crazy strong.

The story he told was crazy, too. But I still hung on every word. Even if it was
totally
made up
, it was still an amazing
tale.

"There's a legend in Africa, in the Congo." Tommy picked his nose as he talked. "Ever hear of a god called Bumba?"

I fro
wned and shook my head. "What about him?"

"They say he puked up the universe." Tommy
yanked
his finger from his nose and stared at something brown on the tip. "He's the god of vomit."

"The god of vomit?"

Tommy sucked the booger off his finger and grinned. "We're kindred spirits." Then, he went back to picking. "
After all, my last name's 'Puke,' you know."

"Really?" I'd never known anyone with that last name before, but I t
ried not to act too surprised.

Tommy dug something else out of his nose, something green. When I glanced at it, I swear I saw it moving. "So anyway, Bumba threw up the sun and the moon and the Earth and the stars, and then he
went away
." Instead of eating the green thing on his finger, Tommy wiped it on the front of his t-shirt
, leaving a long, green smear
. "
But he left his kids
behind.
One of his sons wa
s named
Chonganda."

"Chonganda?
"

Tommy nodded. "The boy with the golden barf." He picked his nose again, then combed his fingers through his greasy plume of hair. "His vomit is solid gold. That's what the legends say. Can you imagine?"

"Wow." I caught a whiff of his blooming B.O. and moved another few inches away as we kept walking.

"Guess where Chonganda is right now." Tommy leaned toward me. "According to these dreams I've been having, he's
right here
in
Pristine, Pennsylvania
!"

"Dream
s
?" I squinted one eye at him. "Why would you be having dreams about Chonganda?"

"There can be only one answer," said Tommy. "I must be a direct descendant of Bumba, the god of vomit." He sounded pretty excited.
"Perfect, right?"

I shrugged. "If you say so."

"I mean,
look
at me." Tommy spread his arms wide. "I've
got
to be Bumba's descendant. Which means it's my
destiny
to find Chonganda and the golden barf!"

He was sounding crazier by the minute, but I nodded supportively. "
Makes sense
, Tommy."

"I know, right?" He looked over with his
bulging
, bloodshot eyes. G
lobs of g
ray goop--
leftover
sand from being asleep
, maybe?
--were
stuck in the corners. "So I've been
reading my poop
and snot-casting for clues to Chonganda's location."

"Reading your poop?"
I grimaced. "Snot-casting?"

"Like reading palms or tea leaves or rolling bones.
I can demonstrate snot-casting right here." He stopped and took a deep breath. "
You
just
blow out a snot rocket..." He demonstrated, pressing one side of his nose shut and blowing hard from the other. A quivering yellow and bright green blob landed on the sidewalk at our feet. "The configuration, color, and consistency tell you things about the future. Go ahead and take a closer look, if you want."

I shook my head. "Thanks anyway."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged and kept walking. "Anyway, the poop and snot showed me the way. The
y told me I have to perform
four
labors to find Chonganda
and get the golden barf
."

"Four
labors?"

"Like the twelve labors of Hercules. And I've already done the first one." Tommy grinned and bumped m
y arm with his elbow. "I rescued you from the Three-Headed Monster."

I couldn't argue with that...but it made me wonder about something. "Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me you
predicted
I'd need help?
"

Tommy chuckled and slapped my back. "Ask the poop and snot, Grasshopper. They'll never steer you wrong."

 

*****

Chapter 4

After walking for a while, Tommy and I came to Hind
Avenue
, a busy
street
on the edge of the neighborhood.
There were plenty of places to go, lots of shops and restaurants on both sides of the street.

And we walked past all of them without stopping or even slowing down.

Sadly, I watched a comic book shop slide by as we marched past it. "So where are we headed?" It was Wednesday, new comic book day, and I was dying to get a look at the latest issues.

"We're almost there." Tommy nodded
and chewed the nail of his left pinky. "The second labor is dead ahead."

I scanned the street ahead of us. "You mean the bakery? The post office?"

"Further ahead." Tommy stopped chewing his nail and pointed up the street. "See that big
brick
building past the barber shop?"

My eyes widened. "You mean the old folks' home?"

"That's the place." Tommy went back to gnawing his nail. He managed to bite off a strip and swallowed it, leaving a jagged tip. "Nemean Manor."

*****

As soon as we pushed through the front door of Nemean Manor, the
bitter
smell of old folks' pee washed over us. So did the sound of old folks calling Tommy's name.

They were set up in a semi-circle around the door, at least a dozen of them, all in wheelchairs. Most of them were women; only three old men were scattered through the group.

"Hey guys." Tommy waved and smiled. "What's happening?"

One of the old men wheeled forward and wrenched the olive drab Army cap off his head. "The
races
, that's what! Guess who won the Triple Toilet Seat?"

"Beulah?" Tommy pointed at one of the old ladies, then swung his arm ov
er to point at someone else. "Wait, n
o
! I
t was
Margareta
, wasn't it?"

"Neither one," said the old guy with the Army cap. "
Sylvia
won the pot
!"

"For real
, Harry
?" Tommy gaped at a tiny old woman up front with a tightly-curled, blue-tinted hairdo. "But what about your
constipation
, Sylvia?"

She beamed and reached toward him. "I guess you helped me
loosen up
, Tommy."

Everyone laughed, and Tommy took her hand. She didn't seem a
bit bothered by the fact that he
was covered with filth.

"Then I'll put my money on
you
this time, Sylvie. I'll bet you can out-crap
all
of them again!" Tommy turned to look at me. "You want in on this action, Josh? The Craptucky Derby is set for
this weekend!"

I shook my head, amazed that they were talking about poop races, more amazed that they were betting money on them...and most amazed of all that Tommy seemed to be the ringleader.

"So what brings you here today, Tommy?" said
Harry
. "You don't usually show up till Sunday."

Tommy let go of Sylvia's hand and scratched his
butt. "I need to talk to
Mr.
Diogenes."

The old folks fell silent and looked at each other dramatically. The background noise of the nursing home rose up to fill the gap--ringing phones, beeping medical equipment, nurses' voices in the halls.

Harry
cleared his throat. "Diogenes ain't doing so good, Tommy."

Tommy's eyes shot wider. "
What
?" He sounded alarmed. "Why didn't anybody
call
me?"

"Easy, Tom, easy."
Harry
patted the air with both hands. "It's not like that, buddy.
Mr.
D
.
isn't any sicker than usual."

"
But h
is peace of mind's
another story." Little Sylvia rolled her wheelchair aside to clear a path. "You'd better go see for yourself."

 

*****

Chapter 5

"You come here on Sundays?" I said as we hurried down the hall.

"Yep." Tommy's eyes stayed focused straight ahead. "Every Sunday I can."

I almost had to run to keep up. "Do you have family here or something?"

"
More like a role model
." He stopped at the
open door
of a room
at the end of the hall.
A man
was yelling inside.

Tommy walked in, but I held back. The yelling man sounded pretty angry; I wondered if he might be dangerous.

"
Mr.
Diogenes?" said Tommy.

It was then that I heard another voice, deep as rolling thunder. "Thomas? Is that you?"

"Sure is," said Tommy. "So what's
his
problem?"

The yelling man's voice burst out louder than ever. "I'll
tell
you what my problem is! That
blind fiend
with his
mind control
powers! He must be
eliminated!
"

Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway.
Inside, Tommy was standing at the foot of the bed nearest the door. An old man lay
there
, propped up on pillows; he was heavyset, with a round face
and tar-black eyebrows that didn't seem to fit in with his
wavy silver hair.

"Hey,
Mr.
D." Tommy squeezed the old man's foot through the bedsheet. "I'd like you to meet my friend, Josh. He's helping me with my labors."

Mr.
Diogenes stared in my general direction but didn't look right at me. "Hello there, Josh."
Maybe t
he yelling man
had
been right about him being blind.

"Nice to meet you, sir." I smiled, though I didn't think he could see me.

Maybe the yelling man had been listening, because he started shouting again as soon as Tommy finished introducing me. "Josh! Don't listen to your
alien overlords!
They will turn this planet into rancid
marshmallow
if they aren't stopped!"

"What's
his
problem?" said Tommy.

"A
total
lack of self-control."
Mr.
Diogenes sighed. "They call him Boombox. He moved in three days ago, which coincidentally was the last time I got any sleep."

A gray curtain
hanging from a track in the ceiling divided the room. I craned my neck to look around it, but all I saw of Boombox were his big, bare feet at the end of his bed.

"I can't take it anymore,
Thomas
."
Mr.
Diogenes grimaced. "I'm
cracking up
, I swear."

"Don't listen to him!" Boombox's voice was louder than ever.
"
He's
the one driving
me
insane! When no one's around, he divides into multiple
six-inch-tall
clones
with purple eyes! They've already made a
dozen
attempts on my
life
!"

"I see what you mean,
Mr. D
." Tommy gave his foot another squeeze under the sheet. "Want me to get him out of here for you?"

"Really?"
Mr.
Diogenes tipped his head forward. "You could
do
that?"

"What are you
saying
about me over there?" said Boombox. "What
wickedness
are you up to now?"

Tommy grinned. "It'll be untraceable,
Mr. D
. Just say the word."

Mr. D
iogenes didn't hesitate. "Consider it said, Thomas."

"Consider it done, Mr. D." Tommy winked at me as he walked over to the edge of the curtain closest to the head of Boombox's bed. He pushed the curtain open a little, then turned his back toward Boombox's side of the room.

Sightless Mr. Diogenes angled his head toward Tommy, listening for what he was going to do next.
He didn't react when Tommy popped the button on his filthy bluejeans, but his dark eyebrows went up at the sound of Tommy unzipping his fly.

As for me, I
was about ready to duck out the door...but my curiosity held me in place. I was dying to know how Tommy planned to get rid of Boombox. What did unzipping his jeans have to do with it?

It didn't take long to find out.

Tommy eased the seat of his jeans down, exposing his bare butt. It looked much cleaner than the rest of him, which surprised me;
the
skin
of his backside
was actually pink instead of brown and gray.

Next, Tommy shuffled back
a step and bent over
, pushing his naked butt between the curtain and wall into Boombox's space.
Boombox was silent, which made me think he hadn't turned yet and seen that butt staring him in the face.

Tommy closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and hunkered down a little further. The room was silent for one more moment.

And then it exploded with a great, shuddering fart.

BLOOOOOORRRRTTTT!

The first blast sounded like a bowling ball knocking down ten pins all at once. I'd never heard a fart that explosive in my life.

And apparently, the noise wasn't the worst of it.

"Yaaahhh!!" Boombo
x cried out right away, as if the shot
had scared him...but then, as the blast faded, he howled again. "Ewwww! That
horrible
smell
!"

Tommy opened his eyes and flashed a nasty grin in my direction. Then, he returned to his work, scrunching up his face as he bore down for another blast.

The second fart was louder than the first. It sounded like booming fireworks, followed by a high-pitched screech.

POOOOOOOMMMM

SQUEEEEEEETTT

"Aarrgh!" Boombox coughed so hard, he gagged. "Stop it! Stop that
stiiink!
"

But there was no stopping Tommy now. With a chuckle, he bore down a third time,
letting loose an extended rumble like rolling thunder. Just as it trailed off, he fired a whistling whine that rose and fell, rose and fell, like someone playing an oboe in the school orchestra.

WEE-OOO WEE-OOO WEE-OOO

"Ack!" Past the end of the curtain, I saw Boombox's feet scramble off the bed. "No more! Please, stop!" Again, he descended into relentless coughing.

But Tommy would show no mercy.
His next fart was a modulated squeal like screeching tires, followed by a series of stuttering bangs like popping firecrackers.

SKEE-EE-EE-EE-EE

PAK-AK-AK P-KAK

By then, I started to understand why Boombox was making a fuss. Tommy's gas had begun to sift over to our side of the room, and the stink was truly foul.

I waved my hand in front of my face, but it did no good. The smell continued to strengthen, like the putrid aroma of a hundred loaded diapers splattered with twenty dozen rotten eggs.

"PEE-YEWWW!" Boombox knocked something over, and it clattered to the floor. "Oh, it's
awful
!"

SHWEEEE-OO-EET

SHPLOOOORRRT

"What do you
want
from me?" Boombox knocked over something else. "What do I have to
do
to get you to
stop
?"

"Get out!" said Tommy. "And never come back!"

BLAAAAAATT

Boombox launched into another coughing fit. "You mean...KAFF KOFF...find another
room
?"

BEEEYOWWWW

Tommy started shuffling backward into Boombox's space. "I mean find another
nursing home!
"

BORRR-BORRR-BOOORRRRRT

Suddenly, the curtain whipped aside, and I got my first look at Boombox. He was tall, at least six feet, and lanky; he was also surprisingly
young
. He looked to me like he was in his late twenties or thirties, with shaggy blond hair and no wrinkles.

He staggered straight toward me, reaching out with both hands. "Please help me! KAFF KAFF HAK! Tell him to stop!"

I was coughing myself as I backed away, holding my arm over my nose and mouth to cut the stench.

Boombox's face turned angry. "You've got to help me!" He made a sudden lunge at me...

FLOOO
OOO
ORRR
RRRR
RRRTT
TTT

And I swear, the force of Tommy's fart knocked him over. As his body crumpled to the floor, Tommy stood revealed behind him,
bare butt aimed in his direction.

Tommy grinned at me. "You okay there, Josh?"

My eyes watered. Unfortunately, I'd been in the line of fire of that last blast. "I'm fine." My voice sounded funny because I
was pinching my nose shut and ho
ld
ing
my breath as I said it.

"Cool." Tommy kicked Boombox, who didn't move a muscle. "
And
this
dope is out cold."

"Why was he in here, anyway?" I was still holding my breath as I spoke. "He's too young for this place, isn't he?"

"He's some kind of head case," said Mr. Diogenes. "Can't take care of himself, supposedly. But I heard him talking to some people, and I think it's
all
a put-on.
He said something about faking it to get disability payments.
"

"Well, let's go find a nurse to cart his carcass out of here," said Tommy. "And start his
transfer
in motion."

I let go of my nose and tested the air...then pinched those nostrils shut all over again. "Hey, Tommy. You might want to
hold off
a minute on getting that nurse."

He stopped in the doorway. "What?" Just then, another fart burst from inside him.

GOOORRRRTT

He grinned sheepishly and laughed. "Oh, right." He pulled up his pants and zipp
ed them. "Mind if I crack a window, Mr. D.?"