Tommy Puke and the Boy with the Golden Barf (3 page)

 

*****

Chapter 6

An hour later, Boombox was gone. A nurse and an orderly came and
woke him up
with smelling salts
, then tried to help him get back in bed
.
But he wouldn't go. He fought like crazy, begging them to get him out of that room. When they insisted he had to stay there because it was the only available bed in the home, he pushed them aside and stormed out. He said he didn't need to be there in the first place, and he'd rather lose his disability
checks
than be trapped in that
gas chamber
again.

When the nurse asked us what he was talking about, we all shrugged. Mr. Diogenes
just
spun a finger around the side of his head, the international symbol for "crazy."

The nurse lingered a moment longer, scowling with hands on her hips...and then she left us there, and we finally got down to bus
iness.

*****

"So, Tommy." Mr. Diogenes folded his hands in his lap and smiled. "Why did you come to see me today?"

Tommy sat down on the edge of the bed at Mr. D.'s feet. "
The clue you showed me...the magical relic of Chonganda. Can I borrow it?"

Mr. D. thought it over, then nodded. "Yes, if you
'll
do me a favor. Will you check in on Gertrude? I haven't seen her since they checked me into this place three weeks ago."

Tommy scratched under his arm, then sniffed his fingers. "My pleasure. You know I'm crazy about her."

"All right then." Mr. Diogenes waved in the general direction of his bedside table. "It's in the top drawer of the nightstand."

I was closest to where he was waving
. Tommy gave me a look and
bobbed his warty pickle nose toward the nightstand.

I walked over and opened the top drawer. Inside, I saw just one thing: a rolled-up plastic bag with yellow contents. "Is this baggie what you want?"

Mr. D. waved for me to hand it over, and I did. He unrolled it and held it up for us to see what was inside.

"A squished-up piece of
corn?" I frowned. "That's the clue?"

Mr. Diogenes nodded solemnly.
"
Golden
corn."

Tommy leaned over and squinted at the baggie. "Well, it's
yellow
, but I wouldn't call it
golden
."

"It
was
," said Mr. D.

"Wait." Tommy's eyes bulged wider. "You mean that's..."

"A piece of the golden barf." Mr. D. nodded. "Exactly. When I first found it, at home, it was solid gold. But a day later, it became an ordinary kernel of corn. I think Chonganda left
it
behind, and it transformed when he moved away from it."

I grimaced and rubbed my chin.
"If it's just ordinary corn,
then what makes it a clue?"

Mr. D. grinned. "If it turns into plain corn when it's away from Chonganda..."

"...it should turn back into
gold
when we close in on him," said Tommy. "It's a Chonganda detector!"

"Bingo bango." Mr. Diogenes leaned forward and held out the bag for Tommy. "Just keep an eye on this at all times as you follo
w his
trail."

"I will, Mr. D." Tommy took the baggie. "Thank you."

"Any time, Thomas." Mr. D. leaned back on his pillows, nodding. "You're a good friend."

Tommy got up from the bed. "And I'm following in your footsteps, don't forget."

"Well, you'd better get those footsteps right out the door," said Mr. D. "Who knows how much longer Chonganda will be in town?"

"True dat." Tommy headed for the door.

"Just one more thing, Thomas." Mr. D. wagged a finger in Tommy's general vicinity. "Remember, you'
ll need an anchor when you get to
the other side."

"I'll remember." Tommy kept moving toward the door, motioning for me to come with him.

"Otherwise, Thomas..." Mr. Diogenes tossed up his hands and shrugged. "You might never come back."

Tommy paused on his way out the door. "Got it, Mr. D." Then, he marched out into the hall with me on his heels and a piece of
squished-up
corn in a baggie in his
filth-encrusted
hand.

 

*****

Chapter 7

"I love nursing homes," Tommy said as we charged out of Nemean Manor. "They're so
messy
."

I had to speed-walk to keep up with him. "Where to now?"

Tommy cut left and marched down the street. "We finished the
second
labor when we got rid of Boombox, so we're off to tackle the
third
."

"And there are
four
labors total."

"Ding ding ding!" Tommy pretended to pull a cord and ring a bell. "Give the man a ham sandwich! Or would you settle for a piece of
corn
?" He tossed the baggie with the corn kernel at me.

I caught it. "You really think this will turn to gold when we get close to Chondaga?"

"It's 'Chonganda,'" said Tommy, "and you tell me. Watch that thing like a hawk and give me a shout-out the second it starts to change."

I frowned at the piece of corn in the baggie. Did I really think it might turn to pure gold when we got near the son of the god of vomit? I'd be lying if I said I did.

But I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't curious about how this would all end. Things had been crazy since Tommy had entered my life...crazy in a
good
way. I had a feeling they would only get crazier.

Whether he was totally nuts, or truly tuned in to some kind of twisted magic, I couldn't just bail out now. Honestly, I was having too much
fun
.

Though one thing did keep nagging at me. "
Where's 'the other side,' Tommy?"

"Huh?" Tommy was digging in his ear with his pinky finger.
"Mr. D. mentioned it. He said you'd need an anchor when you get there, or you might never come back."

Tommy chuckled and pulled his pinky out of his ear. The jagged tip of the nail was coated in bright yellow goop. "It's nothing to worry about, Josh. I've got it covered."

"Okay, but what is it?"

He stared at the goop, turning his pinky back and forth. Then, he raised it to his mouth and darted out his tongue to taste it. I felt a little like gagging when I saw him do it.

I actually did gag when he stuck the goopy pinky in my face.

"Want some?" He raised his eyebrows.

I flinched and grimaced. "
No
, I don't want some."

Tommy sighed and took his finger out of my face. "Then maybe it's better if you don't know yet."

"Don't know what?"

"About the other side." With that, Tommy stuck his pinky in his mouth and yanked it out goop-free. Then, with a wink, he started running down the street.

I gagged again just thinking about the ear goop. Maybe not
everything
about Tommy was crazy in a good way.

Shaking my head, I ran after him.

 

*****

Chapter 8

Tommy didn't slow down until we were out past the edge of town
, on a tree-lined road
. Even then, he didn't stop moving...just switched from a run to a walk.

I think he did it for me, because he didn't seem to be winded at all. I, on the other hand, was puffing and wheezing like an elephant riding a tricycle up a hill.
My lungs and legs hurt, and I had a major stitch in my side.
I wasn't used to running so hard for so long.

"How much...farther?" I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and wished I had a bottle of ice-cold water.

"We're practically there." Tommy looked at the rolled-up baggie in my left hand. "Any change in the corn?"

I held up the baggie and let it unroll. Nothing but the same old squished-up yellow kernel inside. "No Choganda."

"
Chonganda
," Tommy corrected me. "Well, keep an eye on it. The vomit gods have a way of
slipping through your fingers."

Suddenly, the cramp in my side flared up, and I had to stop. I stood on the side of the road, doubled over, with my hands on my knees, and sucked deep breaths through my clenched teeth.

Tommy stopped and looked back. "What's up? Did the corn change?"

I glared at him and shook my head. After a few more deep breaths, I straightened. The worst of the cramp had subsided...for now, anyway.

"Okay then." Tommy hawked a huge loogie on the road, then shoved his hand down the back of his jeans for a full-on butt scratch. "Follow me."

With that, he veered off the road. I followed him through the brush and into the trees. The whole time, he never stopped scratching his butt.

We tromped through a scrubby patch of woods to the tune of snapping twigs and rustling leaves. We jumped over a muddy creek and ducked under a fallen tree covered in
wedges of brown and white fungus. We
crossed a
narrow pass
between walls of damp rock carpeted with moss.

And on the other side
of
that pass
, we came across the first piece of garbage.

A wadded-up
newspaper clung to a tangle of roots, fluttering in the breeze. I looked down at it as we walked by, but didn't think anything of it.

At least until we came to the next piece of trash. This time, it was a dirty diaper, stretched out on the ground ahead of us. The putrid smell caught us as we approached, rising up from the brown and green ooze covering the absorbent white padding.

Tommy crouched down beside it, apparently unaffected by the stink. He took a deep whiff and nodded. "Beef and carrots, if I'm not mistaken." Then, he dipped a finger toward it.

Horrified, I thought he might scoop up some ooze and taste it...but all he did was flip the diaper closed. Then, he got up and continued onward.

Twenty yards later, we found three banana peels on the trail
, covered in ants
. "Now there's an accident waiting to happen." Tommy laughed as he stepped over them.

I frowned as I dodged the peels myself. "What's with all the garbage?"

Tommy glanced
back over his shoulder at me.
"You mean you've never been out here before?"

"Never."
An open tin can lay at the base of a tree along the path. It looked like it had been licked clean inside; according to the label, it had once been full of applesauce.

Tommy kicked away something that looked like a moldy potato, swaddled in white fuzz. "Surely you've heard of Hesperides Gulch."

While sidestepping a pile of chicken bones, I nearly put my foot in an unidentifiable blob of red and gray mush. "Never heard of it."

Tommy squatted and grabbed something off the ground. "You've really led a sheltered life, haven't you?" When he bounced back up to his feet, he was holding
an open tin of sardines. "Well it's a good thing I came along." Sticking two fingers into the tin, he tugged out a slimy gray fish steak and popped it into his mouth.

 

*****

Chapter 9

"Tommy, no!" My heart pounded as I watched him chew the rotten sardine. "It'll kill you!"

Tommy shook his head. "Cast-iron stomach." When he said it, he sprayed out bits of gooey gray fish, some of which landed on me.

"Seriously." The sight of him chomping that foul seafood made my gorge rise in my throat. "That's just sick, man."

Tommy grinned and kept chewing...then spat the rancid gruel in the dirt. "Don't worry, Josh." He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. "I was just messing with you."

As we walked further, the garbage became more plentiful. It was scattered along the path and among the trees, piled on the ground and even dangling from branches. Soon enough, it was impossible to take a step without walking on rubbish.

As I picked my way along, trying not to put my foot in anything too gross
or dangerous
, I called to Tommy, who was up ahead of me. "So what's the big deal about Hesperides Gulch?"

Tommy waved for me to catch up with him. "All will be made clear, Grasshopper."

He waited for me, scratching his crotch, at the crest of a little hill.
As I climbed toward him, a wave of stench rolled over me, so sweet and rank it blocked out every other smell.

When I drew up beside Tommy
, he turned and swept his arm in a wide arc. That was when I got my first look at Hesperides Gulch.

The hill where we stood was on the rim of a long gulley in the woods. Trees lined the rim on both sides, leaves rattling in the breeze, and in the middle...

Leaning out and looking down, I saw that the middle of the gulley was full of garbage.

All down the length in both directions, there was nothing but garbage
, a sea of discarded debris of all shapes and sizes
. I saw stoves and refrigerators, couches and mattresses...heaps of bricks and cinder blocks and boards...tumbles of bottles, cans, and cartons...split-open bags overflowing with bones and
putrid
produce.
A legion of crows and raccoons hopped and crawled
on top of it
all,
beaks and mouths dripping with
scavenged waste.
The sound of barking dogs echoed in the distance.

Staring down at the vast mess, I was blown away. I hadn't expected to see it out there in the woods.
"I don't get it.
W
e're nowhere near the town dump, are we?"

"It's an
illegal
dump." Tommy reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "But it's still
beautiful
, isn't it?"

"If you say so." I just kept staring, trying to take it all in. Where were the barking dogs, I wondered? There were no dogs anywhere in sight. "So why are we here?"

"Gertrude." Tommy let go of my shoulder and headed back down the hill, away from the rim of the gulley. "We need to check on her for Mr. D."

I followed Tommy along a crooked path through the trees. The sound of
the
barking dogs grew
louder.

The barking was loudest of all when we pushed through a tangle of tall weeds and emerged in a clearing. In the middle of the clearing sprawled a rundown shack that looked like it had been built out of junk from the dump.

Tommy stopped at the edge of the clearing, stuck his warty pickle nose in the air, and sniffed. "She's here, all right."

"Gertrude? How can you tell?" I sniffed, too, but couldn't catch a whiff of whatever he'd detected.

"Grab a stick." Tommy pulled a big one off the ground; it was at least three feet long, with
a thick shaft and a sharp tip. "You're gonna need it."

"Need it for what?"

"A weapon." Tommy pointed toward the shack. "Those dogs do
not
sound friendly."

I couldn't find a stick nearby, so I walked a few steps back into the woods. There, on top of a waterlogged
pillow
, I found one that looked pretty decent--thick and pointy, but not very long. It was only two feet from end to end, but it would have to do.

Tommy was calling. "Come on, Josh! Hurry up!"

As I rushed back to him, one of the dogs let loose a high-pitched yelp. That just made the other dogs bark louder than before.

"Now follow my lead," said Tommy. "If one of those dogs attacks you, hit it with the stick as hard as you can. Got it?"

"Yeah." My heart was hammering in my chest. What had I gotten myself into?

"If that doesn't work, hit it with
this
one." Tommy handed over the three-foot stick he'd grabbed from the ground.

I didn't take it at first. "But what about you? What weapon will
you
use?"

"A weapon those wild dogs will be powerless against." Tommy pushed the stick toward me.

I took it, and he started toward the shack.

 

*****

Chapter 10

My hands shook as Tommy Puke and I crept up on the shack. I'd never fought wild dogs before; I'd never fought
tame
dogs, either.

As we rounded the corner, they came into view. There
were six of them surrounding the ramshackle back steps
, barking
at whatever was hiding under them
. They lunged and snappe
d, but the space under the steps
was walled off with sections of trellis, and they couldn't get through it.

From what I could see, the dogs were all mixed-breed mutts, and they came in different sizes.
Two were pretty small, maybe a foot high; three were middle-sized, more like a foot and a half to two feet tall. One was
all black and
bigger than the rest, a good three feet from the top of his head to the pads of his paws.

Tommy and I stood at the corner a moment and watched. One of the middle-sized dogs clawed at the trellis, panting and grunting, trying to break through.
Suddenly, we heard a hissing sound, and the dog scrambled backward, yelping like crazy. He ran in circles as his fellow dogs watched, then barreled off into the woods with his tail between his legs, still yelping.

As the stricken dog bolted off, I caught a whiff of what had zapped him, and I finally understood. I wrinkled my nose as the powerful stink flowed through it, drowning out the sickeningly sweet fragrance of the illegal dump nearby. There was no other smell quite like it. There was no doubt in my mind what had made it.

Gertrude was a skunk.

As the truth sank in, Tommy stormed forward, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and let out a shrill whistle. All five remaining dogs looked his way at once, ears perked.

The big black dog peeled his lips back and started growling. The other four followed suit,
dipping their heads and baring their teeth.

They stayed like that for a long moment, perhaps waiting to see if we intruders backed down. But Tommy wasn't going anywhere, and neither was I.

As we stood there, facing that wild pack, I wondered what our next move would be. Would Tommy charge and scatter them, leaving me to drive them off with the sticks?

Not exactly.

A strange gulping noise started in Tommy's chest. He bobbed his head as if something was stuck in his throat, and he was trying to force it down.

Or force it
up.

Suddenly, his head
shot forward, his mouth snapped open, and a raging shower of vomit blasted forth. The spray of chunks and fluid splashed the ground, leaving a puddle of steaming pink puke to curdle in the late day sun.

For a second, I wondered why he'd done it. He hadn't hit the dogs or even come close.

But his strategy quickly became clear. Five of the six dogs bolted over and pounced on the puddle at once, eagerly lapping up the regurgitated slop.

Only the big black dog didn't dig in with the others. He just kept growling and staring at Tommy.

And then, like a bull in a bullfight, he
charged toward him.

 

*****

Chapter 11

My hands tightened on the sticks, and I
stepped forward...but Tommy threw back a hand and stopped me. Then, as the dog raced toward him, he sucked in a deep breath.

Eyes wide, heart pounding, I almost pushed past Tommy's hand to fend off the dog. The animal was big and fierce enough to tear Tommy apart. I couldn't see how one unarmed boy could possibly survive such an attack.

The dog ran closer. Tommy hunched and worked his shoulders, and his cheeks puffed up.

Snarling, the big dog leaped...

And Tommy's mouth sprang open, unleashing a thunderous belch.

The stench of his breath must
have been inhumanly strong, because the dog yelped in mid-leap and twisted away from it. He landed on his side and lay there twitching and whining
, feebly scrabbling at the dirt as if he'd been traumatized.

The other dogs didn't even look up from their dinner. They just kept lapping at the puddle of puke, nipping and nudging each other
out of the way
to get at the choicest chunks.

"Good boy." Tommy crouched by the fallen black dog and launched another mighty belch at him. The dog whimpered like a puppy and shut its eyes.

Tommy patted the dog's side and got up. "The coast is clear." He said it over his sho
ulder as he headed for the back steps
.

I wasn't as sure about
that clear coast as he was. I kept my distance from the dogs as I followed him and never let go of my two sticks.

Wh
en I got to the steps
, Tommy turned. "Give us a little space, okay? Gertrude's shy."

His vomit-soaked breath in my face was so awful, I thought it might burn my nose off.
It was worse than the smelliest poop I'd ever smelled; I could see why it had left the big, bad dog writhing in the dirt.

Tommy truly
amazed me. He was like a walking arsenal of toxic weapons,
a Swiss army knife of disgusting tricks.

I was glad he was on my side.

As I watched, Tommy squatted by the trellis wall enclosing the space under the steps. "Ger-trude." He said it in a sing-song voice. "Come on out, sweetie-pie."

I took a step back, expecting skunk spray to come shooting out at any minute. But Tommy seemed to have no fear. He got down on his knees and ducked his head, pressing his nose between the slats of the trellis.

"Please, honey-bunch?" Tommy hooked a finger through one of the gaps and wiggled it. "Uncle Tommy-kins is here to see you. Your daddy, Mr. Diogenes, asked me to check on you, and I can't do that if you stay under there."

Suddenly, a little black snout pushed through the trellis by Tommy's face. The nose at the tip of the snout snuffled for a moment, and then a tiny pink tongue curled out and licked Tommy's cheek.

"Aw, Gertrude." Tommy gave the black snout a lick with his own tongue. "I love you, too."

 

*****

With the dogs no longer waiting to attack her, Gertrude crawled out from under the steps through her own private little tunnel. It was too small for even the smallest of the wild dogs to enter, but the perfect size for a little skunk
like her
to shimmy through.

As soon as Gertrude got out, she waddled straight into Tommy's waiting arms. Grinning with pure delight, he scooped her up and hugged her tight.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Tommy swung her around to face me. "Isn't she a cutie-pie?"

He was right about that. "She sure is."
Gertrude's little black eyes stared back at me, set off by the furry white stripe between her ears.
But t
he smell of her spray clung to her, making me nervous; as tame as she seemed, I couldn't stop worrying that she might spray me at any time.

Tommy nuzzled her with his filth-caked pickle nose. "Let's get you some din-din,
sweetheart
. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Gertrude snuffled in reply.

"You can come too, if you like, Josh." Tommy walked up the back steps with Gertrude in his arms. "I'm sure Mr. D. wouldn't mind."

I dropped my sticks and followed.
"This is his place?"

"Casa Diogenes, yep." Tommy opened the back door, which wasn't locked, and stepped inside. "Illegal dump on one side, sewage treatment plant on the other. Does it
get
any better than
this
?"

I walked in after him and closed the door...then did a double-take. The inside of the shack wasn't at all what I'd expected.

The outside looked like it had been
thrown
together out of junk wood and metal scraps from the dump. But the inside wasn't junky at all. It was kind of small, but the furnishings were nice, from the matching dark blue sofa and recliner to the flat-screen TV in the entertainment center.

There was pale blue shag carpeting on the floor of the living room, and light brown paneling on the walls. A curio cabinet with a glass door and mirror
ed
shelves occupied one corner, filled with all sorts of lamp-like knick knacks.

I wandered over and took a look at them. "Mr. D. has a thing for lamps, huh?"

"Just like the guy he was named after." Tommy put down Gertrude, and she waddled after him into the kitchen. "
The original
Diogenes was a philosopher in ancient Greece. He used to carry around a lamp
all the time
, looking for an honest man."

Lea
ning down, I looked at the lamp knick knacks
on the lower shelves of the cabinet. "That sounds familiar."

Tommy ran some water in the kitchen. "Time for a drink, sweet Gertie-pie." Then, I heard him open cupboards and
drawers. "Guess what the original Diogenes' philosophy was?
Cynicism.
"

"What's that?" I left the cabinet and joined Tommy in the kitchen.
It was just as nice as the living room, with clean white cupboards, a stainless steel sink, and white marble counters. The stove and refrigerator both had stainless doors, and the floor was covered in light gray tile.

"
Cynicism is not always accepting what you're told.
Rebelling against society." Tommy pulled a can of cat food out of a cupboard. "Telling it like it is." He stuck the can under a
can opener and pushed down the handle. The opener's point punctured the lid, then cut around the rim as the can slowly turned. "Living life the way you want to, no matter what anyone says."

"So that's cynicism
, huh
?"

Tommy grinned. "My kind of philosophy. Mr. Diogenes' too, obviously." He spread his arms to take in the shack. "He does his own thing. That's why I said he was my role model, remember?"

I nodded. "You did say that."

Tommy grabbed the cat food can from the opener and dumped the contents in a green plastic bowl on the counter. "Mr. D. tries to be like the original Diogenes, and I try to be like both of them." He leaned down and put the bowl of food on the floor. The second it touched the tile, Gertrude shoved her snout deep into the pasty brown
muck. "Did you know the original Diogenes lived in a barrel?"

I smirked. "Do you live in one, too?"

Instead of answering me, Tommy suddenly frowned. "Say, where's that piece of
corn
, Josh?"

I reached in my pocket
and pulled out the rolled-up baggie. "Got it right here. Don't worry."

"Don't just stand there!" Tommy looked annoyed. "Check it!"

I guess I never really expected the corn to change to gold, because I'd forgotten about it. Part of me thought the labors and Chonganda and all that were just part of a game we were playing. How could that crazy stuff be real, right?

So when I unrolled the baggie and checked the corn, I was extra surprised.
I lifted it up to eye-level and stared, wondering if it was some kind of optical illusion.

Tommy walked over and stared, too. "Finally!"

"It changed. It actually
changed
." I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The squished-up kernel of corn in the baggie had turned from yellow to gleaming gold. "This can't be
happening
, can it?"

"It can if
Chonganda
's nearby," said Tommy.