Junie B. Jones and the Yucky Blucky Fruitcake - Barbara Park [0]
1. The Bestest Game Winner
2. Hopping and Racing and Tic-Tac-Toad
3. All About Carnivals
4. Very Practicing
5. Stupid Dumb Carnival Games
6. Bull’s-Eye
7. Winning!!!
8. The Most Usefulest Cake I Love
1/The Bestest Game Winner
My name is Junie B. Jones. The B stands for Beatrice. Except I don’t like Beatrice. I just like B and that’s all.
I am in the grade of kindergarten. It is the afternoon kind.
Afternoon kindergarten is better than morning kindergarten. That’s because you get to sleep late. And watch cartoons.
Only guess what? Today my baby brother named Ollie waked me up very too early.
He was screaming for his bottle.
But screaming is not polite. And so he needed some discipline, I think.
I sat up in my bed.
“HEY! SHUT UP YOUR FACE!” I hollered.
Mother opened my door speedy quick.
Her eyes were angry at me.
“Junie B. Jones! What do you think you’re doing?” she growled.
I hided from her under my sheet.
“I think I’m doin’ discipline,” I said kind of quiet.
“Please, Junie B. Not today,” said Mother. “Daddy and I need you to be on your best behavior. We both have to go to work early and Grampa Miller is coming to baby-sit.”
Just then, I heard the front door open.
“GRAMPA! IT’S MY GRAMPA FRANK MILLER!” I shouted.
I jumped out of bed and ran to meet him. Only too bad for Grampa. ’Cause he didn’t see me coming around the corner. And I accidentally butted him in the stomach with my head.
Grampa Miller yelled the word of OOOMF!
Then he bended way over in half. And me and Mother and Daddy had to help him walk to the couch.
Daddy did a frown at me.
“How many times have we told you not to run in the house?” he said.
I counted on all my fingers. “A million thrillion skadillion, I think. Only I’m just guessing.”
After that, Mother made me sit on her lap. And she told Grampa Frank Miller the baby-sitter ’structions on me.
Baby-sitter ’structions is all the stuff I’m not allowed to do.
Like no climbing on top of the ’frigerator.
And no putting lipstick on my dog named Tickle.
And no making Ollie lick a potato. Except for he didn’t actually mind it that much.
After the baby-sitter ’structions, Mother and Daddy kissed me good-bye.
Then they went to work.
I jumped way high in the air.
“Oh boy! Oh boy! Now they’re gone! And so you and me can have fun! Right, Grampa? Right?”
I zoomed into the kitchen and climbed on top of the ’frigerator.
“HEY, GRAMPA! COME LOOK WHERE I AM!”
Grampa Miller came in the kitchen.
“Look! Look how high I am up here! Now I can be the king. And this can be my throne. And you’re my servant named Pinkie. And you have to fetch me stuff. And also I get to hit you on the head with my sword.”
Grampa Miller lifted me off the ’frigerator. He put me back on the floor.
“Yeah, only I didn’t give you permission to do that, Pinkie,” I said.
“Sorry, little girl. But you heard the rules,” said Grampa. “And anyhow, I have to finish feeding Ollie his breakfast bottle.”
He went back into the living room.
“Hey, Grampa! You just gave me a very great idea! ’Cause I think I’ll eat my breakfast, too. Only I can fix mine all by myself!”
I hurried up and got out the ’greedients. ’Greedients is the stuff you mix together.
Like the bowl.
And the spoon.
And the cereal.
And the milk.
Except for the milk carton was very too heavy for me. And so I just got the orange juice, instead.
I put my bowl of cereal on the floor. Then I poured orange juice to the tippy-top of it.
I took a giant bite.
“Yum,” I said. “This is the most delicious breakfast I ever ate. Except for it doesn’t actually taste that good.”
Just then Grampa Miller came in the kitchen. He said no eating on the floor.
“Yeah, but I don’t like to sit in my big kitchen chair,” I said. “’Cause I’m not tall enough to reach the table. And so Mother makes me sit on a telephone book. Only that thing hurts my behiney.”
My grampa looked in my bowl. “What in the world are you eating?” he asked.
“I am eating cereal and orange juice,” I told him. “It is very delicious. Except for it is going to make me puke, I think.”