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• Classic-Fiction

“Here it is!” Judy cried. She could not believe her eyes. There were David Puckett and Emily Chang with mile-wide smiles. There were Mozart the chicken and Suzy the ferret.

“Let me see!” said Stink. “Hey, there’s Mouse!”

“I’m not even in the picture!” yelled Judy.

“There you are!” said Stink, pointing to an elbow.

“I’m not famous!” Judy wailed. “I’m an elbow!”

“Let’s see,” said Dad. He read the caption. “Blah-blah, winners of the Famous Pet Contest, blah-blah. It says your name, right here. See? Mouse and Judy . . . Muddy.”

“WHAT!” said Judy. “Muddy? Let me see.”

“Judy Muddy! That’s a good one,” said Stink.

“Judy Muddy! No one will ever know it’s me,” said Judy.

“We’ll know,” said Dad.

Judy frowned. “I guess your name is Mud,” Dad said, laughing.

“ROAR!” said Judy.

“At least it says Mouse won the contest,” Mom said. She cut out the picture and hung it up on the fridge.

“Great,” said Judy. “Even my cat’s in the Moody Hall of Fame.”

Mom kissed the top of Judy’s head. “And you have one very famous elbow.”

Judy studied her famous elbow in the mirror. She squished her elbow into a wrinkled happy face. She squinched her elbow into a mad face.

If Judy ever hoped to be more famous than an elbow, she needed some help. Judy called all members of the Toad Pee Club. “Meet at the clubhouse,” she told everybody.

Rocky, Frank, and Judy crowded into the blue tent in her backyard. Last was Stink, who carried Toady, their mascot, in one hand, and walked while reading a book.

“Stink, you better watch out or you’ll renew your membership.”

“OH!” said Stink. He tossed Toady into the bucket before the toad famous for peeing in people’s hands did it again.

“Now,” said Judy, “how can we make me famous?”

“Let’s think,” Rocky said.

“Stink, you’re not thinking,” said Judy.

“Getting famous is boring,” said Stink, leafing through his book.

“Stink, what book could be soooooooooo interesting?”

Stink held up the Guinness Book of World Records. Judy looked at Frank. Frank looked at Rocky. Rocky looked at Judy. “Brainstorm!” the three yelled at the same time. Then they cracked up.

“Stink, you are a genius. The secret to getting famous is right there in your hands.”

Stink checked his hands.

“Don’t you get it?” said Judy. “I could break a record and get in that book! Then I’d be superfamous.”

“Famous. Famous. Famous. YOU are a broken record,” Stink told her.

“Hardee-har-har,” said Judy.

“You know how you collect stuff, like Band-Aids?” said Frank. “You could break a record for collecting something. Like the most pizza tables.”

“Or scabs!” said Judy.

“Bluck,” said Stink. “There’s a guy in here who collects throw-up bags from airplanes. He has two thousand one hundred and twelve. One bag even has a connect-the-dots drawing of Benjamin Franklin on it.”

“That’s way better than scabs,” said Judy.

“Hey, look,” Rocky said, reading over Stink’s shoulder. “World’s longest word. Spell that and you could be the next Jessica Finch.”

The word was: Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

“Whoa. Forty-five letters,” said Frank, counting.

“Not even Queen Bee herself could spell that!” said Judy.

“It says here it’s an ucky disease from volcanoes,” Rocky said. “No lie.”

“Wait! I got it. There’s a guy in here with the longest neck,” said Stink. “We could all pull on your head to stretch your neck out!”

“I want to be famous, not a giraffe,” said Judy.

“With a giraffe neck you would be famous,” Stink told her.

“Let me see that book.” Judy grabbed the book of records and flipped through the pages. Longest gum wrapper chain? It took thirty-one years to make! Longest fingernail? No way; the guy hasn’t cut his thumbnail since 1952. Best spitter? Judy could spit.

Then she saw it. Right there on page 399.

The human centipede!

“Okay. Listen up. We’re going to be a giant creepy-crawly,” said Judy. “Let’s tie our shoelaces together, then walk like a caterpillar. The old record is ninety-eight feet and five inches. Rocky, remember last summer we measured with a string? It was one hundred