Funny Boy Versus the Bubble-Brained Barbers from the Big Bang

BOOK: Funny Boy Versus the Bubble-Brained Barbers from the Big Bang
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FUNNY BOY VERSUS THE BUBBLE-BRAINED BARBERS FROM THE BIG BANG

     
     
     

Dan Gutman
Illustrated by Mike Dietz

Dedicated to Leo Gerstenzang,
the inventor of the Q-tip.

Look it up if you don’t believe me.

Contents

Warning

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

WARNING: The story you are about to read is fictional. That means I made the whole thing up. If any of the characters in this book claim that they are real, they’re lying. This story is also extremely far-fetched and silly. If there is anything in this book that you find illogical or personally offensive, consult your physician immediately and ask about getting a sense of humor transplant.

Introduction

READ THIS BOOK, OR YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE PLANET WILL CEASE TO EXIST

AH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Good day, human-type life forms! It is I, Funny Boy.

Or should that be, “It is
me,
Funny Boy”? How should I know? I’m from another planet.

The point is, I’m here, I’m back, and I’m ready to defend your planet against evil aliens, outer-space psychos, and other intergalactic no-goodniks.

You probably don’t know this, but as you read these words, some creep from another galaxy is preparing to invade Earth. You heard that right—
invade Earth.
It is my job to save your planet from almost certain destruction.

How will I, a mere ten-year-old boy with no obvious superpowers, rescue you? Simple. I use my superior sense of humor to fight evil. Jokes, puns, quips, riddles, insults, wisecracks, and inappropriate remarks are the only weapons I have, and the only weapons I need. If all else fails, I will resort to toilet humor. My mission is that important.

You see, when I crash-landed on your planet not long ago, I discovered that my sense of humor, which was already quite developed, was even more powerful in Earth’s atmosphere. It was then that I decided to use humor to protect Earth from the forces of evil and wickedness.

But I cannot do it alone. I need you to help me. That’s right. I’m talking to you, buster. Just like a tree that falls in the forest doesn’t make a sound if nobody hears it, if I save Earth and you don’t read about it, is Earth really saved? I think not. We must work together.

So read, dear reader. Read like the wind. Don’t stop until you reach the end of this book. If your mother calls you for dinner, don’t stop reading. If your dad says it’s time to go to bed, don’t stop reading. If your teacher says to put that stupid book away, don’t stop reading. If you’re so tired that you can barely hold your eyelids open,
don’t stop reading.

Because if you stop, it could mean the end of life on Earth as you know it. And you don’t want to be responsible for the end of your planet, do you?

So get to work. Chapter 1 awaits.

—Funny Boy

CHAPTER 1

WHAT THE BACKSTREET BOYS AND FUNNY BOY HAVE IN COMMON

“What’s green and sings?”

“Elvis Parsley.”

That was one of the first jokes I heard upon my arrival on Earth. You see, I was born on the planet Crouton, which is 160,000 million light-years from Earth in the Magellanic Cloud galaxy. Crouton is so far from Earth, even Alex Rodriguez cannot reach it with a home run.

Crouton is a lot like Earth, but different in some ways, too. For example, on Crouton, we don’t keep airplanes in hangars. We store them in enormous Ziploc bags. We don’t eat pretzels, chips, or popcorn for a snack. We eat small wooden blocks. And legal decisions aren’t made by a Supreme Court. They’re decided by an inflatable beaver named Binky.

Other than those few minor differences, our two planets are basically the same.

I led a fairly normal life on Crouton. Mom. Dad. Brother. Dog. Personal nuclear reactor in my bedroom. And then one day I made a big mistake that turned my world upside down. I shot a spitball at my brother.

As a punishment, my parents put me on a rocket and sent me to Earth. Pretty harsh, it seemed to me. At least my parents were nice enough to put my dog, Punch, on the rocket with me.

After a week of flying through space, Punch and I had the incredible good fortune to crash-land into an underwear factory near San Antonio, Texas. If there hadn’t been tons of underwear to cushion our fall, we never would have survived the landing.

When Superman arrived on Earth, he suddenly had super strength, super vision, super hearing, and other superpowers. As soon as Punch and I hit the underwear, I realized that I had a superpower too—my sense of humor was heightened.

Everything that came out of my mouth sounded funny to me. Something about Earth’s atmosphere had turned me from a normal kid into ... Funny Boy!

The atmosphere here had an even weirder effect on my dog Punch. She was just a plain old cocker spaniel back on Crouton. But as we crashed into the underwear, she screamed, “Watch ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuutttt!”

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