Tommy Puke and the World's Grossest Grown-Up

  Tommy Puke and the World's Grossest Grown-Up

  Also by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Lump

  Tommy Puke and the Boy With the Golden Barf

  *****

  Tommy Puke and the World's Grossest Grown-Up

  By

  Robert T. Jeschonek

  Chapter 1

  My best friend, Tommy Puke, slams down his half-eaten slice of extra-anchovies pizza and springs up out of his chair. "'Scuse me, Josh," he says. "I gotta go puke on somebody's parade."

  Turning, I see what he's talking about. On the other side of the mall food court, some older girls are picking on a younger girl. It's three against one--bad odds for the one getting picked on, for sure.

  But the odds are even worse for the ones doing the picking. Because once Tommy Puke gets involved, they don't stand a chance.

  Not that I won't back him up anyway. That's what best friends are for, after all. "What can I do, Tommy?" I ask the question as I get up out of my chair to follow him.

  "Keep your head down once the loogie storm starts." Tommy swats one of the flies that are always buzzing around him. "Then be ready to pull the girl out of the line of fire before I break out the heavy artillery."

  I'm not sure what he means by "heavy artillery," but I know it'll be powerful...and disgusting. Tommy's a master of gross fighting techniques. I've already seen him take out a gang of bullies with nothing but his loogies. Not to mention the time he fought off a pack of wild dogs with just his bad breath.

  I never met anyone like Tommy before. When he gets done with those girl bullies, they'll be screaming their lungs out and squirming on the floor, begging for Mall security to come save them.

  They have no idea what's about to happen to them. As Tommy and I march over, they just keep tormenting the younger girl by spitting on her salad, smacking her upside the head, and calling her filthy names.

  Little do they know that a master of good, clean filth is about to teach them the lesson of a lifetime.

  At least, that's the plan. Tommy digs some kind of yellow goop out of his ears as he walks, getting ready to make his move. He makes a low gurgling noise in his throat, the kind of noise he always makes when he's working up a serious loogie.

  But then, when we're just twenty feet away, someone else enters the picture.

  An old guy leaps in front of us, coming face to face with the bullies. He's wearing bright red long johns with the left leg pushed up to the knee. The most remarkable thing about him is his silver hair, which is pulled up into two foot-tall horns on top of his head.

  As the guy cuts us off, Tommy stops in his tracks. Stopping behind him, I catch a major whiff of his rank body odor, which I swear is the worst it's ever been. (Somewhere between rotten eggs in a blender and skunk fumes, I'd say.)

  "Who's that?" I gasp at his B.O. as I say it.

  "Rhino Man!" Tommy's voice is a stunned whisper. "One of the craziest people in town!"

  I've never seen Rhino Man before, but he sure does seem crazy. The two hair horns on top of his head quiver as he cries out and claws at the air.

  I whisper back to Tommy. "Why 'Rhino Man?' He's got two horns, not one."

  "Because he used to have one," says Tommy. "Nobody knows why he added the second one."

  "What's his real name?" I ask.

  "It's a mystery." Tommy shakes his head. "Nobody knows that, either."

  "Leave this young lady alone!" Rhino Man tosses his head as he howls out the words. "Begone from this place!" He kicks back his leg, pawing the floor as if he's a bull getting ready to charge.

  "Nice horns, Rhino!" says the tallest bully, a heavyset girl with short black hair and a face like a handful of gravel. "You're so awesome."

  The next tallest bully, a freckle-faced girl with a scrawny body and greasy red licorice hair in a ponytail, points at Rhino Man and laughs. "Looks more like Rabbit Man, if you ask me!"

  "I'm so scared," says the third girl, a blonde with acres of makeup and a build like a washing machine. "I think I'm gonna pee my pants!"

  "You've been warned!" Rhino Man paws the floor again and snorts. Then, in one smooth motion, he sticks a finger down his throat and lunges at the blonde washing machine. Just as he reaches her, he gags loudly and blows out a stream of brown, chunky vomit.

  The blonde yowls as the vomit flows over her. She flails and stumbles backward, falling over a chair. As she hits the floor, Rhino Man whirls and goes after her partners.

  Reaching back as he runs, he pops open a button on the backend of his long johns; a flap of red material drops open, exposing his butt. Instantly, dark brown poop squeezes into his waiting hand like toothpaste from a tube. He splatters it smack in the redhead's face, sending her screaming and toppling like her blonde companion.

  Next, Rhino Man goes after the black-haired, gravel-faced leader. The bully thrusts her meaty fists in front of her, ready to fight...but Rhino Man isn't about to get involved in a boxing match. He doesn't need to.

  Instead, he administers a truly amazing move. Leaping into the air, he spins around and lets loose multiple bombardments in quick succession--a blast of vomit first, followed by a burst of poop from the open flap of his long johns, then a great, gooey snot rocket. By the time he's finished his spinning leap, landing in a kung fu fighter's crouch, the head bully is coated in slimy substances, her gravelly face knotted in a weeping scowl.

  "Unbelievable." Tommy's voice is filled with awe. "I've never seen anything like it."

  "Boo!" Rhino Man lunges at the head bully, and she flounders backward, wailing in misery. "If I ever see you picking on anyone ever again, I'll do worse than that to you!"

  Tommy shakes his head in wonder. "How could it get worse than that?" he whispers.

  Rhino Man bows to the younger girl, who is sitting stock still at the table. "They won't bother you again, Miss. You can get on with your life now, and never have to worry about these rancid scumbags."

  With that, he straightens and runs off, the butt flap of his long johns wagging over his bare bottom.

  "Wow," I say to Tommy. "That guy's really on your wavelength, isn't he?"

  But Tommy doesn't say a word. He just keeps watching as Rhino Man charges off through the Mall and out the door to the parking lot.

  *****

  Chapter 2

  "What's wrong, Tommy?" I ask the question as we walk home through the summer sunshine. "What's the problem?"

  Tommy walks along beside me, staring down at the street past his huge warty pickle of a nose. He's hardly said a word since we left the Mall...and that just isn't like him. Tommy always, but always, has schemes and ideas and crazy stories to go on about. He isn't the kind of guy who gets depressed and quiet easily.

  At least until now. "Come on," I say, jabbing him in the arm with my elbow. "What's bugging you?"

  Tommy looks up at me with his bloodshot eyes and sighs. "I'm sad, Josh."

  I kick a pebble and shrug. "Sad about what?"

  Tommy scrubs his grimy fingers through the twin dandruff-encrusted plumes of his hair. "What if I never measure up? What if I never get as good as Rhino Man?"

  It kind of blows my mind that he's worried about not being like Rhino Man...but that's Tommy for you. I should've expected this; he really takes pride in being grosser than anyone else. "You can do it, Tommy. I believe in you."

  Tommy shakes his head. "Did you see that puke-poop-snot triple spin blowout he pulled off? And the perfect landing? I don't know." He scratches his belly through the dirt-smeared t-shirt he wears, the one with the slogan across the chest reading Neatness Counts. "I don't know if I can ever be that good."

  "Rhino M
an's a lot older than you, Tommy. Just think of all the practice he's had." I grimace as I catch a whiff of the latest putrid fart Tommy has churned out. It smells like rotten garbage soaked in gasoline. "By the time you get to be his age, you'll be so much better than he is."

  Tommy just shakes his head and looks back down again. "I don't think so, Josh."

  We walk on for a while without talking. The whole time, my mind races as I try to think of something that would make him feel better. I'm used to Tommy helping me with my problems, not the other way around.

  Finally, I get an idea. "Would it make you feel better if you knew for a fact that you'll measure up to Rhino Man someday?"

  Tommy stops walking and frowns at me. "But that's impossible. Nobody can see the future."

  "Maybe they could," I say with a smile, "if they had a god for a friend."

  *****

  Chapter 3

  "So you want to see the future, do you?" The chubby kid with the black hair nods thoughtfully as he paces across my bedroom. His arms are folded over the chest of his black tunic, just above the golden cord around his waist. "And you think I can make it possible?"

  "That's right," I tell him, shooting Tommy a knowing look. I'm sitting on the bed, and Tommy's leaning against the wall by the door.

  The kid's name is Chonganda, and he's a good friend of ours. He's also a god...the son of Bumba, the god of vomit. Which I guess makes him a vomit god, too.

  He looks like a nice, normal kid, but he's got powers you wouldn't believe. Tommy and I met him during our quest for the Golden Barf, and he's been our pal ever since. He even gave us a power of our own--the ability to control the secret filth known as the Eighth Emanation--but it didn't last. Apparently, mere mortals just aren't built to control the powers of the gods for long.

  I smile to myself as Chonganda paces the floor. My Mom, who's just downstairs, would flip if she knew a god was up here in my room. I wonder if she'd ground me?

  Chonganda stops pacing between Tommy and me and grins. "You're in luck." He snaps the fingers of both hands. "It just so happens I can open windows on the future."

  I'm so happy, I jump up off the bed. "That's great, Chonny!" We call Chonganda "Chonny" for short. "You're the best!"

  Chonganda raises an index finger. "But I can only give you little peeks, understand? The future's hard to see. It's always changing."

  "I understand." I give him my most solemn nod. "We just want to have a look at how Tommy will turn out. I want to prove to him how great he'll be as a grown-up gross-out warrior."

  "Are you sure about this?" Chonganda looks at each of us in turn. "What if you don't like what you see?"

  Tommy shrugs. "I already expect the worst. I don't think I'll ever measure up to Rhino Man."

  He isn't loving the idea, but I'm not going to pass up this opportunity. "We wouldn't have come to the sewer and summoned you with the talking-belch and armpit fart code if we weren't serious, Chonny. Tommy needs to get his mojo back."

  "Then that's what we'll do." Chonganda nods firmly. "I'll do anything I can to help you, my very good friends."

  With that, he reaches into a pocket of his tunic and pulls out an egg-shaped blob of some kind of rubbery gray substance. Right away, he starts rolling it around in his hands.

  I frown. "What's that stuff, Chonny?"

  "Prophecy Putty." Chonganda kneads the gray putty like dough, then flattens it out between his palms. "We can use it to glimpse the shape of the future." Walking over to Tommy, he holds up the flattened-out blob. "Now, Tommy, when I press this against your skin, I want you to think of the part of your life you want to see. In other words, since you want to know how you'll be when you grow up, concentrate with all your might on seeing that. Okay?"

  Tommy sighs. "I guess so."

  "Come on, Tommy." Chonganda playfully socks him in the bicep. "Give it a try. Maybe you'll be surprised." He grins. "When you're done, we'll go use vomit god magic to set off some remote-controlled puking at football practice, okay?"

  Tommy laughs and nods. "Now that I can live with." He steps away from the wall. "Let's do it."

  Chonganda presses the flattened putty against Tommy's forehead, stretching from one filthy temple to the other. He holds it there a moment, then carefully peels it away. "Hmm." He cradles it in his hands and stares down at it. Looking up at us, he nods. "I do believe we've done it, my friends." He holds out the flattened putty, and Tommy and I crowd around him.

  "Wow!" I don't know what I expected to see, exactly--smudges of dirt from Tommy's forehead, I guess. Instead, I see what looks like a comic strip from a newspaper...four square panels arranged in a row, each one framing a cartoonish drawing.

  It's just like using Goofy Putty. You press it down on a newspaper comic strip, and when you pull it away, the image of the strip is copied onto it. Just like a newspaper strip on a hunk of Goofy Putty, the copy is darker in places, especially in the middle, and faded around the edges.

  Unlike a newspaper strip, it features an image that's very familiar to us.

  "Hey!" says Tommy. "That's me!"

  Sure enough, a picture of a grown-up Tommy Puke is right there in black ink on the gray putty. It's a cartoon, but it looks the way I'd imagine a grown-up Tommy would look, complete with warty pickle nose, twin plumes of tangled hair, grimy duck bill lips, and flies constantly buzzing around.

  His behavior is pretty familiar, too.

  "It's you, all right." I nod and smile. "Just look at what he does."

  "There now!" I give Tommy a slap on the back. "Doesn't that make you feel better? Looks like you'll be just as gross as a grown-up as you are now!"

  "I don't know." Tommy rereads the comic strip, then shrugs. "This is just one incident. It still doesn't prove anything."

  "Have no fear, my brother." Chonganda rolls up the putty, then flattens it out between his hands again. When he holds it up this time, the image of the first comic strip is gone. "We'll keep looking. That will give us a better picture."

  "Sure," says Tommy. "If you say so."

  Chonganda presses the putty against Tommy's forehead again. "Think about what you want to see, Tommy. Focus on the future."

  *****

  Chapter 4

  Chonganda holds the Prophecy Putty tight against Tommy's forehead for a long moment, then peels it away. The three of us push in for a look.

  Again, a four-panel comic strip is stamped on the gray putty. Again, it stars a grown-up Tommy Puke.

  When I finish reading, I turn to Tommy. "Not bad, huh? Dumping rotten bananas and used cat litter in trick-or-treat bags is pretty gross, isn't it?"

  "It's okay." Tommy yawns. "But not top ten gross, that's for sure. Not Rhino Man gross."

  He's disappointed, so I look at Chonganda. "Can we try again, Chonny?"

  "No problem." Chonganda nods. "This is kind of fun, actually. Do you want me to check your future next, Josh?"

  "Thanks anyway." I shake my head. "I'm happy to stick with Tommy on this one."

  "Let me know if you change your mind." Smiling, Chonganda rolls up the putty, flattens it out again, and presses it to Tommy's forehead. "Focus on the future, Tommy Puke. Think about life as a grown-up."

  Tommy closes his eyes and frowns. After a moment, Chonganda peels away the putty and gives us a look.

  "So what do you think?" I ask Tommy after the latest view of his future. "Pretty gross, right?"

  "Yeah, sure." Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets and sniffs. "I'm all better now. Let's go set off that remote-controlled puking, Chonny."

  Chonganda gives me a look that says he isn't buying Tommy's sudden recovery. "I think we should have a few more peeks at the future first. Don't you, Josh?"

  "Definitely," I tell him.

  Tommy rolls his eyes. "But I feel better. This is a waste of time, you guys."

  "Just humor me, Tommy," says Chonganda. "I have a feeling that the grossest is yet to come."

  *****

  Chapter 5

  Chonganda
does his thing with the Prophecy Putty while Tommy picks his nose. When the putty reveals its latest comic strip vision of a grown-up Tommy, I realize Chonny was right.

  Grown-up Tommy does get grosser.

  "Now that's gross." I grimace and shake my head. "Seems like something even Rhino Man wouldn't do, if you ask me."

  "Not bad, I have to admit." Tommy scratches his belly and shrugs. "Maybe I like this grown-up Tommy guy after all."

  "Time for another look, then," says Chonganda as he rolls up and flattens out the putty. "Think of the future, Tommy." Reaching up, he presses the putty to Tommy's forehead again.

  When Tommy finishes reading the latest comic strip, he chuckles. "I like it," he says. "Maybe older me has what it takes to out-gross Rhino Man, after all."

  He's finally making progress! Smiling to myself, I clap a hand on his shoulder. "See? I told you you'd be grosser than him someday."

  "Let's take just one more peek to wrap this up, then." Chonganda rolls the putty. "I'll bet we'll see the best one yet."

  I'm thinking we should end on a high note, but maybe it won't hurt to take another peek. Chonganda's still willing to help, and Tommy seems to be coming around, so...

  "One more then." I smile and nod. "What do you say, Tommy?"

  Tommy runs his fingers through his tangled, filthy hair, shaking loose a snow squall of dandruff flakes. "Okey-doke, Chonny. I'm ready."

  Chonganda works his magic, and we all take a look.

  Without warning, before I can even finish reading the comic strip, Tommy cries out and swats the putty from Chonganda's hands. "No!" He snarls the word and charges for the door. "I knew it! I turn into a neat freak!"