by Dan Gutman
“Begin treatment tonight,” the doctor suggested. “I want him to watch two hours of the Weather Channel. If he finds anything funny, call 911.”
I’d had enough. I was sick of people testing me and asking me questions and deciding what was wrong with me.
“There’s nothing wrong with me!” I shouted. “You’re the crazy ones! I’ve got to save the world!”
“Save the world?” Dr. Breznitski laughed. “From what?”
“Those barbers! They’re going to take everybody’s hair and flush it down the drain, cutting off our water supply!”
“Are you referring to Bo, Barry, and Burly?” Dr. Breznitski said. “That’s my favorite show.”
“Hey, mine, too!” Bob Foster added.
“It’s not a show!” I screamed. “It’s for real!”
Dr. Breznitski shook her head sadly and leaned toward Bob Foster. “One of the most obvious signs of funnyitis,” she whispered, “is that the patient finds humor in everything except things that other people consider funny. Baffling, isn’t it?”
I ran all the way home.
CHAPTER 9
HAIR TO THE CHIEF
That night, the Weather Channel was showing a two-hour special on the history of the thermometer. Bob Foster forced me to watch it. After fifteen minutes, I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. Punch was asleep on the floor.
“Turn it off,” I begged Bob Foster. “Please, turn it off!”
“The doctor said you had to watch for two hours.”
Fortunately, at that moment, the phone rang. I jumped up to get it before Bob Foster could. I just wanted to get away from the TV.
“Is this Funny Boy?” a woman asked.
“Yes.”
“Please hold a moment for the President of the United States.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said to the lady. “I told you people to stop calling us! How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy things from people who call over the phone?”
But she was gone. There was a click on the line, and then ...
“Funny Boy! It’s me, the President. I need to see you right away in Washington.”
The President of the United States! The real President of the United States was calling me. It was the most exciting moment of my life. My heart was pounding.
“I’m kinda busy,” I told the President. “How about Wednesday?”
“Earth may be destroyed by Wednesday!”
Wow, I thought. If Earth could be destroyed by Wednesday, I wouldn’t have to take Punch to the vet. That’s great because she hates going to the vet. And if Earth could be destroyed by Wednesday, Bob Foster wouldn’t have to pay his bills. There would be no reason to wash his car either, because if Earth was destroyed, there would be no roads to drive on. And besides, the car wouldn’t exist anymore.
This was terrific news! I wouldn’t have to pick up the newspaper from the front lawn in the morning, because if Earth was going to be destroyed, nobody would read the paper because all life would be destroyed and we’d all be dead and—
“I’ll be on the next plane to Washington,” I told the President.
The first thing in the morning, Bob Foster, Punch, and I went to the airport to catch a plane to Washington. Punch was really angry that we had to put her into one of those dog carriers, but rules are rules.
A limousine picked us up at the Washington airport and whisked us to the White House. A woman with gray hair was waiting at the front gate.
“Who’s the old bag?” I asked as the limousine pulled up.
“Show some respect,” Bob Foster replied. “That’s the first lady.”
“She can’t be that old!” I exclaimed. “There must have been at least one lady before her.”
“The first lady is the President’s wife!”
Bob Foster, Punch, and I got out of the limo.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Bob Foster said gracefully. The first lady looked me up and down, like she’d never seen a boy wearing a cape and fake nose and glasses before.
“He’s fictional,” Punch informed her.
The first lady stepped back in surprise.
“Your dog ... she said. “She ... talks?”
“I can also sing the theme song to Sesame Street,” Punch told her. “Wanna hear it?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The first lady led us to the Oval Office, where the President works. When she opened the door, he was nervously pacing around the room.
“Funny Boy!” he exclaimed as soon as he saw me. “Finally, you’re here! Remember how you defeated that airsick alien from Andromeda who threatened to eat Earth one continent at a time?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I need your help again.”
The President motioned us to sit. Then he sat behind his desk, put his head in his hands, and started sobbing.
“What’s the matter, Mr. President?” Bob Foster asked.
“I don’t want to lose my hair!” the President whimpered.
“Your hair?” we all asked.
“I’ve always had good hair,” the President exclaimed. “That’s how I got elected in the first place.”
“I thought you got elected because the American people carefully evaluated the issues and decided they agreed with your policies,” I said. “They felt you were the best man to lead the country.”
“No, no, no!” he sobbed. “That had nothing to do with it. It was just my great hair!”
“Are you suggesting that those kooky barbers on TV are for real?” Bob Foster asked.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” I said. “They’re going to take our hair, and then they’re going to take over.”
The President began wailing, big tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Get a grip on yourself, sir,” I told him. “It’s just hair.”
“Just hair?” the President said, pulling himself together. “Young man, do you have any idea how important hair is?”
“I guess not.”
“Do you know why Columbus sailed to America?”
“He wanted to reach the New World?” I guessed.
“No,” the President explained. “He couldn’t get a good haircut in Spain.”
“What about the Barber of Seville?” I asked, but the President ignored me.
“Do you know what causes high tide and low tide?” he asked.
“The moon, I think.”
“No,” the President replied. “That’s just what we tell everybody. Actually, it’s hair. And do you know what makes the stock market go up and down?”
“Uh ... hair?”
“Exactly!”
“Gee, I had no idea that hair was so important.”
“Young man, you don’t know the half of it. Hair makes the world go ’round. Without hair we are nothing. You know what is the biggest difference between human beings and the animal world?”
“Humans have thumbs?” Punch guessed.
“No.”
“Humans can think and reason?” Bob Foster guessed.
“No.”
“Humans have a sense of humor?” I guessed.
“No!” the President thundered. “Humans have hair!”
“Animals have hair, too,” Punch pointed out. “See? Look at mine.”
“Don’t interrupt me!” the President said. “Funny Boy, if not for hair, we’d all be ... bald. It’s up to you to save the hair, I mean the world. You’re our only hope against these loony barbers.”
“Can’t you just drop bombs on them?” Bob Foster asked.
“What am I going to say to the Air Force? Go drop bombs on those three barbers who have the highest rated television show in history? The press would laugh at me. I can see the headlines—PREZ FLIPS WIG. HAIR WAR BEGINS.”
He had a point, I had to admit.
“I had no choice but to call on you,” the President said seriously. “My hands are tied. Our backs are against the wall. They’ve got us right where they want us.
It’s now or never. Do or die. It’s time to see what we’re made of. The fate of Earth is in your hands. Did I leave out any clichés?”
“I believe you forgot ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going,’ sir,” Bob Foster said.
“Oh yeah,” said the President. “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.”
“Mr. President,” I said. “I won’t let you down, sir. They haven’t got a hair. I mean, they haven’t got a prayer.”
“I knew I could count on you,” the President said as he walked us to the door of the Oval Office.
“I’ll get to the root of the problem, sir.”
“Funny Boy,” the President said solemnly, “this could get hairy.”
CHAPTER 10
BAD HAIR DAY FOR EARTH!
When Bob Foster, Punch, and I left the White House after our meeting with the President, I felt excited ... and worried. “The fate of Earth is in your hands,” the President had told me. It was an awesome responsibility.
“I’m sorry that I doubted you,” Bob told me as we got into the limo. “I thought those barbers were just a new comedy show.”
“That’s what everybody thinks, Dad. Now you know the truth.”
“What’s your plan to stop them?”
“I’ll defeat them with humor,” I replied grimly. “Once they hear my jokes, they’ll surrender and go back where they came from.”
“But your jokes stink,” Punch said.
“Then I’ll have to get new ones.”
We returned home and gathered around Bob’s computer. He logged on to the Internet and did a search for “jokes.” In seconds, we had a list of hundreds of joke Web sites put together by people who have entirely too much time on their hands.
There were riddles, limericks, and puns. Animal jokes. Mommy-mommy jokes. Lightbulb jokes. Lawyer jokes. Knock-knock jokes. Clean jokes and dirty jokes. Long jokes and one-liners. The list was endless. We stayed up all night going through them until we had an inventory of can’t-miss, fall-on-the-floor, laugh-out-loud knee-slappers.
We were ready to do battle.
A government plane rushed us to the barbers’ headquarters at a secret location on the Barbary Coast, on the African shores of the Mediterranean Sea. As official representatives of the President, we were immediately taken to the barbers.
A door opened and we were ushered into a large room. There was a map of the world on one wall, with some of the countries colored in red. Three big barber chairs were in the middle of the room, facing away from us. One side of the room was filled with big plastic trash bags.
“Hair,” Bob Foster whispered to me. “Bags and bags of hair.”
Suddenly the three barber chairs swiveled around, and there they were. Bo, Barry, and Burly Barber. They looked just like they looked on TV, only meaner and uglier. Their toupees were crooked.
For a moment, they glared at us in silence. I trembled. I felt like we were meeting the great and powerful Oz.
“D-d-don’t worry,” Punch whispered to me. “They’re fictional, like us.”
“Shut up, Punch.”
“Who speaks?” Burly Barber thundered. “The dog? What is it you want?”
“Uh ... Punch stammered. “I love your TV show. Can I have your autographs?”
“Shut up, Punch,” I said.
“Me torture them, okay, boss?” Bo Barber said.
“Not yet,” Barry Barber said. “They’re just in time. We are about to start shooting tonight’s episode.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, stepping forward boldly. “Well, The Bo, Barry, and Burly Show is canceled. Starting right now.”
“Who is it who speaks in a rude manner?” Burly Barber boomed.
“I am Funny Boy,” I announced. “I have been sent by the President of the United States to defend the planet Earth, including some parts of New Jersey that nobody in their right mind would ever want to visit. That is my duty.”
“Him say doody!” Bo Barber smirked.
“Not doody,” I corrected him. “Duty.”
The author wishes to personally apologize at this point for making that cheap and revolting toilet joke. It won’t happen again. Unless he thinks up another one.
“Sometimes,” Barry Barber said thoughtfully, “two words in English sound the same but have different spellings and different meanings. That is another reason why we must destroy Earth! To end this senseless confusion. Right, my brothers?”
Bo and Burly Barber nodded their heads in agreement.
“Look,” Bob Foster said. “Why are you barbers so mad? Earth is a very nice place. Something must have happened to you a long time ago to make you so mean and angry.”
“You speak the truth, tan man,” Barry Barber agreed. “It all started with the Big Bang.”
WARNING TO READER: If you read the following paragraph, you may actually learn something. If you are reading this book purely for laughs, please—we beg you—please do not read the next paragraph!
The Big Bang was an enormous fiery explosion of hydrogen atoms that some scientists believe created the universe ten billion years ago. According to the theory, the universe expanded rapidly after the Big Bang. It cooled enough in one million years for atoms to form, and eventually, living creatures.
“Our home planet, Depilatory, is far beyond your galaxy,” Barry Barber explained. “Depilatory existed millions of years before your Earth. Our people were minding their own business when suddenly the Big Bang took place. The force of the explosion was so powerful that it blew the hair off every man, woman, and child on Depilatory.”
“Hair never grow back,” Bo said sadly, and then he began to cry.
“That was billions of years ago!” I exclaimed. “Isn’t it time you people got over it?”
“Depilatorians have long memories,” Barry replied.
“Let me ask you a question,” Bob Foster said. “If the people on your planet haven’t had any hair since the Big Bang, why did the three of you decide to become barbers?”
“There was very little competition,” Barry said.
Bob Foster leaned over and whispered to me. “On their planet, these three guys are losers.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Your hair was blown off in the Big Bang and you’re still mad. Fine. Why take it out on the people of Earth? Earthlings never did anything to you.”
“No, but Earthlings can do something for us,” Barry Barber said. “We scanned the galaxies looking for a planet that had the essential ingredient Depilatorians need to exist—hair. There is enough hair here on Earth to cover the head of every Depilatorian for the next hundred years.”
“So you decided to take our hair and bring it home with you,” Bob Foster said.
“Exactly.”
“Me be hero!” Burly Barber said proudly.
“How about bringing home some souvenir T-shirts instead?” I suggested. You know: “MY BARBER VISITED EARTH AND ALL HE GOT ME WAS THIS STUPID T-SHIRT.”
“Me no want T-shirt!” Bo Barber bellowed. “Me want hair!”
“Why don’t you just wear hats?” asked Punch.
“Enough small talk!” Barry Barber announced. “We have come for your hair and we will leave with your hair!”
“What makes you think you can get away with this?” Bob Foster asked. “We have smart bombs, tanks, nuclear weapons, laser-guided missiles ...
“Haha!” Bo Barber chuckled. “Toys.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “What weapons do you have?”
“We don’t need weapons,” Barry informed us. “We will make you choke on your own hair! We won’t have to fire a shot! Hahahaha!”
The other two barbers joined in the laughter. Bob Foster, Punch, and I looked at each other. These barbers were really out of their minds.
“This is our plan,” Barry Barber said. “Using our hair guns, we will take your hair and send half of it back to the grateful citizens of Depilatory on a rocket. We will be heroes in our homeland. Then we will take the other half of the h
air and shove it down your showers and toilets and sinks. This will clog up your drains and pipes until your water supply is entirely cut off.”
“Where can I get one of those hair guns?” asked Punch.
“Shut up, Punch.”
“When you turn on your faucets and nothing comes out, you’ll surrender,” Barry said gleefully. “And if you don’t, the buildup of water in your pipes will cause an explosion that will blow Earth into pieces the size of M&M’s!”
“Bad hair day for Earth!” proclaimed Bo Barber.
“Hahahahaha!” all three barbers chortled gleefully.
“Good plan, yes?” asked Burly Barber.
“That’s the stupidest harebrained plan I ever heard in my life,” I replied.
“Who ask you, big-nose boy?”
“You did,” I said. “Look, I’ll make a deal with you. Surrender now and we’ll change the name of the George Washington Bridge to the Bo, Barry, and Burly Bridge. How would you like that?”
“Me no want stinking bridge!” Bo Barber barked. “Me want hair!”
“Well, we’re not going to give it to you,” I said.
“How will you,” Barry Barber asked, “a mere boy, stop us from carrying out our plan? Do you have some superpower, or something?”
“It just so happens that I do,” I explained. “I have a superior sense of humor. It can reduce anyone, human or alien, into helpless chuckling. Giggles come next. Then guffaws and chortles set in. Finally, unless you surrender, you will die laughing. That is how I will defeat you.”
“Me no laugh,” Burly Barber insisted.
“Me no laugh, too,” agreed Bo Barber.
“Everyone laughs,” I said. “A smile is the universal language. And it’s impossible to do evil and laugh at the same time.”
“I defy you!” Barry challenged. “Try to make us laugh.”
“Okay,” I said. “How many ears did Davy Crockett have?”
“Me not know.”
“Three,” I said. “His left ear, his right ear, and his wild front ear.”