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Dear Dumb Diary #7: Never Underestimate Your Dumbness

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by Jim Benton




  APPLE

  From New York Times best selling author Jim Benton

  De

  a

  r Dum

  b

  Diary,

  NEVER UNDERESTIMATE

  YOUR DUMBNESS

  Think you can handle

  Jamie Kelly’s FIrst year of diaries?

  #1 Let’s pretend this never happened

  #2 My pants are haunted!

  #3 Am I the Princess or the Frog?

  #4 never do anything, ever

  #5 can adults become human?

  #6 the problem with here is that it's where i'm from

  #7 Never Underestimate your dumbness

  #8 It’s Not My Fault I Know Everything

  #9 That’s What Friends Aren't For

  #10 The worst things in life are also free

  #11 Okay, So Maybe I Do Have Superpowers

  #12 Me! (Just Like You, Only Better)

  And don’t miss year two!

  Year Two #1: School. Hasn’t This Gone On Long Enough?

  Year Two #2: The Super-nice Are Super-annoying

  Year Two #3: Nobody's Perfect. I'm as Close As It Gets.

  Year Two #4: What I Don’t Know Might Hurt Me

  De

  a

  r Dum

  b

  Diary,

  Never Underestimate

  Your Dumbness

  SCHOLASTIC INC.

  Jim Benton’s Tales from Mackerel Middle School

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Con-

  ventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention:

  Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  e-ISBN 13 978-0-545-29558-1

  Copyright © 2008 by Jim Benton

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks

  and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  DEAR DUMB DIARY is a registered trademark of Jim Benton.

  First printing, March 2008

  Dear Whoever Is Reading My Dumb Diary,

  Are you sure you’re supposed to be

  reading somebody else’s diary? I mean, how

  dumb can you get? You should know that’s

  not okay with me.

  If you are my parents, then YES, I know

  that I am not allowed to call people dumb

  and dummy-heads and dumb-face and

  dumbwad, and all that. But this is a diary,

  and I didn’t actually “call” them any-

  thing. I wrote it. And, if you punish me for

  it, then I will know that you read my diary,

  which I am not giving you permission to

  dumbly do.

  Now, by the power vested in me, I do

  promise that everything in this diary is true,

  or, at least, as true as I think it needs to be.

  Signed,

  PS: Just in case you’re wondering how dumb you

  are, you can find out for yourself on this handy,

  highly- accurate, Dumbness IQ Scale:

  1

  Sunday 01

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  How would you feel if your uncle ate your

  sock and pooped on your lawn?

  a) I’d feel grossed out.

  b) I’d feel so grossed out, I could never be

  grossed in again.

  c) I’d feel like staying on the porch.

  2

  I would choose all three. My uncle didn’t do

  it, but my dog has, and for some reason, we just

  go out there and clean it up without calling the

  police — which we will do if an uncle ever does it.

  (Hey, uncles ! I’m not kidding. Take the hint if you’re

  reading this.)

  3

  Will I ever understand why we put up with a dog

  whose main purpose in life is to perform odors and

  get tripped over? How dumb are we?

  4

  Monday 02

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  You might remember, Dumb Diary, that my

  Aunt Carol is getting married to Assistant Principal

  Devon this month. He’s Angeline’s uncle, so that

  means Angeline and I will be related. I think most

  people would agree with me when I say EW. (I’m

  not ewing him, I’m ewing Angeline, who, though

  popular, is plenty ewy in my book.)

  5

  Since he is my assistant principal, and not

  a person, it’s difficult to think of him as my Uncle

  Dan. I’m thinking of calling him something like

  “Uncle Assistant Principal Devon.”

  He used to be really nice, but he seems

  frowny nowadays and kind of moody.

  Isabella says it’s because he’s getting

  married and that people sometimes get a little

  moody as the Big Day approaches because they’re

  practicing for married life. My mom and dad are

  pretty good proof that she’s right. Some days

  they have so many mood swings, we could put in a

  playground.

  6

  Friday, we’re doing something for Aunt Carol’s

  wedding at my house. The main reason is to torture

  me with the gruesome poofy brown bridesmaids’

  dresses and wooden clogs that we are being forced

  to wear as bridesmaids. Thanks for that, Isabella.

  By the way, do you know how bridesmaids got

  the name BRIDESMAIDS ? It was like this:

  7

  It’s hard not to blame Angeline for all of this,

  since she IS somebody other than myself. But it’s

  really kind of Isabella’s doing, since she tricked

  Aunt Carol into thinking brown poofy dresses

  and CLOGS were the coolest things you could

  accessorize your wedding with.

  But it’s very hard for me to blame Isabella

  for anything, even when somebody shows me

  photographic evidence.

  And besides, Angeline is much prettier and

  therefore more blamelicious.

  8

  Tuesday 03

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Margaret is on the dance committee, which is

  weird because she is one of those oafish people that

  you just naturally assume dances like somebody

  slipped a ferret down her pants. She’s not totally a

  girl, not totally an ape. She’s what you might call a

  girlilla.

  The dance is at the end of the month, but it

  takes weeks to magically transform our gym into

  a magnificent fairy- tale ballroom that looks just

  like a gym with some balloons in it.

  9

  Margaret asked me to help with the posters

  (my glitter skills are legendary) and I agreed to

  make one.

  She wanted, like, a JILLION different

  posters, but glitterizing takes a
long time, and

  I’m not going to ruin my reputation with a bunch

  of posters that start developing glitter bald-spots

  because I rushed it. (The first rule of the

  road is that beautiful things take time,

  and you can’t rush glue.)

  10

  I was going to suggest that she do a few

  herself, but because Margaret is a pencil chewer,

  making posters is probably impossible for her. When

  she sees all those delicious writing implements

  spread out in front of her, she’ll feel like she’s at a

  buffet.

  So somebody else HAS to make posters.

  Posters are a critical part of the event because they

  help the boys start planning weeks in advance who

  they will want to ask to dance but won’t.

  They also help the girls plan who they will want

  to ask them to dance but will say no to if they do.

  11

  Although I’m a legend at this glitterfication,

  I have to give Miss Anderson some credit for how

  awesome my glitter abilities are.

  Miss Anderson is my art teacher, and BTF,

  which is like a BFF except that the object is a

  teacher. But even though she is merely a teacher,

  she rarely wears teacher clothes and is beautiful

  enough to be a waitress, or maybe even a weather

  lady. She tried to steal Uncle Assistant Principal

  Devon away from my Aunt Carol when they first

  started dating, so Aunt Carol probably hates her at

  least forever and maybe longer.

  Everybody knows that Miss Anderson is a

  Total Master of All Things Sparkly and

  taught me some of her amazing twinklization

  techniques, which are so excellent they can only

  be called Glitter-Fu.

  12

  Since Aunt Carol hates Miss Anderson, I

  never say anything nice about her in Aunt Carol’s

  presence, which is The Rule you’re supposed to

  observe when dealing with people who have intense

  feelings about things.

  Like, you would never go on and on to a

  mouse about how wonderful cats are, or tell your

  friend, Mr. Snowman, about how much you’re

  looking forward to summer, or tell Miss Bruntford

  (the cafeteria lady) how sensible it is to not eat

  nine or ten pies a day.

  I think Aunt Carol is over it all now, anyway,

  because I heard her say they were inviting all of

  the teachers to the wedding, even “Miss Arty-

  Farty,” which I’m almost certain is Aunt Carol’s

  code name for Miss Anderson — and is better than

  the other one she had for her, which was just a long

  string of screamy swear words.

  13

  Wednesday 04

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Stinker ate a jar of my glitter.

  Right after school I started on my poster. I

  use shaker tops on my glitter jars. When Stinker saw

  me shaking one, he must have thought it was some

  sort of delicious seasoning, because when I turned

  my back for just a second, he managed to gnaw the

  top off my sparkling gold and ate the entire jarful.

  14

  I think the glitter made him feel a little dizzy

  because he was walking all wobbly and bumped

  into the wall. Although it could have been partially

  caused by me trying to shake the glitter directly out

  of his face and onto my poster.

  Now my arms hurt because Stinker would be

  considered fat even if he had been born as three

  dogs. But it gave me a great idea for a health

  club where you build up your muscles by hoisting

  chubbier and chubbier dogs.

  15

  Thursday 05

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Mom said Stinker was acting all weird so we

  had to take him to the veterinarian after school to

  make sure he doesn’t have Twinkle Poisoning

  or Sparklititis or whatever eating a jar of glitter

  would do to you.

  Isabella came with us because she really

  wants a puppy and her mom won’t let her have

  one because Isabella has had some really bad luck

  with pets.

  16

  Isabella was hoping that if the vet was

  handing out free samples in the form of puppies

  and she just showed up at home with one, her mom

  wouldn’t be able to say no. Since looking directly

  into a puppy’s eyes and telling it that you don’t love

  it is a scientific impossibility.

  Unfortunately, there was no puppy giveaway,

  and even more unfortunately, guess who we ran

  into? Angeline and her mom.

  And guess who had to totally copy me

  and get a dog? That’s right: Angeline. And as if

  copying me wasn’t bad enough, she’s also copying

  about 50 million other dog owners in America,

  which has to make this one of the worst cases of

  copying ever documented.

  17

  Just to show off, Angeline couldn’t get a

  regular dog, she had to go and get a RESCUE DOG.

  A rescue dog is one of those dogs at the

  pound that nobody wants. They’re usually not

  puppies, but they are cute, smart dogs that need a

  home. (Although if I was a dog and had to choose

  between the pound and Angeline, I would choose

  the pound, unless the third choice was to pound

  Angeline.)

  Even though Angeline’s rescue dog came with

  an adorable name (her name is Stickybuns), she

  is fortunately unlike most rescue dogs in that

  she is powerfully ugly and has some brain damage. I

  diagnosed it when she wasn’t sickened after Stinker

  licked her face, which, put in people terms, would

  be like if . . . well, it would be like if Stinker licked

  your people face.

  18

  Even though Stickybuns is gross and dumb,

  Isabella was super jealous of Angeline’s dog.

  You could tell because she was looking not at all

  jealous, which is an even jealouser way to look than

  plain old jealous. Isabella is a master of cover-ups.

  And when I said maybe her mom would let her get

  a rescue dog, she said that she wants a puppy. And

  then she spelled puppy for me a couple times, which

  is how I know she was upset because that’s the only

  time people spell words at you.

  19

  The vet checked Stinker over and said that he

  looked fine, which I think means he looks fine for a

  dog- shaped balloon full of glitter and foulness.

  But honestly, I wasn’t really listening. The

  hideousness of Angeline’s dog had put me in a

  really good mood and I just wanted to get back to

  my poster and leave Angeline and her Stickybuns

  behind.

  20

  Friday 06

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Aunt Carol, Uncle Dan, Isabella, and Angeline

  came over tonight, just as had been earlier

  threatened.

  Isabella and I have been trying to wear these

  dumb clogs that Aunt Carol gave us. Her advice

  was to wear them a little bit every day because

  that way we’d get
used to them. Evidently, crying

  bridesmaids with bleeding feet are one of the main

  symptoms of a wedding that isn’t going well.

  21

  Other symptoms include:

  1. After bride says “I do,” she follows it

  up with “Yeah, right.”

  2. Groom bites head off bride cake-

  topper.

  3. Bride’s eleven ex-husbands show up for

  ceremony.

  4. Wedding rings. Onion rings. What’s

  the diff?

  5. When groom is told he may kiss the

  bride, he says “I’ll pass.”

  22

  Angeline brought Stickybuns over to my house

  for this Bridesmaid Fashion Show. She SAID it was

  because the dog is still a little nervous and doesn’t

  like to be left alone, but I’m sure it was really to

  show off that she has used her horrible beauty-

  voodoo to transform Stickybuns into what might

  be the Cutest Dog in the State.

  Pretty girls can really do this. Isabella says

  it’s an evil Black Magic that’s called Pink Magic.

  23

  Isabella suggested that we put Stickybuns

  in the backyard with Stinker, which I thought was a

  great idea because associating with Stinker could

  only ugly her up. Ugly dogs really can do this and I

  think it should be called Brown Magic.

  24

  Isabella and I went up to my room to change,

  and I started complaining about the clogs and how

  we should just refuse to wear them. But she very

  calmly said, “Don’t even bother putting

  them on,” and walked out of my room.

  25

  The next thing I heard was a terrible scream

  and a crash and then Isabella crying and wailing

  like somebody was slowly cutting her in half with

  those kindergarten scissors that can hardly even

  cut paper in half, much less an Isabella. When I

 

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