Dear Dumb Diary #8: It's Not My Fault I Know Everything

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Dear Dumb Diary #8: It's Not My Fault I Know Everything Page 2

by Jim Benton


  of running away from home but only manages to get

  about a foot a week. He’s been running away for as

  long as I can remember. This is giving Isabella lots

  of time to try to talk him out of it, but he hasn’t

  slowed down a bit. (At least we don’t think he has.)

  I explained that it takes six or seven weeks

  before the puppies are ready to stop nursing and

  leave their mom, so her puppy can’t go anywhere

  until sometime around the end of the month.

  Isabella said that you could milk a dog like

  a cow and put that milk in little bottles so that

  the puppy could leave the mom early, and

  that she knew this one girl who did it to a cat

  and even tasted it.

  19

  When Isabella tells you something like this,

  you have two choices. You can tell her that she’s

  wrong and accept the consequences, like getting

  yelled at, or waking up in the hospital, or having

  her blurt out some stupid secret thing you did once.

  (In my defense, I bet a lot of people have made

  snowmen of their secret crushes and then kissed

  them and had to go to the emergency room because

  they poked themselves in the eye with a frozen

  carrot.)

  Or you can just nod and move on.

  20

  Friday 06

  My Dearest Diary:

  My dear friend, who I really admire for her lovely

  mop of blond hair and gracefully lashed eyeballs, asked me

  to name puppies with her after school today. I accepted, and

  had a gracefully lovely time.

  Signed,

  Anonymous and good at making odors sound feminine

  21

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  What really happened: Angeline asked me to

  come over to her house. Since her dog, Stickybuns,

  and my doglike pet, Stinker, are the parents, she

  thought that we should get to name the puppies.

  She explained that she’s no good at coming up with

  names, so she needed my help.

  Normally, I would never consider accepting

  an invitation to Angeline’s house out of concern

  that she could be there, but puppies can make

  people do crazy things, so I went.

  22

  Angeline’s family room looks a little like

  mine, which is pretty good evidence that she copied

  it off me. Her artificially cute dog, Stickybuns, was

  curled up in a little basket bed with the puppies

  that are old enough now to wriggle in and out of the

  basket and sniff around a little. They are still kind

  of wobbly and clumsy and reminded me of tiny

  fat naked grandpas that had taken too much of

  their medicine.

  But I had to admit, it was all very beautiful

  and peaceful and kind of a miracle. It made me

  want one more than ever, but my mom totally went

  berserk last time I asked.

  And then I stepped on a puppy’s head.

  23

  Actually, I just thought that I had. There

  was a little stuffed chew toy on the floor and when

  I stepped on it, my foot thought it felt exactly like

  I was smushing a puppyhead. I screamed real loud,

  which freaked out Angeline’s dog a little and sent

  a few puppies tumbling out of the basket, where I

  almost really stepped on one because I was sort of

  hopping around trying not to.

  24

  This made Stickybuns get all nervous and it

  made Angeline laugh harder than I had ever heard

  her laugh. For just a second, it sounded almost

  human, and I actually started laughing myself.

  I believe that this is purely the result of

  inhaling concentrated puppy fumes, which can

  make people laugh and create “awwww” sounds

  against their will. It’s not like Angeline and I have

  anything in common now.

  25

  And Angeline was right about her naming

  ability. She kept coming up with boring names like

  Sue and Joe. I came up with excellent names, so I

  wound up naming all four puppies.

  Considering what a grossface their dad is,

  three of them are pretty adorable. I named them

  Prince Fuzzybutt, Dingledongle, and

  The Bubblegum Duchess. Tragically, one

  of the puppies looks just like Stinker, so I named

  her Stinkette. Although this name is based on an

  odor, I made it pretty-sounding because, after all,

  she is a woman dog and if you are an ugly woman,

  hopefully you can at least have a name that is kind

  of pretty.

  26

  And then, Dumb Diary, IT HAPPENED. We

  were just sitting there smiling at the puppies, and

  Angeline touched my hair.

  I’m used to Isabella touching my hair. When

  we were younger, she touched it because you have

  to touch it in order to pull it. These days, Isabella

  touches it and says encouraging BFF things like, “Is

  this really hair? At some point isn’t this called fur,

  or something? Maybe a pelt?”

  27

  But Angeline was still full of puppy fumes and

  laughter and she said, “I can fix this, you know. You

  should let me fix your hair sometime.”

  This is like Albert Einstein offering to help you

  cheat on your science test. Or like Angeline offering

  to help Albert Einstein with his hair.

  I learned long ago that Angeline’s hair looks

  the way it does because she MAKES it look that

  way. She wasn’t born with it. I’ve seen pictures —

  her hair used to be worse than mine. For real.

  28

  “Yeah, okay,” I lied, since this is way more

  than JUST OKAY. But I can’t let Angeline know

  how important it is. She came very close to sharing

  some hair secrets with me once before, and it fell

  through. I’m positive that Angeline doesn’t like me

  very much, so I have to be careful, like when you

  want to ask your parents to do something that you

  know they hate. Fortunately, my parents hate many

  things, so I have quite a bit of experience in this

  area.

  29

  Saturday 07

  My Dearest Diary:

  My best friend (who does not wear glasses or have

  a round head)called today and did an impression for me on

  the phone. Also I did a lot of really kind things for charities

  and was very nice to a baby.

  Signed,

  Anonymous and truthful

  30

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  The REAL entry: This morning Isabella

  called, and I knew I shouldn’t tell her that I went

  over and named the puppies yesterday.

  “I went over and named the puppies

  yesterday,” I accidentally bragged.

  Isabella got really quiet. It’s hard to explain

  why, but quietness is actually the scariest sound

  Isabella makes.

  31

  Isabella asked what I named them, so I

  told her in this really cute voice that was so cute

  it made Stinker pee a little. And in spite of this

  strong endorsement by their father, Isabella said


  she didn’t like any of those names and that she’ll

  be renaming her puppy once it comes home with

  her. She’s planning on calling it either Sugarberry

  or Deathbite. I told her that you can’t rename a

  puppy. Once it has been given a name, that’s what

  you have to call it from that moment on. This is

  Puppylaw, and everyone knows it.

  Isabella said that you can rename anything,

  and that her dad got a new assistant at work and

  renamed him Matt because he just liked it better

  than saying, “Oh, Melvin, could you come in here

  for a moment and bring the important papers,

  Melvin?”

  Then to prove it, she went and got her

  dad and put him on the phone. He said the same

  thing, but I’m almost positive that it was Isabella

  pretending to be her dad.

  32

  I was going to tell Isabella about Angeline

  and my hair, but it wasn’t the right time. She

  wouldn’t stop pretending that she was her dad and

  was threatening to ground me because, according

  to her/him, the law states that a dad can legally

  ground his child’s best friend. She wouldn’t stop

  pretending and I really didn’t want to share the

  news with Isabella-pretending-to-be-her-dad.

  And about the truthfulness of today’s fake

  diary entry: Maybe it wasn’t exactly a baby that I

  was nice to, maybe it was a beagle. And maybe

  I wasn’t nice exactly. Maybe I was just not that

  mean. Anyway, I meant that I sat cowboy- style

  on Stinker but got up pretty quick. (Much of this is

  Stinker’s fault. Things like this wouldn’t happen if

  he had the decency to be cuter.)

  And I didn’t do anything against charities

  today. So that’s a lot like doing something for

  them, right? Ask any charity — they’ll tell you that

  they appreciate it when people don’t do things

  against them.

  33

  Sunday 08

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella came over today (homework day)

  and brought a few more magazines so she and I

  could do more of their brilliant quizzes. Here’s a

  sample question from a quiz called: ARE YOU

  POLITE?

  34

  If a friend bought you a really ugly shirt,

  would you:

  A. choke her with it.

  B. pretend to like it, then sell it on eBay.

  C. tell her you really appreciate the

  gesture, but think the two of you could

  exchange it for one you’d wear more

  often.

  D. get teased every time you wear it,

  and one day tell a psychologist that

  your friend is to blame for all your

  problems.

  Isabella was just amazed to learn that the

  answer was “C.” She wouldn’t tell me what she

  thought the answer was, although she did say it

  wasn’t choking because that would only make sense

  if it had been an ugly belt.

  35

  I did a couple more quizzes and even if I

  don’t get every single question right, I always score

  in the highest bracket. It’s nothing for Isabella to

  get all frustrated about. I’m a Magazine Quiz

  Genius, so it just naturally follows that I am a

  genius at everything. I mean, we have to admit: The

  people who write these quizzes are the brightest

  people in the nation. I’m sure many of them are

  busy saving the world with quizzes on critically

  important things like diseases and ecology. It’s

  impossible to not respect findings that are so

  clearly correct about me.

  After that, the rest of our homework went

  badly, and by that I mean we did our homework.

  Stand by for fake entry.

  36

  My Dearest Diary:

  My friend and I discussed the right thing to do

  when receiving a gift that is not to your liking. Speaking

  as a proven genius, my conclusion: Never give somebody

  anything long enough to go around your neck.

  Sincerely,

  Anonymous and planning to keep breathing

  37

  Monday 09

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella whipped out a bunch of new

  magazines at lunch today and wanted me to do the

  quizzes. I was just preparing to astonish Isabella

  with my geniusness when Angeline sat down next

  to us.

  Isabella explained to her that I’m a

  Magazine Quiz Genius and Angeline smiled

  and said, “Me, too.”

  There was nothing that Isabella would have

  rather heard, except maybe for the sound of her

  mean older brothers not being able to find any of

  their clothes on the first day of school. (It’s a long

  story, but they had it coming to them, nobody could

  ever prove it was Isabella, and they had to go to

  school wearing their dad’s big fat guy clothes.)

  38

  Isabella was delighted to hear Angeline’s

  cheery little “Me, too” because she is very

  competitive. If you say you can run fast, Isabella

  will take off running and challenge you to keep up.

  If you say you have a gross toe, Isabella will take

  off a shoe and try to deform one of her toes to be

  grosser.

  She’s so competitive that she even likes to

  see competition between others — in this case,

  Angeline and me.

  39

  Isabella flipped right to one quiz in

  particular called SO YOU THINK YOU KNOW

  EVERYTHING and began asking us the questions.

  We wrote the answers down secretly, so Angeline

  couldn’t copy off me.

  The first few were multiple- choice questions,

  and they were pretty easy to answer. Easy for me

  because I knew the answers, and easy for Angeline

  because she didn’t. (It’s a known Science Fact that

  people are wrong as fast as they are right.)

  We were both humming along until Isabella

  came to the next question.

  40

  Isabella said, “What do people really think

  about you?” and she leaned back in her chair a

  little and smiled. There was something about how

  she smiled that looked like she had just thrown

  a stick of dynamite into a truck full of dynamite

  that was in a warehouse that had been built out

  of dynamite and the people who worked there had

  eaten dynamite for breakfast. (I know how this

  smile looks, because this is how Isabella looks

  whenever she thinks about something explodey.)

  41

  I know exactly how people feel about me.

  For starters, Angeline doesn’t like me, Isabella

  does — in her own way — and Hudson has a little

  crush on me, but also kind of on Angeline.

  Angeline looked a little confused. Probably

  because she’s so perfectly excellent and popular,

  the question of how people feel about her just never

  comes up in her perfectly excellent and popular

  head. Of COURSE she knows how they feel: They

  Worship Her. The mere existence of suc
h a

  question probably confused her.

  42

  Even though I knew the answer (I know all

  the answers, Dumb Diary), I didn’t want to say that

  in front of Angeline or Isabella. So I did what all

  famous intelligent people in history have done when

  they didn’t want to answer a question.

  I went to the bathroom. I didn’t even wait to

  hear if there were multiple choice answers. I just

  said CODE YELLOW and bolted.

  43

  Not like Isabella would hesitate to follow me.

  One time when I had the flu, she came to my house

  and hung out in the bathroom with me because I

  had promised to paint her toenails. She said that

  I might as well paint them because I was on the

  floor anyway. You see, it’s because of her mean

  older brothers that she is immune to all manners of

  toilet nastiness. It’s really sort of a gift, like playing

  the violin. Or dancing. Or playing the violin and

  dancing while Isabella’s brothers fart at you.

  The real reason my escape worked was

  because I left my juice box on my tray, and you may

  always count on Isabella to steal your juice box

  when you go to the can. It’s kind of amazing to see

  her victimize one. She holds that little straw in her

  teeth, and in one plunge, she can pierce the box and

  drain it like a mutant radioactive mosquitowoman.

  I’ve even seen her yank the straw out, and then use

  it to swiftly vampire the cream from the middle of

  a Twinkie.

  And now, stay tuned for today’s fake diary

  entry:

  44

  My Dearest Diary:

  Since I am a genius, I went to the bathroom. I

  solved my problems with juice, and I no longer challenge

  friends to gross toe contests.

  Sincerely,

  Anonymous and unable to dance while being farted upon

  45

  Tuesday 10

  Dear Dumb Diary,

 

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