Dogs Don't Tell Jokes

by Louis Sachar

  “You’re the young man who collects hats,” said the elderly woman who ran the store.

  He recognized her too. He always figured she didn’t have much money, to work in such a place, but there was something about her that impressed him as elegant. She had a very dignified way of talking. And the way she stood, so straight and tall—at least she seemed tall, though if he stood next to her, she’d probably only come up to his chin.

  “I collect baseball cards, too,” he told her.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be of help there,” she said. “But let me show you something that came in yesterday. I thought of you the moment I saw it.”

  It was a navy-blue felt homburg, trimmed with a silver ribbon and ornamental button. The feather was yellow with a trace of white around the edges.

  Gary tried it on. It was a little too tight for him. He looked at himself in the mirror.

  The woman stood behind him. “Very dashing,” she said.

  It did look pretty good, but he only had enough money for baseball cards. Besides, it was too tight. “Maybe another time,” he said.

  He went next door and asked for a deck of baseball cards.

  At dinner Gary broke the news about the talent show to his parents. “I know you don’t like me quitting something in the middle …” he started to explain.

  “I think you made the right decision,” said his father. “If you must know, we were worried that you might be taking the talent show a bit too seriously.”

  “We didn’t want to see you hurt when you didn’t win,” said his mother.

  He told them about his new hobby—collecting baseball cards.

  They approved.

  “I used to have quite a baseball card collection myself,” his father said. “Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle …” He shook his head. “I wish I knew what happened to it. You know what those things are worth these days?” He looked Gary in the eye and spoke very seriously, like he was imparting great fatherly advice. “Whatever you do,” he said, “don’t throw away your baseball card collection.”

  Gary promised he wouldn’t.

  After dinner he tore down his posters of famous comedians. Then he went through his baseball cards and memorized the players’ lifetime batting averages.

  18.

  Gary showed his baseball cards to Ira. They made a trade. Gary traded away two of his cards, and in return got five of Ira’s. He wasn’t sure why he got five cards when he had to give Ira only two, but he wasn’t going to complain.

  “I’m just helping a friend get started,” Ira explained. “When you’re first starting out, the important thing is to get a lot of cards. It doesn’t matter who they are.”

  It all happened so fast Gary didn’t understand any of it. Still, he knew he must have done something right, because after Ira told Steve and Michael about the trade, they both wanted to make trades with Gary too.

  “Goon, next time you get some new baseball cards,” said Michael (or Steve), you come to me first, okay? I’ll make you a good trade.”

  “No, come to me,” said Steve (or Michael).

  “I’m your friend, Gary,” said Ira. “I’ve always treated you right.”

  Joe let him go out for several passes in gym class, and he caught two of the three Joe threw to him. On one of the passes, Zack told him he made a good catch.

  “Zack,” said Joe. “You want to play electric football after school?”

  Zack shrugged. “I guess.”

  Gary couldn’t imagine why anyone would want an electric football. How would you plug it in? It would have to be battery-operated, or else you’d need a real long cord.

  “How about you, Goon?” asked Joe.

  “Huh?”

  “You want to come over after school and play electric football?”

  “Sounds cool,” said Gary, trying to sound cool.

  He didn’t know where Joe lived. He knew he should have just asked him, but for some reason he didn’t—like he was afraid to admit he didn’t know where Joe lived. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid as he sat at his desk in history, his last class of the day.

  He’d have to try to find Joe after school and ask him. Then Joe would wonder why he hadn’t asked him earlier. He shook his head and sighed. Or else he could look in a phone book, but there were probably lots of Reeds in the phone book, and phone books didn’t always give addresses.

  “This is even worse than not bringing him the ice cream sandwich,” he said.

  When the bell rang, he hurried out of the room, then searched the halls for Joe or Zack. There were four main hallways in the school. He quickly moved from one to the other, and back again. The hallways were crowded at first, and he had to push his way past people to try and see everyone. “Hey, watch it, Goon!” someone yelled at him. But as he continued his search he kept seeing fewer and fewer people in each hallway, until at last hardly anyone was left at all. Dejected, he headed out of the building.

  He was halfway home when he suddenly saw Matt, Ryan, and Paul, a block away. He ran to them. “Do you know where Joe lives?” he asked, catching his breath.

  “What do you want, Goon?” asked Matt.

  He had just told them. “Do you know where Joe Reed lives?” he asked again. “Joe invited me to his house,” he added with a touch of pride.

  The three boys looked at one another. “I’m not sure of the exact address,” said Paul. “It’s on Garnet Lane—a two-story blue and white house. There’s a weeping willow tree out in front.”

  Gary didn’t ask why the willow tree was crying. Did its leaves leave?

  “Wait. Where’s Garnet Lane?” he asked.

  “Do you know where Mica Road is?” asked Paul.

  He nodded.

  “Just take Mica Road all the way to the end,” said Paul. “You can’t miss it.”

  “If you get lost, follow your butt,” said Ryan Utt.

  Mica Road was a winding road. As Gary rounded each curve he kept hoping he’d see the end, but it just kept winding around.

  Maybe the road never ended. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Paul might have made the whole thing up—as a joke. But he felt he was sort of friends with Paul, Matt, and Ryan now. He had played football with them after school. And he had told them he was invited to Joe’s. They wouldn’t play a joke on Joe.

  He kept walking. “Besides, what’s so funny about giving somebody wrong directions?” he asked. “There’s nothing funny about that.”

  As he rounded another curve he saw what looked like the end of the road. He walked quickly and soon saw the sign for Garnet Lane.

  Garnet Lane was a narrow, quiet street with no sidewalks. He immediately spotted the two-story blue and white house. It really wasn’t such a long walk after all.

  “What are you crying about?” he asked the weeping willow tree.

  No one said he couldn’t tell a joke to a tree.

  He rang the doorbell.

  A woman opened the door. He told her he was there to see Joe.

  “My husband?” asked the woman. “He’s at his office.”

  Julie Rose appeared behind her mother. “What’s he doing here?” she asked.

  Gary left.

  It wasn’t funny. “What’s so funny about giving someone directions to Julie Rose’s house?”

  What bothered him the most was that they thought it would be funny. The reason they thought it would be funny was because Julie was one of the most popular girls in school, while he was … well, it showed what they thought he was.

  19.

  “You get any new cards, Goon?” asked Steve (or maybe Michael).

  “Um, no,” said Gary. “I haven’t had time.”

  “Time?” asked Michael (or Steve). “How much time does it take to buy baseball cards?”

  “Gee. It takes a whole two minutes,” said Ira.

  Ira and the Higgins twins laughed.

  “Two and a half minutes if you have to wait for change,” said Michael (or Steve).

  They all laughed again.


  “Two minutes and forty-five seconds if he only has pennies!” exclaimed the other Higgins brother.

  Ira laughed so hard he almost fell down.

  Gary smiled and shrugged. He had no idea what was supposed to be so funny. Surely they knew it took almost half an hour to get to the store.

  “Two minutes and forty-six seconds if he drops one!” said Ira.

  They were hysterical.

  He leaned against the school building. He saw Joe, but Joe didn’t see him. He wasn’t sure what he’d say to him—maybe make up something about having to clean the garage.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder. “So, Goon,” said Matt. “How’s Julie?”

  Paul and Ryan laughed.

  “I guess I should have told you to bring flowers,” said Paul. They laughed again.

  Ryan nudged Gary with his elbow. “Did you kiss her?”

  “No!” said Gary.

  “Oh, man, why not?” asked Matt. “That was your big chance.”

  “Julie’s really hot for you,” said Paul. “That’s why I gave you her address. I knew you’d be too shy to go on your own.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Gary.

  Paul looked offended. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Goon,” he said. “I was just trying to help a friend, but if you’re going to be that way about it …” He walked away. Matt and Ryan followed.

  Gary glanced at a poster for the talent show.

  CAN YOU SING? DANCE?

  OR PLAY THE TUBA?

  FLOYD HICKS WANTS YOU!

  —IN THE TALENT SHOW

  Two days away. He’d still go to it—but as a spectator. He wanted to hear Joe’s rap.

  “Wait, let me get this straight, Goon,” Joe said in gym. “You went to Julie Rose’s house!”

  Gary shrugged.

  Joe and Zack cracked up.

  They played flag football.

  “I was wide open!” Gary said, returning to the huddle.

  “I didn’t see you, Goon,” said Joe. Then he laughed. “Sorry, but I just keep picturing you at Julie’s house.” He laughed again. “You have to admit that’s funny!”

  Gary smiled.

  He went straight home after school. He wanted to get an early start on his homework because there was a television show on at eight o’clock that Joe always watched.

  He sat at his desk. He thought about the talent show. It was hard for him to believe that he once actually thought he’d be up on stage in front of the whole school telling jokes. Now he couldn’t even imagine it.

  Two days away. “I’d probably be going crazy right now,” he said.

  He had to read a chapter in history, but as he stared at the pages he found himself reading the same paragraph over again. He read it at least three times but still didn’t know what it said.

  “Can’t concentrate, huh?” asked a voice behind him.

  He turned around.

  An old woman was sitting cross-legged on his bed. She was eating mashed potatoes and gravy.

  He watched her dig her spoon into the potatoes, then slurp noisily from it. She wore green flannel pajamas and a black bolero, which was the kind of hat worn by Zorro.

  “You want some?” she offered, holding out a spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “Uh …” He shook his head. Suddenly he knew who she was. “You’re …”

  “Mrs. Snitzberry,” she said with a certain amount of pride. “But my friends call me Gladys.”

  “Gladys?” asked Gary.

  “I said my friends,” said Mrs. Snitzberry. “You’re no friend of mine. What’s the big idea?”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Huh?” she repeated.

  “What do you mean?” asked Gary.

  “What do you mean, what do I mean?” She slammed the plate of potatoes onto the bed. “Quittin’ the talent show!”

  He shrugged.

  “No way, Buster!” said Mrs. Snitzberry. “You’ve been making fun of me every day for the last two years.” She jumped off the bed. “Did I ever complain?” She poked him in the chest with her finger. “Did I?” She poked him again. “Did I?”

  He backed up against his dresser. “No!” he shouted. “I didn’t even know you were a real person, or whatever you are.”

  “Of course I didn’t complain,” she said. “Because it was humor! Humor—man’s greatest gift! That’s what separates humans from all other animals. That’s why they call it humor. Humans—humor. You never hear dogs telling jokes, do you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s because dogs have no sense of humor!”

  As Gary stared at her, her face began to get blurry and she started to fade, but then he blinked, and she reappeared as sharp as ever.

  She pulled Gary’s ears.

  “Ow!” he yelled.

  “You can’t quit on me now, Buster!” said Mrs. Snitzberry. “You owe me!”

  Gary jerked away. “But my jokes aren’t funny!” he shouted. He sat down on his bed.

  “So? That never stopped you before,” said Mrs. Snitzberry.

  Gary sighed.

  “I was kidding!” said Mrs. Snitzberry. “Boy, you are in sorry shape, aren’t you?” She sat down on the bed next to him, right on top of the plate of mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “But my jokes aren’t funny!” Gary moped. “I did nothing but make up jokes for two weeks—and they all stink! No wonder I never had any friends. I wouldn’t be my friend either if I had to listen to me all the time. I’ve been making a fool out of myself every minute of every day of my whole life.”

  “So, who hasn’t?” asked Mrs. Snitzberry. “Besides, I don’t care what anybody says. I think you’re hilarious. I’ve been listening to your jokes. You crack me up.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, sure, some of them stink.” She took her bolero off her head and fanned the foul-smelling air away from her face. “All you have to do is separate the good ones from the stink bombs.”

  “Which ones didn’t stink?” Gary asked eagerly.

  “That’s for you to figure out,” said Gladys. She stood up and walked across the room. Her backside was dripping with potatoes and gravy.

  “I guess Rudolph is kind of funny,” Gary said. “I was proud of that one. But it’s too late anyway. The talent show is the day after tomorrow. I can’t. I wouldn’t have any time to put it all together. Or practice. I just can’t. Besides, I don’t even know if Miss Langley would let—”

  He turned around with a start as his mother entered his room.

  “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “I could hear you shouting all over the house.”

  “Uh, I was just working on my act for the talent show.”

  “I thought you quit the talent show.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  He jumped as Mrs. Snitzberry pinched his rear end. “All right, kiddo,” she said. “Now you’re talkin’!”

  His mother looked at him oddly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.

  “Never felt better!” said Gary. “Besides, quitting never solves anything,” he added, trying to sound rational. “You know how you and Dad are always saying that I never follow through on things. Well, this time I’m going to do it. Whatever it takes, one hundred percent!”

  He jumped as Mrs. Snitzberry goosed him again.

  “O-kay,” his mother said with some hesitation. “Just so long as you keep it in perspective.”

  20.

  Gary gathered the scraps of paper with all of his jokes and read through them. Maybe they didn’t all stink. “In fact, some of them are pretty funny, if I do say so myself.” The funny ones were just hard to notice because they were surrounded by garbage.

  “What a goon,” he muttered as he read one of the more stupid ones.

  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was funny. He just needed to tighten it up a little bit.

  He picked out all the other jokes that fit with Rudolph. He could definitely u
se the dead skunk jokes.

  Kissing worms? Something about it was funny, but it really didn’t make any sense. “No,” he decided.

  “It’s just like life,” he philosophized. “I always say whatever comes into my head. And most of it is stupid. So when I say something funny, nobody notices. It’s too bad when you’re talking to people, you can’t go back later and cross out all the stupid things you said.”

  But that was what was perfect about doing this comedy routine. He could cross out the bad stuff and say only the good stuff. He could say all the funny jokes and none of the stupid ones!

  “I should get Abel to help me. Ha. Ha. He could haul all the garbage away in his truck.”

  He picked out his best jokes and started putting them in some kind of order. It came easy. The good jokes seemed to fit together naturally, almost as if some part of his brain had planned it that way all along. He made up some new jokes without even trying. And the new ones were funnier than some of the old ones.

  “No, I can’t be sure about that,” he said. “Sometimes I think something is funny one day, and then the next day I realize it’s stupid. I’ll have to look at them again tomorrow and see if I still think they’re funny.”

  Tomorrow? Tomorrow was Thursday!

  He just wished he had more time—even one extra day.

  He worked all afternoon, quickly ate his dinner, then stayed up until almost midnight. He didn’t do his homework. There was just no way.

  By the time he went to bed, he knew for the most part which jokes he’d use and the order he’d say them. But it all needed to be polished. He also needed a way to end his routine. He wanted a big finish. “Something to go BANG!” he said as he slammed his fist into his hand.

  Plus, he still had to memorize it, get his timing down, and rehearse it. “Of course, first I’ll have to hearse,” he said. “I mean, I can’t rehearse until I’ve at least hearsed one time.”

  He stood up on his bed, pounded his chest like Tarzan, then raised his arms in the air and shouted, “The Goon is back!”

  He saw Miss Langley first thing Thursday morning and told her he wanted to be back in the talent show.

  “Gary, you can’t keep quitting and then signing up, then quitting again,” she said.