Stink and the Incredible Super-Galactic Jawbreaker

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2006 by Megan McDonald

  Cover and interior illustrations copyright © 2006 by Peter H. Reynolds

  Stink®. Stink is a registered trademark of Candlewick Press, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  First electronic edition 2010

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:

  McDonald, Megan.

  Stink and the incredible super-galactic jawbreaker /

  Megan McDonald; illustrated by Peter H. Reynolds — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Includes a list of idioms used in the story.

  Summary: Seven-year-old Stink Moody discovers that he can get free samples by writing letters to candy companies and plans a surprise for his best friend’s birthday.

  ISBN 978-0-7636-2158-2 (hardcover)

  [1. Candy — Fiction. 2. Letters — Fiction. 3. Schools — Fiction. 4. English language — Idioms — Fiction. 5. Humorous stories.]

  I. Reynolds, Peter, date, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.M1487 St 2006

  [Fic] — dc22 2004062871

  ISBN 978-0-7636-3236-6 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-0-7636-5189-3 (electronic)

  The illustrations for this book were created digitally.

  Candlewick Press

  99 Dover Street

  Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

  visit us at www.candlewick.com

  CONTENTS

  Kid in a Candy Store

  Finger-Lickin’ Good

  A Leopard Can’t Change Its Spots

  When It Rains, It Pours

  Don’t Let the Bedbugs Bite

  Mad As a Hornet

  Double Trouble

  Feel Like a Heel

  A Leopard Can Change Its Spots

  Gigantic!

  Super-colossal!

  Inter-galactic!

  Stink stood smack in the middle of the Whistle Stop Candy Shop. Shelves all around him were chock-full of sourballs, penny candy (that cost ten cents), licorice shoelaces, gummy money, candy pebbles, spooky-eye gumballs, wax fangs, buttered-popcorn jellybeans, bottle caps, chocolate Scottie dogs, and mood lollipops.

  Then he saw it. Right smack in the middle of it all.

  Hello! Welcome to Planet Jawbreaker!

  Super-galactic jawbreakers! Stink reached to pick one up. It was an earth, a globe, a world unto itself. A speckled, sparkling planet. Bigger than a marble. Bigger than a Super Ball. Bigger than a golf ball. World’s largest jawbreaker! Or at least the biggest Stink had ever seen in his whole entire seven years on the planet.

  Stink’s sister, Judy, ran up to him. “Look, Stink, they have bubblegum baloney and lollipops that play music and real-and-true rain-forest gum and best of all . . . gummy brains! I can’t decide WHAT you’re getting me!”

  “Your brains are gummy if you think I’m buying you stuff,” Stink told his big sister. Sometimes big sisters were so double-triple-quadruple bossy.

  “C’mon, Stink. Don’t be a sourball. You have a big fat five-dollar gift certificate.”

  “I earned it! Dad took me to the college, and I was in a study for short people. I had to answer really hard questions.”

  “Stink, I can’t help it if I’m not short! Please, pretty please, with gummy brains on top? Just one candy cell phone? Purple candy corn? A diamond-ring lollipop? I know, I know! If you won’t buy me candy, how about this How-to-Make-Your-Own-Gum kit?”

  “No, no, no, no, and nope.”

  “C’mon, Stinker. Just one teeny-weeny piece of candy? How much can one piece of penny candy cost?”

  “Ten cents. Some penny candy costs twenty-five cents.”

  “Huh? How can something that costs a penny cost a quarter?”

  “Beats me,” said Stink.

  Stink’s sister, Judy, was in a mood. She slumped down on the car-seat couch in the corner of the candy store. She pretended to watch the Oompa-Loompas dancing on the TV screen in front of her. Stink popped from one shelf to the next, filling his basket with suckers and sourballs, gumballs and gummy worms.

  “Stink, I’m telling Dad you’re acting like a kid in a candy store,” said Judy.

  “But I AM a kid in a candy store,” said Stink. “Hey! You just said an idiom.”

  “I am NOT an idiot!” said Judy.

  “Id-i-om. It’s what you call a funny saying. Mrs. D. taught us a bunch of them. Like if you’re in a bad mood, I could say you got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  “But I’m not in a bad mood, because you’re going to get me some candy, right?”

  “Wrong.”

  “Is stinks on ice an idiom? How about rotten to the core?” said moody Judy.

  “Now you’re acting like sour grapes,” said Stink. “Get it? Sour grapes is another idiom.”

  “Stop saying idiom!” said Judy.

  “Okay! Okay! If I get you candy, what will you give me?” asked Stink. “Let’s strike a deal. Get it?”

  Judy rolled her eyes. “How about one Grouchy pencil and two president baseball cards for this box of rain-forest gum?”

  “Three president baseball cards,” said Stink. “And one of them has to be James Madison.”

  “Deal,” said Judy. “Goody goody gumdrops! Thanks, Stink. Now, Richie Rich, let me see what you’re getting yourself with all that money.”

  “I,” said Stink, “am getting the World’s Biggest Jawbreaker.” He held it up for Judy to see. “It changes colors and flavors as you go.”

  “Rare! It looks like an earth. Or a giant emu egg or something.”

  “Or something,” said Stink.

  “Stink, I don’t think you want to eat that. Says here on the box that it contains wax.”

  “Does not.”

  “Does too!” Judy pointed to the words on the box.

  “So? I’ve eaten wax before.”

  “Have not.”

  “Have too.”

  “Stink, wax is like candles,” said Judy. “Wax is like earwax. Are you going to eat EARwax, Stink?”

  “Give it,” said Stink, taking it back. “Stop saying earwax! I’m still eating it. It has fire in the middle.”

  “Like a fireball?”

  “Like the earth’s core!” said Stink.

  “RARE!” said Judy. “Do you think it’ll really break your jaw?”

  “It better!” said Stink.

  Stink took one lick. Then another. Then another. The giant jawbreaker was way too big to fit into his mouth.

  Slurp. He licked that jawbreaker all the way home.

  Sloop. He licked it all the way up to his room.

  Slop. He licked it while he fed Toady one-handed. He licked it while he played with his president baseball cards (including James Madison, thanks to Judy). He licked it while he did his homework one-handed. He licked it the whole time he talked to Grandma Lou on the phone, telling her all about the Pajama Day they were going to have in Mrs. D.’s class.

  He even licked it while he set the table for dinner. One-handed, of course.

  Pretty soon his lips were green and his tongue was blue and his hands were as sticky as gum on a sneaker bottom.

  “Hey,” Judy asked at dinner. “Why is there a big fat sticky blue fingerprint on my plate?”

&n
bsp; “Oops,” said Stink, licking off his fingers. “Finger-lickin’ good!”

  “Stink’s eating a jawbreaker for dinner!” said Judy, pointing.

  “Stink, put that jawbreaker down and eat some real food,” said Dad. “Here. Have some macaroni.”

  “This is real food,” said Stink. “It contains vitamins A and C and calcium. No lie.”

  “And dextrose, sucrose, fructose, and other stuff that makes you comatose,” said Judy.

  “It’s NOT going to make me comb my toes,” said Stink.

  “And don’t forget wax,” said Judy.

  “Macaroni,” said Mom. “You heard Dad. And green beans.”

  “But it didn’t break my jaw yet,” said Stink. “It didn’t even stretch my mouth one bit.”

  “You already have a big mouth,” said Judy.

  “Hardee-har-har,” said Stink. “Well, it didn’t set my tongue on fire yet or make my cheeks feel like a chipmunk, either.”

  “It may not break your jaw,” said Judy, “but all your teeth are going to fall out. For sure and absolute positive. Did you know Queen Elizabeth ate so many candies from her pockets that her teeth turned black? No lie!”

  “At least I won’t have to brush them every day!” said Stink.

  Every day, Stink ate a little more and a little more of his jawbreaker. He ate it in bed first thing in the morning before he brushed his teeth. He ate it at recess in between playing H-O-R-S-E with his super-duper best friend, Webster. He ate it on the bus and all the way home from school.

  He gave a lick to Mouse the cat. He gave a lick to Toady the toad. He even tried giving a lick to Jaws the Venus flytrap.

  Stink’s jawbreaker went from super-galactic to just plain galactic. From golf-ball size to Super-Ball size.

  “Are you still eating that thing?” asked Judy. Stink stuck out his tongue.

  “Well, you look like a skink,” said Judy. She pointed to his blue tongue.

  Shloop! went Stink.

  Stink ate his not-super-galactic jawbreaker for one whole week. He ate it when it tasted like chalk. He ate it when it tasted like grapefruit. He ate it through the fiery core to the sweet, sugary center. He ate it down to a marble. A teeny-tiny pea.

  Then, in one single bite, one not-jaw-breaking crunch, it was G-O-N-E, gone.

  Stink was down in the dumps. He moped around the house for one whole day and a night. He stomped up the stairs. He stomped down. He drew comics. Ka-POW! He did not play with Toady once. He did not do his homework. He went outside and bounced Judy’s basketball 117 times.

  “Somebody got up on the WRONG side of the bed,” said Judy. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in a MOOD.”

  “I can have moods too, you know.” Stink kept counting. “One hundred eighteen, one hundred nineteen . . .”

  “Is it because your jawbreaker’s all gone?” asked Judy.

  “It’s because that jawbreaker lied. They should call it World’s Biggest UN-jawbreaker. I ate and ate that thing for one whole week, and it did not break my jaw. Not once. It didn’t even make my mouth one teeny-weeny bit bigger. See?” Stink clicked and clacked his teeth open and shut.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Judy. “I mean, if it did break your jaw for real, wouldn’t you be mad?”

  “Yeah, but instead I’m madder.” Stink had an idea.

  A brilliant what-to-do-when-you’re-mad idea. Stink would write a letter. A real-and-true official snail-mail letter. A letter with a greeting and a body and a closing, just the way Mrs. D. taught them in their how-to-write-a-letter unit at school.

  Exactly eleven days later, a package arrived for Stink. A box that thumped and clunked when he shook it. A box that rattled and crunched when he opened it. A big box full of . . . jawbreakers!

  Stink read the letter. “Dear Mr. Stink Moody, blah blah. While we are not in the business of breaking jaws . . . blah blah blah . . . sorry that our jawbreaker did not meet your satisfaction . . . more blah . . . please accept an assortment of fun, exciting and brand-new jawbreakers you might like . . .”

  “Holy jawbreaker heaven!” There were mega jawbreakers, mini jawbreakers, monster jawbreakers, black, rainbow, and psychedelic jawbreakers, asteroids and alien heads, glow-in-the-darks and gobstoppers, even jawbreaker lollipops on a stick with a bubblegum center.

  “Leaping lollipops!” squealed Judy. “Where’d you get all these? There’s more jawbreakers here than in Willy Wonka’s house.” She tossed a handful up in the air.

  “Ten whole pounds!” said Stink. “It says so right here. Wait till I tell Webster!”

  “That’s 21,280 jawbreakers!” Judy pointed to the number on the box.

  “What am I gonna do with twenty thousand million jawbreakers?”

  “Get twenty thousand million cavities, of course,” said Judy. “C’mon, let’s divide them up. We can each set up our own jawbreaker store and trade them with each other. Or we could start our own jawbreaker museum.”

  “What do you mean WE?” asked Stink.

  “You and me,” Judy said. “Two heads are better than one. I mean two jawbreaker eaters are better than one.”

  “No way are you getting half!” said Stink. “They’re mine-all-mine, and I get to decide.”

  “Stink, you never share!”

  “You know what they say . . . You can’t teach an old dog new tricks! A leopard can’t change its spots! Besides, I’m the one who wrote the letter.”

  “What letter?”

  “I wrote a letter to the jawbreaker company about how my super-galactic jawbreaker did not break my jaw.”

  “No fair!” said Judy. “I wrote a letter once that you, my little brother, wrecked my Hedda-Get-Betta doll, and all I got from the doll company was a get-well card.”

  Stink cracked up.

  “Are you sure you didn’t win a contest for being short or something?” Judy asked.

  “Honest! All I did was write one puny little letter.”

  Suddenly, Stink had an idea. Not a puny little idea. A great big super-galactic idea.

  If Stink could write one letter, he could write two . . . three . . . four! It would be just like homework. Mrs. D. said practice makes perfect. If he wrote more letters, he could get more free stuff. And if he got more free stuff, he’d be like a bazillionaire!

  Stink took out his best writing-a-real-letter paper. At the top it said, FROM THE DESK OF STINK MOODY.

  Stink started to write. He wrote and wrote and wrote. He used his best-ever A+ penmanship. He wrote until his hand felt like it was falling off. Three whole letters! Mrs. D. would give him a triple Golden Pen rubber stamp for extra, extra, extra credit.

  Once he started, Stink could not stop writing letters. He wrote a letter to Webster (the friend, not the dictionary). He wrote a letter to his other best friend, Elizabeth, who liked to be called Sophie of the Elves. He even wrote a letter to his teacher, telling her how great he was at writing letters.

  At school, when Mrs. Dempster put a sample letter on the board, full of mistakes, Stink found every single goof, including Deer Sirs and Yours Untruly.

  “Stink, you really put your thinking cap on today!” said Mrs. D. “Now, who can tell me what the best part of writing a letter is?” she asked.

  “When you’re done?” asked Webster.

  “Cool stamps?” asked Sophie of the Elves.

  “When somebody writes back!” said Mrs. D.

  “Especially when they write back with like about a million jawbreakers,” said Stink.

  “Speaking of a million, it’s time for math,” said Mrs. D.

  Waiting sure was bor-ing. UN-amazing. Stink came home from school and checked the mailbox first thing every day. He did not get one puny letter. Not even a postcard! Not from the candy company that couldn’t spell cat. Not from the toy company with the microbot that wouldn’t listen. Not from the city park with no monkeys. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero.

  “Maybe my letters got lost,” said Stink.

  “Maybe
they know you’re just trying to get free stuff,” said Judy.

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  “Maybe I forgot to put stamps on them,” said Stink.

  “Maybe your letters were abducted by alien microbots,” said Judy.

  “Hardee-har-har. So funny I forgot to laugh.”

  Then one day it happened, all at once.

  “When it rains, it pours,” Mom said.

  Stink did not see any rain, but he did see a package. From the toy company. He tore open the box. Microbots! Monsters and spotted dogs and striped cats. Blue lions and pink mice and even a koala!

  Stink read the card. “It says since my microbot didn’t work, try these!”

  “No fair!” said Judy. “You have all the luck.”

  “Knock on wood,” said Stink. Just then there was a knock on the (wood!) door. Judy ran to open it.

  “Package,” said the delivery guy. “For a Mr. Stink Moody.”

  “Nobody lives here with that name,” said Judy.

  “Do too!” said Stink. He dropped his bots and ran to the door.

  “Sign here,” said the guy.

  “He can’t even write cursive!” said Judy.

  “Can too!” said Stink, printing his name with curlicues to look like cursive.

  Stink shook the box. “I wonder what it is. . . .”

  “I wonder,” said Judy. “Could it be about one million Kool Katz bars?”

  “It says here they spelled Katz with a K on purpose because they thought it would look kool. But they’re sending me free stuff for my trouble.”

  Judy tried to open the box. “Hey, let me!” said Stink. His jaw dropped open. Tweezlers and Whizzles, Double Yum Bubblegum, Milk Dudes and Paychecks, Grunts and 6th Avenues, Almost Joys and Peanut Butter Yucks.

  “RARE!” said Judy. “I’ve never seen so many candy bars.”

  “And don’t forget the jar of chocolate-chip peanut butter, the mint green chocolate crossword puzzle, and the Kool Katz baseball cap!”

  “Triple rare!” said Judy.