Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (Someday Angeline 2)
“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.