Dogs Don't Tell Jokes (Someday Angeline 2)

“Thanks,” said Gary.

“For what?”

Gary smiled and shrugged. “You want to play croquet tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“Great,” said Gary.

He gave him directions to Angeline’s house. “Oh, and you have to wear a hat.”

“No problem,” said Fred.

“And if anybody asks you, ‘What’s cookin’?’ you say ‘Mashed potatoes and gravy.’ ”

“Why?”

Gary shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” said Fred.

“Do your bird calls for Angeline. She’ll know if you were just making them up.”

Fred smiled.

Mrs. Carlisle, Gary’s English teacher, firmly shook Gary’s hand. “Congratulations,” she said. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Thanks.”

“You put a lot of work into it, didn’t you?” she asked.

He nodded.

“It showed,” she said. “Now if only you’d put that same creativity and effort into your classwork …” She smiled at him.

Gary shrugged. “I’ll try,” he said, although he knew he wouldn’t. Why would he ever want to work that hard for school?

“Very professional,” Mrs. Carlisle continued. “Have you ever thought about being a stand-up comic?”

“Not really,” said Gary.

“Hey, Goon. Football tomorrow?” asked Joe Reed.

Gary turned. “Can’t. I’m playing croquet.”

“Croquet?” asked Joe. “You crack me up, Goon.” He reached toward Gary as if he was going to rub his head, but then he brought his hand back—afraid to touch it.

“You want to play?” asked Gary.

“Croquet? You sure you didn’t shave off part of your brain?”

“Mr. Bone will be there. Remember, our fifth-grade teacher? And Angeline Persopolis.”

“You’re sandbagging me, right?” asked Joe.

Gary still didn’t know what he meant by that.

Zack joined them. “So, is he going to play?”