دوستام منو هیولا صدا می زنند فصل 04

My Friends Call Me Monster - Chapter 4

Saturday was supposed to be totally fun. Dad promised to take me to the computer tech show at the convention center. I waited all year for this show.

But where was I on Saturday afternoon? Standing with Daisy and DeWayne in back of Mrs. Hardesty’s house.

It was a warm, sunny day with a few white puffy clouds floating in a clear blue sky. But I didn’t care.

I was really, really angry. I wanted to toss back my head and roar, and then start heaving things through Mrs. Hardesty’s window.

Instead, I followed my friends as Mrs. H led us to the abandoned lot. The warm air started to smell — a really gross, sick smell. She stopped at a huge Dumpster. A garbage Dumpster that stunk to high heaven.

“I need you to go through the garbage,” Mrs. H said, “and pull out all the cans and bottles that can be recycled.” “Whoa!” DeWayne staggered back.

“Excuse me?” I said to Mrs. H. “You want us to climb into the garbage?”

“I thought I made it clear,” she replied.

Daisy held her nose. She looked a little green.

“This is your community service,” Mrs. Hardesty said. “Climb in. Dig through the garbage. Find all the cans, bottles, and jars you can.” “But it stinks!” DeWayne cried. “It’s putrid. It’s sickening!”

Mrs. Hardesty handed us each a long-handled shovel. “Good hunting,” she said.

“But — but —” I sputtered.

She trotted back to her house.

Daisy, DeWayne, and I stared at each other. Did we have a choice? I didn’t think so.

A minute later, we were standing up to our knees in wet, putrid, slimy garbage. The gunk soaked the legs of my jeans. The skunky aroma made my throat tighten up. I struggled not to choke.

I tried to walk. It was hard to balance. After a step or two, something squished under my sneaker. A dead raccoon.

“I DON’T BELIEVE THIS!” I screamed. “This is totally UNFAIR!”

I lost it. I began to grab garbage and heave it at the walls of the Dumpster.

This wild picture flashed into my mind. I saw myself lifting the whole Dumpster — like Superman — and emptying the garbage into Mrs. Hardesty’s front window.

“NO WAY! NO WAAAAY!” I screamed, heaving garbage all over the place.

Daisy grabbed one shoulder. DeWayne grabbed the other.

“Easy, Monster. Take it easy, dude,” DeWayne said softly.

They were trying to hold me in place. But I lunged forward and broke free.

And fell facedown into the wet garbage.

I felt something ooze over my face. Something very wet and smelly soaked my T-shirt. I sat up on the Dumpster floor, sputtering and shaking eggshells and rotten chunks of maggoty meat from my hair.

I tried to wipe the green, moldy goop off my face, but it stuck there.

Finally, my friends pulled me to my feet.

DeWayne handed me my shovel. “Feeling better?”

I laughed. Suddenly, all three of us were laughing.

We started to shovel up garbage. We didn’t find many bottles or cans. Most people don’t throw them in with the garbage. But we kept searching through the yucky muck.

“Mrs. Hardesty knew there wasn’t much here to recycle,” I said. “She put us in here just to be mean.” “AAAIII!” Daisy let out a scream. She started beating the garbage frantically with the head of her shovel. “There’s something ALIVE down there!” she wailed.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Yes. She was right. Something down low in the Dumpster was making the garbage bubble up.

DeWayne and I grabbed Daisy, and we helped lower her from the Dumpster. We followed her down to the ground and tossed our shovels away.

“Hey!” I let out a startled cry. Mr. Wong was standing there.

Even though it was Saturday, he was dressed in one of his striped suits and a brown necktie. His slicked-down black hair gleamed in the sunlight. His froggy eyes were soft and watery.

He had a smile on his face. But it disappeared when he saw the three of us covered in wet chunks of garbage. He held his nose for a minute.

I didn’t blame him. I could smell myself. Believe me, it wasn’t pretty.

“Nice job, guys,” he said, still holding his nose. “Here. I brought you candy bars. For energy.” He handed us each a chocolate bar.

Then he pulled out a wad of paper towels from his jacket pocket. “Here. You can wipe some of the garbage off.” We thanked him. He hurried away, running, not walking. Our smell was making him sick.

I used a paper towel to wipe sticky stuff off my forehead. My jeans and T-shirt were soaked through and stained. My back itched. Garbage bugs had climbed under my shirt.

Daisy and DeWayne were muttering to each other. I couldn’t hear them. My ears were ringing. That happens a lot when I’m really angry.

“I’m going to take a two-hour shower,” DeWayne said.

Daisy pulled a brown hunk of lettuce from her hair. The lettuce was covered with tiny brown worms.

“The next time my mom asks me to take out the garbage, I’ll probably go berserk,” she said.

I clenched my teeth. I stared at Mrs. Hardesty’s house. “I’m going to pay her back,” I said. “This was totally mean and unfair. I’m going to find a way to pay her back.” But how?

We said good-bye. We headed off in different directions to our houses.

I was slinking home through backyards. Trying to stay in the shadows. I didn’t want anyone to see me. Or smell me!

I saw something move. I stopped. Between two houses — a black cat. It was sitting very still now, staring at me with big blue eyes.

More bad luck?

No. No way. Suddenly, I knew just how I was going to get my revenge.