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Dear Dumb Diary #5: Can Adults Become Human? Page 3


  look at Bruntford, and it was not agreeing with my

  Crunchberries. But it got worse.

  “Guess what, Jamie?” Aunt Carol says all

  happy in that voice that makes you worry because

  when adults are this happy you should worry.

  “Dan — I mean — Assistant Principal Devon offered

  me a job that just opened up in the office. I’m going

  to work at your school. Isn’t that great?”

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  Aunt Carol, Aunt Carol. Aunt Carol.

  (I’m slowly shaking my head sadly as I write this

  part.) There was a time when you would have

  understood that a person would rather bathe in a

  tub of hot dog slobber than have a relative of theirs

  working at their school. But it looks like you’re ONE

  OF THEM now. Aunt Carol, you’re an Adult.

  “Yes,” I lied, realizing that I was lying to Aunt

  Carol for maybe the first time ever, so I added, “And

  I’m not lying to you.”

  39

  In social studies today, Isabella asked

  Mr.VanDoy (who never smiles) if there were any

  animals that would eat their own nieces. (I had

  told Isabella all about Aunt Carol taking a job at

  the school.) He listed a whole bunch — mostly the

  mean animals like crocodiles and sharks — but he

  said that among the higher primates, like chimps,

  the relationship between aunts and nieces is

  particularly close, too close, I would imagine, for

  an aunt chimp to take an office job at her niece

  chimp’s school.

  Poor Aunt Carol (again with the sad, sad

  head- shaking). She’s not even a monkey anymore.

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  Wednesday 11

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Isabella asked me today how Assistant

  Principal Devon had punished me on Monday.

  Isabella has already demonstrated that she

  is a RE-teller, so I had to make her believe I

  was punished. Because Isabella has mean older

  brothers, she is an expert on lying. Once, Isabella

  had convinced a lunch lady that she had been

  diagnosed with a cake deficiency by her doctor,

  and was medically entitled to an extra dessert. This

  may not sound like much, but lunch ladies are very

  sharp, especially in the extra-dessert department,

  and talking one out of cake is the type of thing

  people write folk songs about.

  So I said right back to her, “What do You

  think he did?”

  See, by doing this, I got Isabella to sort of tell

  me the lie she would believe.

  “Detention?” she said.

  “Yup,” I said. “I got detention.”

  Ha-ha! Fooled you, Isabella!

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  Thursday 12

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Okay. You cannot fool Isabella

  that easily.

  I must have sounded a little too happy, or too

  sad, or that lie detector she has built into her butt

  was going off, but she did not buy it, and she re-told

  AGAIN. And AGAIN I was sent down to see

  Assistant Principal Devon, and now, even worse, my

  Aunt Carol would be there.

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  But the office was unlike any office I had ever

  been in. The office ladies were SMILING.There

  was some music playing softly. There were some

  flowers, and in the spot where the butterscotch

  candies used to be was a great big dish full of little

  chocolate candy bars.

  43

  In the center of this transformed office was

  my Aunt Carol. And when she saw me she waved and

  grinned and said, “Jamie! Hi, Jamie! Everybody, this

  is my niece, Jamie.”

  The Mean Office Ladies took those ugly things

  they keep on the fronts of their heads (where a face

  would normally go) and SMILED at me with them.

  I had never thought it possible.

  Then, Assistant Principal Devon came out of

  his office and showed me Isabella’s latest memo.

  “Your aunt has told me about your friend,

  Isabella. She’s a re-teller. I figure she’s going to

  keep re-telling until you get punished, so how about

  this?” He dropped her note on the floor. “How about

  if you pick that up and toss it in the wastebasket?

  Then you can tell her I made you clean the office.”

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  Amazing, right? His solution was kind of a lie

  and kind of the truth at the same time.

  I’ve heard that if you made a monkey bang

  on a keyboard long enough, it would eventually

  write

  Romeo and Juliet

  . This means that even

  a monkey might accidentally, do something that

  appears human, and I think that’s what Assistant

  Principal Devon was doing.

  Only kids know how to tell the truth and tell a

  lie at the same time, but Assistant Principal Devon

  actually did it right in front of my very eyes.

  So I smiled, picked up the note, and tossed

  it in the wastebasket before they ran out of candy

  bars, or the music stopped, or this monkey stopped

  banging on the keyboard.

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  Friday 13

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Mom said that Aunt Carol is going to have a

  few people over in a couple weeks. Mom called it

  a party, but of course, since adults are not fully

  formed human beings, it�
�s not a real party.

  Aunt Carol was talking to Mom about some

  big date tonight, which was so gross to listen to

  that it was all I could do to keep eavesdropping.

  But they stopped talking when they discovered

  me casually crouching outside the kitchen, and

  they would not tell me whom this big gross date

  was with.

  Aunt Carol is attractive enough to be a bank

  teller, but she is almost as old as my mom, so her

  date could be with anybody who is:

  A) More attractive than she is, but dumber.

  B) Less attractive than she is, but funnier.

  C) The exact same level of attractiveness,

  but shorter.

  D) The owner of a hot car.

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  Since I can’t rely on Stinker to help me when

  I need him, I secretly fed him a can of beans at

  dinner so that he could again stink up my room in

  time for me to sleep on the couch.

  Now all I have to do is wait until the beagle

  lets one fly.

  47

  Saturday 14

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Seriously, how selfish do you have to be

  to withhold your odor from somebody? Stinker

  stubbornly refused to gas me last night so I couldn’t

  be down on the couch when Aunt Carol came home

  and eavesdrop about her date.

  Mom and Aunt Carol left early to go shopping

  for Mom’s appetizer stuff. My mom is an awful cook

  and everybody knows it: my family, my friends, the

  paramedics who had to come and save Dad from

  a lasagna once. But what some people don’t know

  is that she can make appetizers. And she loves to

  demonstrate her skills to people.

  And not just those little cocktail weenies or

  frozen pizza rolls. She makes fantastically delicious

  little tiny things that people can hardly believe she

  made. It’s like Mom would be a great cook if she

  only had to prepare meals for Barbies. She’ll be on

  full alert to keep us out of them. Especially Stinker,

  who has been known to bite guests in the thigh to

  make them drop one.

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  Since Mom was gone, Dad decided to get a

  jump on the Projects he doesn’t finish on Sunday,

  by not finishing them today.

  I called Isabella to come over and watch the

  educational channels but she was shopping with

  her mom.

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  Sunday 15

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  Aunt Carol and I hung around a little today.

  And it was cool because I felt that we were once

  again as close as those aunt and niece chimpanzees

  without any butt problems that VanDoy has us

  studying. We walked down by the park, and there

  were some guys there that were about her age.

  “I think those guys are checking me out,”

  she said, which was cute, you might think, but

  as she is my aunt it was actually fairly sickening.

  I don’t think I ever thought of Aunt Carol as

  being somebody that the guys would check out.

  I didn’t think anybody that old was checking out

  anything except maybe books from the library on

  subjects like Learning to Live with Those

  HUMONGOUS MOLES ON YOUR BACK.

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  When I was a kid, I used to think that I would

  never be ten years old — A Double Digit, the

  Big One Oh — But then it happened.I turned

  ten and I realized that ten wasn’t that old. Sure,

  getting around was a little harder, going up stairs

  and stuff like that, but I still felt like a nine-year-

  old inside.

  I wonder how old you are when people start

  checking you out. I wonder how old you are when

  they stop checking you out. I wonder if they really

  were checking her out. Or maybe she was checking

  them out. More than that, I wonder exactly how you

  perform a checking out, and how you receive one.

  I’m going to make Stinker check me out and try to

  see how I look in the mirror while he does it. Shut

  up. It’s not weird to force your beagle to check you

  out. Probably lots of people do it.

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  Monday 16

  Dear Dumb Diary,

  You remember Bruntford, don’t you Dumb

  Diary? She is the water buffalo that somebody

  trained to be a cafeteria monitor and whose job it is

  to make sure that everything in the lunchroom flows

  as smoothly as gravy through a grandma.

  Ugh ! I think I just grossed myself out a

  little. I’m for sure off gravy for a while.

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  Anyway, it was your basic lunch scene. Me

  and Izzy was in the Hizzy, which means that I was

  there with Isabella. Although I’m not sure if it’s

  cool for me to talk that way, but I like to so I only

  do it privately here in the Old Dumb Diary because

  it takes a lot of time to recover from a CRIME

  AGAINST COOLNESS .

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  Like Isabella told me about this one girl

  that was ACTUALLY WITNESSSED WITH HER

  ACTUAL FINGER IN HER ACTUAL NOSE.

  Look: I think that everybody puts a finger in his or

  her nose sometime, and what a finger and nose

  do voluntarily in private is nobody’s business.

  But Isabella says that even though this girl was

  beautiful, she was not beautiful eno
ugh to

  publicly commit the THIRD-WORST KNOWN

  FINGER CRIME in public, (don’t even ask me

  about one and two) and thirty years later she was in

  prison for stealing a car.

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  Back to the Cafeteria: Bruntford,

  Isabella, the Hizzy, remember?

  I was just minding my own business, walking

  in that way where technically you’re walking, but

  you’re almost running, but not really running. (We

  are not allowed to run in school.)

  Angeline said, “Hey Jamie,” which surprised

  me because Angeline and I are not friends and can

  never be friends because she was born with the

  deformity of being all perfect.

  But I looked, anyway, possibly because I was

  curious to see how much I hated her at that exact

  moment, and when I looked, I slipped on something.

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  I’m not saying it was a blob of hair

  conditioner, but Angeline — a known abuser of

  hair conditioner — was in the vicinity, and all of my

  hours watching detectives on TV has taught me that

  the villain often lingers around the crime scene.

  I’m not saying it was meat loaf, but cafeteria

  meat loaf is greasy enough to qualify as an

  industrial- grade lubricant, and some of it could

  easily have fallen from between those ugly flaps

  beneath Bruntford’s nose. I think she calls

  them “lips.”

  I’m not saying it was my new shoes (they

  make me look 20 or something) but when I slammed

  into Bruntford, I was going about 20 or something.

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  So fast, in fact, that I think I may have

  actually PLUNGED into Bruntford a little. It was

  kind of like going underwater. You know, like when

  the sound changes and you’re weightless.

  But then I plopped out of the me-shaped