08 Goliath Glue

Goliath Glue Judy stared at her thrill-point chart. It was already the middle of July, and her chart looked Baresville. As in half naked. No frills. No thrills. She picked up a strawberry-scented smelly marker. "Ten points for riding the Scream Monster, Mouse. Minus five for blue throw-up and five for the prom dress equals—" Mouse meowed. "You're right, Mouse. A big fat doughnut." Judy was tracing and retracing a zero in the total points column when KA-BOOM— she heard a huge crash. She flew down the stairs and skidded to a stop just inside the living room. "What happened? Did the roof fall in or

something?" "I just dropped this." Aunt Opal held up a shiny garbage-can lid as if it was an Egyptian treasure. "I can't decide if this is a shield, a hat, or a chariot wheel." "Um, I hate to tell you, but I think it's the lid to the garbage." "Well, sure, but what is it really? I mean, what does it want to become?" "Maybe it wants to grow up and become a Dumpster." Judy cracked herself up. She went over to a giant trunk full of art supplies. "What's IN here, anyway?" "It's my traveling art studio," Opal told Judy. "With all my tools and supplies, I can make anything from mobiles to murals." "You're an artist?"

Opal chose a hunk of fabric, Goliath Glue, ribbons, and a hammer, and dropped them onto the couch beside the lid. "A guerrilla artist, actually." "Gorilla? As in monkey?" Opal shook her head. "As in secret. Under the radar. A guerrilla artist makes art out of everything and puts it everywhere." "Cool beans. But why?" Aunt Opal smiled. "It's fun. And creative. And daring. See, here's what I'm thinking...." Opal whispered to Judy. A big grin spread over Judy's face. For the next hour, Judy cut, glued, and painted paper insects. Aunt Opal hammered, twisted, shaped, and shined her garbage-can lid. "It's way cool making such a mess!" said

Judy. "That's what art is all about," said Opal. Judy swirled a huge glob of Goliath Glue onto the garbage lid with her hand, then stuck a butterfly, dragonfly, and her favorite insect, the northeast beach tiger beetle, onto the lid. "Ta-da!" Leaning on the table with one hand, she struck a pose, showing off her hat. Boing! Bugs sprang up and down on metal Slinkies. "Fantastic! I TOLD you it was a hat." Opal held up her own hat, which was decked out with pottery shards, ribbons, colored glass, and sparkly gems. "Now all we have to do is sneak over to the library and put these on the library lions. But it has to be late at night, after dark, so nobody sees."

"That's ten thrill points, for sure!" Judy said. The door banged and Stink burst into the room, excited. "Guess what! Zeke gave me homework. I have to look for Bigfoot scat!" He proudly held up tongs, plastic bags, and a small shovel. "Are you sure he wasn't telling YOU to scat?" Judy joked. "Zeke says you have to sniff for a really bad smell, which I'm super good at by the way, and look for dark stuff that looks like potting soil on flat rocks. Then you poke it to see if it has any leaves or berries in it. Which is why you never leave home without—" Tingalinga, ding! Ding! Ding! "Ice-cream truck!" Stink dropped his stuff like a hot potato and zoomed out the door. Aunt Opal ran after him.

"Wait for me!" Judy started to run, but the whole table came with her. Help! Her hand was stuck fast to the table! She pulled. She pulled harder. "Hey! Somebody! My hand! It's stuck! I'M GOLIATH-GLUED TO THE TABLE!" Aunt Opal rushed back in. "What! You're kidding, right?" Judy tried again to pry her hand off, but all it did was lift the table. Opal dashed into the kitchen. "STINKER! BUY ME AN ICE CREAM!" Judy yelled out the front door. Opal came back with olive oil, mayo, and a spatula. "This is no time to make a sandwich," said Judy. "Trust me," said Opal. She poured olive oil and glopped mayonnaise all over Judy's hand.