7 The Sharks

Chapter 7 The Sharks Luckily, my leg wasn't broken after all. It was just a little sore. We practiced really hard that week until we knew all the plays. Finally, it was time for our first game. We were playing a team called the Sharks. It was a beautiful Saturday. When we came out of the locker room, there was Rufus the Doofus floating over the field. And you'll never believe in a million hundred years what was floating in the air right next to Rufus. A blimp! And you know what it said on the side of the blimp? GO SHARKS! How come the Sharks got a blimp and we got a lame, inflatable moose? It totally wasn't fair!

Andrea and the other cheerleaders were on the sideline with their pom-poms. "Football has a kicker. Baseball has a batter! Whatever game we play, the score doesn't matter! Go… Moose!" What a lame cheer. The bleachers were filled with parents and their cameras. A few moms were selling cookies. Some of the teachers from our school were there, too—Miss Holly, Mr. Macky, Ms. Coco, Ms. Hannah, Mr. Loring. I spotted my teacher, Mr. Granite. He comes from another planet called Etinarg. Me and the guys ran over to say hello to him. "Do they have football on Etinarg?" asked Michael.

"Oh no," Mr. Granite said. "We play a game called llabtoof." "How do you play that?" Neil asked. "It's very simple," Mr. Granite told us. "There are thirteen glorps on each darge, and they toss a pinker back and forth to see who can score the most floobs. The winner gets to urgle a flange." That game sounded weird. I wanted to

ask Mr. Granite more about llabtoof, but that's when the Sharks came out of their locker room. They had blue uniforms. We all stared as they jogged on to the field. "Wow!" Ryan said. "Those guys are huge!" He was right. The Sharks didn't look like they were humans. Their arms were bigger than my legs. Even their muscles had muscles. "No way those guys weigh seventy pounds," said Michael. "They look like they're in seventh grade," said Neil the nude kid. "We can't beat them," said Ryan. "They're gonna kill us!" "Can't we just pick up their car and carry it away?" I suggested. "They came in a bus, dumbhead," said Ryan.

"They're awfully big, Coach," Michael said. "The bigger they come, the harder they fall," Coach Hyatt told us. "Yeah, but they're gonna fall on us," I said, "and we're gonna die!" Wyatt just picked his nose. I'll tell you, that kid must have an unlimited supply of boogers. Andrea and the other cheerleaders made one of their lame cheers: "Winning! Losing! It depends! Why can't we just all be friends? Go… Moose!" When the Sharks came out, their cheerleaders on the other side of the field started doing a cheer of their own. It didn't rhyme or anything, but it sounded a lot

better than our cheers: "Kill! Kill! Kill! Crush the Moose! Stomp them! Rip their faces off! Remove their internal organs!" "My life is over," I told the guys.