1. Cheese Doesn’t Have Ears

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1 Cheese Doesn't Have Ears My name is A.J. and I hate getting my picture taken. Why do we always have to say "cheese" when somebody takes our picture? What does cheese have to do with anything? I guess it might make sense if you

were taking a picture of a piece of cheese. But why would anybody take a picture of cheese? And even if you were crazy enough to take pictures of cheese, why would you bother saying "cheese" out loud? The cheese can't hear you. Cheese doesn't have ears. Anyway, the guys and I had just finished lunch in the vomitorium, and we scraped off our plates. Our plan was to go out on the monkey bars during recess and play with our Striker Smith action figures. Striker Smith is a superhero from the future who fights crime. As I was taking Striker out of my backpack, I noticed a flyer taped to a table. It said...

Become A Beaver Scout We all got excited. It said there was going to be a meeting in the vomitorium on Friday night. "I always wanted to be a Beaver Scout," said Neil, who we call the nude

kid even though he wears clothes. Beaver Scouts are cool. My friend Billy who lives around the corner is a Beaver Scout. He gets to wear a uniform and win cool badges and stuff. Billy's always going on camping trips, and he told me Beaver Scouts get to do cool stuff like shoot bows and arrows, make rockets, and blow stuff up. I'm not sure Beaver Scouts really get to blow stuff up. But I do know that they get to make campfires. Burning stuff up is almost as cool as blowing stuff up. And the best part about being a Beaver Scout—no girls are allowed! "I'm joining up," I said. "Me too," said Michael, who never ties his shoes. "Me three," said Ryan, who will eat

anything, even stuff that isn't food. But you'll never believe who walked by the table at that moment. It was two girls from our class, annoying Andrea and crybaby Emily. "Shhhhh!" Ryan whispered as the girls approached. "Don't tell Andrea and Emily we're going to be Beaver Scouts! They'll be jealous." I sat on the edge of the table so Andrea and Emily wouldn't see the Beaver Scout announcement. We all started whistling to let the girls know we weren't hiding something. Because when you're whistling, you can't be hiding anything.* "Whatcha doing, Arlo?" asked Andrea, who calls me by my real name because she knows I don't like it. "Nothing," I said. "Hanging out.