The First Clue
M y name is Jeff Bunter, and I’m a Goofball.
A Goofball private eye, in fact.
It all started when I was one year old.
I was at a fast food place with my family. I got bored and slid out of my high chair and under the table with a bag of French fries.
When I climbed back up, I had four extra-long fries stuck in my nose and ears.
I wiggled them all around.
“What a Goofball!” my dad said.
Then he frowned. “Oh no. I think I lost my wallet.”
That’s when I handed him his wallet.
I had discovered it on the floor under the table.
“A Goofball private eye!” my mom said.
The name stuck.
Luckily, the fries didn’t. I ate them.
A few years later, we moved to Badger Point, where I met Brian Rooney.
The first time I ever saw Brian, he ran over to my house in his underwear.
“Hi, I’m Brian,” he said.
“I’m Jeff,” I said. “Where are your pants?”
“They blew off our clothesline,” Brian said. “I tracked them with these.”
He held up a pair of spaceman binoculars made out of two toilet paper rolls, a metal coat hanger, and some Band-Aids.
“You tracked your pants?” I said.
“To your house,” he said.
Then he grabbed his pants from my bushes and put them on.
His head.
“What a Goofball!” I said.
Brian laughed and ran around my yard, waving his pants’ legs.
My dog, Sparky, chased after him, barking and barking. Then Brian chased Sparky and barked even louder. Then Sparky slobbered on Brian’s face. Then Brian yelled, “I’m going to puke!”
Then he became my best friend.
In first grade we met Mara Lubin and Kelly Smitts. They were firing squirt cheese into each other’s faces.
“Hi, Cheese Cheeks!” I said.
Brian laughed. “Cheddar Cheese Cheeks!”
“Not just cheese,” said Kelly, who had super-curly blond hair.
“Watch this,” said Mara, who wore big green glasses and was as skinny as a stick.
They opened a cracker box and stuck little round crackers on each other’s faces where the cheese was.
“Gross,” said Brian. “I like it.”
“There’s a snack thief in our class,” Kelly told us. “Some of my cheddar crackers are missing. And Mara’s carrot sticks are gone.”
“So we’re going in disguise to catch him,” said Mara.
Brian and I exchanged glances.
“Goofballs,” I said.
“Major Goofballs,” Brian said. “Want to team up?”
Mara nodded. And Kelly offered him a cracker off her face. “Come on,” they said.
We tracked a tiny trail of crumbs to the classroom closet. We jerked open the closet door and discovered the culprit orange-handed.
“Joey Myers!” said Kelly. “With my cheddar crackers!”
“And my carrot sticks!” Mara said.
Then we saw the reason why. In Joey’s lap sat Herbie, the classroom hamster, munching away.
“He was hungry!” said Joey, who suddenly crunched down on a carrot stick. “I guess I’m hungry, too.”
“Cough up the evidence!” Kelly said.
Joey opened his mouth, and a half-eaten carrot stick fell out.
Taking a small plastic bag from his pocket, Brian zipped up the evidence.
“Case closed!” I said.
Since then, the four of us have been inseparable. Hanging out. Doing stuff. And most of all being Goofballs.
Goofball private eyes.
Do you remember the Famous Riddle of the Exploding Rat Balloon? Or the Mystery of the Six-Fingered Ghost? Or the Episode of the Flying First Grader?
We solved all of those. Maybe I’ll write about them someday. We had just solved the Unbelievable Affair of the Totally Incredible Pizza Disaster. It had been our biggest case yet, and it was tougher than an overdone crust.
Hot pizzas had been showing up mysteriously all over town. On the front steps at school. Floating in the pond at the park. Even folded up in the mayor’s mailbox!
It went on for weeks. Pizza Palace was losing customers. Nobody got the pizzas they ordered. The restaurant was about to close down.
But then the four of us solved the mystery.
“Goofballs