Free Tommy Puke and the Boy with the Golden Barf by Robert T. Jeschonek Page B

of poison ."
    Frowning, Tommy sniffed his underarm and shrugged. "Smells like roses , if you ask me."
    "Can't stand it!" Brendan wobbled and sank to his knees. "Like...rotten eggs ...mixed with sewage !" He choked so hard, he fell forward on his elbows.
    Tomm y shook his head. "Such a drama queen ." With that, he gurgled deep in his lungs again and hawked up another loogie. This time, Brendan didn't dodge; it landed square on the back of his head like a blob of melted French vanilla ice cream.
    As Brendan gagged and groaned, Tommy turned my way. "Mission accomplished." He strolled over, brushing his hands as if to dust them off ...though they were so dirty, I couldn't imagine them ever coming clean. "Now what did you say your name was?"
    "Josh." I smiled. "And thank you."
    Tommy cocked his head and gave me a funny look. "You know how you can really thank me, Josh?"
    "How's that?"
    "Help me find something." Tommy let loose a resounding belch. "I guarantee it'll change your life forever."
    The smell of Tommy's breath in my face made my eyes water...but I made sure not to flinch. Because the truth was, as bad as his hygiene was, I didn't hate what he was saying. If anyone could use a changed life, it was me.
    I was sick of getting picked on and laughed at and beat en up. I was fed up with not having any friends. And that nickname .
    Sometimes I thought if just one more person called me "Jiggles," I was going to jump off a cliff.
    So why not give him a chance? "Okay ." Why not see about this life- changing of his? "What're we looking for?"
    Tommy placed a dirt-caked hand on my shoulder and steered me away from the three bullies. We left them there on the corner, gagging and wailing and dripping with loogie juice, spirits utterly crushed. We left them there and moved on to the next adventure.
    "I'm on a quest." Tommy gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Have you ever heard of the Golden Barf?"
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    *****
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    Chapter 3
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    Tommy Puke was already pretty ripe with B.O., and as the afternoon grew warmer, he got even riper. I didn't want to be rude after he'd saved me and all, but I had to keep my distance as we walked through the neighborhood. If I got too close, the smell got crazy strong.
    The story he told was crazy, too. But I still hung on every word. Even if it was totally made up , it was still an amazing tale.
    "There's a legend in Africa, in the Congo." Tommy picked his nose as he talked. "Ever hear of a god called Bumba?"
    I fro wned and shook my head. "What about him?"
    "They say he puked up the universe." Tommy yanked his finger from his nose and stared at something brown on the tip. "He's the god of vomit."
    "The god of vomit?"
    Tommy sucked the booger off his finger and grinned. "We're kindred spirits." Then, he went back to picking. " After all, my last name's 'Puke,' you know."
    "Really?" I'd never known anyone with that last name before, but I t ried not to act too surprised.
    Tommy dug something else out of his nose, something green. When I glanced at it, I swear I saw it moving. "So anyway, Bumba threw up the sun and the moon and the Earth and the stars, and then he went away ." Instead of eating the green thing on his finger, Tommy wiped it on the front of his t-shirt , leaving a long, green smear . " But he left his kids behind. One of his sons wa s named Chonganda."
    "Chonganda? "
    Tommy nodded. "The boy with the golden barf." He picked his nose again, then combed his fingers through his greasy plume of hair. "His vomit is solid gold. That's what the legends say. Can you imagine?"
    "Wow." I caught a whiff of his blooming B.O. and moved another few inches away as we kept walking.
    "Guess where Chonganda is right now." Tommy leaned toward me. "According to these dreams I've been having, he's right here in Pristine, Pennsylvania !"
    "Dream s ?" I squinted one eye at him. "Why would you be having dreams about Chonganda?"
    "There can be only one answer," said Tommy. "I must be a direct descendant of Bumba, the god of