Got Cake? by R.L. Stine Page B

started.

    He put a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got something much more important to think about, Bernie.”
    More important than my yearbook picture?
    What could that be ?

Chapter 4
“ACK. ACK. ACK.”
    Blower picked up a bottle from the table and took a long drink from it. He made a face. “This root beer tastes funny.”
    â€œIt isn’t root beer,” I told him. I took the bottle and read the label. “India Black Ink.”
    â€œACK. ACK. ACK.” Blower grabbed his throat and started hacking and coughing and sputtering.
    â€œYou should probably see the nurse,” I said. “You’re gonna scare people with that black tongue.”
    â€œACK. ACK. ACK.”
    I picked up the root beer bottle—next to thebottle of ink—and took a slurp. “But before you go,” I said, “can we talk about my photo?”
    â€œACK. ACK. ACK.”
    He “ ack ed” for another five or six minutes. Then he did some very loud spitting into a wastebasket.
    Finally he sat down. “I think I’m back to normal,” he said. His lips were black, and so were his teeth.
    â€œLookin’ good,” I said.
    Why worry the poor guy?
    â€œAbout my yearbook photo…” I started.
    â€œNot now,” Blower said, shaking his head. “I’m totally thinking about one thing. The Most Popular Rotten Egg.”
    I stared at him. “The what ?”
    â€œThe yearbook is a hundred years old,” he said. “Back then they had the Most Popular Rotten Egg page. They picked the most popular Rotten Student of the year, and the student was named Most Popular Rotten Egg. The student got a whole page in the yearbook all to himself. For the yearbook’s hundredth birthday, we’re bringing back the tradition.”
    â€œWow! That’s excellent!” I cried. I slapped Blower on the back. “This is so sudden. I didn’t evenknow you were thinking of me. But I gladly accept. Shall we take the picture now?”
    He stuck out his tongue. “Is my tongue black?”
    â€œMaybe a little,” I said. “I’m so excited about the Rotten Egg award.”
    â€œBernie, I haven’t decided who wins it,” Blower said. “It’s a big responsibility. I’m taking it very seriously.”
    â€œYou won’t be sorry,” I said. “I’m too modest to say it, but everyone knows that Bernie B. is the most popular dude around here.”
    â€œI have to take my time and think hard about it,” Blower said. “And I have to discuss it with Mr. Pupipantz, the yearbook adviser.”
    â€œI can pose tomorrow afternoon,” I told him. “Let me get a haircut first. That’ll give you time to talk it over.”
    Blower scratched his head. “I’m not so sure you’re the winner, Bernie. After all, Sherman Oaks just gave me this video iPod with two hundred movies. That makes him very popular with me!”
    I gasped. That spoiled rich kid Sherman Oaks was up to his old tricks.
    â€œBlower,” I said, “you wouldn’t take a bribe— would you?”
    He rolled the video iPod around in his hand. “Of course not,” he said. “But I like that guy Sherman. He has a lot of class.”
    â€œBut—but—” I sputtered.
    â€œI’m keeping an open mind,” Blower said. “Anyone who wants to be Most Popular Rotten Egg must prove that he or she is the most popular kid at school.”
    I squinted at him. “Prove it? How?”
    Before Blower could answer, Mr. Pupipantz clomped into the room. He’s a big, red-faced dude with a shiny bald head. He’s shaped exactly like a bowling ball but a lot heavier. He always wears these tight sweaters that don’t fit and show off about two inches of his hairy belly.
    â€œHi, Mr. Pupipantz,” I said. I flashed him my best smile. “Leif and I were just talking about how popular I