Funny Boy Versus the Bubble-Brained Barbers from the Big Bang by Dan Gutman Page B

the end of the story, because there are only a few pages left in this book. We thought we could build the suspense by forcing you to read this meaningless stuff before revealing the ending. Pretty clever, huh? It pads the book out a little, too. We know you’re already sick of this. Well, too bad, you have to read the whole thing.
    Okay, okay, back to the story ...

CHAPTER 13

    THE BIG SURPRISE ENDING THAT WILL COMPLETELY SHOCK YOU, UNLESS YOU’VE ALREADY GUESSED IT
    So like I was saying, Bob Foster, Punch, and I were strapped to barber chairs in the middle of the Toronto Rogers Centre. The loony barbers had just cut a swath of my hair out right down the middle of my head. Barry Barber had this evil grin on his face, and I had the feeling he was going to do some other terrible thing to me.
    “Do you still think we’re fictional characters?” I asked Punch.
    “I’m not so sure anymore,” Punch replied. “But your fictional hair is all over the floor.”
    “Enough chitchat, Funny Boy!” Barry Barber said. “Now it is time for you to die!”
    “You’re going to kill me?”
    “Not D-I-E, you idiot!” Barry said. “Dye! D-Y-E. We’re going to dye your hair ... purple!”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Because purple is my favorite color.”
    Purple is my favorite color. That’s it! The word “color” sparked something in the farthest corners of my memory. Jokes started flooding into my brain.
    “Speaking of the color purple,” I said, “what’s the difference between a grape and a chicken?”
    “Me not know,” Bo Barber said.
    “They’re both purple, except for the chicken.”
    “Please stop that,” Barry said. “It’s annoying.”
    “More jokes!” Punch shouted. “Quickly!”
    “What’s red and shaped like a bucket?” I asked.
    “Me not know.”
    “A red bucket!”
    “Please!” Barry moaned. “Nobody wants to listen to that. You’re giving me a headache.”
    “Tell another one!” Bob Foster yelled.
    “What’s black, white, and a zebra?” I asked.
    “Me not know.”
    “A zebra!”
    “Ugh!” Barry said. “How does he do it? Just when I think he has told the worst joke in history, he comes out with one that’s even less funny than the one before!”
    “Ask me if I’m an orange,” I commanded them.
    “Are you an orange?”
    “No!” I replied.
    “Ugh!” Barry Barber moaned. “I think my head is going to explode if I have to listen to one more of these.”

    “What’s pink and fluffy?”
    “Me not know.”
    “Pink fluff!”
    “My brains hurt!” moaned Bo Barber. “My brains hurt.”
    “No more,” Burly Barber groaned, holding his hands over his ears. “Me do anything! No more stupid jokes!”
    “Okay,” I said. “I want the three of you lunatics out of here. Understand? Hop on the next barber pole heading for Depilatory and never come back. You read me?”
    “No!” Barry Barber shouted suddenly. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and rolled it up. Then he wrapped it around my head so it covered my mouth. He tied it tightly.
    “That ought to shut him up,” Barry said.
    “But it won’t shut me up!” came a voice from behind us.
    “Who said that?” Bob Foster asked.
    I turned around.
    It was Salvatore, that big guy in my class at school! The three barbers shrank back in fear.
    “Salvatore!” I shouted, after he cut me loose with his pocket knife. “What are you doing here?”
    “I had to save you,” he explained. “Mrs. Wonderland always hated me. Then you came into the class telling those dumb jokes, and she hated you even more. She left me alone for a while. But then you got all depressed and stopped telling jokes, so Mrs. Wonderland got on my case again. I have to bring you back so you can tell more jokes at school. It’s the only way I’ll ever make it out of fourth grade.”
    “But how did you get to Toronto?”
    “I stowed away on your limo and your plane,” Salvatore said.
    What a pal!
    “I’ve got a joke, too,” Salvatore said to