Daddy.
“Good morning,” I said. “Roosters can peck your head into a nub.”
Daddy put down his coffee cup. “Excuse me?”
I pointed to my head.
“A nub,” I explained. “A nub is a teensylittle knob head. Roosters can peck your head into one.”
Mother looked strange at me. “What in the world is
this
about?”
I did a big breath at her.
’Cause how can I even be clearer on this subject?
“A nub! A nub! A roundish, ballish head knob! And do not tell me that roosters do not peck you. On account of we had Pet Day at my school. And meanie Jim brought a rooster to Room Nine. And that boy is a rooster expert.”
I looked at her. “Plus also, you said Uncle Billy’s rooster was mean, too. Right, Mother? Remember that?”
Mother looked fusstrated at me. Then she put her head on the table. And shedidn’t come up for a real long time.
Finally, she peeked her eyes at Daddy.
“Now what?” she asked kind of quiet.
“Maybe it’ll blow over,” said Daddy.
I shook my head.
“No, it will
not
blow over,” I told them.“’Cause roosters do not listen to reason. And so there is nothing we can do about this pecking situation.”
Daddy rubbed his eyes. “Could we please just change the subject?” he said.
“Yeah, only not talking about a nub will not make it go away,” I said. “And so—”
“That’s
enough
,” said Daddy very growly.
I quick stopped talking then.
But even after we changed the subject, nubs kept staying on my mind.
That day at school, Mrs. told us to draw a picture about our trip to the farm. She said to make it a colorful picture of what we wanted to see there.
I drawed and drawed. Plus also, I colored and colored.
When all of us got done with our pictures, we sat our chairs in a big circle. And we told each other about what we drew.
My bestest friend named Lucille went first.
She drawed a picture of a pink flamingo.
“Flamingos are my favorite animals,” she said. “That’s because pink is my favorite color. And flamingos are pink. And I have a pink dress that will match them perfectly. So that is the dress I’ll be wearing on the field trip.”
She wrinkled her nose real cute.
“Pink brings out the natural blush of my complexion,” she told Mrs. “Have you ever noticed my satiny-smooth skin?”
Mrs. looked and looked at that girl.
“You’re a fascinating child, Lucille. ButI’m afraid there aren’t any flamingos on a dairy farm,” she said.
Lucille looked surprised.
“So where are they, then?” she asked.
“Well, flamingos can be found a lot of places,” said Mrs. “South America, for example.”
Lucille shrugged her shoulders. “So, fine. We’ll just go there, instead.”
Mrs. said for Lucille to please sit down.
Just then, Paulie Allen Puffer springed out of his chair.
“Look, Teacher! I drew a catfish!” he said. “See his whiskers? My brother said catfish whiskers are so sharp they can slice your finger to the bone.”
Mrs. made a sick face.
“Yes, well, thank you for sharing that,Paulie Allen. But we’re not going fishing. We’re going to a
farm
, remember?”
Paulie Allen Puffer looked upset.
“Yes, but my brother said there’s
lots
of catfish farms around here. And so that’s the kind of farm I think we should—”
“
No
, Paulie. No,” said Mrs. “We’re just going to a regular, plain old farm. With regular, plain old farm animals.”
Paulie Allen Puffer did a mad breath.
He said the word
big whoop.
After that, Paulie Allen Puffer had to stand in the hall.
Mrs. did some deep breathing.
“Please, children. Please. Did
anyone
in Room Nine draw a picture of a regular farm animal? Anyone at all. That’s all I’m looking for here. Just a regular old farm animal.”
“I did! I did, Mrs.!” I yelled real excited. “I drew a picture of a rooster under a tree!”
“Oh, Junie B.! Thank you! That’s perfect!” she said.
I holded it up so she could see it.
“See it, Mrs.? See how pretty it is?”
Mrs.
“Good morning,” I said. “Roosters can peck your head into a nub.”
Daddy put down his coffee cup. “Excuse me?”
I pointed to my head.
“A nub,” I explained. “A nub is a teensylittle knob head. Roosters can peck your head into one.”
Mother looked strange at me. “What in the world is
this
about?”
I did a big breath at her.
’Cause how can I even be clearer on this subject?
“A nub! A nub! A roundish, ballish head knob! And do not tell me that roosters do not peck you. On account of we had Pet Day at my school. And meanie Jim brought a rooster to Room Nine. And that boy is a rooster expert.”
I looked at her. “Plus also, you said Uncle Billy’s rooster was mean, too. Right, Mother? Remember that?”
Mother looked fusstrated at me. Then she put her head on the table. And shedidn’t come up for a real long time.
Finally, she peeked her eyes at Daddy.
“Now what?” she asked kind of quiet.
“Maybe it’ll blow over,” said Daddy.
I shook my head.
“No, it will
not
blow over,” I told them.“’Cause roosters do not listen to reason. And so there is nothing we can do about this pecking situation.”
Daddy rubbed his eyes. “Could we please just change the subject?” he said.
“Yeah, only not talking about a nub will not make it go away,” I said. “And so—”
“That’s
enough
,” said Daddy very growly.
I quick stopped talking then.
But even after we changed the subject, nubs kept staying on my mind.
That day at school, Mrs. told us to draw a picture about our trip to the farm. She said to make it a colorful picture of what we wanted to see there.
I drawed and drawed. Plus also, I colored and colored.
When all of us got done with our pictures, we sat our chairs in a big circle. And we told each other about what we drew.
My bestest friend named Lucille went first.
She drawed a picture of a pink flamingo.
“Flamingos are my favorite animals,” she said. “That’s because pink is my favorite color. And flamingos are pink. And I have a pink dress that will match them perfectly. So that is the dress I’ll be wearing on the field trip.”
She wrinkled her nose real cute.
“Pink brings out the natural blush of my complexion,” she told Mrs. “Have you ever noticed my satiny-smooth skin?”
Mrs. looked and looked at that girl.
“You’re a fascinating child, Lucille. ButI’m afraid there aren’t any flamingos on a dairy farm,” she said.
Lucille looked surprised.
“So where are they, then?” she asked.
“Well, flamingos can be found a lot of places,” said Mrs. “South America, for example.”
Lucille shrugged her shoulders. “So, fine. We’ll just go there, instead.”
Mrs. said for Lucille to please sit down.
Just then, Paulie Allen Puffer springed out of his chair.
“Look, Teacher! I drew a catfish!” he said. “See his whiskers? My brother said catfish whiskers are so sharp they can slice your finger to the bone.”
Mrs. made a sick face.
“Yes, well, thank you for sharing that,Paulie Allen. But we’re not going fishing. We’re going to a
farm
, remember?”
Paulie Allen Puffer looked upset.
“Yes, but my brother said there’s
lots
of catfish farms around here. And so that’s the kind of farm I think we should—”
“
No
, Paulie. No,” said Mrs. “We’re just going to a regular, plain old farm. With regular, plain old farm animals.”
Paulie Allen Puffer did a mad breath.
He said the word
big whoop.
After that, Paulie Allen Puffer had to stand in the hall.
Mrs. did some deep breathing.
“Please, children. Please. Did
anyone
in Room Nine draw a picture of a regular farm animal? Anyone at all. That’s all I’m looking for here. Just a regular old farm animal.”
“I did! I did, Mrs.!” I yelled real excited. “I drew a picture of a rooster under a tree!”
“Oh, Junie B.! Thank you! That’s perfect!” she said.
I holded it up so she could see it.
“See it, Mrs.? See how pretty it is?”
Mrs.
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