Marty Pants 2 Read online

  DEDICATION

  To Jen–

  The best thing I ever had a hand in creating.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter 0: Getting Ahead of Myself

  Chapter 1: Every Picture Tells a Story

  Chapter 2: I Am What We Is

  Chapter 3: Step by Step, Inch by Inch

  Chapter 4: Drawing Conclusions

  Chapter 5: Talk Talk

  Chapter 6: Speaking in Tongues

  Chapter 7: Pulling a Fast One

  Chapter 8: Listomania

  Chapter 9: Smarty Pants

  Chapter 10: Bite off More Than You Can Chew

  Chapter 11: Truthiness

  Chapter 12: Over a Barrel

  Chapter 13: Listlessness

  Chapter 14: Being Human

  Chapter 15: All You Need Is Loathe

  Chapter 16: Picture Yourself

  Chapter 17: Lunch Bites

  Chapter 18: Hulks Mash

  Chapter 19: Reading Is Fundamental

  Chapter 20: Trash Talk

  Chapter 21: You Say You Want a Revolution

  Chapter 22: Pump It Up

  Chapter 23: The D-Team

  Chapter 24: Crazy Ache

  Chapter 25: Gut Feeling

  Chapter 26: Toothiness

  Chapter 27: Game On

  Chapter 28: Flyer Away

  Chapter 29: Should You Stay or Should You Go

  Chapter 30: Bad Moon Rising

  Chapter 31: Everybody’s Got Something to Hide

  Chapter 32: Crime and Punishment

  Chapter 33: The Wall

  Chapter 34: Out of Control

  Chapter 35: It Goes Downhill from Here

  Chapter 36: Bite Me

  Chapter 37: The Marty Remains the Same

  Chapter 38: The Cure

  Chapter 39: Slow Ride

  Chapter 40: We Can Be Heroes

  Chapter 41: The Sweetest Thing

  Chapter 42: Sign Me Up

  Chapter 43: Oh Snap

  Chapter 44: Head Home

  Excerpt from How to Defeat a Wizard Chapter 1: Sorry Not Sorry

  Back Ad

  About the Author

  Praise

  Books by Mark Parisi

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER 0

  getting ahead of myself

  My life’s going downhill. Literally!

  It’s the night of the full moon, and things are spinning out of control!

  The people who laughed at me are now screaming and running. What they are witnessing will be talked about for generations!

  How did I get in this hairy situation? Let me tell you how it started.

  CHAPTER 1

  every picture tells a story

  I need to find a baby photo for the class yearbook. Even though I was a totally adorable baby, there don’t seem to be many pictures of me.

  My sister, Erica, was born first. Here are her baby pictures.

  Here are mine.

  I guess that’s how it goes when you’re the second child. But once I’m a famous artist, my baby pictures will be like gold, and my parents will regret not having more.

  Flipping through the box, I come across an old photo of me with my sister. Look how well we used to get along.

  These days it’s a little different.

  As if to make my point, Erica bursts into my room.

  She knows how to make an entrance.

  “GET YOUR PSYCHO CAT OUT OF MY BACKPACK!”

  “He’s just playing,” I tell her.

  “MAAAARTYYY!”

  “Fine,” I say. “Come here, Jerome!”

  Jerome leaps over to me, and I give him a stern talking-to.

  “Control your beast!” Erica snaps as she marches off to annoy someone else.

  For some unexplained reason, Jerome really likes Erica’s backpack.*

  Jerome’s my cat and best bud. He was given to me by a neighbor years ago.

  For free. No strings attached.

  I’m still not sure why she decided to be so generous.

  I notice poor Jerome has some paper stuck in his claws.* He was digging through Erica’s backpack, so it must be from one of her school papers.

  Like her A+ homework assignments. Or her A+ tests. Or her A+ projects. Or her A+ . . .

  Wait.

  I take a closer look and realize it isn’t from her schoolwork.

  It’s from her DIARY!

  I’ve only seen Erica’s diary from a distance, but I recognize the gold-trimmed page.

  And diaries are only for one thing.

  Should I read it? No.

  Will I read it?

  Of course I will.

  I place the ripped diary fragment under my lamp to soak in some sinister sister secrets.

  Those aren’t secrets! That’s just bragging! Erica doesn’t even know how to do a diary properly!

  I’m ready to toss it out but notice there’s also something written on the other side.

  CHAPTER 2

  i am what we is

  Huh? Erica’s writing secrets about me?! Without my permission?

  We . . .

  What could that mean?

  What does she know about me? What am I that starts with we . . . ?

  My mind runs through the possibilities.

  I’m fairly confident I’m none of those. This leaves me with only one option. Read the rest of Erica’s diary!

  How? Jerome got me part of it, right? He can get me the rest!

  “Jerome! Fetch Erica’s diary!”

  Jerome scampers out of the room, and he’s back in a flash. But he doesn’t quite get what I’m after.

  He keeps trying.

  After several more tries, I can tell my dad is starting to get annoyed.

  I guess I need to steal her diary myself.

  I’ll be patient and choose the exact perfect moment.

  That moment is now.

  CHAPTER 3

  step by step, inch by inch

  I sneak into Erica’s room dressed as a ninja. I see her clearly. She’s reading a book about werewolves, but she can’t see me because, like I said, I’m dressed as a ninja.

  I inch closer to her backpack and . . .

  My sister has keener senses than I anticipated. It appears she’s exceptionally skilled at noticing things, just like I am.

  I slowly retreat backward out of the room. “And shut the door!” she snaps.

  This is going to be harder than I thought.

  CHAPTER 4

  drawing conclusions

  Getting my hands on Erica’s diary will be a challenge, but I can’t give up.

  Did Pablo Picasso give up when he failed anatomy?

  Did Sandro Botticelli give up when he failed biology?

  Did Walt Disney give up when he failed zoology?

  No. They kept going against all odds. And that’s what I need to do.

  But how can I devise a devious diary-stealing strategy slick enough to trick my sister?*

  I could hire a professional thief to do the job for me, but that has a potential downside.

  This will take some thought, so I sink into my thinking place, the beanbag of solitude, and try to concentrate.

  But it’s hard to do your serious thinking when someone is next to you making noises and having fun.

  Jerome bats one photo directly into my lap. I pick it up. It’s an old picture of my parents and me at the beach when I was a toddler.

  Look how cute I am.

  My adorability shines through anything.

  I pick up another, and it’s of me playing in the sand. I look even cuter, if that’s possible.

  Hold everything!

  I’m having an
epidemic!

  No, that’s the wrong word.

  I run to the top of the stairs.

  “DAD!” I yell down. “What do you have when your brain suddenly realizes something important? It starts with an e!”

  “A eureka moment?” my dad guesses.

  “That’s not the one I mean.”

  “An epiphany?”

  “Yes! Thanks, Dad!”

  I get back in my beanbag. I’m having an epiphany!

  Erica was on her bed reading a book. And what was the book about? Werewolves.

  And what are the first two letters of werewolf?

  CHAPTER 5

  talk talk

  Is it possible I could be a werewolf and not even know it? I need to talk this through with someone smart.

  I ride my bike to Parker’s house.

  Yes, that’s a frog. Bikes are hard to draw, so I draw frogs instead.

  I know what you’re thinking. How can I be a brilliant artist and still have trouble with bikes?

  Let me put it this way.

  Here’s a famous painting by an artist named René Magritte.

  He obviously had trouble with faces, yet he’s still considered a brilliant artist. Enough said.

  I get to Parker’s and leave my bike on the side of the garage.

  I always consult Parker when stuff gets real. She wants to be a psychologist and practices her craft on me. It works out well for both of us.*

  I knock on the door, but there’s no answer.

  I’m ready to leave when I hear, “Hey, Marty!”

  It’s Parker’s voice, but I don’t see her anywhere. Has she mastered invisibility? Is she now part of the spirit realm?

  Or is she on the roof of the garage? That was my next guess.

  “Hey, Parker,” I say. “Got a minute?”

  “Anytime,” she says. “Is this personal or professional?”

  “Professional,” I answer, and hold this in the air.

  “Excellent,” Parker says. “Meet you inside!”

  I let myself in. Her dad doesn’t seem to be home.

  I usually lie down on the couch for these sessions, but today it’s covered in piles of laundry.

  I find the next suitable location.

  Parker climbs in the window and pulls up a chair. “Glad to see you made yourself comfortable, Marty.”

  “It’s not that comfortable.”

  “Well?” she says. “What’s today’s topic? The anticipation is killing me.”

  “It’s a doozy,” I tell her.

  “It always is, Mr. Marty.”

  How can I break this to her? “Parker,” I say. “I think I’m a werewolf.”

  “Did I just hear you right?”

  “Did you just hear me say ‘I think I’m a werewolf’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then your hearing is fine.”

  “Good. I was worried.”

  “Yes, hearing is important,” I explain.

  “It sure is, especially if there’s a werewolf on the loose.”

  “I know. Like me.”

  “So, pardon me for asking,” Parker says.

  “Consider yourself pardoned,” I tell her.

  “Should I be concerned that you’re about to rip me to shreds?”

  “Not until the next full moon, I suppose.”

  “That’s a relief,” she says. “So, what makes you think you’re a werewolf?”

  “It makes sense.”

  “You being a werewolf makes sense?”

  “Once you look at all the evidence,” I explain, and present her with Exhibit A. “This is from my sister’s diary.”

  I give her a couple of seconds to examine it, then say, “In case you don’t know, w and e are the first two letters of werewolf.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Parker agrees. “But don’t you have to be bitten by a werewolf to become one?”

  “Not if it runs in the family,” I explain. “And I have reason to believe it does.”

  I present her with Exhibit B.

  “You’re adorable!” Parker notes correctly.

  “Very perceptive,” I say. “But tear your eyes away from my cuteness, and look at the guy behind me.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “It has to be my uncle Harry S. Wolfman or someone like that. Just look at him! I figure I got the werewolf gene from him.”

  “You have wild theories,” Parker says.

  “It’s science.”

  “So, you think your whole family are werewolves?”

  “My instincts say it’s just me,” I tell her. “And Parker, please keep this on the down low. I don’t want to cause a nationwide panic.”

  “Naturally,” Parker promises. “But I have another question.”

  “You mean, how could someone so adorable be a werewolf?”

  “Sure. That. And also, why haven’t you ever actually, you know, transformed into a werewolf?”

  “I thought about that,” I say. “I just had a birthday. I must finally be old enough for the werewolf gene to kick in!”

  “Got it. And your sister knows you’re a werewolf, how, exactly?”

  “There are a lot of unanswered questions,” I admit. “I’m going to get the answers tonight, when I read Erica’s diary.”

  “Wow! That should make things exciting at your house!”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Why don’t you just ask Erica what she wrote?”

  “Parker, Parker, Parker,” I say, rolling my head side to side. “You should know you can’t just ask a girl what she wrote in her diary. I mean, will you tell me what you wrote in your diary?”

  “GET OUT!” Parker shouts.

  “See?” I say.

  “I MEAN, LITERALLY! GET OUT! MY DAD JUST GOT HOME!”

  CHAPTER 6

  speaking in tongues

  There’s something important to know about Parker’s dad.

  I still don’t know if he was serious, but it’s certainly not worth the risk.

  I zip out the side door!

  And it’s pitch-black outside!

  How long was I at Parker’s??

  I slowly realize I’m not outside at all. I’m in the garage.

  I fumble around and knock something over. Oops.

  I need to be careful not to make too much noise and draw attention to myself.

  Or I might end up like this.

  I put my hands out and finally find a stool to sit on. I hope it’s nobody I know.

  I’m getting creeped out sitting here alone in the dark but decide to wait for Parker to tell me when the coast is clear.

  Gurk! What was that? I heard something next to me!

  Just as I’m about to freak out, I feel something on my lips.

  A kiss!

  No way!

  Parker tricked me into the dark garage so she could kiss me?

  I didn’t know she liked me that way.

  It would be rude not to kiss back, right? And I don’t want to be rude.

  Suddenly, the light comes on.

  CHAPTER 7

  pulling a fast one

  “Awwwww, sweet!” Parker says.

  I instantly become very aware of the taste of dog saliva in my mouth.

  “He’s a stray,” Parker tells me. “I named him Dewey and leave out food sometimes. Isn’t he cute?”

  “Adorable! That’s why I was kissing him!” I say, regretting it instantly.

  “I’m impressed. He’s so shy that I haven’t even been able to pet him.”

  “Where’d he go?” I ask, looking around.

  “Through that loose board. I need to convince my dad to let me keep him.”

  “Speaking of your dad . . .”

  “Right! You better go, Marty. He could come in here at any moment. And he’s been talking about wanting a new armoire.”

  I don’t know what an armoire is, and this isn’t the way I want to find out!

  I squeeze out through the loose board, spitting on the ground the
whole time.

  I spit again. And again and again and again.*

  Then I hear a familiar voice.

  Gurk! It’s Salvador Ack! Or as I call him in my head, Peach Fuzz. It’s because of his stupid peach-fuzz mustache. Meanwhile, he refers to me as Wetty Pants. He’s a high school kid who likes to teach me lessons.

  I’ve learned a lot from him over the years:

  What a wet willie is . . .

  What a wedgie is . . .

  What it looks like on the inside of a toilet . . .

  And now Peach Fuzz thinks I’m making fun of him! Why? Because I’m spitting.

  Spitting is kind of his thing. It’s practically his trademark.

  I’ll just explain myself.

  “I’m not making fun of you, Salvador! I’m spitting because I just made out with a puppy dog!”

  I see no way this explanation is going to help me. Peach Fuzz spits on the ground and walks over to my bike. He lets the air out of one of my tires.

  “I thinks ya need ta be tawt a lessun, Weddy Pants,” Peach Fuzz says as he balls up his fists.

  It so happens I’m not really in the mood for learning. I’m in the mood for running! I take off, and Peach Fuzz chases me.

  But without my bike, I’m a sitting duck! I know he’ll catch me on foot. He always does.

  But somehow I get away this time!

  When I get home, I’m completely out of breath and collapse into my beanbag of solitude.

  How did I manage to escape Peach Fuzz without my bike?

  I think about it and suddenly have an epiphany.

  CHAPTER 8

  listomania

  My werewolf powers must be kicking in!