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Authors: Megan McDonald
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Racerbacks.”
“All kids need exercise. And fresh air,” said Mom. “It’ll be fun.”
“What about Judy? Doesn’t she have to play a sport?”
“Hello! I play soccer. And softball. And swim team in the summer.”
“Playing a sport will really help you bring this grade up,” said Dad.
Stink’s lip quivered like wiggly spaghetti.
“In sports, you get to wear a cool uniform,” said Judy. “And bring home a shiny trophy. And go to a pizza party at the end of the season.”
Stink looked at Mom and Dad. Stink looked at Judy. But instead of eyes, all he could see were U’s.
The next day, Stink went looking for a sport.
Webster liked bike-riding and basketball. Sophie of the Elves liked ballet, gymnastics, and African dance. Skunk liked skateboarding.
But Stink’s bike had a flat tire. He had two left feet. And the only skateboard he owned was the one without wheels hanging on his wall.
Then Stink checked out the sports channels. He watched slow-pitch softball (BOR-ing), golf (WAY-boring), badminton (Stink was no-way, NOT going to hit a bird), and stuff where guys called each other goofy names like Steve-a-rino and Pa Jammy.
Stink watched ditch-snorkeling (too muddy!), tuna-throwing (Mom did NOT like him to throw stuff), Tootsie-Roll spitting (Mom did NOT like him to spit stuff, either), cheese-chasing (huh?), and wife-carrying (Hel-
lo!
Stink did NOT have a wife!).
Stink was just about to give up when he heard the words “most fun classic sport ever.” Then he heard, “Play it at home! In the car! At school! Free! No equipment necessary!”
Stink was glued to the screen. “Hey, sports fans! Have we got the sport for you! It’s fab. It’s free. It’s fun-tastic! Strength. Stamina. Strategy. Two thumbs up for the sport that’s sweeping the nation — thumb-wrestling!”
Thumb-wrestling was
uber
-cool. Thumb-wrestling was F-U-N! Thumb- wrestling was
thumb
-tastic!
Stink watched three thumb-wrestling matches in a row. He learned the rules. Easy peasy! He practiced on himself. Best of all, he learned tricky moves with funny names like Snake in the Grass and Santa’s Little Helper.
All he needed now was someone to thumb-wrestle. . . . Webster!
“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”
Stink wrinkled his forehead. Stink stuck out his tongue. Stink made funny faces. Stink and Webster’s thumbs were locked in a bitter battle.
Webster tried to pin Stink’s thumb down one, two, three times, but Stink escaped in the nick of time.
Webster waited. Webster barely blinked. Webster looked sneaky. “Gotcha!” Webster chortled with glee, smashing his thumb down over Stink’s and trapping it for three seconds.
“You win,” said Stink. “Again.”
“Yes!” Webster pumped his fist in the air. “I’m mucho macho!”
“No fair. Your thumb’s longer than mine,” said Stink.
“Is not,” said Webster. They held up their thumbs side-by-side. “See? They’re
almost
the same.”
“I’m left-handed,” said Stink. “Try again. This time we do it lefty.”
They went at it again, left-handed. Left-
thumbed,
that is. Stink tried to trick Webster. But it was no use. Even left-handed, Webster chewed him up and spit him out like yesterday’s breakfast cereal.
“Stink, you’re all thumbs today.” Webster cracked up.
“Hardee-har-har,” said Stink.
“I’m the best
luchador
this side of Chuckamuck Creek.”
“The best what?” Stink asked.
“Luchador.
It means
wrestler
in Spanish. My dad was a wrestler in high school, and my two uncles.”
They played again. And again. Webster beat Stink every time. “I stink at thumb-wrestling,” said Stink.
“So? You
don’t
stink at catching toads. And you don’t stink at rescuing guinea pigs and saving Pluto. And smelling.”
“Great. I smell. Told you I stink.”
Webster hee-hawed. “But you never played before. Stick with it.”
“Hold the phone!” said Stink. “Let’s make masks, for our
“All kids need exercise. And fresh air,” said Mom. “It’ll be fun.”
“What about Judy? Doesn’t she have to play a sport?”
“Hello! I play soccer. And softball. And swim team in the summer.”
“Playing a sport will really help you bring this grade up,” said Dad.
Stink’s lip quivered like wiggly spaghetti.
“In sports, you get to wear a cool uniform,” said Judy. “And bring home a shiny trophy. And go to a pizza party at the end of the season.”
Stink looked at Mom and Dad. Stink looked at Judy. But instead of eyes, all he could see were U’s.
The next day, Stink went looking for a sport.
Webster liked bike-riding and basketball. Sophie of the Elves liked ballet, gymnastics, and African dance. Skunk liked skateboarding.
But Stink’s bike had a flat tire. He had two left feet. And the only skateboard he owned was the one without wheels hanging on his wall.
Then Stink checked out the sports channels. He watched slow-pitch softball (BOR-ing), golf (WAY-boring), badminton (Stink was no-way, NOT going to hit a bird), and stuff where guys called each other goofy names like Steve-a-rino and Pa Jammy.
Stink watched ditch-snorkeling (too muddy!), tuna-throwing (Mom did NOT like him to throw stuff), Tootsie-Roll spitting (Mom did NOT like him to spit stuff, either), cheese-chasing (huh?), and wife-carrying (Hel-
lo!
Stink did NOT have a wife!).
Stink was just about to give up when he heard the words “most fun classic sport ever.” Then he heard, “Play it at home! In the car! At school! Free! No equipment necessary!”
Stink was glued to the screen. “Hey, sports fans! Have we got the sport for you! It’s fab. It’s free. It’s fun-tastic! Strength. Stamina. Strategy. Two thumbs up for the sport that’s sweeping the nation — thumb-wrestling!”
Thumb-wrestling was
uber
-cool. Thumb-wrestling was F-U-N! Thumb- wrestling was
thumb
-tastic!
Stink watched three thumb-wrestling matches in a row. He learned the rules. Easy peasy! He practiced on himself. Best of all, he learned tricky moves with funny names like Snake in the Grass and Santa’s Little Helper.
All he needed now was someone to thumb-wrestle. . . . Webster!
“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!”
Stink wrinkled his forehead. Stink stuck out his tongue. Stink made funny faces. Stink and Webster’s thumbs were locked in a bitter battle.
Webster tried to pin Stink’s thumb down one, two, three times, but Stink escaped in the nick of time.
Webster waited. Webster barely blinked. Webster looked sneaky. “Gotcha!” Webster chortled with glee, smashing his thumb down over Stink’s and trapping it for three seconds.
“You win,” said Stink. “Again.”
“Yes!” Webster pumped his fist in the air. “I’m mucho macho!”
“No fair. Your thumb’s longer than mine,” said Stink.
“Is not,” said Webster. They held up their thumbs side-by-side. “See? They’re
almost
the same.”
“I’m left-handed,” said Stink. “Try again. This time we do it lefty.”
They went at it again, left-handed. Left-
thumbed,
that is. Stink tried to trick Webster. But it was no use. Even left-handed, Webster chewed him up and spit him out like yesterday’s breakfast cereal.
“Stink, you’re all thumbs today.” Webster cracked up.
“Hardee-har-har,” said Stink.
“I’m the best
luchador
this side of Chuckamuck Creek.”
“The best what?” Stink asked.
“Luchador.
It means
wrestler
in Spanish. My dad was a wrestler in high school, and my two uncles.”
They played again. And again. Webster beat Stink every time. “I stink at thumb-wrestling,” said Stink.
“So? You
don’t
stink at catching toads. And you don’t stink at rescuing guinea pigs and saving Pluto. And smelling.”
“Great. I smell. Told you I stink.”
Webster hee-hawed. “But you never played before. Stick with it.”
“Hold the phone!” said Stink. “Let’s make masks, for our
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