Uncle John's the Enchanted Toilet Bathroom Reader for Kids Only! Read online

  “It’s special, son. Look…the cavity is shaped like a heart,” said his mother. “And I have just the place for it.” The tooth fairy flitted across the room and placed the tooth on top of a tiny red velvet cushion inside a lighted display cabinet. “Perfect!” She clapped.

  “Mom, the house is already so full we can hardly walk,” said Bob. “There are molars, incisors, baby teeth—even neonatal teeth. This has to stop. You have a serious problem. That’s why the TV crew is here. This is an intervention.”

  “It’s my job, honey. You know that,” said the tooth fairy. “And what’s that about TV?”

  “Right there!” Bob waved his hands at the producer, the cameraman, and the sound specialist, a puzzled look on his face. How could she not have noticed them?

  “Besides, your co-workers turn the teeth in at the dental repository. They don’t take their work home,” said Bob. “For crying out loud, you’re collecting from animals now! How many puppy teeth can one fairy gather?”

  The tooth fairy looked at the carefully sorted teeth stacked around the room. “Really, son. It’s not that bad,” she said. “Besides, there are only a few specimens in your room. The fangs and the fossils.”

  “And that’s another thing,” said Bob. “Since when does the tooth fairy collect fossils? There are museums for those kinds of teeth.”

  “Museum!” She pressed her hands together and her wings started to glow. “Exactly. This is my tooth museum, and it’s filled with treasures. Every tooth here is special to me. I couldn’t possibly let any of them go.”

  “It’s time for you to see the truth,” Bob said, and he turned his mother to face the camera. “You’re a hoarder. And the Hoard It! crew is here to help you see the truth.”

  “Son,” the cameraman interrupted. “I don’t know who you’re talking to, but will this ‘mother’ of yours be here soon? We can’t wait all day.”

  Bob glared at the cameraman. “She’s standing right there. Are you blind?”

  His mother took his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t be too hard on them. They can’t see me.”

  “What! Why not?” Bob asked. “Because they don’t believe in the tooth fairy?”

  “Don’t be silly.” His mother smiled. “Everyone believes in the tooth fairy. But I don’t believe in TV.”

  THE END

  PLAY OGRE OBLIVION

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  Shooting spit wads at school: Bad idea. Shooting spit wads to take out a team of ogres: Fun!

  WHAT YOU NEED:

  οClean white paper

  οPen or pencil

  οLarge cardboard box

  οWarm water (or spit)

  οScissors

  οClean drinking straws

  οTape

  οFood coloring (optional)

  WHAT TO DO:

  1.Draw or trace ten three-inch ogre faces on white paper and cut them out. (Hint: Shrek heads work great!)

  2.Tape the ogres to the side of a large cardboard box.

  3.Prepare spit wads by tearing small pieces of clean paper into tiny strips, then soaking them in warm water (or spit—preferably your own).

  4.When the papers are soaked, roll them into balls small enough to fit inside a drinking straw.

  HOW TO PLAY:

  1.Set the box about ten feet away from where you’ll sit.

  2.Place a spit wad in one end of a straw.

  3.Forcefully blow the spit wad at the paper ogre faces. If the wads are juicy-wet, they’ll stick.

  4.Give yourself ten points for hitting an ogre square in the face, five points for hitting its outer edges, and one point for hitting the box. If you miss the box, you lose a point. (And your parents may ground you. Ogre fighting is not without risk!)

  5.If you’re playing against another spit-wad sprayer, highest score wins each round. If you’re playing alone, try to beat your own score on round two.

  SPIT WAD FREE-FOR-ALL!

  To make the contest between two ogre sprayers more exciting, add a different color of food coloring to the warm water each player uses to wet the spit wads. Now that you can tell which person shot each spit wad, have a free-for-all! Shoot at the same time rather than taking turns. May the best spit-wad warrior win!

  οοο

  OGRE JOKES

  Q:Why don’t ogres eat rich kids?

  A:Because they’re spoiled.

  Q:Why did the dragon get fat?

  A:Because it was an ogre-eater.

  Q:Which beans do ogres like to munch?

  A:Human beans.

  Q:What’s the difference between boogers and brussels sprouts?

  A:Ogres won’t eat brussels sprouts.

  RIDICULOUS!

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  You should never feel silly using magic. At least, that’s what the witch who shared these traditional spells told us.

  οTo prevent injuries, rub an onion on yourself and chant, “I am protected against all harm.”

  οWant to score at sports? Carry a bay leaf and picture yourself celebrating your big moment.

  οTo stop a dog from yapping, put leaves from the hound’s-tongue plant inside your shoes. Then close your eyes and imagine a happy, quiet dog.

  οFor safe travels, pin a sprig of parsley to your shirt and picture a protective bubble surrounding you.

  οMade someone angry? Write the person’s name on a small piece of paper. Stick the paper in an ice-cube tray, pour water over it, and freeze it. Then imagine the person cooling off.

  οTo protect your money, picture blue flames bursting from the tip of your index finger. Use your flaming finger to draw a pentagram (five-pointed star) on your purse, wallet, or piggy bank.

  MAGIC SPELLS are said to be based on three simple principles: 1. Your thoughts create your reality; 2. Your words create reality; and 3. Your intentions create reality. So if you try any of these spells and something actually happens, you have only yourself to blame.

  BRAZIL’S FOREST GUARDIANS

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  If you visit Brazil, be nice to the forest animals. Otherwise, you might meet one of these guys.

  RAINFOREST BOY

  The Tupi people of Brazil tell of a strange boy who lives deep in the Amazon rainforest. His name is Curupira. He has blazing red hair and green teeth. His job: Protect wildlife from greedy hunters. If a hunter takes only enough game to feed his family, Curupira leaves him alone. But if a hunter shoots an animal for sport, not food? Watch out!

  In the case of one greedy hunter, Curupira whistled shrilly so the hunter would follow his tracks. The hunter walked and walked, but he never caught up with the boy. Instead, he became hopelessly lost. Why couldn’t he catch up? Curupira’s feet point backward, so his tracks always lead away from him. The hunter never made it out of the forest. As for the deer he shot? The forest guardian whistled it back to life before going on his way.

  THE FATHER OF THE FOREST

  One day, legend says, a group of hunters was hot on the trail of some white-lipped peccaries. What they didn’t know? The bristly pig-like peccary is a favorite animal of Pai da Mata (Father of the Forest). The hunters heard a strange whistle, but couldn’t tell where it came from. Just then, a four-foot-tall black man with long shiny hair popped out from behind a tree! They had just enough time to notice that the little man was wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else, then poof! He vanished.

  The peccary tracks they’d been following also disappeared, as if the trail had been wiped clean. With no trail to follow, the hunters got lost. They wandered around all day, and they didn’t make it out of the forest until night fell. What did the hunters have to show for their perilous peccary hunt? Sore feet.

  THE WOLF’S CAPE

  Bullets can’t harm him. His stench can knock a hunter right off his feet. And his howl? It freezes grown men in their tracks. The legendary Capé Lobo (“Wolf’s Cape”) is said to be an elderly Indian who left his village long ago to live alone in the forest. Accordi
ng to legend, a group of hunters once had their dogs follow a trail of fresh spoor (animal poop) into the forest. Suddenly, the dogs started to yelp. Something sounded very wrong.

  When the hunters caught up, they found Capé Lobo flinging the dogs through the air. The hunters tried to stop him, but his smell was beyond horrible. They became so dizzy they could hardly stand. Somehow the sick hunters stumbled out of the forest and made it home…but the stench was so bad their stomachs churned for a whole month.

  THE LEGEND OF BLUEBEARD

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  An Uncle John’s Totally Twisted Tale

  ONCE THERE WAS A MAN whose beard was blue. His name, fittingly, was Blue Beard. Blue Beard swore that his bright blue facial hair was natural. He even had a photo from his teen years that showed bulging red zits poking through the sparse blue fuzz on his chin. Embarrassing…but enough proof to secure his position as head of the Pirate Guild of North Dakota. After that, anyone who mentioned the words “hair dye” in his presence disappeared without a trace.

  It may be hard to believe, but despite his luxuriant blue beard and important position, ladies weren’t exactly lining up for dates. Blue Beard blamed that on the fact that he often had to travel on Pirate Guild business.

  Still, one day, Blue Beard met the woman of his dreams. Or so he thought. Unbeknownst to Blue Beard, the woman was dating him for one reason: her sister had vanished after going with him to see Pirates of the Caribbean. And the lady was determined to find her.

  One evening, Blue Beard invited the woman for dinner. As she cut her Salisbury steak into bite-sized pieces, she whispered to herself, “It’s not real. It can’t be real.”

  Now, Blue Beard had excellent hearing. “Of course it’s not real,” he said. “It’s a TV dinner.”

  “Right,” she said. “The steak.” She tried not to glance at his beard, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Blue Beard went eerily quiet and pushed his chair back from the table. “I must go away for a few days,” he said. “To Bismarck. On Pirate Guild business. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind watering my plants.”

  Perfect! The lady smiled. “Of course not,” she said.

  Blue Beard gave her his key ring. “There are plants in every room,” he said, “except the cellar.” He pointed to a tiny twisted key that unlocked the cellar door. “If you value our friendship, stay out of the cellar.”

  After Blue Beard left, the lady watered all of the plants. She found a pair of pruning shears among the kitchen tools and snipped off the dead leaves. Her promise kept, she headed straight for the cellar. When she opened the door, thousands of bottles of blue hair dye tumbled out, burying her up to her chin. “Help!” she cried.

  “Sis?” A voice came from the back of the cellar. “Is that you?”

  The lady’s sister—and everyone else who had ever dared to suggest that Blue Beard dyed his beard—peered from behind the blue bottles. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker…they all blinked, but they did not move. “Hey!” the lady yelled. “I could use some help over here.” None came to her aid. Not even her beloved sister.

  They’re ensorcelled! the lady realized. So she swam out of the bottles and waded to the cellar stairs.

  When Blue Beard returned home, the lady was sitting at the dining room table with an empty blue-dye bottle in her hand. “Hello, Blue Beard.” She winked.

  “You have betrayed me!” Blue Beard lunged across the table.

  The lady brought the pruning shears from behind her back. “One more step and you’ll be Blue Beardless!”

  “No! Not the beard! Anything but the beard!”

  The lady grabbed the villain by his blue beard and tugged him down to the cellar. She waved an arm at the people inside. “I’ll keep your secret on two conditions,” she said.

  “Anything!” Blue Beard nodded.

  “Good.” The lady gave his beard a yank. Tears of pain welled up in his eyes. “First, release these people from your evil sorcery. And second, if you would keep your wretched beard, they must decide your punishment.”

  Blue Beard had no choice. He snapped his fingers and his victims slowly stretched themselves back to life. After a quick vote, his fate was sealed: He must dye his beard a new color—flaming orange.

  Now, if you know your pirates, you’ll know that there are plenty of Blackbeards and Bluebeards. But Orangebeards? Nary a one. The Pirate Guild stripped the villain formerly known as Blue Beard of his badge of office and booted him out the door. Last we heard he was working for the North Dakota Department of Transportation…as a traffic cone.

  THE END

  THE WHITE QUEEN’S RIDDLE

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  Author Lewis Carroll, who wrote about Alice and her adventures in Wonderland, was quite the riddler. See if you can figure out the answer to this one.

  First pull up the fish,

  It can’t swim away: for a fish this is funny!

  Next ’tis bought; and I wish

  That a penny was always its adequate money.

  Make it ready to eat—

  Fetching pepper and vinegar won’t take a minute.

  Dish with cover complete,

  Of lovely shell china, already ’tis in it.

  Now ’tis time we should sup.

  What’s one only, you dolt? Set a score on the table!

  Take the dish cover up—

  With mere finger and thumb you will never be able.

  Get an oyster-knife strong,

  Insert it ’twixt cover and dish in the middle;

  Then you shall before long

  Un-dish-cover the Oysters—dishcover the riddle!

  Answer to riddle on page 286.

  SYLLABUBBLE, WITHOUT THE TROUBLE

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  There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned witches’ brew. But who wants to drink eye of newt and tail of slug? Syllabub is just as bubbly, plus it’s yummy and easy to make.

  WHAT YOU NEED:

  SUPPLIES

  οDrinking glass (or cauldron)

  οSpoon

  INGREDIENTS

  ο½ cup apple cider or apple juice

  ο2 teapoons sugar

  ο¼ cup cream soda

  ο½ cup whipped cream (or vanilla ice cream, softened)

  WHAT TO DO:

  1.Stir the apple juice and sugar together in your glass (or cauldron) until the sugar has completely dissolved.

  2.Pour in the cream soda and stir once or twice more.

  3.Top off the fizzy drink with a generous dollop of whipped cream or soft ice cream, and slowly stir the cream into the liquid. Don’t worry if it starts to dissolve or curdle—that’s part of the magic!

  MUSICAL GHOSTS

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  Scotland has more than 1,000 castles. And some of their most famous residents can carry a wicked tune.

  THE DRUMMER BOY haunts Edinburgh Castle. This headless ghost’s drumming was heard for many years, but lately he’s been seen—but not heard. Why? The drummer boy appears when the castle is under attack, and that hasn’t happened since 1745.

  THE PIANO PLAYER tickles the ivories in Castle Fraser. No one knows why the ghost plays. But some believe the piano player seranades a princess murdered long ago in the castle tower. Her body was dragged down the stone staircase leaving a bloody trail. No matter how many times the stains are scrubbed away, they always reappear. And so does the ghostly piano playing.

  THE TRUMPETER has been blowing his horn outside Fyvie Castle since the 1700s. Locals say the player was a man who fell in love with the local miller’s daughter. But the lord of the castle wanted her for himself. He sold his rival into slavery. By the time the man made it back to Scotland, the girl had died of a broken heart. On his deathbed, the man swore to return on the night before the death of every castle lord. He would blow a trumpet to remind everyone of the injustice he had suffered. And for many years, he…or someone…has.

  THE PIPER of
Culzean Castle is said to be an ancestor of Scotland’s Kennedy clan. Hundreds of years ago, the castle’s resident piper vanished while exploring the caves below the castle. But that hasn’t stopped him from performing at family weddings. His ghostly bagpiping floods the castle grounds every time a Kennedy marries.

  Because Scotland abounds with ghosts, you might want to memorize this Scottish prayer before you visit:

  From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggety beasties And things that go bump in the night Good Lord, deliver us!

  οοο

  WEREWOLVES OF...SCOTLAND?

  In the Highlands, ghosts may be the least of your worries.

  PACKS OF MAN-EATING WOLVES once prowled the Scottish Highlands. When their howls haunted the hills, even the bravest men shivered in their kilts. Special safe houses called spittals had to be built to protect travelers. Scotland’s wolves were so feared that by 1800 most had been hunted down and killed. But one kind of wolf may have survived. A family named Dickieson has an odd carving on its coat of arms—a beast with a wolf’s body, long toes and tail, and a man’s head. The beast was known locally as the “war woolf.” (Aaa-hoo-oo!)

  THE FAIRY GAMEMASTER

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  An Uncle John’s Totally Twisted Tale

  NOT VERY LONG AGO...last week, in fact, there was a boy named Carl who lived with his very ancient and very scatterheaded great-aunt, Primrose Noodleman. All Great-Aunt Primrose ever did was take long Epsom-salt soaks in the tub with her rubber duckie and mumble about misplacing something important.