out the window.
“Did the house
just shake? Is that
a radioactive
glow?”
.
42
Just then, the lights went out. The
basement went dark. Dark as an
eclipse. Dark as a black hole.
“This is it! Killer asteroid hits
Earth and takes out power grid!”
Stink threw on a pair of goggles,
grabbed his light saber, and yelled,
“Never fear! Asteroid Boy is here!”
He pointed to the toaster, which was
covered with magnets. “Judy, activate
the Anti-Asteroid Magnetic-Repulsion
Device!”
“Stink, I think you’re the asteroid.
You have too much stuff plugged in
down here. You blew a fuse. Dad’s
going to blow a fuse, too.”
.
44
“But . . . we’re alive!” said Stink. He
fell to his knees in relief. “We survived
a giant ball of rock, metal, and dust
crashing into Earth at sixty thousand
miles per second.”
Judy sniffed the air. “I don’t smell
rotting coconuts. So I guess we didn’t
get squashed like ants.”
Stink ran outside. Judy ran after
him.
Stink peered up at the sky with his
asteroid-proof X-ray-vision goggles.
Stink peered up into the trees. Stink
peered down at the grass.
“I need proof,” said Stink. “Proof
that I survived an asteroid hitting
Earth faster than a speeding bullet.”
.
46
“You’re proof, Stink. I’m proof. See?
We’re not as flat as pancakes.”
“Pancakes! That reminds me. I’m
hungry.”
“Surviving an asteroid attack will
do that,” said Judy. “Let’s ask Mom if
she’ll make us silver-dollar pancakes.”
“When,” said Stink.
“Huh?”
“Not if. When
. Ask Mom when she’s
going to make us pancakes.”
“Stink, you are the Master of
Disaster!” said Judy. “If an asteroid
ever hits Earth, I’m calling Asteroid
“Not if,” said Asteroid Boy, grinning
ear to ear. “When.”
.
49
CHA
p
TER
3
PLOP! A big fat envelope landed on
the Moodys’ front step.
“It’s for me!” said Stink.
“It’s for me!” said Judy.
“But it has my name on it,” said
Stink.
Judy stared at the big fat envelope.
It was not her mail-order ants.
Stink grabbed the envelope and
Albert Einstink
.
50
tore it open. “It’s from the way-official
Name-That-Star Company.”
“Name-the-What?”
“Name-That-Star. I’m going to have
a star named after me.”
“Stink, there are a million, billion
stars in the galaxy. I don’t think
they’re going to name one for you.”
“Yah-huh.” He held up the papers.
“It’s all right here in my star-naming
kit. There’s a way-official certificate.
51
And a real-and-actual
photo of my very own
star.”
Way-official instructions.
.
52
Judy studied the star photo. “Huh.
What are you going to name it? Stink
Star?” She cracked up.
Stink’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no,” he
moaned. “I never thought of that. The
Stink Star is not a very good name for
a star.”
“Use your real name. Call it the
James Star.”
“James is not special enough for a
star. There are three Jameses in my
second-grade class!”
Judy picked up her Grouchy pencil.
“I’ll help you. You make a list of
names, and I’ll make a list of names.
Then you’ll have tons of names to
choose from.”
.
Stink thought and thought. Stink
chewed his pencil.
Stellina? Starla?” she read.
“No girl names,” said Stink.
“Orion? Sirius? Hercules?”
“Taken,” said Stink.
“Balthazar?”
“Balthazar Moody,” said Stink.
“Maybe.”
“Let’s hear some names on your
list,” said Judy.
“Batman? Superman? Plutoman?”
“Superman Moody? No way. There’s
kryptonite in outer space, you know.
Your star would get clobbered.”
“Spike? Dracula? Godzilla?” Stink
asked.
“Dracula Moody. I like it!” said
Judy. “But it would starve up there.”
.
56
Stink got out the Big Head Book
of Baby Names. “Maybe I’ll find a
name in here!” He opened to the A’s.
“Abner, Achilles, Achoo,” Stink read.
“Bless you,” said Judy.
“No, that’s a name: Achoo!”
“No way is somebody named
Achoo,” said Judy.
Stink frowned. “You’re right. My
star can’t be named for a sneeze.”
He flipped some pages. “Sheesh.
There are ten hundred names in here.
It will take light-years to find the right
name.”
“Close your eyes, open the book,
and point,” said Judy.
Stink closed his eyes. Stink opened
the book. Stink pointed. “Lollipop,”
57
he read. “Ten thousand names and
I point to the name of a big slobbery
sucker?”
.
58
Stink went to find Mom and Dad.
He asked them how to choose a
brand-new, not-sneezy, un-slobbery-
sucker name to put on a star.
“A name should say something
about you,” said Mom.
“Like Judy is moody? And Riley
Rottenberger is
rotten?” asked Stink.
“Sort of,” said Dad.
“And like Stink is stinky?” said Judy.
“Try thinking of something that
makes you special,” said Dad. “Or
someone you admire.”
Stink’s face lit up. “I got it! Albert
Einstink!”
.
60
“Forget it, Stink Face,” said Judy.
“Your brain is way too puny.”
“How about my initials and my
birthday: JEM-229.”
“My brother, the robot,” said Judy.
“How about a super-cool spy name,
like Mosquito? Or Neptune Shadow?”
“That’s it!” said Judy.
“Really?”
“N-O!” said Judy. “Let’s put all the
names in a bowl, Stink. We’ll mix
them up. Then close your eyes, reach
in, and pull one out.”
“Hey! You just gave me an idea,”
said Stink. He scribbled in his
notebook. “Ready for this?”
.
“Ready, Freddy!” said Judy.
“Hercules-Balthazar-Superman-
Dracula-Achoo-Lollipop-JEM-229-
Mosquito-Albert-Einstink.”
“You’re going to name your star
Hercules-Balthazar-Superman-
Dracula-Achoo-Lollipop-JEM-229-
Mosquito-Albert-Einstink?”
“Right.”
.
Judy picked up the way-official star
packet. She read silently for about a
hundred light-years. Then she said,
“Stink, there are rules. First of all, a
star name can’t be more than sixteen
letters long. The name you picked is
like sixteen million letters long. Plus
some numbers!”
“Yikes,” said Stink.
“Second of all, a star name can
only be one word. Your name is nine
million words long.”
“Double yikes,” said Stink. He
scratched his head.
.
“I know!” he said. “How about if
my star’s name is Hercules-Balthazar-
Superman-Dracula-Achoo-Lollipop-
JEM-229-Mosquito-Albert-Einstink, but
you call it Stink for short?”
“Perfect,” said Mom and Dad.
“You think?” asked Stink.
“If the Stink fits, wear it,” said Judy.
.