Hamlet and Cheese, Page 3

  “Even badder,” said Judy.

  “Now comes the sword fight,” said Stink, waving his hands in the air. “Laertes gets Hamlet with the poison sword, but in the fight, the swords get mixed up. So Hamlet picks up the wrong sword and kills Laertes with the poison sword!”

  “Whoa. What happens next? What happens next?” asked Judy.

  “Laertes tells Hamlet that it was Claudius who was behind all this. So Hamlet kills the bad king. And that’s not even the end!” said Stink. “You’ll see.”

  The stage was set. The time was at last upon yon Sprites.

  The Sprites and their families piled into the practice stage room. It had black walls and a black floor. Families sat on bleachers around the room.

  “Welcome, friends all!” Amanda Beth announced. “Thank you for coming to our camp. We’ve had a great week. Today the Shakespeare Sprites will be acting out scenes from several different plays for you. We hope you enjoy the show.”

  First up were Hazel, Lily, and Jasmine, who acted out a scene from The Tempest. There was a storm and a shipwreck. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio. The three searched the island to look for Alonso’s son, the prince. My son is lost . . . what strange fish hath made his meal on thee?

  In the next scene, Riley stood on her head and did a backflip, pretending to be Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Lord, what fools these mortals be!

  “C’mon, Ham,” said Sophie. “Our turn.” Stink and Sophie stood in front of the audience. They motioned for Harper to come up front with them.

  “Hi. I’m Hamlet,” Stink said to the audience. “But you can call me Ham. We will be doing the last scene in Hamlet: I have just been stabbed with a poison sword by Laertes and am about to die. But I still want to kill my enemy, King Claudius, before I do.”

  “And I’m the soon-to-be-dead King Claudius,” said Harper.

  “Greetings,” said Sophie, taking a bow. “I’m Horatio, Ham’s best friend,” said Sophie.

  Stink grabbed his stomach, making faces and tummy-ache sounds. He limped across the room with one eye closed, moaning like he was in pain. “Then, venom, to thy work!” he cried. Then, Swing, swing, stab, stab. Stink pretended to kill the bad king. Harper crumpled to the floor and closed her eyes. She let her head roll to the side, then made her tongue hang out.

  Now it was time for Hamlet to die. Stink doubled over, then fell to his knees. He crawled across the floor, gasping for air. Collapsing to the ground, he coughed, choked, and took his last dying breath.

  Then Horatio (Sophie) picked up the poison cup. If his best friend was dying, Horatio wanted to die, too. But Hamlet (Stink), who wasn’t totally dead yet, stopped his friend. He convinced Horatio that he must live to tell Hamlet’s story. Then he fell back, dead, for real. Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

  Stink kept his eyes closed and let the mood hang in the air. The audience was dead quiet. At last, he opened one eye to peek. And who should he see, but . . .

  Riley Rottenberger!

  By Jupiter! Would she, could she be . . . NOOOOO!

  Riley’s warning rattled in Stink’s brain. Before Shakespeare camp is over, I predict you, Stink E. Moody, will be getting a big fat sloppy wet one.

  The audience was clapping. Stink’s eyes popped open. He leaped to his feet. Sophie took a bow. Stink was supposed to bow, too. Instead, he spun around, looking to make a fast getaway. Where oh where was his anti-kissing shield when he needed it?

  He felt dizzy. Why was the room spinning?

  Then, just like that — smackeroo! — it happened. The thing he’d feared all week. A Big Fat Wet One. A peck. A smooch. A yucky, blucky, sloppy, slobbery kissaroo. Right smack-dab in the middle of his face.

  “BLUCK!” yelled Stink, like he had just smelled a corpse flower.

  “Honey? What’s wrong?” asked Mom. “I just wanted to tell you what a great job you did.”

  “We’re proud of you, kiddo,” said Dad, ruffling Stink’s hair.

  “You have to teach me how to die like that,” said Judy.

  Stink hardly heard a word. He turned to Mom. “It was just you?”

  “It was just me, what?” asked Mom.

  “You kissed me. It wasn’t girl germs?”

  “Just Mom germs,” said Mom, laughing. Stink was weak with relief.

  He let out a breath. “For a second there, I thought a pox of girl cooties was upon me.”

  “Speaking of cooties, Riley’s been waiting for you,” Judy told him.

  Stink grabbed his anti-kissing shield and held it out in front of him. “Away with thee, Scurvy Face!”

  Riley pulled her hand out from behind her back and leaned forward.

  “No-o-o!” cried Stink, waving his shield like a madman in front of her.

  Riley held out her hand with her thumb sticking up between two fingers. “Here’s your nose back, Stink.”

  “My, um, what? Oh, yeah.” Stink pretended to take his nose back. “Thanks.”

  “It’s kind of a joke between Stink and me,” Riley told the Moodys.

  Girls. Who knew? Maybe Riley Rottenberger didn’t have cooties after all.

  Riley pointed to Stink’s face. “You have lipstick on you, Stink. Didn’t I tell you before camp was over you’d get a big fat wet one?” She grinned.

  “Thou jesting monkey,” said Stink.

  “Picture time,” said Dad. Stink squeezed between Sophie and Riley, posing for the camera.

  “Say cheese,” said Mom.

  “Ham and cheese,” said Sophie.

  Stink smiled a gigantic smile. “Hamlet and cheese!” said Stink.

  What a day. What a way to end Shakespeare camp.

  To think! Stink had saved a play and won a sword fight and died a most glorious death. He had been stabbed, poisoned, murdered, and yes, kissed, all in one week.

  Shakespeare camp was pure puke-faced fun.

  All’s well that ends well.

  is the author of the popular Judy Moody and Stink series. She says, “Once, while I was visiting a class, the kids chanted, ‘Stink! Stink! Stink!’ as I entered the room. In that moment, I knew that Stink had to have a series all his own.” Megan McDonald lives in California.

  is the illustrator of all the Judy Moody and Stink books. He says, “Stink reminds me of myself growing up: dealing with a sister prone to teasing and bossing around — and having to get creative in order to stand tall beside her.” Peter H. Reynolds lives in Massachusetts.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

  Special thanks to Amanda Giguere, director of outreach for the Colorado Shakespeare Festival, for background, information, and funny stories about the Shakespeare’s Sprites summer camp for ages 6 through 9.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Megan McDonald

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Peter H. Reynolds

  Stink® is a registered trademark of Candlewick Press, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

  First electronic edition 2018

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number pending

  The illustrations in this book were created digitally.

  Candlewick Press

  99 Dover Street

  Somerville, Massachusetts 02144

  visit us at www.candlewick.com

 

 

 
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