“Mashed, boiled or baked?” Jared said with a pale grin.
“Oooo, tricky! Well, I can’t see any crispy bits so baked is out … and the texture is really creamy,” I said, squishing and swirling it between two fingers. “Ummm, I think I’ll go with boiled … no, mashed … boiled … mashed, yeah definitely mashed … or, boiled … OK, mashed!”
“Lucky guess, you get another point.”
I was starting to get really excited. I only needed one more point and then I’d be tied with Jared’s top world record-breaking score.
“Now, what type of meat is that in there?”
I said glancing sideways at Jared, hoping he might accidentally drop a clue. But he wasn’t giving anything away. Actually his eyes weren’t really looking anywhere. They were sort of glazed over and rolling about in his head. He looked like he was about to just fall over.
I needed to get my points quickly; if Jared dropped to the ground unconscious he’d never believe I got the other bits right without cheating. But if you think about it, this is one game you definitely can’t cheat at. Hey, what are you going to do … taste the stuff? I don’t think so. Maybe I could get Booga Boris to do it though, he’ll eat anything … there’s a thought. I’ll have to think about that.
“Hmmm, it’s not really brown, it’s lighter than that. So it’s probably chick …” Just as I was about to say ‘chicken’, I glanced at Jared. He had this really weird look on his face. He was either about to throw up again or he thought he’d outsmarted me. Like that was ever going to happen.
With an outstretched finger I prodded at the white meaty flesh. It didn’t really tear, it sort of mooshed and slid apart like a deck of cards.
“Fish! It’s fish!” I yelled, feeling very pleased with myself.
“Damn!”
“Yes!” And that was a really tricky one. His family just about never have fish! I was tied with Jared’s best score ever. One more point and I’d be the new WORLD CHAMPION OF THE WHOLE
ENTIRE UNIVERSE!
Jared was looking really green now and starting to sweat like an overweight baboon in a sauna and sway in the breeze.
I wasn’t sure if it was because his title was at risk, or because he was about to hurl again. But man, he was as green as … as … hey, green. THAT’S IT! There were teeny-tiny bits of bright green floating around in his puke pile. I hadn’t even noticed them before. WOW, he chews his food really well.
I used my middle finger to gently poke a few bits. Hmm, tricky. It sort of looked like peas … but green stuff is the one we both always get stumped on. After all, it could be peas, beans, cabbage, broccoli, lettuce or even the most disgusting, icky, repulsive, hideous, repugnant, abhorrent, detestable, foul, revolting, loathsome and just plain old yuckiest of all the veggies in the whole entire wide world … BRUSSELS SPROUTS! EEEWWWW!
I needed to get this one right for the win.
I leant in closer … the green bits didn’t seem to be leafy … closer … and he’d chewed them up really well so he must really like them … closer … sniff snifF, or maybe they were … closer … hmmm … closer … yeah, I think they’re bea …
BaRfF! SpLaSh!
“eeewWww!! ”
OH, GROSS! Jared threw up again, right on top of the last lot, which I was just in the middle of sniffing and inspecting really closely. He caught me right smack dead in amongst it. Close enough to be caught, well … caught in the splash zone.
Disgusting greeny-yellowy slime was slowly running down the front of my bare legs, soaking my socks and slipping into my shoes. But there, right between a small chunk of corn and two bits of carrot racing over the folds of my sock like tiny veggie hurdlers, was one very nice, perfectly round, bright green .
. . pea!
“PEAS! ”
“You were halfway through saying beans!” Jared spat out desperately.
“Na-arr. I was about to say ‘I think they’ve been green peas’ before you chucked.”
“Oh crap!” said Jared wiping away the drool from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
“Yes! It’s a new world record!” I squealed, leaping into the air excitedly. “I’m the new ultimate supreme WORLD CHAMPION OF THE WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE!”
You see, we’re only ever allowed to guess the last three meals. Anything before that is all just incredibly disgusting, totally gross, slimy liquid. Kinda like there’s nothing left in your stomach to chuck-up but you just keep on chucking anyway.
Jared was now as pale as a ghost rolled in flour and hiding in snow. So by then, I’d figured out he just might actually be really sick … naaahhh.
We finally wandered through the school gate, dumped our bikes in the rack and headed straight to the classroom. But just as we were strolling through the classroom door, the principal, Mrs Duckson, came barrelling out at warp speed nine and smacked straight into Jared … SLAMM! . . . sending him splattering to the floor … THUD!
“JARED!” she bellowed in her humongous, hulk-like voice, raining spit right across our faces – ewWw! Boy, was Jared gonna get it. She was gonna flatten him with her phlegm-filled words. He’d be lucky to survive. Yeah, he was dead-meat for sure, even though I reckon it was totally Mrs Duckson’s fault.
But then just as Mrs Duckson was about to let fly with her usual incredibly boring speech about how it was all Jared’s fault blah blah blah and how he should watch where he’s going RANT RANT RAVE RAVE and how he’s not the centre of the universe something something when suddenly, she stopped. She stared at Jared, who now looked more ZOMBIE than human. She raised her bushy mono-brow, her eyes squinted and her lips pushed out like a little doughnut as if she was trying to hold in a secret fart as she looked him up and down.
A split-second later she glanced at me, waffled something about veggies running down my socks, turned around and just disappeared! Probably to release the fart.
I found out later that she’d actually taken off for the office to call Jared’s mum to come and get him … which she did!
Hey … WHAT ABOUT ME!?
Did anyone ask me if it was OK for Jared to go home for the rest of the day? NOOO! Pretty inconsiderate don’t you think? So then five minutes later, Jared gets picked-up by his mum and goes off home for a nice little snooze in beddy-byes for the rest of the day. And I’m stuck at school with ‘The Seven Dimwits’. That’s what we call the sixth grade boys who all hang around together: TOFFEE, WHEEZY, Booga and RATTY, the twins DUFAS and DORKY, and worst of all, Itchy.
But then it gets even worse, if