Читать книгу I am so over being a Loser - Jim Smith - Страница 6

My mum’s embarrassing enough just being my mum, but now she’s won this stupid Feeko’s Supermarkets competition it’s even worse.

Like the other day, when I was skateboarding home with my best friend Bunky and we went past a Feeko’s and there was a poster of my mum, winking and holding up a packet of sausages.

‘Coowee, Barry!’ said Bunky, holding a packet of invisible sausages and scrunching his face up, trying to do a wink.

I rolled my eyes and they landed on another poster of my mum, wiggling her bum in a pair of Feeko’s jeans.

‘Tshhhhhh!’ farted a bus as it drove past with a poster of my mum on the side. She was sticking her tongue out and putting a Feeko’s chocolate digestive on to it.

I didn’t used to mind her winking, or the way she dances, or how she sticks her tongue out when she’s eating, but now that she’s on posters everywhere it’s completely ruining my keelness.

I picked up a snail that was having a little drink of a puddle and went to throw it at the poster of my mum winking, then changed my mind because I’m not a snail murderer.

‘There you go, Snailypoos!’ I said, sticking him on to my mum’s bum and patting him on the shell so his whole head disappeared inside it.

‘See you tomozzoid,’ I said when we got to Bunky’s road.

I was just about to do my goodbye face that makes Bunky wee himself with laughter, when I spotted Nancy Verkenwerken standing outside Bunky’s house.

Nancy Verkenwerken is Bunky’s loserish new next-door neighbour.

She’s got glasses like Mrs Trumpet Face down my street, plus she collects stamps, which everyone knows is the unkeelest thing you can do apart from winking.

‘Get your OWN tomozzoid!’ shouted Bunky, and I snortled with laughter because ever since I borrowed his ruler in Maths and he said,‘Get your OWN ruler!’ we’ve been saying ‘Get your OWN . . .’ and then the thing we’re talking about after it.

I was still snortling as I rolled up to my front door and saw my mum through the kitchen window, holding a tin of chopped tomatoes like she was in one of her adverts.

‘Coowee, Barry!’ she mouthed, doing a wink, and I stopped laughing and wished I wasn’t the boy whose mum was The Voice of Feeko’s.