The Battle of the Red Hot Pepper Weenies Read Online Free

one-hundred-twenty-shout—trip. But at the end of it, sure enough, there was a carnival, full of food, rides, and games.
    â€œHave a good time,” Mrs. Skantz said as she pulled up near the entrance. “I’ll be back for you at ten. Remember to stay away from the food. You know it makes you hyper.” She handed Buzzy five dollars.
    That’s not going to go far, I thought. Everything at a carnival is expensive.
    â€œSausage!” Buzzy screeched as he leaped from the car. He went running toward the first booth—Sonny’s Super Sloppy Sausage Sandwiches. They must be good sandwiches—there was a mob of customers. Buzzy ducked under some elbows, dodged around a couple people, and disappeared from sight. He popped back into view seconds later with a sandwich in his hands. By the time I reached him, he’d already devoured half of it.
    â€œBite?” he asked, thrusting the chewed end toward my face. “Tastes just right. Pure delight.”
    â€œNo thanks.” I stood back for the twelve seconds it took him to gobble down the remaining half. I liked sausage, but I wanted something sweeter. As we walked away from the booth, I saw the sausage seller glaring at Buzzy.
    â€œRides!” Buzzy shouted. He sprinted toward the midway. I stopped at a booth and bought some ride tickets, then followed him to the Scrambler.
    â€œYou go ahead,” he said.
    That was weird. I gave the ninety-year-old guy who ran the Scrambler my ticket and climbed into one of the open cars. While the guy was checking that everyone was strapped in, Buzzy snuck past the gate and slipped onto the seat next to me.
    So that’s how he planned to stretch his five dollars. What a slimeball. I wondered whether he’d stolen the sausage, too.
    It turned out the Scrambler was a big mistake. Spinning in the air with a shouter who still has bits of a Super Sloppy Sausage Sandwich in his mouth isn’t a great thing to do if you’re wearing a white T-shirt.
    â€œAnother ride?” Buzzy asked when we staggered off the Scrambler. “Let’s stay outside. Don’t try to hide.”
    â€œIn a while. I want to get some food.” And I didn’t want to get in trouble if he tried to sneak onto another ride. I followed my nose to the funnel cake stand and bought myself a sugar-covered mass of deep-fried happiness.
    Just as I was picking up my plate from the counter, Buzzy grabbed my shoulder and shouted, “Open wide! I found the coolest ride!”
    The jolt sent my funnel cake sliding off the paper plate into the dirt. As I was wondering whether I could pick it up and brush it off, two little kids ran right over it.
    â€œLet’s go!” Buzzy shouted, tugging at me. “You’re slow. Can’t say no.” He dragged me over to a really run-down-looking ride at the far end of the midway.
    The sign in front, made of large individual flaking red letters that dangled from a crossbar above the entrance, read, WILD BLUE YONDER. The Y was hanging at an angle like it was ready to drop off. The rusted ride might have been blue a long time ago, but it sure didn’t look very wild. It was basically a small jet with two seats on a shaft that could swing in different directions. The jet itself looked like it could rotate on the end of the shaft. Not bad—but I really didn’t want to be next to Buzzy when I was being shaken all over the place.
    Scratchy music played from somewhere at the base of the ride. I recognized the song. It was the air force theme about flying off into the wild blue yonder. Okay—so the name sort of made sense.
    A dozen kids were lined up, waiting their turn. There was a gate right inside the entrance. Kids moved inside the gate after they gave the guy their ticket.
    â€œYou go ahead,” I told Buzzy.
    â€œOkay. Hey, look!” He pointed over my head. As I turned, he stuck his foot in front of me and shoved me from behind.
    I let out a shout