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    My Life as Dinosaur Dental Floss
    My Life as Dinosaur Dental Floss
    My Life as Dinosaur Dental Floss
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    My Life as Dinosaur Dental Floss

    By Bill Myers

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    About this ebook

    Classic stories from the Wally McDoogle series now with new designs and spot illustrations throughout.

    It was just a little lie. But mishap follows mishap until Wally is chased by bungling terrorist, a SWAT team, the TV news, and the National Guard. It isn't until he risks his life to save his country (and has a little chat with the President along the way) that the madcap misunderstanding finally end. . . And Wally learns that honesty really is the best policy.

     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThomas Nelson
    Release dateMay 26, 2020
    ISBN9780785232445
    Author

    Bill Myers

    Bill Myers (www.Billmyers.com) is a bestselling author and award-winning writer/director whose work has won sixty national and international awards. His books and videos have sold eight million copies and include The Seeing, Eli, The Voice, My Life as, Forbidden Doors, and McGee and Me.

    Read more from Bill Myers

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      Book preview

      My Life as Dinosaur Dental Floss - Bill Myers

      Chapter 1

      Just for Starters

      If you think this book is about dinosaurs, forget it. Put it back on the shelf. Send it back to the bookstore. Tell Mom or Grandma or whoever gave it to you, Thanks, but no thanks!

      Believe me, after this, my latest adventure in the land of Me-and-My-Big-Mouth, the last thing in the world I want to do is tell any more lies.

      The truth is . . .

      —I’ve never known any real dinosaurs.

      —I’ve never even seen a real dinosaur . . . although I am grateful to a certain Tyrannosaurus Rex for saving my life.

      Confused?

      Me too. But I’m Wally McDoogle, and that’s normal for me. Let’s see if I can help straighten things out for you.

      It all started last Tuesday. We were on a class field trip at the Middletown Museum of Natural History. Our tour guide was rattling off a bunch of brain-numbing facts while our science teacher, Mr. Reptenson (better known as Reptile Man), kept acting like this information would save the world.

      Of course everyone was bored out of their skulls. Not bored like having-to-sit-at-the-dinner-table-and-wait-until-everyone-else-is-finished-eating bored. No sir, we’re talking out-of-your-mind, I’d-rather-be-home-emptying-the-dishwasher-or-even-watching-Sesame Street-reruns kind of bored.

      Everyone was bored, that is, except me and my best friend and fellow Dork-oid, Opera. We weren’t bored because we’d found a powerful new secret weapon.

      LYING

      That’s right. Forget about having to work; forget about having to study; forget about all that stuff. Just make it up.

      Don’t want to go to school?

      How ’bout: Mom, I’ve got the flu.

      Want to impress that new girl?

      How ’bout: My dad is Mr. Incredible.

      And let’s not forget the ever-popular:

      I don’t have my homework ’cause my pet aardvark ate it.

      See how simple it is?

      Simple, yes. Smart? Well, you tell me.

      In the beginning, our lying spree had helped us talk the bus driver into letting us sit up front because we got bus sick. Next, we convinced the new kid that we were outer-space visitors from the planet Ursodumb. And after that we almost convinced Reptile Man that his watch was an hour behind. (That was Opera’s idea—he was hoping for an early lunch. He has a little thing about eating—actually a big thing. But he hates anything healthy—it’s junk food or nothing. In fact, he’s the only kid I know who gets convulsions over the smell of fresh fruit and vegetables. He’s also the only kid I know who chews potato chip-flavored bubble gum.)

      Anyway, things were going pretty well at the museum, except that the Tyrannosaurus Rex room was closed for repairs. Too bad. The giant dinosaur display was the main reason we had come. But I wasn’t worried. With a few well-placed lies, I was sure I could get in to see it . . . no sweat.

      Excuse me, I said to the guard sitting near the closed doors. I held out my lunch sack. This is for my dad.

      Your dad? the guard asked.

      Yeah, he’s working inside there on the dinosaur display.

      The guard gave me a careful look over.

      I blinked at him, pushed up my glasses, and gave him my best innocent-puppy-dog stare.

      Finally he nodded. Opera started to follow, but the guard held out his hand. Not you, son—just him.

      But, I, uh, I have the napkins, Opera stammered as he pulled out a wad of used tissues. We packed his dad a fresh peach, and if I don’t get him this napkin, the juice will drip all down his wrist and arm and make a terrible . . .

      Opera came to a stop. It was a nice try, but obviously not working. The man just looked at him.

      I gave Opera a shrug. It wasn’t my fault he wasn’t as good a liar as I was. I walked to the doors, pushed them open, and stepped inside.

      Wow! It was huge—like something out of Jurassic Park! Only by the looks of things, this particular dinosaur needed to put on a bit more weight. You’ve heard of people being skin and bones? Well, ol’ Tyrannosaurus Rex here was bones and bones. That’s right, from her tail all the way to her pointy fangs, she was just your basic dinosaur skeleton. But even at that, I’d still hate to meet her in a dark, prehistoric alley.

      There were five or six guys in overalls working on her. Most were up on ladders, so no one really noticed when I sneaked up to the towering giant . . . Mistake Number One. (Well, actually Number Two, if you count the lying I did to get inside.)

      Next, I reached out and touched the critter’s right leg bone. (Mistake Number Three, if you’re still keeping score.) But the touching wasn’t the problem. It was the letting go. I couldn’t. They had coated the whole thing in some sort of liquid plastic—a liquid plastic that hadn’t dried yet. A liquid plastic that was great for protecting the skeleton, but bad for me—unless I wanted to be a permanent part of the display. In short, I was stuck big time.

      I tried pulling my hand away. Nothing. I pulled harder. Still nothing. I set down my lunch sack and tugged with everything I had.

      Oooo . . . ahhh . . . eeee . . .

      At last, something gave. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my hand. It was the leg bone. The entire thing popped out of its socket.

      Uh-oh!

      The skeleton started to creak. Everyone stopped working. They looked around until they spotted me. I tried to hide the bone behind my back—a little tricky since it was about five and a half feet long, and I’m about five and no half feet tall.

      I flashed them my famous McDoogle-the-Idiot grin.

      No one smiled back.

      The skeleton continued to groan and creak. It was beginning to tilt.

      "She’s coming down!" someone cried.

      That someone was right. Thanks

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