He stared at me for a long time. Then he sighed and said, “Very well, I’ll give you one more chance. The next word is industry.”

That was easy. There was no way I could mess it up. “The cat got stuck up industry and wouldn’t come down.”

I listened, as surprised as everyone else when the words came out of my mouth. I sure hadn’t meant to say that.

Mr. Vernack spoke just two words of his own. He pointed toward the door. “Principal” was the first word. “Now” was the second.

I walked down the long hall.

“What seems to be the problem?” Principal Chumpski asked when I stepped into her office.

I started to explain. But every time I said something, she chuckled. Then she started laughing. Finally, I sat back and waited for her to stop laughing.

“You’re quite some boy,” she said between laughs.

I nodded, afraid to open my mouth.

“Don’t lose that sense of humor, no matter how much other people groan,” she said after she’d managed to catch her breath. “But keep it to yourself in class. Mr. Vernack is a wonderful teacher, but I suspect he’s never going to appreciate your talent for word play. Now go buzz on back to your room and behave.”

“Thanks. I’ll try to beehive myself.” I got up from the chair and breathed a big sigh of relief.

Principal Chumpski started laughing again. Finally, she shook her head and waved toward the door.

As I left the principal’s office, I thought about the strange stuff that had been happening to me. I hadn’t noticed right away, but once I started paying attention, I realized one thing for sure: Words weren’t coming out of my mouth the right way. They left my brain just fine, but after that they went horribly wrong.

I was so used to saying what I meant, I had to listen carefully to catch the mistake. But there was no doubt. Every time I opened my mouth and said more than two or three words, a joke came out. No, not a joke. Worse than a joke—a pun. And people seemed to hate puns. They might laugh, but after they laughed, they groaned.

Why was this happening to me? It was almost like I was being punished.

Pun-ished!

Oh my word.

As I thought about the man in the library, a shiver ran down my spine. And then it ran back up. And then it slipped into my stomach and gave it a hard kick with a pointy boot.

Maybe you need to be punished.

Those were his words. He’d done this to me. I had to go back to the library. That’s what I’d do. As soon as school was out, I’d go find him. He had to be there. If not, I was doomed.

CHAPTER FOUR

A Confusing Explanation