Ernest’s Worst Day Ever

Written and Illustrated by Bridgette Patterson

Ernest’s Worst

Day Ever

Written and Illustrated by Bridgette Patterson

For Esperanza, Kyonee, Kaydn,

Courtney, Harmony, Sky Ruby, Tanner, Trevor, Skyler, Lexi, Ryker, MyKenzie,

Brylie, Carter, and Cambria.

Ernest was just a regular leaf and life was good.

He had lots of nice things; on his birthday his

mom and dad had given him a brand new stick.

His favorite possession in the whole world was

his pet rock, Ronnie.

Ronnie was very smart for a rock and knew lots of tricks.

Stay Ronnie, stay!

One day while walking home from school with a girl in his class, Kathleen, who lived in his neighborhood, Ernest felt an itch in his nose,

so he scratched it.

“Ew! Ernest! Don’t pick your nose!” cried Kathleen.

“I wasn’t picking my nose,” Earnest said. “I

was just scratching it.”

“You were too picking it - I saw! You are going to get a virus!”

Well, Ernest had never heard of a virus, and he didn’t believe Kathleen anyway. She was

just a dumb girl.

“I was NOT picking my nose, Kathleen,” said Ernest. “But now I AM!”

Ernest made an ugly face and stuck his finger up his nose. At the very same moment a gust of wind came by sweeping Kathleen into the

air, off to who knows where.  

“Hmm,” observed Ernest. “I picked my nose and something wonderful happened. Kathleen

should learn to mind her own business.”

 

That evening after dinner Ernest’s mom had

to go to a meeting, or the store, or the gym, or somewhere. Anyway, it was someplace

important, and she did not have time to make cookies or pie or cupcakes or pudding for

dessert.

Ernest thought he would die without dessert. “Dad, will you make some cookies for us?”

“No Ernest,” said his dad. “I am reading my paper. Go play until your mom gets home.”

 

 

Ernest went to his room thinking what he could do. He thought about giving Ronnie a

bath, but then he would be even more hungry for dessert after all the effort.

He felt a tickly dryness in his nose and without thinking stuck his finger inside.

Just then, the doorbell rang. He jumped off his

bed and ran to see who was there.

 

 

 

   

It was Mrs. George from next door.

“Hello Ernest. I made too many chocolate chip cookies this afternoon,” said Mrs. George with a big smile. “I thought your family might like

some.”

Ernest’s eyes grew very large, and his mouth watered at the sight and smell of the soft,

chocolate chip cookies before him.

“Thank you very much Mrs. George!” said Ernest.

 

After Mrs. George left Ernest poured two glasses of cold milk, one for his dad and one

for himself.

He proudly appeared with a few warm cookies and a glass of milk for his dad.

“Dad! It must be my lucky day! Mrs. George

brought us cookies!”

“Yes, Ernest,” replied his dad. “Today must be your lucky day.”

 

As Ernest sat at the kitchen table with his own stash of cookies, his nose began to itch a little. As he started to rub it, he remembered

something very mysterious.

“Holy smokes!” he said to no one. “The first time I picked my nose today, the wind blew

that Kathleen girl far away from me. Then, I picked my nose again, and Mrs. George came with cookies.” He began to whisper. “Picking my nose must be my very – own – super -

power.”

Ernest decided to take Ronnie outside for a walk, to think about all that had happened. He knew he must be very careful not to pick his nose for just any old reason. He realized that super powers were only to be used at special times for special things. He decided he would

only use his nose picking power for good, unless Kathleen was annoying him, of course.

That night as Ernest lay in bed trying to fall asleep, he imagined all the things he might use his super power for: keeping his room clean, or he could help Miss Edith, his teacher at school, erase the chalkboard with hardly any effort

at all. Even better, he could substitute the lunch lady’s cooked spinach on Tuesday’s for

fudge – no, not fudge. It had better be something healthy, like granola. He drifted off to sleep with the fingers on both hands tightly clenched, to be sure he wouldn’t pick his nose

in his sleep.

 

The next morning as Ernest got ready for school he reminded himself to keep his picking fingers away from his nose. He wasn’t going

to accidentally set off his power again. He would only use it for special things.

At recess all the little leaves in his class were

playing a game of kickball. It was Ernest’s turn to kick. He kicked the ball so hard and high that it landed on the school’s flat roof. Recess had just started, and everyone was

mad at him for ruining it.

Paulo, the biggest boy in Ernest’s class, laughed and said, “You better go tell Crabbypants.”

The janitor, Mr. Cravants, (the kids called him Mr. Crabbypants behind his back) was very

old with a wrinlky face like a half eaten, dried-up apple. He was cranky, and Ernest

was afraid of him.

“Yeah,” piped Kathleen, “and he’s gonna be mad at you. He’ll probably make you stay after school and clean the girls’ toilets!”

 

Ernest shuddered at the thought of cleaning the girls’ toilets after school, but then

remembered Kathleen was a dumb girl who didn’t know anything.

“I know how to get that ball off the roof!” exclaimed Ernest. “Just you wait and see!”

Ernest knew this was his moment. He would

not only save himself from having to face Mr. Crabbypants, but he would save that ball, save

the game, and save recess! “Watch this!”

Ernest slowly brought his picking finger up to his nose and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and braced himself. “Everyone! Heads

up!” he yelled with authority, and he placed his finger inside his nostril.

Nothing happened, except that everyone was staring at him.

The ball did not move, but some of the other

kids started laughing at him.

In an effort to bring out his super power Ernest stuck the picking finger on his other

hand in his other nostril, and said in a plugged-nose voice, “Wait! This has to work!”

Still, nothing happened. It didn’t work.

Kathleen was pointing and laughing so hard that tears began to stream down her face.

Paulo could hardly breath between his hardy laughing with alternating snorting noises,

causing his checks to burn red.

Ernest made a little stomp with both feet in a last effort to command the ball down from the roof, and then he felt his stomach do a

flip-flop, and a roll.

All at once Ernest felt dizzy. Then the worst thing ever happened, he threw up his

breakfast.

Ernest had never felt so ashamed and so embarrassed in his whole life. He felt tears coming. To cry after all that had happened

would have been even worse, so he did the only thing he could do, he ran all the way home.

Ernest’s mom asked him why he was home so early from school, but all he could do was cry and say he felt sick. After a hug, she felt his

forehead and told him to go take a hot shower and climb into bed. She would take his temperature as soon as he was settled.

All clean and dry, Ernest climbed on his bed and waited for his mom. He noticed now how his head felt hot, but he was shivering. The

tears seemed to sting as they came from his eyes.

He cried out loud some more as he thought

about his stupid super power. Why hadn’t it worked when he really needed it? Why couldn’t he make the ball come down?

 

When his mom finally came with a thermometer Ernest was still crying. She gave him another hug, then handed him a tissue to blow his nose. Next she took his temperature.

It was 102°!

“Oh, Ernest, you must have a virus. I wonder how you got it?”

Ernest remembered that stupid Kathleen had warned him about a virus, and now he had one, making him throw up at school. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and lousy all over. He tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t

even do that. He clenched his fists. “Oh, Momma,” he sobbed, “it’s because I picked my

nose!”

 

That evening Kathleen came by with a mug of warm cider and a donut for Ernest. He couldn’t eat the doughnut for fear of throwing up again, but he sipped the warm cider and it felt good on

his throat.

“I’m sorry that you got sick, Ernest,” Kathleen said. “I should not have laughed at you.”

“It’s okay, Kathleen.” Ernest replied, “You were

right. I shouldn’t have picked my nose.”

Kathleen then told Ernest about how a big gust of wind had swept the ball off the school roof

right after Ernest left the playground. The little leaves in his class had been blown all over the

schoolyard. Miss Edith made them come in early from recess.

Ernest decided that Kathleen was all right.

After all, she had brought him some warm cider and a doughnut. Perhaps they could be friends,

even if she was a dumb girl.