The Chocolate Meltdown Read Online Free

you!” B’s mom said. “Your
sneezing.
That’s what’s causing this. But why?”
    “I don’t know,” B’s dad said in a stuffy voice. “I guess it must be a witch cold.”
    “I thought we were immunized against those,” B said.
    “I thought so, too,” her mother said. “You need to see a doctor. And B? I’m sorry I blamed you.”
    B smiled, feeling relieved. “That’s okay.”
    “There’s no need to bother the doctor over a minor sniffle,” insisted Mr. Cicely.
“Aah-ah-aaah-choooooo!”
    They braced themselves, searching the room for the results of the sneeze. Then B saw her father’sface and gasped. Big, angry-looking purple warts were popping out, one by one, all over his face and hands!
    He groped at his cheeks and winced whenever he touched a wart. Then he held out his hands and gazed at them in horror.
    “Felix!” B’s mother cried. “That’s it. You’re seeing the doctor this instant!” She whipped out her Crystal Ballphone and dialed the witch doctor, Dr. Jellicoe. Within minutes a little tornado of wind swept into the kitchen, and when it stopped, there stood the short, round, jovial form of Marcellus K. Jellicoe, Doctor of Magical Medicine.
    Dr. Jellicoe beamed and waved a big pink lollipop in the air. B knew, from the time she’d gone to see him herself, that he believed most any magical malady could be treated with a watermelon lollipop. But when the doctor saw her father’s purple warts, he gulped, and slipped the candy back into his lab coat pocket. “Well, well,” he said. “What have we here?”
    B’s mom explained about the random magical mishaps that happened whenever her husband sneezed, and Dr. Jellicoe nodded gravely. He turnedto his patient. “Let’s just see where we are, then, shall we? Why don’t you go ahead and perform a nice simple spell. Easy-peasy. See if you can fill that empty glass with, oh, I don’t know, a chocolate milkshake.”
    B’s dad blew his nose, then tried:
    “Fill the glass, don’t let it break.
    Please pour me a ch … chicken sandwich.”
    B giggled. Her dad could sure be a joker! But her mom shook her head, and Dr. Jellicoe pressed his lips together.
    “Try again, shall we?” the doctor said. “You’ve got food on the mind, it seems. Are you hungry? Do any food spell you want. Load your plate up with dinner. Go on, give it a try.”
    “Hot manicotti, if you please.
    I like mine with Parmesan pudding.”
    He pressed his fingers into his temples. “Parmesan
pudding
? What’s the matter with me, Doc? Is it serious?”
    “I’m afraid it is,” Dr. Jellicoe said. “To lose one’s rhyming ability … well, that’s just not something we like to see.” He tapped his chin. “I’d like to consult with a colleague on this case. He’s a specialist,the head of health at the Magical Rhyming Society. Do you mind, Madame?”
    B’s mother shook her head and offered Dr. Jellicoe the use of her Crystal Ballphone. In minutes another traveling spell blew into the kitchen, and B was surprised to see Mayor Wallace Cumberland standing there in his slick black suit, leather gloves, and a shiny leather briefcase in one hand.
    “You’re the head of health?” B said.
    Mayor Cumberland looked down at B. “I am,” he said with a sniff.
    “But you’re the mayor. Which is your real job?”
    B’s mom placed a hand on her shoulder. “Many witches have jobs in both the outside world and the witching community, B,” she said. She added a little squeeze, which B understood to mean, “Be polite!”
    “We’ve got a bad case, here, Wally,” Dr. Jellicoe said. “This gentlewitch has lost his rhyming ability completely. Can’t form a spell to save his supper. First accidents, then warts, and now Spellulus Interruptus. What do you suggest?”
    Mayor Cumberland looked B’s father up and down. He pulled a pair of glasses from his innerjacket pocket and polished the lenses on his sleeve. Finally he reached into his briefcase, pulled out a magnifying