Tween Hobo Read online

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/4

  Only one way to stop a nosy railroad cop: atomic wedgie!

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/5

  As you go deeper into Ohio, the apple pies get bigger, the ice cream richer, the Razor scooters more cutting-edge.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/6

  Not to be a Judy Moody but I’m tired of all these knife fights.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/7

  Betcha six Buffalo nickels Selena Gomez can’t whittle!

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/8

  Just unlocked the Three Miles from the Edge of Town badge on Foursquare.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/9

  Railroad cop called me a no-account rascal but I have a Twitter account, duh.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/10

  Seems like I’ve always known vagrants, revolutionaries, and how to do the Soulja Boy dance.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/11

  Nothing shakes up life in a little town like a traveler passing through with some radical ways of tying her T-shirt up so her midriff shows.

  Time moves slow on these nighttime trains; luckily I made a bunch of sweet YouTube playlists.

  Tween Hobo’s Hard-Travelin’ YouTube Playlist

  Pokémon Dance Party

  Woody Guthrie, “Ludlow Massacre”

  Miley Cyrus Takes a Bong Hit of Salvia

  Miley Cyrus Twerking in a Unicorn Onesie

  Tennessee Ernie Ford Sings “Sixteen Tons”

  Goats Screaming Like Humans—Ultimate Compilation

  Banana Song—Ten-Hour Loop

  Hamster on a Piano (Deep Cut)

  Add Your Own Favorites!!!

  Folks say YouTube’s gonna take over TV, but I’ll tell ya what beats YouTube: the good old prairie sky. #notreally #iwish #imsobored

  You had me at beans.

  February 13

  * * *

  Chagrin Falls, Ohio

  I was nervous all day today because, aside from the fact that I’m four foot nine and riding a red-ball freight with no supervision, I knew tonight was going to be huge: Stumptown Jim invited me to come eat mulligan stew down in Hobo Jungle. Which is basically like a really cool outdoor pizza party, but with hobos, and instead of pizza, a big, disgusting soup made of cabbage and squirrel meat. I said, “I like my soup like I like my Bieber: pipin’ hot and full’a beans.” And he said, “Everyone will be there.” So I knew I needed to make a good impression.

  I spent like an hour wondering what to wear and then finally accepted that I only had one option, because I didn’t bring any other clothes. Luckily the outfit I chose to run away in is pretty stylin’, not to mention versatile: I mean, is there any event or occasion where you can’t just show up in sparkly UGGs, purple jeggings, a plaid shirt, and a bowler hat? Accented with panda-bear nail art and a jaw-dropping collection of Silly Bandz? Still, though, tonight was really special and the pressure was on, so I whipped my BeDazzler out of its holster and added about fifty sequins to my jeggings. Then I got melancholy because I realized, out here on this lonely road, I have Traveling Pants—but no sisters :(

  Well, I shouldn’t have spent even a second feeling sad. Because tonight was so much fun it’d break the party-hat emoji on my phone if I sent you a text about it. I made a ton of new friends and even a couple frenemies. So many hobos kept coming up to me and Jim and introducing themselves, offering us bites of lard and sharing tips about how to stop the bleeding from a wound with hunks of wet mud, that I’m worried I might get a reputation as the second-fiddle Gretchen Wieners to Stumptown Jim’s queen bee. Especially since I kept whispering to Jim that we should start a Burn Book. He agreed, but he thought I meant an instructional pamphlet about starting fires. When actually, duh, I meant a secret notebook where you write down really mean things about people. (See next page.)

  Overall, it was a great night. (Although something tells me the stew was neither kid-tested nor mother-approved.) The old hobos and I sat around the fire and talked of many things. A fella by the name of Tin Cap Earl got serious for a minute and asked me what I was doing out on the road. I didn’t feel ready to tell him about my brother. What I said instead was that I was on a quest to find out What Makes This Country Great. Everybody looked kind of thoughtful. He said, well, you’ll be out here a long time then. Good luck to ya, kid.

  And OMG I think this guy Hot Johnny Two-Cakes is anorexic. He didn’t even finish his beans. (For more about Hot Johnny and the rest of the hobos, check out my Burn Book!! Next page!!)

  Me and Stumptown Jim are the Mean Girls of the hobo community.

  My Hobo Burn Book

  Toothpick Frank

  * * *

  One of the grossest guys I’ve ever seen, and don’t forget Kevin R. is in my class. Also rude. Kept talking about “going down to the cathouse” and refused to invite me even though I love kittens. They call him Toothpick Frank because he wears this weird curving, skinny, yellowish bone on a chain around his neck, which he says is the bone of a “raccoon’s dick” (his words!) and it’s Nature’s answer to the toothpick. It’s hard to believe, but this is the least disgusting thing about Toothpick Frank.

  Tin Cap Earl

  * * *

  I actually have nothing mean to say about Tin Cap Earl, because what kind of shade can you throw at a guy who immediately offers to teach you how to Dougie? Of course I already know how to Dougie, but still, it’s the thought that counts. Tin Cap Earl has amazing style and distinct second-best-friend potential. (Sorry, Tessa—you might get demoted.) And there’s really nothing cooler than his hat. Which is literally a saucepan.

  Blind Hank

  * * *

  Blind item: I know a blind guy. Okay, fine, it’s Blind Hank. He’s only blind in one eye, but unfortunately the other eye is missing. I’m psyched because as soon as I get to know him a little better, I’m gonna get all Miracle Worker on him and teach him how to spell water. Which is something that’s been high on my bucket list. Oh—that reminds me: top item on my bucket list—get a new bucket.

  Whiskey Bob

  * * *

  Seems to be a bit of a workaholic, if his job is staggering around drunk in a filthy clown suit. When I offered to French-braid his beard, he just laughed and threw some beans in my face. And then puked. He’s not invited to my bat mitzvah.

  Floyd Caboose

  * * *

  If I made a movie about Floyd Caboose, it would be called I Don’t Know How He Does It. The guy has no legs. Stumptown Jim says Floyd falls off the train a lot, but then somehow shows up again at the next station. I like him cuz he’s the only one shorter than me.

  Salt Chunk Annie

  * * *

  A motherly, weather-beaten lady who introduced herself as a “Woman of the Night.” I told her I was more of a “Twilight Girl” myself. She said if I ever needed work, I could come to her. Apparently she runs the cathouse. I was like, yeah, no thanks, I love kittens but not like it’s my job. She was nice, though. And not at all stingy with the jerky.

  Hot Johnny Two-Cakes

  * * *

  Hot Johnny Two-Cakes. Hot Johnny Two-Cakes. Can’t stop saying his name for some reason. Not sure why. I definitely don’t have a crush on him. I mean, come on. Why would I have a crush on a weird emo guy who just sat by the fire and had cool hair and never even talked to me? Yeah, right. Plus I don’t think the name of my future daughter Pineapple Chloe Bieber could really turn out to be Pineapple Chloe Two-Cakes. That would just be so funny if that did happen. I wonder what kind of cakes they are. I like his jeans. I think maybe I hate him?

  I’ve started to get the feeling that riding the rails can make you meaner’n’a rattlesnake. And I mean like a really popular rattlesnake.

  Wheresoe’er I ramble, the boys are SO immature :(

  Valentine’s Day

  * * *

  The truth is, I don
’t care about Valentine’s Day. I mean, why should I? It’s just a fake holiday anyway, probably invented by the guys at the Candy Heart Company to unload their product on the masses, and of all the candies in the world, I think we can agree that those valentine hearts with little messages on them are pretty far down the chain tastewise. Although they would make cute earrings, but that’s not the point of candy, last time I checked. The point of candy is to give you a full-body joy-blast and make you feel like you’ve taken a productive business trip around the world on the back of a unicorn whose hair gets in your mouth sometimes but luckily it’s made of spun sugar. Which, candy hearts? Not even close. They taste like floor.

  The other reason I don’t care about Valentine’s Day is that I already found the love of my life, the man who will receive my final rose, and his name is Justin Drew Bieber and he is a Canadian song-stylist, and when I die, they will bury us beside one another in matching purple sweatshirts. So from now till whenever I stand at that altar with Justin and give myself to him, all Valentine’s Days and drive-ins and proms and courtside basketball seats and hayrides and whatnot are, essentially, a wash.

  Sidebar:

  You know the way that little girls say purple? It’s so cute. They can’t really pronounce the r so they’re like, “poy-puh.” I’m going to be such a proud mom one day in the future when tiny Pineapple Chloe Bieber points to my and her dad’s matching zip-up hoodies and goes, “Poy-puh.” Awwww. And then I’ll be like, “Power down your Google Brain Chip, sweetheart. It’s time for bed.” And then my husband and I will pop open a good bottle of Mountain Dew and look out at the grand vista of our hillside ranch, which will hopefully still be a nice vista even after global warming, and we won’t even need to talk, we’ll just enjoy the warm silence of two best friends with benefits who have also exchanged holy vows and imprinted on each other and been through a lot. Also I hope my mom will live close by.

  So considering how minuscule of a crap I give about Valentine’s Day, it’s kind of ironic that Hot Johnny Two-Cakes is refusing to be a guest on my podcast just because it happens to be February 14. I know hate is a strong word, but I like strong words. And I hate Hot Johnny. He’s a conceited emo poser whose jeans are too skinny, and the only reason I cry when he plays the banjo is because he sucks at it. I don’t even especially care if he’s a guest on my podcast, I just thought it might be semi-interesting to interview him about his eyes and hair and stuff. Oh, well. I’m doing the podcast without him. Kicking off with this Gotye cover. Now you’re just some hobo that I used to know :( . . .

  Longest relationship I ever had was four days. It was with a pebble I was carrying around.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/15

  Sippin’ Cran•Grape from a dead man’s boot.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/16

  Soon as this train pulls outta the station, Stumptown Jim and I call same seats.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/17

  I don’t just like beans—I like like ’em.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/18

  I’m always taking candids of Toothpick Frank and he acts mad but then he goes, “Post it, you bastard.”

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/19

  Every time I hear a wolf a-howlin’ in the woods, I kind of assume it’s a sexy, magical Native American werewolf.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/20

  Taylor Swift is perfect cuz she knows she has her flaws! I’m perfect too even tho I set that barn on fire :/

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/21

  O Bieber Where Art Thou?

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/22

  Hobo Willow Smith: “I whip my BEARD back and forth, I whip my BEARD back and forth.” LOL

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/23

  Trees throw shade but I don’t take it personally. #hey-oh

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/24

  Hot Johnny Two-Cakes and I are playing a game where he pretends he never got my text and I pretend I’m not plotting to murder him.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  2/25

  I lost a tooth today. Toothpick Frank lost five.

  Zachary Taylor: Hottie President

  Even though I’m skipping school to become a full-time drifter, I recognize that I am still a kid, and, as the saying goes, “I need structure.” Plus, like I told Mr. Brink, I’m out here on the road to get an education that’ll beat anything we ever did in school (except for when we got to make up those little raps about science). So I’m gonna be like my own annoying babysitter and make myself do homework. Like reports and stuff. So my first report is about:

  My Favorite President

  * * *

  My favorite US president ever is Zachary Taylor, because he sounds most like he was a member of a boy band. Here are some facts about our Cutest President Ever:

  • Fact: Zachary Taylor was known as Old Rough and Ready—but I like to call him Z-Tay.

  • Fact: It must have been so sad when Hottie President Z-Tay died and the next president was non-boy-band-eligible Millard Fillmore.

  • Fact: Hottie in Chief Zachary Z-Tay Taylor was the twelfth US president. Also, I am almost twelve. Coincidence? IDK.

  • Fact: Abraham Lincoln was a vampire hunter. Zachary Z-Tay Taylor was just a hottie with a body.

  • Fact: They make a million boring movies about Abraham Lincoln, but still not ONE about America’s Hottest President, Zachary Z-Tay Taylor!

  • Fact: America’s not ready for a Z-Tay biopic. The combination of X Games skate moves and Whig politics is just too hot to handle.

  I’ll conclude with the classic Z-Tay lyric: “The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed . . . I don’t know-ow-ow / If I should allow slavery in the western states.”

  Z-TAY

  Old hobos speak of a mystical Pepsi that was Crystal Clear . . .

  Old Hobos Say the Darnedest Things

  Sittin’ around the campfire a’night with my homeys, who are old as hell, I hear them talk of days gone by, when they were young, like the 1990s and stuff. Most of the time I don’t have a clue what they’re yappin’ about, and don’t care, but once in a while they’ll speak of a thing so odd and fanciful it can’t help but catch my attention.

  Like what the crap is Pearl Jam??

  And a gal named Jem who was Truly Outrageous?

  And a Noid that was to be Avoided. . .

  And a Melon who went Blind . . .

  And a gymnast they called Dominique Dawes . . .

  And a Young Gun they called Brad Renfro . . .

  And a Stylish Emporium known as Contempo Casuals . . .

  And how they used to collect Absolut ads . . .

  And a talkie called I Know What You Did Last Summer . . .

  And a band called Soul Asylum, which I YouTubed them? And now I’m like, whoa.

  Other questions:

  • Who in the heck are Bill and Ted??

  • What in tarnation is a laser disc?!?!?!?!

  • Did you know there once lived two rappers by the names of Salt and Pepper, and they had a song called “Soup”?!?!?!

  • What is this quaint saying I hear bandied about—“I ain’t afraid a’ no ghosts”???

  • There’s something called a “Blowfish”? And a “Hootie”?

  Old hobos talk of a band called Counting Crows—bet I’d like ’em, cuz guess what I did all morning.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/1

  It was down by the locomotive roundhouse in Des Moines one strange afternoon that I awoke from my nap like—wait, where’s my rainbow scrunchie?

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/2

  Tryin’ to make my voice all deep and scratchy so I sound like an old hobo (or Miley Cyrus).

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/3

  Took a puff off Floyd Caboose’s pipe, got a tota
l head rush.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/4

  How long is too long to wait for a text from a tadpole?

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/5

  That awkward moment when you’re ridin’ freight with thirteen bums and one of ’em falls off . . .

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/6

  Railroad bull called me a lousy scamp. Still got it!

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/7

  It’s a terrible loneliness comes over me a-nights, knowin’ them Stars Are Just Like Us.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/8

  I can’t be dolin’ out homework pills to every Tom, Dick, and Jayden.

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/9

  How do you indicate “nut allergy” in smoke signals? #WorstCaseScenario

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/10

  Don’t make jokes about guys who play the spoons. #TooSpoon

  Tween Hobo @TweenHobo

  3/11

  Emoji story of my night: (campfire, gymnastics, arrested)