Lucky for me, jam hands come in handy.
One time I was eating peanut butter and jam sandwiches and I heard a lady scream, “Help! HELP!”
I looked out the window. A building was on fire. I ran outside with my jam hands. I climbed up the building with my sticky hands. They worked just like suction cups. I climbed up to – I think it was the 99th floor. A lady was waving a hanky out the window.
“Help! HELP!” she screamed again.
“I’ll help you,” I said.
The lady stared at me.
“How?” she said.
“I’ve got jam hands,” I said.
“Oh, okay,” she said. Then she hopped onto my back. And I carried her back down.
Another time I was eating peanut butter and jam sandwiches and the phone rang. It’s hard answering the phone with jam hands. It took me a while.
“Hello?” I said.
“HI!” said a loud voice. “IS THIS THE KID WITH THE JAM HANDS?”
“Yup,” I said.
“MEET ME IN THE MAYOR’S OFFICE RIGHT AWAY!”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Hey wait – who is this?”
“THIS IS THE MAYOR!”
“Oh, okay,” I said. And I hung up.
When I got to the mayor’s office, he was pacing back and forth.
“I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU, KID – THIS IS A BIG-TIME PROBLEM. MAJOR! MEGA! I’M NOT SURE YOU CAN HANDLE IT.”
“I’m listening,” I said.
“SEE THIS VENT IN THE FLOOR? MY PEN FELL DOWN THERE. IT WAS MY FAVORITE PEN. IF I STICK MY FINGERS DOWN THE VENT HOLES, I CAN TOUCH THE PEN, BUT I CAN’T QUITE GET IT. CAN YOU HELP ME, KID? CAN YOU?”
“I’ll try,” I said.
I knelt down and poked my finger down the vent holes. When I touched the pen, it stuck to my fingers. I pulled it out.
“Here you go,” I said.
“THANKS, KID! YOU’RE THE BEST! BETTER THAN THE BEST! YOU’RE AWESOME! ONE DAY, I’LL NAME A STREET AFTER YOU. HOW DOES JAM KID AVENUE SOUND?”
“Sounds just fine,” I said.
This one other time – oh, it was yesterday – I didn’t want to go to bed, so just before the sun went down I touched it with my finger, and it stopped moving. It just stuck to the jam. I am not lying. Even ask my Mom.
But having jam hands isn’t ALL great. It’s easier to catch a ball, but way harder to throw one. I can’t really fluff my pillow. And when I wash my hands, I’m just a regular kid again. That stinks.
But all I have to do is eat another peanut butter and jam sandwich…
And I’ve got JAM HANDS again!
1. What did he have jam hands from?
2. How did he use his jam hands to save the lady from the fire?
3. How did he help the mayor?
4. What are some things you think wouldn’t be fun about having jam hands?