Junie B Jones and the Stupid Smelly Bus
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Child (5-12)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Junie B. Jones and the Stupid, Smelly Bus by Barbara Park. Read to You by Me, Kathleen, France Chapter three. Stupid, Smelly Bus. The bus wasn't like my daddy's car at all. It was very big inside, and the seats didn't have any cloth on them. The little curly girl was sitting near the front, and so I tapped on her. Guess what I said, Mother said, for me to sit here? No, she said, I'm saving this for my best friend, Mary Ruth Marble. Then she put her little white purse on the place where I was going to sit, and so I made a face at her. Hurry up and find a seat, young lady said Mr Wu. And so a quick sat down across from the curly mean girl and Mr Wu shut the door. It wasn't a regular kind of door, though. It folded in half, and when it closed, it made a wishy sound. I don't like that kind of door. If it closes on you by accident, it will cut you in half, and you will make a squishy sound. Then the bus door opened again, and a dad and a boy with a grouchy face got on. The dad smiled. Then he plucked the grouchy boy right next to me. This is Jim, he said. I'm afraid Jim isn't too happy. This afternoon, the dad kissed the boy goodbye, but the boy wiped it off his cheek. Jim had on a backpack. It was blue. I love backpacks. I wish I had one of my very own. One time I found a red one in a trash can, but it had a little bit of gushy on it, and Mother said no. Jim's backpack had lots of zippers. I touched each one of them. One, 234 I count it. Then I unzipped one. Hey, don't yell, Jim. He zipped it right up again. Then he moved to the seat in front of me. I hate that Jim. After that, the bus kept stopping and starting, and lots of kids kept getting on loud kids, and some of them were the kind who looked like meanies. Then the bus began getting very noisy and hot inside, and this son kept shining down on me and my fuzzy hot sweater. And here's another hot thing. I couldn't roll down my window because it didn't have a handle, and so I just kept getting hotter and hotter, and it smelled in the bus to the bus. Smelled like an egg salad sandwich.