The Food Fight Professional

By Angela Ruth Strong

He’s got a cream pie. And he knows how to use it!

I, Joey Michaels, am the Food Fight Professional.

Basically this means that if food is flying in the school cafeteria, people think I’m responsible. Working at a soup kitchen as punishment shows me how I can use my reputation in a good way—to organize a “food fight” to fight hunger.

Winning the food fight wouldn’t be so hard if I didn’t have the following three problems:
1) The neighbor girl who records all my mistakes and posts them to the internet
2) Her newly adopted brothers from Haiti who don’t think wasting food is a laughing matter
3) A school principal who wants revenge for the pie I smashed in her face

If I can keep from making too big a mess in the kitchen this time around, I just might be able to have my pie and eat it too.

The Food Fight Professional is the hysterical third book in the Fun4Hire series. If your kids like the Swindle and Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, they’ll love the Fun4Hire series. They’ll laugh and cheer as Joey cooks his way to the best food fight ever.

Start the laughs today and buy The Food Fight Professional now.

And don’t forget to download your FREE copy of Book One, The Water Fight Professional. Then check out the rest of the series: The Snowball Fight Professional (Book Two), and The Pillow Fight Professional (Book Four).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashberry Lane Publishing
• Release date: Mar 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781941720165

Angela Ruth Strong

Angela Ruth Strong is an expert on Write that Book, blogs on Inspyromance.com and How to Write a Novel, and is the founder of IDAhope Writers. She is the author of the Resort to Love series and the CafFUNated mysteries. Angela lives in Meridian, Idaho, and can be found online at angelaruthstrong.com.

Book preview

The Fun4Hire Series

"The Snowball Fight Professional is a hilarious action adventure that will have you hunting for your snow gear. The perfect winter read!"

~HEATHER WOODHAVEN,

Novelist and Mom

A fun romp through childhood.

~BILL MYERS,

Creator of McGee and Me, Best-selling Author, Award-Winning Filmmaker

"I love it. My kids think The Water Fight Professional should be made into a movie!"

~JILL WILLIAMSON,

Award-Winning Children’s Author

"Reading The Water Fight Professional is more fun than licking a slug."

~JUDY COX, Children’s Author

"The protagonist’s offbeat profession and Angela Strong’s vibrant voice make The Water Fight Professional a book that young teens will eat up. Want to keep energetic boys and girls entertained for a few hours? Hand them this book."

~JEANNIE ST. JOHN TAYLOR,

Radio Host and Author/Illustrator of more than thirty books

Other Titles in the Fun4Hire Series

________________________________________

The Water Fight Professional, Book 1

The Snowball Fight Professional, Book 2

The Pillow Fight Professional, Book 4

Written by

Angela Ruth Strong

Illustrated by

Jim Strong

Ashberry Lane

Smashwords Edition

© 2015 Angela Ruth Strong

Ashberry Lane Publishing

P.O. Box 665, Gaston, OR 97119

www.ashberrylane.com

Also available in print

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published in association with the literary agency of Wordserve Literary Group, www.wordserveliterary.com

ISBN 978-1-941720-16-5

Cover design by Miller Media Solutions

Illustrations by Jim Strong

Title font by Kimberly Geswein

Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

FICTION / Middle Grade

Chapter One

Sloppy Joe

Chapter Two:

Hungry as a Bear

Chapter Three:

Going Bananas

Chapter Four:

Pie in the Sky

Chapter Five:

Humble Pie

Chapter Six:

Two Peas in a Pod

Chapter Seven:

Using My Noodle

Chapter Eight:

The Milk of Human Kindness

Chapter Nine:

Taking Candy from a Baby

Chapter Ten:

Bringing Home the Bacon

Chapter Eleven:

Cooking up a Plan

Chapter Twelve:

Meal Ticket

Chapter Thirteen:

Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

Chapter Fourteen:

Food for Thought

Chapter Fifteen:

Icing on the Cake

To Lauren—

My purpose-driven daughter

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

Proverbs 19:21

I, Joey Michaels, am the Food Fight Professional.

Basically this means that if food is flying in the school cafeteria, people think I’m responsible. Working at a soup kitchen as punishment shows me how I can use my reputation in a good way—to organize a food fight to fight hunger.

Winning the food fight wouldn’t be so hard if I didn’t have the following three problems:

1) The neighbor girl who records all my mistakes and posts them to the internet

2) Her newly adopted brothers from Haiti who don’t think wasting food is a laughing matter

3) A school principal who wants revenge for the pie I smashed in her face

If I can keep from making too big a mess in the kitchen this time around, I just might be able to have my pie and eat it too.

Want to be among the first to hear when

Book 4 in the Fun4Hire Series, releases?

Sign up at www.ashberrylane.com

Anybody wanna guess what this is? I peeled the top piece of whole-grain bread from my sandwich, revealing the mystery mixture inside, and held the slice over the middle of the cafeteria table.

Ew … Every guy groaned in unison.

If you can guess what it is, I’ll let you trade me lunches. I smiled like a game show host as if the offer was really appealing.

"How about if we guess what it is, then you have to eat it," Chance countered.

Usually my friends worked with me and I could scrounge some kind of meal from them. A Cheeto here, a fruit snack there. Today, it looked like I might have to starve. My stomach rumbled.

It didn’t help that the cafeteria was serving pizza. The spicy scent of pepperoni and gooey cheese permeated the air.

Tristan leaned across the table and pointed at a gray lump in my sandwich. My guess is fried worms, like from that book we read in English class.

Austin popped a potato chip in his mouth. There’s colorful stuff mixed in, too. Maybe it’s all kinds of fish bait.

You guys. I rolled my eyes. My mom is more likely to serve me fish than fish bait. Think healthy.

That’s true, said Chance. He doesn’t even get real cupcakes on his birthday. His mom makes him carrot bran muffins.

A sore subject, as I’d be turning thirteen this month. What kid wanted to become a teenager without ever having had his own birthday cake? I’d rather discuss my nasty sandwich. No real guesses?

Tristan wrinkled his nose. Tuna and spinach.

That was yesterday. This doesn’t smell nearly as bad.

Broccoli and blueberries, Austin said. That’s what my mom is always trying to get me to eat.

You’re getting closer.

They stared at me in horror, which could work in my favor. If I really grossed them out, maybe they would take pity and feed me.

My stomach couldn’t wait much longer. It’s a chicken and fruit salad sandwich.

Austin pretended to puke while Tristan made gagging noises.

I’d rather eat fried worms, said Chance. This was where he should have tossed me a potato chip.

I’ll eat it for a dollar. Desperation got the best of me. See, if they paid me a dollar, then I could go buy a slice of pizza. And I really wanted a slice of pizza.

Nobody wants to watch you eat that. Chance pointed a finger down his throat.

Had the kid never heard of YouTube? People love watching gross stuff. If you used your phone and recorded me eating this, I’d be famous by dinnertime.

Austin shook his head. You want to be famous for eating gross stuff?

He had me there. Um … no. I want to be famous for doing cool stuff. Like gymnastics. Or parkour. Or climbing to the top of the flagpole out front.

Tristan smirked. I’m sure my mom would love that.

Sarcasm. Because principals usually weren’t fond of kids climbing flagpoles. But that didn’t have to stop me. You guys don’t think I could get famous?

Chance chuckled. Rich and famous maybe. Then you could take us all to Disney World for Spring Break.

I narrowed my eyes at my buddies’ disbelief. Why would anybody want to live that way? Walt Disney once said, ‘If you can dream it, you can do it.’

Austin raised his eyebrows at Chance before looking at me. Well, then quit dreaming, Mickey Mouse, and get busy.

Ha. I pushed my sandwich away. You won’t even offer me one little potato chip, yet I’m supposed to take you all to Disney World?

If you get on national television by your birthday, I’ll buy you a whole bag. Chance tossed me a potato chip.

I reached to grab it, but there was a reason I didn’t play team sports—the reason being that while I’m great at throwing, I’m horrible at catching. Plus, I didn’t want to squeeze the chip too tightly and crumble my only source of nourishment.

It slid out of my grasp and fell to the floor.

Oh well. Chance would prefer to eat fried worms than my sandwich, and I’d rather eat dirty potato chips. Five-second rule.

I dove toward the ground to retrieve the tasty tidbit, and I didn’t even wait to sit up straight before stuffing it in my mouth. Mmm … The saltiness made my tongue water. I licked my lips as I considered Chance’s offer. I had learned my lesson about betting, but this was more of a challenge, right?

A whole bag of potato chips all to myself? And he’d given me almost a whole month to become famous? Piece of birthday cake.

A girl screamed as the entire cafeteria seemed to gasp and freeze. The guys at my table chuckled and the sound of slapped high fives came from over my head.

I’d find out what was going on in a moment, but first I had to see if anybody else had dropped chips on the floor.

Nope, my buddies had been clean eaters for a change.

All except for that bit of chocolate cupcake on Chance’s sneaker, but I couldn’t be sure he hadn’t tracked that in from somewhere else, so I let it be.

Josiah Michaels! Isabelle’s sparkly high-top sneakers planted themselves on the floor right in front of my face.

Had she been the girl who screamed? Unexpected.

But maybe she saw what my mom wanted to feed me for lunch. It was certainly the stuff horror movies were made of.

Or could Isabelle be bringing me the other half of her peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich on white bread?

I jerked upright, mouth watering. The back of my head connected with the edge of the table and sent brainwaves scrambling in agony for a moment. I rubbed my skull and uncrossed my eyes. As much as I would have loved to see Isabelle holding her sandwich, the sight of my sandwich glued to