Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

By PV Lundqvist

Reviews:

"[Not Just For Breakfast Anymore] is a classic book for modern kids." --Suite 101: Book Reviews

Gina at Insatiable Readers declares, "From the quirky cover art (did you see the little guy flying through the air by the title?) to the final scenes, it'll keep you turning pages"

Not Just For Breakfast Anymore, "Would be a huge hit among fourth to seventh graders." --Literary Sojourn

"My 4 year old son absolutely adores me reading to him, and when he saw the cover of this book, he demanded that I read it to him right away. Both of us really enjoyed the story!
[...]
Now, please get him off my back about why we can't have a pet pig in our apartment!
PJ Culley (a reader)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stick Raven
• Release date: Dec 28, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452400952

PV Lundqvist

PV Lundqvist loves his family, mini-pigs, and baseball. In that order.

Book preview

Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

PV Lundqvist

Text copyright © 2009 by PV Lundqvist

http://pvlundqvist.blogspot.com/

Cover art and design by Rob Peters

http://www.rob-peters.com/

Published by Stick Raven at Smashwords

http://stickraven.com/

All rights reserved.

This DRM-free (without copy protection) ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Quoting short excerpts for the purposes of a review is not only permitted, but also encouraged.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Any trademarks/product names mentioned in the text are incidental and should not be construed as an endorsement or critique of said product.

First Ebook Edition Published December 2009

This book is also available in print starting February 2010

For Maxfield

Chapter One

Today was Benny's birthday, and more than anything else he wanted a dog. Or a cat. Not a gerbil, or a hamster, or a bunny. No, not one of those. What fun was an animal that had to be kept in a cage? He wanted a pet that could be his pal, his buddy--even catch Frisbees, maybe. Chase him down the hall at home, that sort of thing. Benny wanted a pet even more than an autographed Dustin Pedroia baseball glove. And that was why he had ditched his mother in the underwear department at Macy's. Shudder. Two hours of clothes shopping--enough already.

Benny went straight to the Pet-o-rama at the other end of the mall.

His face got so close to one of the displays that he could see his breath on the glass. Oops, too close. He knocked his Red Sox cap off his head.

On the other side of the glass were lizards piled on top of rocks and sand with a lagoon made from a trimmed-down paper cup. Not exactly what he had come to see, but they were cool looking. When he knelt down and looked up at the iguanas, they seemed huge. Like dinosaurs. Benny made his best dino-growl, but all the iguana did was blink. Booooring.

He didn't know what his parents were going to get him for his birthday. He wished he did. Not knowing was itching him worse than chicken pox.

Benny wandered around the store a bit, ending up in a little room full of cats in stacked cages. That wouldn't be too bad, Benny thought. An American shorthair down at the bottom, a kitten, looked like he needed a home. Of course there would be no Frisbee catching on the beach with this one; no tramping through the woods hunting rabbits; and no man's best friend. Benny looked around to see if there were any adults in orange aprons that read 'You pet'em, we sell'em'. Not a one in sight. He reached his hand into the cage to pet it--

Yee-ow! Pinpricks of blood appeared where the cat had scratched him. He sucked on his knuckle. But that wasn't the worst thing happening.

There was his mother coming up the parakeet aisle. Too late to hide, she's seen me. Wrapped up in her long coat and looking awfully warm. But, Benny suspected, that wasn't the only reason her face was red.

Benny Aaron Shoats! Where have you been? she asked, her voice rising to a chirp. Why'd you run off like that?

There was nothing to do at that store. Benny yawned just thinking about his mother touching every item in the store, as if she was looking for some secret toy surprise.

I specifically told you not to come here. I don't want you to get attached to any of these… She shook her head when she saw what was in the cages. Creatures. Who would want a cat? They're always killing things.

So, what was wrong with that? He could always have pretended it was a mini-tiger. But a pet that attacks you? No way.

So, we're here, his mother said, sighing. Then she brightened up. Have you seen the fish? They're so pretty.

Oh, no. Not fish. That would be just like mom, too, Benny thought. He could picture a little plastic baggy with a scared goldfish inside. No, no, no.

Fish? Benny said, trying to sound adultish. Fish aren't for petting, they're for eating. His mom made a face. Maybe she already got him fish? She would like them. Brain food. She was peculiar that way. His mom always liked what nobody else did. Like when the whole family went to the video store--and he and Dad wanted to see the sequel to The Zomboys--she was waving around a French movie with yellow subtitles, saying it got good reviews in the New Yorker. A movie you had to read. Figures she liked movies that were just like books.

Benny, we should leave.

Can't we take a quick look at them? Benny asked, pointing to the nearby dog section. How many hints did he have to give her about what he wanted for his birthday? Look Mom. That one looks like a hot dog with legs.

If we look at a few dogs, can we leave? she asked.

Benny nodded and drifted off to the first display.

That one's a dachshund, his mother said. Her finger touched the glass where an index card had been taped. It says here that they are hunting dogs.

Uh oh, he thought. Mom's in teaching mode. Mrs. Shoats: substitute teacher. He instantly started to fidget. It stunk having a teacher for a mother, and Benny had a hundred reasons why. First of all, it meant school twenty-four hours a day. No holidays. The one advantage? Staying after school wasn't such a big deal. Same as being home, only you couldn't sleep there.

His mother read from the card. "Hunters bred dachshunds long and thin so they could chase prey into their burrows. Ew. Then they would pull the dogs out of the holes by their tails with the prey still in their jaws. Ouch. She withdrew her finger. What a nasty beast."

How about this one? he asked. Maybe if he pointed out enough dogs, she'd get the clue that this was what he really wanted for a present. This dog had fluffy gray fur with patches of black and a belly of white. He did somersaults, yipping loudly. Pine shavings stuck to his coat.

Why don't you read it for me? She pointed out the handwritten card for him.

Keeshond? Benny read. What sort of name was that? Key-Shund? he attempted.

Close, Case-hund. She looked at her watch and again sighed. Maybe that wasn't such a good choice for sounding out, phonetically speaking. Another tug on his shirtsleeve told him that class was being dismissed.

He backed away from the dogs, feeling a sudden jealousy as other people began to enjoy the sausage dog and the acrobat with the name that was pronounced like it wasn't spelled. This was just like his mom, though, everything had to be a learning experience. Nothing could be regular, normal, average. Take his name: Bengt.

In first grade he learned that he was the only Bengt in the state of Massachusetts. At least that was what his classmates told him. And with every move, and new grade, he was convinced he was the only one in the United States of America. 'Are you Mexican?' one schoolmate asked.

The older kids kept telling him to 'Get bent.' Whatever that meant. Quickly he nicknamed himself Benny and stopped having to cringe every time roll was called--unless there was a substitute teacher, of course, who didn't know any better. And why was he called Bengt?

I knew somebody by that name, once, his mother had said. And he was very dignified. Just what every kid wanted to be: dignified. All Benny knew was that his dad didn't like the name either. Said it had baggage. Baggage?

We're not even Swedish, Mona, his father had said once during an argument. Don't blame me if the kid grows up odd.

Again his mother looked at her watch. She had been doing that all afternoon. Benny?

Come on, mom. Can't I just look over at the tarantulas before we have to go?

She closed her eyes for a full second. No. I called your father before I started looking for you. He's expecting us home soon.

Perhaps he wasn't getting a pet after all, Benny thought. Wouldn't be the first time his hinting around didn't get him anywhere. Like that one year he wanted a one-man sub kit for only ninety-nine dollars, plus postage and handling. Some assembly required. Instead he got water wings.

Benny trailed after her. He wondered if they had a special section for the Rottweilers, hidden somewhere. Maybe in a cage with steel bars that they almost couldn't bend. Weilers are tough, man. Nobody would mess with me if I had one of those.

Bengt? His mother kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the steering wheel. He ignored her. Benny, okay? God, you are such a pain. I give you this unique name and you, you...

Make it normal?

Commonplace was the word I was looking for, young man. It's not like I named you Quasimodo or Jehoshaphat, or...

There she goes again.

Mordechai, or Nicodemus, or...

Benny rested his head on his hand. This could go on for a while.

Of course your father was very helpful in naming you. His only suggestion was to name you First. That way, everybody would know who was the oldest.

Benny had heard this story a gazillion times. It didn't help that he was an only child--no brother or sister to distract her.

They passed a moving van along the way; men in sweatshirts were wrestling a couch through a front door.

Mom, are we going to move again? Benny asked. He knew he asked this question every month. But he liked to hear the answer, anyway.

No, we're not. This time we've settled down for good. Bought a house, in a nice town. We're staying. She turned onto their street. Speaking of home, she sang the rest of the words. We have a lit-tle sur-prise for you.

A surprise?

Yes, she continued cheerily. "While we were out, your father was getting your birthday present. That's right. I called the house and he and your father are home, waiting for us."

He! That meant they did get him a pet! And not smelly old fish, either--nobody said 'he' about fish. And no new notebooks or any boring stuff like that. His new pet was a he! But what kind of he? Suddenly, Benny felt left out. Not a part of the decision. He watched the budding trees go by that lined their street. Hmm. Surprises could be like winning a raffle, or like a slush ball to the face. What if they chose wrong?

"That's why I didn't want you to get

Reviews for Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

[releanna · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is one of the best books for children (but not only for children) I've read for a long time! The characters are very believable and well drawn, I had the feeling to know them, they really feel like real persons!
I liked how realistic the phase for Benny rejecting the pig to really loving it is written!
And of course it was about time that someone speaks up for pigs! They really are intelligent and not dirty at all! I'd recommend this book to grown-ups, too!
I'm looking forward to other books by PV Lundqvist.

[grgenius_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

All Benny Shoats wanted was a pet...well, that and a "normal" name (real name is Bengt...those in the know call him "Benny", those not call him "Bent") , but he'd settle for a pet just the same. Seeing as though it's his birthday and he and his mother are visiting the Pet-o-rama pet store, he feels he has a pretty good shot. Yep, a pup would be just the ticket to Benny's continued happiness. Good news for Benny...he is in fact getting a pet for his birthday! Bad news...his parents like to do thing "differently" and it's not quite the pet he had in mind. Benny wants to keep the news quiet, but things have a way of coming out and the new arrival to their small town is enough to start more than a few conversations. Will this be the ruin of young Benny's reputation or will it be the start of many life lessons learned that reveal what true courage, friendship, and love are all about? Moral of the story...don't be afraid to let someone know you're being bullied whatever the manner may be. If they silence your voice, they've won...plain and simple. Just hiding your head in the sand about the situation won't work either...it doesn't often stop on its own. SPEAK UP. Let someone know what's happening be it a parent, teacher, principal, or other adult you trust. You don't have to endure bullying in silence as so many children (heck, even adults) do. You deserve to be you. In summary, a great book in both message AND story. From the quirky cover art (did you see the little guy flying through the air by the title?) to the final scenes, it'll keep you turning pages to see just how this chapter of Benny's life turns out and leave you with a tear in your eye for all those suffering in silence in one way or another....but believe me, you will remember it. Happy reading...