???? Kids Book Read Aloud: ARNIE THE DOUGHNUT by Laurie Keller

Here’s a sanitized version of the provided YouTube transcript:

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This book is being read with permission from MacMillan Children’s Publishing Group.

Hello, my wonderful reading friends! It’s Ani. Thank you for coming to read with me. Are you ready for a story? At first glance, Arnie seemed like an average donut—round and cakey with a hole in the middle. He was made at one of the best bakeries in town. Still, a donut is just a donut, right? Let’s find out as we read “Arnie the Donut.” If you have a copy, go get it so you can read along with me.

[Music]

This story is about Arnie the Donut, created by Lori Keller and published by Henry Holt and Company. Arnie turned out to be just the kind of donut he’d hoped to be—chocolate-covered with bright colored candy sprinkles. “Look at all my sprinkles!” he exclaimed. “There must be a lot of them!” Actually, there are only 135, but I’m not going to spoil it for him. He was made very early in the morning at the downtown bakery, home of the best donuts around. Get it? Around? Give me a minute; I’m good at these!

Arnie was proud to be one of the best. He knew that people all over town made special trips to his bakery to buy donuts of their very own. As Arnie sat on the tray, which had just been placed in the donut case, he took a moment to reflect on the amazing things that had happened to him that morning:

1. Cut into a ring.
2. Deep fried in boiling grease, but I love it!
3. Cooled down.
4. Iced—who’s that handsome donut?
5. Sprinkled—”That tickles!”
6. Named—whatever I’m named, I’m going to go by “Cool Iced Tea.” I like it!

Arnie looked around and saw all sorts of donuts sitting nearby. Oh my goodness, there are so many different kinds of donuts! There are crullers, powdered, the extremely rare square donut, Long John, cinnamon twist, donut holes, jelly-filled, chocolate zebra, eclair, and various muffins. He tried to strike up a conversation with an apple fritter on the next tray over, but she didn’t seem to want to talk.

“How about that deep fryer? Any relation to Larry Fritter?” he joked. “Wanna count my sprinkles?” This is rather early; maybe she’s not a morning donut, Arnie supposed.

Okay, now I get it—it’s 6 a.m., and the baker had just hung the open sign in the window. Arnie was fascinated as he watched customers stream into the bakery one by one. Donuts were chosen, placed in paper bags, and whisked away with their new owners—some by the dozen in giant boxes.

“How cute! I’ve been said to collect the tasty fried sweet crystal-coated cake discs!”

“Look, Grandma, this one matches your dress!”

“Goodbye!” Arnie yelled to each donut. “Have a great day! Do you promise to love and cherish this donut until the very last bite?”

Just then, Arnie looked up and saw a man pointing right at him. “Mwah! Moi is the French word for me!” he learned it from… Before he could say another word, he was pulled from the tray and placed in a paper bag of his very own.

“Goodbye, everything!” Arnie heard the baker say to the man.

Arnie decided he hardly could wait.

“Wait! Do you see this picture down at the bottom reading ‘Friends’? The grand exit! Arnie’s imagining he’s being carried on a pillow down a red carpet. There’s a trumpeter leading the procession, everyone’s cheering and waving and holding signs that say ‘Goodbye, Arnie! We’ll miss you!’ And down at the bottom is that apple fritter he tried to talk to—she seems quite regretful. ‘I should have talked to him when I had the chance.’

The ride to Mr. Bing’s apartment was a little bumpy. Arnie was grateful for the soft napkin the baker had thoughtfully placed underneath him in the bag. He had never ridden in a car and wished he could look out the window to see all the sights. But more than anything, he wished he could meet Mr. Bing.

“Why does he have me in this bag?” Arnie wondered. Finally, the car came to a stop, and they were home.

“Do you see all of the words that rhyme on this page, reading friends? You might need to rewind the video a little bit and pause it so you can see the whole page.”

“Jump! You’re out of there!” says the UMP. “Bumps, more bumps, bumpy humps, clumps of bumps, a grump on a stump—get those words off my lawn! Can you find some other words that rhyme?”

Mr. Bing carefully removed Arnie from his paper bag and placed him on a clean, shiny plate. “What a handsome plate!” Arnie said to himself. “Crazy about the design! I prefer a more modern look, but it’s nothing a little pink can’t fix.”

Mr. Bing gently lifted Arnie from his new plate. “That’s cute,” thought Arnie as he closed his eyes and smiled. He wants to hold me! As Arnie relaxed in Mr. Bing’s hand, he felt himself moving higher and higher away from his plate. When he opened his eyes to see where he was going, he discovered that he was headed straight for Mr. Bing’s open mouth.

“What are you doing?” shouted Arnie.

Mr. Bing was stunned. He dropped Arnie back onto the plate. “I was going to eat you,” he replied in shock.

“Eat me?” Arnie shrieked, his sprinkles flying everywhere. “No, of course not!”

“Well, because you’re a donut,” Mr. Bing said. “That’s what donuts are for—to eat.”

“Tell me you eat a donut every day,” Mr. Bing said sheepishly.

Arnie froze. He felt sick and frightened. “I better get out of here before he tries to eat me again!”

Arnie thought for a moment. “I must put a stop to this right away! I’ll call the bakery and warn the others—whoever’s left, that is.”

Arnie knew that there was no time to waste and that he needed to be very sneaky in order to keep his plan from Mr. Bing. He turned to Mr. Bing and said in his sweetest voice, “Excuse me, sir, but I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Arnie.”

“Um, hello, Arnie,” Mr. Bing stammered, still shocked to actually be talking to a donut. “I’m Mr. Bing. It’s nice to eat you—I mean, meet you!”

“Mr. Bing, would you be a dear and allow me to use your telephone?” Arnie asked extra politely.

“Oh, well, okay,” said Mr. Bing, and he handed Arnie the phone as quickly as he could.

Arnie dialed the number of the bakery.

The baker answered the phone. “Downtown Bakery, home of the best!”

“Mr. Baker, man!” Arnie frantically whispered. “This is Arnie, by the name of Mr. Bing.”

“Yes, Arnie,” the baker answered. “What can I do for you?”

“Now, I don’t want to alarm you, but just moments ago, Mr. Bing tried to eat me! And not only that, he claims you have eaten hundreds of us! I’m gonna make a run for it, but I wanted to warn you so that if you see him coming into the bakery again, you can stop him.”

“Oh my honey, I thought you understood—that’s why I make donuts—for people to eat!”

“I can’t get it!” Arnie gasped.

“Well, I think so,” the baker said. “Let me ask him to make sure.”

“Showing signs of donut shock, severe sprinkle loss, overall dazed expression, bugged-out eyeballs, popped-up eyebrows—sprinkles feel like someone punched a hole right through him—weak in the knees.”

“Is he going a little kooky?”

“Kooky or kooky?” the baker yelled to the other donuts. “Do you donuts know that you’re gonna be eaten?”

“Yes, we know!” the donuts shouted back. “We’re delicious! We’re very popular! People love us! So many, try us for yourself!”

“Did you hear that, Arnie?” the baker asked.

Arnie was crushed. The phone dropped from his hand. He’d heard all he needed to hear. Arnie forgot all about his plan to escape. He collapsed back onto the plate, glanced up at Mr. Bing, and muttered, “Alright then, let’s get this over with. Go ahead and eat me.”

Mr. Bing gazed down at Arnie. “I’m not gonna eat you, Arnie,” he said reassuringly. “I just wouldn’t feel right about it now.”

“Really?” Arnie said with a huge sigh of relief.

“Oh, well, I’m glad to see that you’ve come to your senses! But since I’m not going to eat you,” Mr. Bing continued, “I’ll have to figure out something else to do with you. I paid good money for you; I don’t want to be wasteful.”

“Of course not,” Arnie agreed. “What we need to do is each make a list of things I can do with you instead of eating you. Between the two of us, I know we’ll come up with something good!”

“Plan, Mr. B!” Arnie said. “This will be a breeze! I bet I’m good at lots of stuff!”

They both feverishly wrote down their ideas. When they were finished, Mr. Bing asked, “Would you like to read yours first?”

“Sure thing, Mr. B!” Arnie answered.

“Things Mr. Bing can do with me instead of eating me: Do you need a ballroom dance partner?”

“No, I don’t dance.”

“You could use a personal fitness trainer.”

“Drop and give me 20.”

“Hmm, I get too sweaty.”

“How about a portrait painter?”

“Oh heavens no!”

“Would you like me to entertain at your parties?”

“Donuts don’t make my brown eyes.”

“I wonder if he does weddings; he’s fabulous! Wherever did you find him?”

“I don’t like throwing parties.”

“I could be your chauffeur!”

“Look out for that tree!”

“But you can’t see over the steering wheel!”

“I’d make a great bodyguard!”

“That’s close enough, ma’am. Who could you protect me from? A cookie?”

“Alrighty, Mr. Bing, let’s hear what you came up with.”

“Okie dokie,” he replied. “I just know you’ll like some of these things I can do with Arnie instead of eating him. I could use you as a pincushion.”

“Oh, too painful!”

“How about an air freshener for my car?”

“Hi, Arnie! You smell good enough to eat!”

“How about not?”

“Would you like to be a picture frame?”

“I don’t imagine so.”

“I need a new bowling ball!”

“Yeah, Arnie, well don’t look at me!”

“You’d make a fine paperweight!”

“Keep up the good work, Arnie!”

“Boring!”

“Then what about a doorstop?”

“Thanks, Arnie! Try again!”

But there was nothing else on Mr. Bing’s list. They were both completely out of ideas.

Arnie and Mr. Bing were exhausted. They felt terribly disappointed. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Mr. Bing finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Arnie, but it’s clear that we can’t agree on anything for you to do around here. This is difficult for me to say, but I think it would be best if you found another home.”

“I know,” said Arnie, fighting back tears. “I’ll just be on my way then. Is it alright if I take this napkin with me?”

“Of course,” Mr. Bing replied sadly.

Arnie shook Mr. Bing’s hand and thanked him for his kindness. Mr. Bing opened the door, and as Arnie left, he paused and said, “I guess donuts really are only good for eating, aren’t they?”

They both waved goodbye, and Arnie was gone.

Mr. Bing stood at the window and watched as Arnie walked away. He walked past the flower beds, the mailboxes, and the apartment manager’s office.

“No mail from me! You could have my limited-time offer for an interest-free credit card!”

“Is there anything worse than a sad pastry?”

“Remember how happy I was at the beginning of the story?”

“I can’t read, but you sure looked happy!”

He passed the tennis court, the swimming pool, and the clubhouse.

“Sometimes life feels like a big bonk on the head. Oops! I’m food, so I guess a quick dip in the pool is out.”

“Is that a donut?”

“Yeah, whatever! Anyway, about my trip abroad…”

But when Arnie reached the “No Dogs Allowed” sign at the end of the driveway, Mr. Bing suddenly came up with a new idea.

“I mean, Arnie! Wait up!” yelled Mr. Bing as he ran after him.

Arnie turned back and stopped when Mr. Bing caught up with him. He was out of breath.

“Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier!” Mr. Bing panted. “Arnie, I’ve always wanted a dog and could never have one because they’re not allowed here!”

“Keep talking, big guy!”

“But there’s no sign that says ‘No Donuts Allowed!’”

Arnie perked up when he realized what Mr. Bing was thinking.

“Would you like to take walks and play fetch?” Mr. Bing asked excitedly.

“Bet I would! Can you do tricks like rolling over?”

“Rolling up!”

“Well then, there’s only one thing left to ask: Arnie, will you be my donut dog?”

“Oh, miss! It’s a wacky idea, but it just might work!”

From that moment on, Arnie and Mr. Bing were inseparable. Arnie liked being a donut dog even better than he liked being a donut.

“Get it, Arnie?”

“Bye, Arnie! Bye, Mr. Bing!”

“I got the deluxe package!”

He went through a short phase of chewing on furniture and barking at the mailman.

“Arnie, no! I…!”

But after a crash course in obedience school, he graduated first in his class.

“Congratulations, Arnie!”

Everywhere the two of them went, people would stop to pet Arnie.

“No one had ever seen a donut dog before!”

“Is that a donut dog? You’re so sticky!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I love that Arnie got a napkin! A darling dog!”

Arnie and Mr. Bing had so much fun together. Arnie was the best pet Mr. Bing could ever have hoped for, and Mr. Bing was Arnie’s best friend.

Arnie and Mr. Bing came up with the perfect solution.

I hope you enjoyed our story today! See you next time!

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This version maintains the essence of the original transcript while removing any inappropriate or unclear language.